Just finishing up the novel, “The Overstory,” by Richard Powers. This isn’t a book review but I will say that, for me, it has been a worthwhile read. In my childhood, my parents used to take me to Cranbrook Nature Center on the campus of Cranbrook School for the Arts. This was where I first learned of tree rings and our ability to discern the age of a tree by counting the rings in the stump. Seemed pretty miraculous at the time, and still does, that nature records time in its trees and that the big events that happen at both a global and local level are right there for us to see in the record. These things don’t go away. They are a part of the tree and it keeps right on growing absorbing these events as it goes.
My work in coils is similar, though the timescale not as profound. Each coil rolled out by hand, one placed atop the next and the next creating something larger that comprises myriad smaller events. One can look back and see where it all started and where, if one looks closely, some anxiety was flowing through me or when the air got too dry and the coils are crackled, not having a smooth texture. It’s all there, in the record, if you’ll take the time to look closely enough.
The traditional way of coiling involves smoothing the coils which may yield a work that is more impervious to the elements but this is not what I’m after. I want that bit of vulnerability. I want you to have to take a bit of care with the work. To slow down. Wait. Is there a lid on that piece? Maybe best not turn it over just yet.
I want you to see the time involved, to reflect on it, and ultimately, to see that in the grand scheme, it’s really not that much time at all. That maybe, we’re all just moving a bit to fast and to reflect on this, to adapt and grow more like the trees, beings that have been here so much longer than we, could help lead to our salvation. And, that I am not immune myself.