Invitation

Notes on upcoming show

Over forty works covering two floors of the Gallery at Manor Mill, the show “Phases of Mind”, represents two ways I explore feelings I’m trying to understand reflecting diverse mental states. The pastel drawings on the second floor investigate idea-based moods often triggered by my reading in science and philosophy. I think of these drawings as visual philosophy, an image that shows a set of relationships that can prompt ideas in the viewer. One purpose is to break down fixation on separate objects and shift attention to processes of change and interpenetration, drawing attention to impermanence. The graphite-based drawings on the third floor focus on weight, how it affects attention and conveys seriousness. These are darker moods as the metaphor of heaviness implies. Many of them are also motivated by the desire to have the image push out at the viewer rather than the traditional sense of the picture falling back from a window. The seven drawings in the “Rational Limits” series, six of which were shown at the BMA are a bridge to the socio-political work that formed the rest of that show. They consider the mindsets that detach people from their feelings enough to create division and anxiety in the world. In all off these works, the viewer can go in many directions of their own. I’ve sought an essence that gives form that can prompt a viewers’ thought.

Enactment

Noticing

In a time when the attention of so many is sucked into one small physical location, 21st century research is reminding us of the importance of the rest of our environment to day-to-day well-being. Nature and water have the most restorative qualities. The integration of elements in the natural world includes us when we’re walking through it. In Japan they recommend the benefits of forest bathing, a simple walk in the woods. Noticing what’s out there stimulates the senses and can stir curiosity because nature keeps changing. The clouds are different, the fox or deer or rabbit that runs through a yard is never the same, the edges of the creek vary as does the clarity and depth of the water. A regular suburban neighborhood is an endless stream of information, that when noticed, strengthens our ability to notice more. Any continued involvement in something brings expertise which enables us to see in more detail. Whether it’s studying the needs of the plants in your garden or learning more about the people around you, accumulated observation builds knowledge. Spinoza wrote “The more the mind knows, the better it understands.” Any one area of knowledge improves our base for reasoning about other things, with a range of characteristics, functions and interactions that can be compared to new perceptions, making distinctions where different and correlations where the same. Personal verbal language is enriched with new description and metaphor. This is not quantifiable knowledge. Observed knowledge broadens our base of perception. Everything we learn with our eyes fine tunes our ability to see. Every time I walk with my friend Jordan Tierney, I learn something from her intense ecological awareness of the natural world. I notice more. I contrast this with the memory of a teenager I saw walking in the surf at the beach, his eyes never leaving the screen in his hand which is attached by wires to his ears as well. Our curiosity has been co-opted by our phones, reduced to the choices on the screen- has someone responded to our post or text, do we have voice mail, what is the weather in the next 15 minutes, what’s the trending video. As algorithms and demagogues know, emotion gets attention but never has us question why a feeling attracts us. Art shows what words can’t say, bringing the feeling we couldn’t articulate back to us with real depth. Art can show feelings too subtle and deep for words. When Jordan and I were leaving the reservoir area we saw two buzzards pecking at something dead on the ground. When we were close enough see it was a fawn, horror and sadness were the only words. They couldn’t come close to describing the thickness in my chest. Later she sent me this page in her journal so beautifully exemplifying art’s power to say it for me.

Inside Look

Spectating

“Watching Tennis for Self-Improvement” was my first post inspired by tennis, followed by several over the years rhapsodizing with the admiration I feel whenever I watch a grand slam tournament. Admiration and inspiration are always dominant themes though each post emphasized different facets. I celebrated the breaking down of divisions by players from all over the world demonstrating individualized excellence, so favorites transcend national borders. When the camera focuses on the facial expression, it feels like such an honor to see into the core consciousness and focused hereness exposed on the face. The pleasure of saying “WOW” is pure joy, erupting spontaneously over shots that astonish and seem impossible. Both finals this year provided plenty of that and in the case of the men’s final for almost five hours. Each championship match was historic for different reasons. Marketa Vondrousova was the first ever unranked player to win the championship, beating one of the top ten women, Ons Jabeur. In the men’s final, Novak Djokovic, the record holding champion of the most men’s finals played the current number 1 player Carlos Alcaraz, 20 years old and with very little experience on the grass. Sure to become a legendary match, shots were thoughtful and creative as well as powerful. The spectators were held in thrall, our own attention spans stretched by the drama. We were all one crowd going crazy over the big shots, holding our breath at key moments, and it was the oneness I felt with the crowd this year that got my attention. We shared something special. Whether the camera, which loves fame, was focusing on the King of Spain or Brad Pitt, we were all united in wonder, everyone standing up and cheering with appreciation. Racial and ethnic diversity was evident throughout the stadium and on screens of all sizes all over the world. Boundaries are erased by appreciation. Our shared enjoyment surely produced some wonderful brain chemistry, excitement, energy, pleasure at watching the results of the superlative dedication necessary to achieve such mastery in their skills. The pleasure goes deeper when a player is watching. Experience sharpens observation and my friend Xandi Egginton who was a champion in high school, could tell who each player idolized and how it inspired them. He said, “In tennis it is all laid bare; the game is so diffuse with personality, character, and feeling that these qualities become a part of the fabric of competition, which I think is one of the many reasons tennis is such a special sport.” Dedication is inspiring. The benefits of admiration fed by good examples of heart, courage and discipline were there for all of us as witnesses and though I was watching through a screen it felt like something shared. Tennis has power to keep people in the moment and be more focused witnesses. Something that Alan Watts expressed different ways in different talks is that we are portals through which the universe sees itself. To witness such excellence is to be reminded of what humans can do when they give themselves to something and that we have a choice about where we give our attention when bad examples dominate the news.

Frustration