A sea-change

| No Comments

The more you really look at something, the more strange and fantastic it becomes.

To pillage Ariel's Song from The Tempest,

Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.

I found a photo I took of our magnetic refrigerator poetry just before we moved out of our apartment in Brooklyn (there are others, but we didn't usually keep it PG-13). It sums up a lot of my artistic philosophy:

I spent several hours today (about the length of the entire 4-CD Led Zeppelin box set) working with lead white pigment in a borax casein binder. To counteract lead white's siccative properties, I needed to dilute it until it really did resemble milk, and then I applied it drop by supple drop to prepared glass slides and wood panels. Something about it made me shivery.

I watched a show yesterday on the History Channel to do with the universe, tracing theories about its origins from theology through scientific discoveries. At one point, a commentator said something like "It's understandable if all this is confusing and mysterious. We're talking about centuries and thousands of minds trying to puzzle together the unfathomable. One person's mind can't make sense of all that - we can barely make sense of it together over history." (I have liberally paraphrased, but it was like poetry.)

I was suddenly filled with this quiet peace, that it's okay to have a hundred million questions and no answers, and it's okay to simply concentrate on the speck of what's in front of us. I thought about so many people trying to imagine their place in the universe all at once, everyone trying to reason and measure it out and construct some meaning out of thought. That energy, as a contribution to existence, is a pretty powerful force, and a damn beautiful one.

Drop by drop, you know?

Leave a comment

About this Entry

This page contains a single entry by Vicki published on January 11, 2009 12:09 AM.

A smattering, mostly devoid of segues was the previous entry in this blog.

An enduring love for Schroeder is the next entry in this blog.

Find recent content on the main index or look in the archives to find all content.