This is how the day started yesterday. Not too promising.
This juxtaposition of the fading winter and oncoming spring reminded me of how tides work: we all know they are controlled by the moon. The moon affects the hugest bodies of water in the tide as it goes in and out, most strongly at the full moon. What is less noted is that the tide shifts AFTER the moon’s effect on it. In other words, it will continue to come in further once the moon has signalled for it to go out (and vice-versa); the momentum is such that it lags in following the moon’s shift. Likewise, the seasons: the remnants of winter are here even as the temperature is warming. It takes time for the snow to melt.
Knowing that we are composed of so much water ourselves, doesn’t it make sense that we too would be affected by momentum in this way?
I was feeling the pressure of time before my installation. A due date for the photographer, for the drive, for putting it up. It’s done. Over. And inside, I feel as if I’m still running, past the finish line…
Recently I’ve been perusing a book on Howard Hodgkin, a painter I greatly admire. His works are lush. I look at them and think, those look so spontaneous. And then I notice: next to each of his works is the dates of its creation, such as 1980-1984, or 1984-93, or 2000-2003. Almost all his works were in progress for years. YEARS! Lots of tides in and out in that amount of time. No time pressure.
His explicit trust in his process allowed him to give each piece the space of years to come to completion. What an example of faith he is for me. Letting the dialogue with the work last as long as it takes.
Yes, letting it all unfold in its own way, own timing. Tide in, tide out. Tides in, tides out.
*speaking of lag time, apologies to Paula Mould. In all my excitement, I mistakenly gave an incorrect URL for her in yesterday’s blog. Check her out : paulamould.com.
