Saturday, July 12, 2008

they call her stormy

Another huge storm moved through last night with over an inch of rain...where does it all go? The night before we had almost 3 inches. The streams always seem to look the same.

I am questioning, questioning. Also trying to do without question but it is difficult. I'm considering the issue of value or non-value that i place in my work. By leaving a piece of myself behind in an abandoned area (like the vacant lots), i'm creating only the remotest possibility that i will be found. And then if i'm found, will i be seen as having value? Or will i be ignored, discarded or damaged? Why do i put myself out to be weathered and abandoned? It's like i'm playing a trick on people to force them to figure everything out, only what's the investment for them? Why should they bother? Do i expect that by uncovering something special within something mundane that this will be seen as a metaphor for myself? I seem to have a question about my specialness.

This all seems terribly self-indulgent and narcissistic even though rationally i know that i'm far from that (or so i've been told). I need to figure out a way to prove that something of value can be discovered in an area that seems valueless. I need to switch the roles of special vs. non-special; value vs. valueless; unique vs. mundane. After reading this NY Times article about the Mogaoku caves at Dunhuang in China, i thought of creating little mud piles that contained the knotted threads. For their smaller sculptures, they would actually use mud, mixed with grass or straw, as a strong, long-lasting material. Now these caves are in trouble because of the huge amount of tourists visiting it. It has so much value and it was created with devotional intent but then was buried underground for centuries.

I would put the mud piles in obvious places before a rain storm (they're so reliable here) or at a creek's edge, then document the mud washing away to leave the knot masses. Then, they too would either wash away, be revealed, or be discovered. I'm not sure about it all but i'm trying to not question myself as much. Depending on the weather today, i may try it out.

I'm still working on the knot masses that will float down the river/creek. I've tried several iterations and their flotation is kind of an issue. I was reminded by an Argentinian student here how the Vikings (her husband is Swedish) would wrap their dead in cotton, set them on a plank of wood, and send them into the water. Once the bodies were far away, they would shoot a fiery arrow and set the body ablaze. There are also the prayer papers that are set on the water...something about sending things downstream to be remembered and to hold hope.

And one last note regarding art and value—from another article in the NY Times about an exhibit with sand as the central theme:

One of the most remarkable works of all is by a self-taught folk artist from Iowa named Andrew Clemens (1857-94). Using variously colored sands found near his home Clemens created pictures and patterns inside glass bottles, one grain at a time. The example in this exhibition depicts an eagle waving an American flag over an intricately patterned, richly colored band of diamond shapes and interlocking organic forms.

The museum label notes that Clemens, who lost his hearing to encephalitis as a child, once worked for a dime museum creating sand bottles while people watched. When he completed one, a barker would ceremonially smash it to prove there was no trickery involved. It’s a curiously sad story, like an episode in a Dickensian novel.

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