I’m a deep admirer of art for its ability to heal, inspire and transform the world. Literature, poetry, sculpture, mixed media, you name it, it’s soul food for me. I love live music, can get lost in art exhibits, museums and have been awed by the lyrical genius of the spoken word. I thought I’d share a few things that never fail to inspire me when I’m in a rut.
I believe it’s been many years since I’ve been obsessed with my girl. She’s called ‘Expansion’ and for me is the embodiment of female empowerment. I imagine she’s a woman about my age, fully coming into her own power. With enough experience to know what the world has to offer and still youthful enough to enjoy it without being jaded. The bloom might just slightly be off the rose but wisdom has so much to offer and can be incredibly sexy.
I can never quite decide if the cracks are from without or within. Is she growing into her power, bursting at the seams? Shedding a skin that has confined her for too many years? Or is she slightly broken and mended with gold reinforcing her strength? The gold sealant fill the cracks of battles well fought, bonding her soul into something ethereal and indestructible. Both scenarios appeal to me. That eternal struggle of opposing forces. The inherent duality that exists in all people, even the most humble and best of us.
Breaking points interest me. Knowing my own limits and testing them is a bit of game. Sometimes fun when I get to choose the parameters, sometimes not so fun when life sucker punches you. Such is the nature of life.
Kinsukoroi, the Japanese art of repairing ceramics seems like the perfect metaphor for the direction society should be taking. Rather than continually purchasing new and shiny baubles, why not repair or re-purpose what we already have. Context is paramount for me. I bring my lens, my experience, and my blessed baggage to my outlook of the world. Looking forward tends to be less introspective unless I balance it with all the knowledge I’ve gained to date. Growth should be an expansion of the mind. Not a narrowing of focus.
“True forgiveness is when you can say, “Thank you for that experience.”
-Oprah Winfrey
We all have experienced suffering. I love this quote because it’s my bar. I tend to have a short temper and can be stubborn as a mule when it comes to my principles. Some people don’t deserve forgiveness but you deserve to move on. You owe it to yourself to accept situations and people for what they are, let them go and love your wounds as part of your own history. Whenever I look at this sculpture I’m reminded of this truth. Seeing her and all she’s been through always makes me want to say, “thank you for this experience”. Other times I want to cuss like a sailor. I’m a work in progress.
Maybe it’s my age but I think I’ve always been this way. I love old t-shirts with tiny holes that tell stories and offer memories. The smell of books that have been reread over and over. Tangible things that are living breathing memory, full of life, and have their own histories. I want to fill my life, and house with vibrant stories begging to be retold. Mythic tales of hard earned wisdom, silly encounters, rich lessons to be passed down through generations. Expansion embodies this idea for me. A history that we seem to be forsaking. A body of knowledge, myth, legend and history that we aren’t correctly integrating. Our human communal past with our digital, robotic, somewhat sterile future. I’d really like to bring the ancient into union with the futuristic.
There is something so seductive about her power for me. The naked raw beauty of a woman completely self possessed. Every muse I could conjure, goddess, vision of Gaia or women I’d want us all to become is embodied in this sculpture. That’s what “Expansion” represents for me. If only I had the funds to purchase her. Perhaps in another lifetime.
That brings me to the melancholy yet inspiring aspect to art. Where beauty makes you weep with the bitter sweetness of all human emotions. When art triggers emotions in a cleansing way. There have been several times in my life where a piece of classical music moved me to tears. In a small venue off of the square of St. Mark’s cathedral in Venice pregnant with my first child listening to a baritone express in Italian my intimate hopes for the my life. In Ottawa I was fortunate enough to be in the front row for that year’s Premio Pagani winner play an exquisite piece on the violin. I can no longer remember what it was but I remember exactly how I felt. She made that violin weep and express the depth of human suffering and I wept with her.
Which brings me to one of the most inspiring, emotionally painful and elegantly intense pieces I’ve ever heard. Samuel Barber’s, Adagio for strings. Whenever I hear this piece I stop in my tracks. And yes I know what you’re thinking. Platoon. (Fantastic movie for those out of my age bracket.) Get that shit out of your head. It took me forever to disassociate this piece with ‘that’ scene. If you haven’t seen the movie, listen to Samuel Barber’s Adagio several times first. It’s a masterpiece worthy of a place in the sun all on it’s own accord and very much on my bucket list of live music.
This piece brings so many memories for me. Kisses, births, deaths, pain, joy, the kind of laughter that makes you pee. All that it means to be full alive. Art can be electric in that regard. It resuscitates you after the slog that sometimes is life. Art gives you courage and bolsters you against day to day monotony.
These are all variations of the same theme. Sustenance for souls that seem ever so hungry and distracted. Expansion is symbolic of the wealth of experience that comes with time. Just as images communicate and bring up vivid imagery, so do words. Poetry read aloud is my serious crutch. Quiet nights having your partner read to you are memories to be cherished. I think “Naked Human” by Christopher Poindexter is my favorite collection. I must have read it or had it read to me about five times now. So far it stands the test of longevity.
I was recently fortunate enough to explore New Mexico and was shocked at the originality of the art and artists everywhere I went. From intricate jewelry, the likes of which I’d never seen, to creative knickknacks that perfectly navigated Latin, indigenous and southern influences. The meeting point of many cultures and traditions. It was an education and reminder that there is always so much to learn. The museum of International Folk Art was rather impressive with a collection of miniatures that tantalize the imagination. If I remember correctly there is one display of Heaven, Purgatory and Hell that my daughter was enamored with. There was one particular exhibition that moved our family quite deeply. The Gallery of Conscience had street art, miniatures and biographies of the artists from Peru.
After many decades of civil unrest and conflict these people had crafted works of art illustrating their biographies, loss and healing. The stories were shocking and illustrated the worst aspects of humanity and the artwork was all the more potent as a result. Loss of children, family, friends and community were on display in the form of miniatures, posters and murals. I had heard of art therapy and it’s healing benefits but this was a potent, impactful illustration of it. Reconciling with violent difficult histories through art was an eye opener for me.
I am starting to recognize writing as cathartic. I can understand how art and the creation of something singular would help people heal, regardless of the medium. Music, art, poetry, they all tell stories. We all learn through them and feel an intrinsic connection to each other. There is healing to be found here. In listening and telling stories. I have to feed my soul as much as my body in order to thrive.
Speaking of feeding my body: https://www.allrecipes.com/recipe/218411/cranberry-walnut-oatmeal-cookies/
I use pecans instead of walnuts and add white chocolate chips. Three quarters of a cup should do it. Also I never, ever use vegetable oil. Butter all the way!
