The windows are all open. A warm sweet breeze is flowing in. The birds are singing. And my neighbors are playing salsa. Quietly for a change. LOL As I sit here enjoying what is for the most part a rarity here in the City I have been looking back over some of my blogs since I started writing them in late 2009. This is not something I do on a regular basis. Usually I write them, publish them, post them on Facebook, and move on. My wallowing was motivated in part by a conversation I had at lunch today with my friend James. We were chatting about his impending move to Barcelona in a month and he was telling me that he had started a blog to chronicle his new adventure. I told him I had been writing one since 2009 and he asked me to send him the link. Anyways, that is the brief explanation of why I am wasting my time perusing my past postings. That sounded a little too cliche. Too many p's I think. Sorry.
As I read back, especially the ones from 2009, all I can say is WOW. That is in no way a narcissistic statement on my part. Far from it. I am reacting to the level of emotion, pain, and sometimes clarity that is laced through almost all of my posts. Ones like from Phoenix Rising where my life is crumbling around me, not knowing that in just a few short days my precious baby girl would be taken from me. And the posts following her death. The ones I hope some day to craft into a short story; but not yet. They are all a chronicling of my journey. That amazing, challenging, and organic path towards true health and happiness I seem to be on. I have to say I do miss my girl. She was the embodiment of unconditional love. And her zest for life was unmatched. She was my touchstone and my how to guide for being present. I even experienced what my therapist called a "State of Grace" with her; where I was hyper present in my body, where the only thing that existed was the eternal present. Even 2 1/2 years after her death I still grieve deeply for her. And I still blame myself for her death. Most nights, after I have turned the lights out, pulled the covers up around my neck, and nestled into the warmth, I still lay my hand lovingly on the pillow next to me where she slept, saying "Good night baby girl". I can feel my eyes tearing up as I write. It is these summer days that remind me of what is at stake here, what my recovery is really all about. The symbolism of walking the path. The feeling of my emotions. And the maintaining of my heart centered connections with my community. There are days when I feel like all the work I have done is worth it.
Then there are the nights. Those darkened moments were the insanity abounds, taking over my senses and my body. I had one of those 4 days ago. Where everything becomes so convoluted that logic and reason become incomprehensible. I tried to explain it to my therapist during my last session. I said it was like taking the simple concept of how a faucet works, turning it inside out and flipping it on it's head. Logic and reason don't come into it; but that is where I exist in those moments. Unsettling you ask? Hell yes. In those moments I actually think I am going insane. It's like a dementia patient who knows something is wrong with their in the moment reality but at the same time can't escape it. The duality of it all is nerve racking for me. Just as I imagine it is for them. Actually I can imagine it. My Mom, who is in mid dementia, has said as much to me in her more lucid moments. Anyways, I seem to be straying a bit here. And stop laughing. This is not yet another sign of my, shall we say, less lucid moments. I was talking about my blog posts. And summer. And breezes. And emotions. Ahhhh, that is why I have strayed. Feeling my emotions. Ok, I'm back! Emotions, the one thing that is the most challenging for me yet the most fruitful. Let me explain the challenge this way; I was in a room full of people yesterday when two of them, who were facing me, got up to leave. Whatever it was, whether it was the way they moved, the color of their clothes, or something else unknown, it triggered a panic attack in me. Some of the others in the room who were leaving were very supportive and I was able to eventually ground myself after a while in part because a good friend sat with me outside rubbing my back. Did I say I have the most amazing friends? Emotions, yep, they can be a challenge; but what a way to live!!! Feeling the emotions of a beautiful summer day, of being present in my body, feeling the breeze brush against my skin, smelling the sweet aroma of the earth as I water the garden. To taste the complexities of a great lunch shared with a friend. Did I say my taste buds are becoming more sensitive. Another fantastic side effect of my recovery. Yes, summer days can be the best days ever. Until I hear the crunch of newly fallen snow under my feet as I stroll, on a still winter's night, watching the flakes falling gently from the sky. Yes, life is good!!
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Friday, June 8, 2012
The Narrative of Life
I was watching Art21 this morning as I was having my coffee. It is a program that interviews artists of note who are making a lasting contribution to their respective crafts in the 21st Ce. The program generally takes the viewer into the artist's studio, focusing on 2 or 3 pieces and how they came into existence. This last episode of Art21 Series 6, focused in part on Sarah Sze's Still Life with Landscape, a temporary installation on The High Line in NYC. As a gardener, I am intrigued by the nature and habitat of The High Line. On how an abandoned place such as this, in the middle of an urban setting, has in it's neglect, reverted back to a place where habitat exists. The High Line is near the top of my list of places I wish to experience, along side the Dupont Estates in the Brandywine Valley and Arley Hall in Chesire.
Sarah's Still Life in Landscape was conceived as sculpture but also one that would serve as a habitat for the wildlife on The HIgh Line. As I watched her constructing the 1 to 1 scale model in her studio I was struck by how this piece was so much more than just sculpture and habitat. Still Life, at it's core, became for me a representation of our existence on this earth. A representation that in it's detail expresses a very potent narrative on the beauty and complicated nature of that very real yet ethereal force that exists within all of us, that force called Life. Sarah freely admitted that Still Life is at its core a sculpture and that she approached the design of it from that point. That she focused on using found materials such as metal and wire, materials she could find in local stores. However, Sarah also said that her sculpture was designed to be a habitat, a place of sustenance and refuge for the wildlife of The High Line. As she worked she talked of her purposefully constructing Still Life to exist amongst the plantings, to be one with them, yet stand separate mimicking their life force as it is nestled along the edge of the walkway. In addition she said she wanted the sculpture to be close to where the visitors could experience it, where they would become in essence a part of the installation, just as the wildlife would be.
Before I get to philosophical let me describe the piece. Still Life in Landscape originates from a single source of bundled wire at ground level that then rise upward separating into individual paths of polished thin steel bars that slope gently upward fanning out into space ending about 7 feet off the ground. Balanced within those bands are aesthetically placed nesting boxes and feeding stations for the wildlife as well as horizontal pieces of steel bands for support. In a effect the square nature of the nesting box is repeated in the horizontal and vertical elements overall. Another section of the sculpture exists on the opposite side of the walkway, mirroring the theme so that the walkway effectively splits the piece in two.
However meaningful all of this is for her as art, Sarah's Still Life represents for me our experiences from birth unto death and beyond. That like Still Life, our lives begin, originating from a single point of universal force, thereafter sweeping upwards, as we age, separating into many distinct paths from which our life experiences are formed, paths that are created in relationship to the world around us. That the nesting boxes and feeding platforms are spaces within and without us designed as places of sustenance and refuge. Places that are shaped and defined in juxtaposition to what is the negative space.
Once the scale model was finished the program then switched to Sarah and her workers building Still Life on site. Sarah talked as they worked about the idea of creating a sculpture where people could stop and observe the wildlife as it exists in space and time. The idea she explained was the intention of getting people to stop and observe the work for 10 minutes. That 10 minutes is actually an incredibly long time for someone to just observe. She went on to say too that she was also concerned about whether the habitat would even be used by the wildlife of The High Line, that if they were not drawn to it, Still Life would still have to stand on its own as sculpture. That placement for her was as equally important as design, where viewing the sculpture from a distance would then create the negative space in which the piece could exist, one that would be transformed the closer you get until you, the viewer, enters the work becoming one with it.
By the end of the segment I was just sitting in awe. Watching Sarah create Still Life in Landscape on site for me was an experience of how complicated and fragile the nature of human existence can be. That we are, at birth, unformed as individuals; yet we possess all the wisdom of the ages, wisdom that at it's source is rooted within the universal energy of Mother Earth. That we begin to take form as a result of our experiences of our formable years separating into many different paths within and without that support and sustain us, making us as complicated and varied as we are unique. That as we move into adulthood our structures, created in response to those earlier experiences, are solid but not set in stone. That in reality they are in their basic nature just as fragile as life itself. That as Still Life was conceived as a temporary installation, we too can dismantle, recycle, and rebuild, transforming ourselves into something that is more closely aligned with that source of energy we inherited at birth. That in a very personal way there was the acknowledgement that at the end of my life I will be looking back in awe and reverence at my very complicated and varied experiences on this earth while at the same time I am looking forward with anticipation of what is to come next.
Sarah's Still Life in Landscape was conceived as sculpture but also one that would serve as a habitat for the wildlife on The HIgh Line. As I watched her constructing the 1 to 1 scale model in her studio I was struck by how this piece was so much more than just sculpture and habitat. Still Life, at it's core, became for me a representation of our existence on this earth. A representation that in it's detail expresses a very potent narrative on the beauty and complicated nature of that very real yet ethereal force that exists within all of us, that force called Life. Sarah freely admitted that Still Life is at its core a sculpture and that she approached the design of it from that point. That she focused on using found materials such as metal and wire, materials she could find in local stores. However, Sarah also said that her sculpture was designed to be a habitat, a place of sustenance and refuge for the wildlife of The High Line. As she worked she talked of her purposefully constructing Still Life to exist amongst the plantings, to be one with them, yet stand separate mimicking their life force as it is nestled along the edge of the walkway. In addition she said she wanted the sculpture to be close to where the visitors could experience it, where they would become in essence a part of the installation, just as the wildlife would be.
Before I get to philosophical let me describe the piece. Still Life in Landscape originates from a single source of bundled wire at ground level that then rise upward separating into individual paths of polished thin steel bars that slope gently upward fanning out into space ending about 7 feet off the ground. Balanced within those bands are aesthetically placed nesting boxes and feeding stations for the wildlife as well as horizontal pieces of steel bands for support. In a effect the square nature of the nesting box is repeated in the horizontal and vertical elements overall. Another section of the sculpture exists on the opposite side of the walkway, mirroring the theme so that the walkway effectively splits the piece in two.
However meaningful all of this is for her as art, Sarah's Still Life represents for me our experiences from birth unto death and beyond. That like Still Life, our lives begin, originating from a single point of universal force, thereafter sweeping upwards, as we age, separating into many distinct paths from which our life experiences are formed, paths that are created in relationship to the world around us. That the nesting boxes and feeding platforms are spaces within and without us designed as places of sustenance and refuge. Places that are shaped and defined in juxtaposition to what is the negative space.
Once the scale model was finished the program then switched to Sarah and her workers building Still Life on site. Sarah talked as they worked about the idea of creating a sculpture where people could stop and observe the wildlife as it exists in space and time. The idea she explained was the intention of getting people to stop and observe the work for 10 minutes. That 10 minutes is actually an incredibly long time for someone to just observe. She went on to say too that she was also concerned about whether the habitat would even be used by the wildlife of The High Line, that if they were not drawn to it, Still Life would still have to stand on its own as sculpture. That placement for her was as equally important as design, where viewing the sculpture from a distance would then create the negative space in which the piece could exist, one that would be transformed the closer you get until you, the viewer, enters the work becoming one with it.
By the end of the segment I was just sitting in awe. Watching Sarah create Still Life in Landscape on site for me was an experience of how complicated and fragile the nature of human existence can be. That we are, at birth, unformed as individuals; yet we possess all the wisdom of the ages, wisdom that at it's source is rooted within the universal energy of Mother Earth. That we begin to take form as a result of our experiences of our formable years separating into many different paths within and without that support and sustain us, making us as complicated and varied as we are unique. That as we move into adulthood our structures, created in response to those earlier experiences, are solid but not set in stone. That in reality they are in their basic nature just as fragile as life itself. That as Still Life was conceived as a temporary installation, we too can dismantle, recycle, and rebuild, transforming ourselves into something that is more closely aligned with that source of energy we inherited at birth. That in a very personal way there was the acknowledgement that at the end of my life I will be looking back in awe and reverence at my very complicated and varied experiences on this earth while at the same time I am looking forward with anticipation of what is to come next.
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