Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Finnegin Beginnegin, Nobody Owens and Phoenix Stories are for Humans
There once was a man named Michael Finnegan,
He grew whiskers on his chinnegan,
Shaved them off and they grew in ag'in,
Poor old Michael Finnegan (begin ag'in)
Did you sing that song as a child? I did.
I sang it to myself once more as I twisted wire for armature, to begin again the process of sculpting the piece I accidentally destroyed.
It's a good song, that.
Stephen King writes that Hell is repetition.
He's right too. Still, repetition seems part of human life.
We wash the dishes, go to work, brush our teeth, wake up in a cold sweat.
Recreating destroyed work is a different sort of repetition. It carries the burden of loss.
Both kinds of repetition bring experience. Any twelve-year-old practicing scales, no matter how reluctantly, will become skilled eventually. Same as coping with setbacks.
So. The sculpture that was destroyed was this one. It wasn't so much the hours and effort lost, or that it was to be the next The Graveyard Book sculpture.
Sure, that was loss, but the truth is,
I loved her.
I glance at The Poppet Who Lives on My Desk...
Right. Silly human.
Real, after all, is relative.
Sid commented about losing written work. Over the years I've lost both written work and art. Some through error, some through no fault of my own( &^$(*&@!! computers!) and some in spectacular fashion such that demonstration would require stunt doubles. Each experience was unique. Each work, whether words on a computer screen or a work of art, carries whatever life we've ascribed to it. After all, in everything we create, there we are.
Possibly this experience---loss and recreation---as Syd and Melissa P commented---the Phoenix--possibly it's part of the human curriculum. Is that idea at all comforting? Tell me your stories about losing and recreating work. The more brains, the closer we get to figuring things out.
As Poppets are fond of saying:
"How many humans does it take to answer a single question?"
"All of them."
There's still snow on the mountains, but spring has arrived. When it comes, you just know. If the weather hasn't reached you yet, not to worry, it's coming. Equinox soon.
Posted by lisa at 8:15 PM