When the snow is on the ground and the sky is grey, it is truly bleak, even up in the garden. I think about growing older every day and the inevitability of death. John Hanna, a Barre stone sculptor and a wonderful man, died on Friday, December 12. I went to his funeral yesterday. There will be a retrospective exhibit of his work at SPA from January 10 - 16, 2009, with a reception from 2-4 on Saturday, January 10.
I’m thinking about doing a piece that involves doors, maybe combining with the Disarmed pieces for an installation: “The Disarmed Approach the Event Horizon.” I guess that's what death is -- getting sucked into the big Black Hole. I’m imagining a beautiful old door with little doors (and openings) cut into it. You could look at it from either side. There would be small people in the small doorways. And the disarmed all around, on the floor and on pedestals.
People don’t seem terribly inclined to respond to my questions, but under the circumstances I can hardly keep from asking this one: What are we here for? What do you make of the fact that our art lasts longer than we do? Is this great or terrible?
7 comments:
Ack! No banging of legs! No banging of anything! No injuries please!
My friend Phyllis Murray died quite some years ago but her pressence still graces my kitchen in her work. She lives on through her creations. Isn't that one of the incredible beauties of making art which will live beyond our time? I can feel myself stretch into many lives through my work. People let me know that they have thought of me when they have looked at my work or worn something I have made. I can feel that in an extention of myself. Hurrah for art! Words, music, and visual art have a life of their own.
what a lovely photo. I love winter and hunkering down in my studio watching the snow fall. That is the norwegian, northeast England in me I guess :)
Don't like the falling down bit though, hope it wasn't too bad and you heal quickly. I rather like your questions, so here goes. I agree with Maggie, art has or takes on a life of it's own. I take comfort in that. It's odd I was actually thinking two days ago of doing a post on mortality. I sometimes get ice pick migraines and then I get scared it is really a brain tumor like my uncles (he died at 47 from one) and my aunts. I don't know what we are here for, but I do know that I want to live the best I can each day.
Thanks for your comments, all! I am fine, didn't even have a bruise with exciting colors, which I expected.
I think it's probably a good thing to be tuned in to our mortality, as it keeps us appreciating what we have right now in this moment -- which I hope includes a lot of fun and laughing.
I got your bird today. It is wonderful! I love the eye and the buttons. Maggie is a fiber artist too -- check out her website at colormusings.com and blog at colormusings.blogspot.com.
i agree, talking about our own mortality is the best way to deal with the situation we find ourselves in... there's no use ignoring it! I'm excited to see the door piece. Sounds wonderful
I realize now after visiting your website why you would appreciate the buttons :)
the eye is a photograph of the eye I painted on a bird that sits on the shelf of my effigy wish doll shrine thingy. I printed on fabric.
I am so glad you like it :) off to visit maggie now.
I think the door idea is awesome. I am a true believer - when one door closes another one opens. Where to, I've not a clue. No, I am NOT writing a poem, but it's true! Haha!
However....art lives on. This is a good thing. When I don't see you, I see your long legged brick friend in the garden and there you are! So there.
Janet, you need a pair of Stablilicers. They have them at Caplan's. They're not too expensive. We got to take care of them bones, babe.! "Ach" is right, Berrian. We don't need injuries.
Happy Hanukkah! I have seen the light and it is magnificent.
Be careful! xoxoxo
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