Gifts (1)

I went to work today to prepare for the resumption on Thursday of my indoor cycling classes. As I often do, I stopped in to see Judith. I had several things to show her. Some of those will appear on the blog very soon; others will have to wait until after Christmas.

After I had shown her the first item, Judith broke in to tell me that she had a small gift for me. She reached out and put a white ceramic thimble in my hand. The thimble was marked on the inside with a black X and a signature. She told me to slip it onto my finger and see if I wasn't suddenly struck by the calm that comes from handwork. I did - and I was. She explained that she had picked it up at an exhibition at the Gardiner Museum of Ceramic art during a visit in September. The artist, Robin Lambert, had designed his piece to invite visitors to pick up and take away a thimble.

Here is a link to the site for the RBC Emerging Artist People's Choice Award. Each of the photos links to more information on the artists. 

The video gives some insight into Lambert's piece, entitled I Should Like to Give You a Kiss. In October it won the people's choice award. 




It is is difficult to tell from the website but Judith told me that there was a display of white thimbles on the wall with a white shag rug on the floor beneath them. Visitors were allowed to touch the thimbles and even to keep them. Apparently the staff have made some interesting observations about the behaviour of the visitors with respect to what they touch. I am fascinated because this work is parallel to my interest in repeated forms and participatory art. It bears an eerie resemblance to my 'community' piece (which is awaiting a delivery of hundreds of snap fasteners.)

Judith thought that the thimble could serve to calm me during doctor's visits or at other times when I wanted to induce feelings of contentment. But it does much more than that. That small piece of white ceramic reminds me, again, of the number of people who share my interests and who care for me, either in person or in their thoughts. I will never be alone and that is a priceless gift.

Tomorrow I will share another item - another perfect gift.

Large art

Once again I find myself entranced by a large installation piece. This one incorporates my fascination with repeated elements.

888,246 hand-crafted ceramic poppies will be planted in the moat of the Tower of London. The work began this week, the 100th anniversary of Great Britain's and many Commonwealth countries' (including Canada and Newfoundland) entry into World War I, and will be completed on November 11. Each poppy represents a British or Colonial fatality in the war. The piece, entitled Blood Swept Lands and Seas of Red was conceived by ceramicist Paul Cummins, with setting by stage designer Tom Piper. The Huffington Post has more photos. You can read about the project and see a video here.

I don't know what it is but the sight of those repeated forms literally takes my breath away. In this case it might be the fact that each of those stands for a life tragically cut short but I think it is more than that. I see our individual lives played out in the repetition. The accumulation of similar elements add up to a marvelous whole. That seems to me a statement of hope, not despair. 

Community

Yesterday a discussion on the SAQA Yahoo group, which started as a request for links to interesting blogs, evolved into a more wide-ranging examination of two other issues. One thread examined the reasons for blogging - are they personal, commercial, a mix of the two? What is an appropriate frequency? The other thread involved the issue of making the blog available to the largest number of readers. Just a few years ago people were willing to check in daily with their favorite blogs. Now subscriptions and RSS feed services are in demand. They ensure that readers will have access to the latest posts by their favorite authors at a click of a key.

I participated in the discussion because I have been giving a lot of thought to why I am now writing a daily blog post, how it is affecting my life right now and what the future holds. I am having no difficulty creating a new post every day. I realize that some of my content might not interest anyone but myself but that's fine. I have no commercial interest so the number of readers and their interest in my art or my teaching is not relevant to what I write. This blog is mostly a personal journal - a place to record a sampling of my thoughts and the events in my life. Next year I will know where to look when I want to know what tomatoes I planted and when. In a few years when I want a pick-me-up puppy shot I know there will be a few readily available on the blog. I will look back in a few months and see that cancer was just a blip in my days.

I have already experienced a shift as a result of the blog posts I have written in the last month. When I reviewed them I noted something that was new to me. My posts about art and art quilts reveal a pattern. It is clear that I am interested in large scale work, possibly ephemeral, and that repeating forms fascinate me. I am also not married to the traditional view of art as immutable and to be cherished by the viewer in its original state. I like the thought that something could change through time. I know that a lot of artists use weather to create that change. I am much more interested in the role of human intervention in altering the work.

That realization has led me to develop a concept for a second series. It would consist of large scale pieces composed of a large number of smaller units which could be placed in multiple ways on the larger 'canvas'. I would get to choose the original layout and might also alter it at will. But I would like to see what happens if viewers could also modify it in real time - if they could reach out and make it what they need it to be. 

I don't think it is a coincidence that these ideas have come to me at the same time as my cancer diagnosis. As I think about this project I think about community. I am such a geek that I write a mission statement for myself for every project I undertake and I always incorporate 'creating community' as one of my goals. I never thought of myself as a member of the communities I create or sustain but recently those communities have rallied to support me. Suddenly my viewpoint has changed and I have realized that I am a part of what I have created. 

Over the course of my appointments and surgery this week and next I will be working on small units that can become part of the first 'community' piece. My FAB friends have also contributed some units. When I have a sufficient collection I will lay them out and see what can be constructed from the hands and imagination of many people. I bet it will be wonderful. And it will be even better when others get a chance to arrange it in ways that appeal to them.