Saturday, February 27, 2016

Found art Friday 196

Dear ones,
Where were we? We were home-home-on -the range.
  We were tasting actual winter that was at once soft, yet crunchy with powerful gusts of wind.

Yesterday, the ghost in the machine visited and ate our entire blog post in the blink of an eye. Operator Error.  We decide to re-paste the gist. Of the grist we try to mill with the word and image.

While in the winter, The Art Ranger was indeed Visiting the Maternal Unit.  We need to make an imaginary phone call:  where is Oliver sacks when you need him?  Hello? Hello? ....... We want to understand why.... Materna's memory seemed portrayed by this snow drift.  Layers of ephemera, shifting in the wind, melting and falling again, sometimes connecting sometimes not.

Nonetheless, despite her post octogenarian status, together we slapped on popsicle sticks with upturned edges and went downhill, carving tracks into snow, entertained by gravity.  Why do we insist on being buffeted around by the elements atop a mountain, when we could be down below sipping chocolate by the fire?   Nature is boss, it reminds us, and it causes our noses to run.

While we were away from our desk:  Richard Anthony, our original Sculpture Brother, dispatches some vignettes:
Richard Anthony finds this on stage floor:  for the " Homeland of Inspiring Detritus"
Can one savor just the right amount of memory?  How much do we really need?  How does our brain's electrical system really work? What comes out of storage, and how? And what if the whatnot that our generation stores in computers-"the cloud", was actually fluttering about on top a kitchen table?
A glove is required to protect a wall from being scarred
All gratitude for the glove:

For love of the glove that saves,  which somehow brings us right to this:
The "Sculpture" of Richard Serra, circa 1972
Photography does not capture the physics or heft of moving around in space with these unfurlings:
Richard Serra

How gravity itself could be the medium, and raw materials are just being themselves.  This was a  moment of art experience-education, that dissolved lines between "painting" as a medium, or sculpture on pedestal.  It was the smackdown of art activating physical space in relation to the body.

We close with this innersmile giving morsel:
Inside cover from book purchased at Powells, which is a nice way to not feed the monster.

Have a stellar week and do send us a picture through the ether some day, right here:

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