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Authentic Drama - It's Called Life

 

 

Why is the imagination so highly valued in our culture?

Is everyday reality so unsatisfactory that the splendor we crave is only fulfilled by mental gymnastics?

 

Why do we relish contrived spectacles and processed drama?

Are our real life experiences too mundane to provide extraordinary experiences?

 

Why is it necessary to spend multimillion dollar budgets, concoct technological wizardry, and assemble casts of thousands to keep us entertained?

Are perceptions that are free and accessible also humdrum and predictable?

 

The more time I spend producing my own food, the less need I have for imagination, contrivance, and entertainment. Drama surrounds me.

 

The frog’s demeanor was calm, despite the fact that one of its hind legs was lodged deep in the throat of a yard long garden snake. It was the snake that was agitated, struggling to widen its flexible jaws enough to swallow its prey, but thwarted by the chubby leg that dangled beyond its grasp.

 

Eleven goslings settled down to sleep into the cozy down comforter of each other’s young plumage. In the morning, the pastoral scene had become a grave site. Four bodies lay strewn in the long grass, downed by a single bite on their infant necks. The others goslings vanished without a trace. We suspect coyotes performed the deed. There was no choice but to participate in the carnage. The abandoned babies were cleaned and simmered in red wine flavored with wild chives and mushrooms. The chickens ate the innards and the pig ate the bones.

 

Herons help themselves to fish from the pond. Broad-winged crows swoop silently into the poultry pen and alight with freshly laid duck eggs.  Chickens nibble on my lettuce sprouts. Chipmunks ravage my strawberry plants. All critters get hungry. Every living entity is driven to maintain itself. These facts lie beyond the reach of morality and sentiment. They simply are. They ‘are’ sumptuous, astounding, wondrous examples of authentic drama.     

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Streaming, Part 1
The stream that is a major feature on my property, contributing offerings of visual delights and opportunities of engagement all four-seasons of the year, was not among the reasons why my husband and I purchased the parcel of land upon which we currently reside. The stream was hardly present then. Gradually it emerged as Skip and I removed the multi millennial accumulation of leaves, twigs, branches, trunks, silt, pebbles, and boulders that choked the lateral depression running from high ground to low. Opening the channel funneled the rainwater and cleared the clogged heads of springs that now contribute steady trickles of cool, mineral-rich water that ultimately feeds into Sepasco Lake  below.

As we worked, the elongated zone of amorphous dampness was transformed into a crisp meandering bank that bordered flowing, crystalline waters. The lugubrious and dull sameness of the disheveled terrain gradually morphed into a vibrant setting where liquid, stone, soil, moss, bush, and trees regained their individualities. They invited new populations of frogs, blue gills, water beetles, wood thrushes, fox, coyotes, chipmunks, and salamanders to engage with them in new functional alliances. Even age-old trees sprouted young branches and clothed them in fine new greenery. Year by year, in steady increments, vitality and diversity replaced insipidness and sameness.        

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May Love Prevail?

Cynicism, that nasty kid on the contemporary art block, suddenly seems less entrenched than it has for the past few decades. Love is sprouting in its cracks. Two staunch advocates of the sweetest and most innocent sorts of love include Yoko Ono and Jiri Kovanda

Ono, the cutest, high-spirited veteran of tender feelings, is currently traveling the globe as a self-appointed ambassador of love. She is so endearing in this role that she is inspiring lifelong misanthropes to lift the tiny plastic flashlights she distributes and joyfully comply with her instructions to learn the code of a language that says it all with just three words. One flash means “I”. Two flashes mean “love”. Three mean “you”. Flashers of love are proliferated in auditoriums and stadiums around the globe, eagerly replacing their willfulness with willingness to proclaim their affections to the great, all-embracing, anonymous “you”. Their thumbs seem never to weary.

 
The Czech artist Jirí Kovanda has promoted love by positioning himself behind a large window, holding up a note that asks passers-by to kiss him through the glass. Remarkably, they do, expressing the range of affection that attends this loving act: shyness, passion, tenderness, and so forth. In a culture where institutions and authorities excel at hostile actions, Kovanda provides a vital arena to practice the art of loving actions.

These artists are presenting love as a viable alternative to distrust, aversion, suspicion, fear, defensiveness, aggression that have long been in vogue. Please join me in reinforcing their efforts. I send you my heartfelt good wishes, and would be delighted to receive yours in exchange. I also pledge to devote love to the waters, the air, the soils, and critters who occupy them.

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Dear Mother Nature

Imagine that you had the opportunity to send one communication to Mother Nature.

What kind of message would you send her?

    Condolences or congratulations?

        Love letter or hate letter?

            Advice or request?

                Bill or payment?

                    Invitation or rejection?

                        Warning or assurance?

                            Announcement of win or loss?

                                Summons or release?

Other?

 

By what means would you transmit this message?

    High tech or low tech?

        Personal or mediated?

            Emissary or delegation?

                Human or non-human?

                    Slow route or instantaneous?

                        Sensory or extra-sensory?

Other?

 

Please send me your responses.

Thank you.

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Exhibitions Go Green

Dear Friends,

 

May I share heartening evidence of the deepening partnership between art and ecology? 

Recently I began to notice that galleries and museums were hosting exhibitions that resembled many eco-art works. I started collecting examples in a file named “Exhibitions: Ecological Models of Organization”. It is quickly filling up. These exhibitions share the following characteristics of ecosystems: 

Structurally, they function like systems of energy flow patterns (art) within habitats (museums) for communities (arists and audiences).

Formally, they depend upon relationships between these elements.

Temporally, they instigate local perturbations that ripple beyond their borders and initiate evolutionary transformations.

By elevating responsiveness over preservation and vigor over longevity, these eco-display strategies cultivate the same conditions that assure the robustness of ecosystems - they willingly teeter at the brink of chaos. Biologists report that vitality is maximized in precarious states. Does this apply to museum display?

Eight examples of such display practices are posted on this web site Click "essays".

If anyone is working on exhibitions that display these qualities, or knows of other examples, please share this information. I'm also eager to hear your thoughts about this phenomenon. Is it an anomaly or a trend?

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Rituals of Renewal

The ground remains frozen, but the air throbs with expectancies. It is readying itself to receive the coming season’s offerings of winged insects, powdery pollens, and bird songs. Today I, too, anticipated this annual event by inserting seeds, one-by-one, in tiny soil packets and setting them in the warm, dark shelf beside the refrigerator. There they will hopefully and healthfully renew their genetic stock.

This process has been performed before by uncountable unknowable people. Despite the onset of gridded networks and cyber exchanges, it remains a vital connective tissue linking seed-planters across time and space.

Turning the ignition to start my car, and booting up my computer, and switching a station on the radio don’t offer the same inspirational enrichment. I wonder why, since they too have been performed by uncountable strangers before me. What constitutes a solemn and uplifting ritual of renewal?

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Landscape's Feet, Mouths, Eyes...

Foothills

Headland

Mouth of river

Eye of storm

Face of cliff

Brow of ridge

Shoulder of valley

Arm of sea 

These words and phrases indicate that the landscape and the human body are natural extensions of each other - that the physicality of one is correlated with the physicality of the other. This seems odd since the contemporary experience with landscape is primarily a visual aesthetic experience. Shoes don’t get muddy. Fingernails stay clean. It is virtual not corporeal. Perhaps these words indicate that it is also metaphorical, not actual.

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