Observing and Absorbing
Our dramatically fluctuating weather can throw our local flora into a bit of a tizzy.
Recently, the pink magnolia tree in my yard was suddenly in full bloom after a too-warm week, so I ran out into the increasing chill to photograph its sun-dappled flowers against the crisp, blue sky, knowing that we — and it — were about to be battered by a twenty degree night full of forty-five mile-per-hour winds.
Overnight, the sadly deciduous limbs were transformed into a haunted southern gothic mansion specter. However, this type of transformative progression is interesting food for thought, from the sunny, bloomy side of things, to the post-freeze look. These extremes represent an intriguing sort of chaos.
Chaos doesn’t sound like a fun topic, but, really, everything serves as inspiration. For some, disorder is merely about objects being in disarray. But those in art and culture circles tend to see a broad spectrum of opportunities. It’s all useful, even necessary at times.
To me, this particular tree is about colors, shapes and patterns, whether pink and soft or crinkly and brown, reminding me of how I am moved by the magnificence of the natural world and its processes. As objects and circumstances and viewpoints change, layers of visual and tactile interest continue to stack up.
Many artists around the world specialize in recording the general breakdown of things. An old friend of mine, photographer Martin Cox (www.martincoxphotography.com), is known for his evocative images of abandoned southern California desert settlements as well as old steamships in various stages of deconstruction. The beauty of it is unexpectedly striking.
Here in Asheville, our city is a ready-made set for artists to capture many decades of juxtaposed art deco and graffiti, marble and corrugated, old brick and new concrete; it’s a fascinating, aesthetic turmoil, disclosed through art, serving as informer, revealer and a conduit for action. And art as daily commerce is big here. According to oft-cited reports, our arts and crafts activities generate many millions of dollars in local economic activity. Unruliness can breed business.
Personal unrest can also provide motivation for our output. While some artists are exempt from this notion due to being process-driven rather than emotionally so, many others are empathetically narrating personal outlooks and concepts, reacting to the world around them, and conveying their own and others’ stories. They are often constructing new works in response to what they viscerally feel, pouring-forth interpretations of the happenings around us, via film, paint, clay, mixed-media, performance, words, food and more.
Back to “my” tree. I’m sharing space with this one at a time in my life when I am more prone to notice it. This sudden changeover in the yard teaches me lessons about timing, fragility and how to appreciate shifts in my own life. Rather than merely Observe, remaining fixed as if a foot is nailed to the floorboards (which would also cause one to walk in a circle), one can Absorb even the most fleeting of lessons and move forward on new journeys, fully intending to cope and share and communicate.
My reaction to the magnolia represents just one interaction in a given week in a certain season. A small moment, yet it has inspired me quite a bit. Artist or otherwise, imagine how many factors each of us is processing all the time. Roll all our overlapping life encounters into the mix, and the volume of data is astounding!
We’re gauging and assessing all the time, evaluating our pasts, our connections, our futures. Sorting all this out can be a bit, well, chaotic. Yet, this unbridled, unfiled mass of information gets stored, crunched, dreamed, used, brainstormed, regurgitated … and then we lob it back out into the world to share and recombine into new ideas yet again.
It’s a never-ending cycle, and I hope you get to go out and create a bit of it today and magnify your senses. Perhaps there’s a tree near your place that deserves a look-see.
