Ever since I first saw Cornelia Parker's sculpture, Hanging Fire (Suspected Arson) at the ICA, I've wanted to talk about it and think about it.  Now that Damien Ortega's piece, Cosmic Thing, is installed, I have an excuse.  I haven't yet seen the Ortega sculpture, but I did have a look at Sebastian Smee's video tour of the exhibit. First, about Hanging Fire...what I love about it is the flow between the narrative, conceptual elements of the piece and its overall presence.  The arrangement of floating, delicate bits of wood and nails recovered from an arson site creates a feeling of ascension, as if the material body of the building has become the building's spirit, rising upward.  The spaces around the bits of wood translate as the memory of the building's rectangular and upright form.  For a conceptual piece, it feels incredibly intimate.   I think this is because it conveys the feeling of ascension so well, and because the narrative is specific: the life and death of a building.

Call me a spiritualist, but when I see objects floating around me, I think of ascension.  So I'm curious to see how Ortega's piece reads. 

Cosmic Thing also calls to mind Cai Guo-Quiang's suspended cars at the Guggenheim last year.  For me that show was more about spectacle and emotional distance, than meaning.  Too often artists and art viewers are interested in speaking in tones of cool emotional distance, like the way the teens I know talk...especially when they want to hide authentic emotion.

(For anyone who wants more ascension metaphors floating around the psyche, check out Marilynne Robinson's book, Housekeeping.  There is a beautiful descriptive passage somewhere early in the book about the law of ascension.)

Cindy Cantrell's article on the exhibit appeared today in the Globe West.  We're excited around here!

Besides the beautiful space at the Willow Gallery, the best thing about a LynnArts' opening is that there are multiple openings happening at once and a lot of opportunities to connect with other artists.  I enjoyed chatting with several of the artists who are exhibiting work in the show, War and Peace:  Images of Conflict and Resolution in the 21st Century, juried by Ken Hruby.  I appreciated the very specific and useful feedback that some of the artists gave me as they looked at my work.  David Lang creates intricate sculptures that are fascinating to look at.  He and C.J. Stevens told me about an upcoming installation on loss and love by Evelyn Berde at Mass Art.  I'm not going to miss that show.  I also enjoyed meeting and talking with artist Tamara Wolfson, who was passing through Lynn and decided to stop in.

As a mother artist, I couldn't help experiencing the day partly through the eyes of my kids.  When we first arrived, and my nine year old looked around with wide eyes and a proud smile, I felt deeply satisfied; the opening was just beginning, and as far as I knew, strangers hadn't praised or rejected me, yet, but his wordless response gave me what I needed from this day.

I was really grateful to see the familiar faces of several friends who came by.  Old friends, new friends, family, and art -- it was a memorable day.

This past Labor Day was gloriously sunny and perfect for playing with rocks at Odiorne Point, NH.  It was interesting to watch the various people, old and young, as they approached the cairns that dotted the rocks.  Most of the visitors were unable to resist the urge to create their own cairn, leaving a record of their presence.  It reminded me of the description in Steinbeck’s East of Eden about the difference in personality between two main characters, Aron and Cal, as young boys.  Steinbeck imagines how each boy would respond when finding an anthill.  Aron would lie on his stomach and watch the ants for hours, while Cal would kick at the anthill and watch the ants respond to the disaster.  “Aron was content to be a part of his world, but Cal must change it.”

Fortunately, no one that we observed wanted to destroy the cairns, but I think some young folks may have “restructured” some cairns or “repurposed” some of the rocks.  I think the urge that I felt while moving rocks around was connected to each of the two personality traits that Aron and Cal represent: the desire to be a part of one’s world and the desire to change it. The work portion of my day was actually very enjoyable.  I had a phone interview with Cindy Cantrell of the Boston Globe West People Column.  She had seen the press release for the We Are Made of Dreams and Bones exhibit and wanted to speak with me about my work.  Cindy asked me some insightful questions, and I hope I managed to be reasonably articulate.  I can see that being a journalist is hard work, especially on a sunny Labor Day.  The piece is tentatively scheduled to appear in the Sunday, Sept. 13 issue of the Globe West.