A Curious Light • S1
⊛ A Curious Light • S1
⊛ cut + torn paper / wood
⊛ 7.1 x 5.7 in • 180 x 145 mm
Our eyes are not accustomed to such light, down here in our subterranean grotto
We do not seek to stand in or on the sun
Our family knows such brilliance is best in small doses
A glimmer here, a glamour there, a spark to strike awe and delight
But should the light ever seek us
We shall encircle it , cherish it
And join it to our family once again
How, I wonder, would we react to the sudden appearance, uninvited, of a visitor from a higher realm? A spiritual being, an alien, a deity, a floating soul? An illuminated, ephemeral interplanar guest come around to see how the fleshier creatures get along?
I’d like to think I’d be consumed by curiosity. Imagine the crazy conversations to be had, the things we could learn (presuming that we can understand each other, of course, and that we have some basis for common ground on which to start building a dialogue). This is the optimist in me, who is always shrugging his shoulders at the cynic.
The cynic/realist, who in turn purses his lips and shakes his head at the naive optimist, has quite a bit less faith in us as a species. We don’t have the best track record when coming face-to-face with the unknown. Or even the very slightly different.
Instead of starting with a set theme or concept, I started with a wonderfully weird chunk of wood.
I mean, it’s just gorgeous with its organic bumps and splinters, color shifts and undulating rings. It immediately made me think about caves and cave-dwellers. And that quickly grew into a family of knobbly, pale-faced folk. A whole subterranean community.
They haven’t got a ton of experience dealing with illuminated and wiggly incursions. S•1 A Curious Light is the first of the S•series pieces (although not the first I’ve written about; here are S4 and S5) . I didn’t create this piece for a particular exhibition or event, or to chronicle a happening in my life. Mostly, I wanted to make some art that didn’t take up weeks of my life while giving me permission to flirt with imperfection. This is pretty much as close to extemporaneous as I get. Shoring up hollow nooks, burrowing, and shifting root-y protuberances is more their area of expertise.
Things could still go sideways, I suppose, but to my eyes, they’re off to a rather fine start.
