Pass the Popcorn

Politics aside, tonight I sat down with my knitting in hand (lace socks) and watched the documentary Rivers and Tides, about the sculptor Andy Goldsworthy. If you aren't familiar with his work, look it up. There are actually a number of very expensive coffee table books with gorgeous photos of his work. He works with all natural materials, creating artwork that, more often than not, is only temporary. Not only are the materials taken directly from nature, but the forms that he uses echo nature's flow (as he likes to call it.)

The film follows him as he creates and talks about his art. I liked the scene where he is at home with his wife and a passel of children (the man is prolific in all ways, I guess), then he kisses them good-bye and heads out into the streets of his Scottish village to collect dandelions from the neighbors' yards and the roadsides. Next we see him at the side of a stream, perched on some rocks, placing the dandelions in the water. Finally the camera pulls back so we can see the flow of the stream and, off to one side, a large vibrant yellow circle. It is a hole, several feet across, that the stream has carved into the rock and Goldsworthy has filled it with dandelion blossoms. Lovely.

I have to comment on the role his wife must play in his creative efforts. Clearly someone is staying home and taking care of all of those young kids while Andy is out creating art from icicles! And someone must launder his muddy jeans at the end of the day. Not to belittle either of them, but it seems like behind every artist, someone is keeping the home fires burning and hopefully gets some credit for it.

If you're looking for excitement and it's a choice between Jackie Chan and this, get the Jackie Chan. But if you're feeling introspective and want to watch something quite beautiful, unique and inspiring, this is a very good movie. You'll be out making towers of rocks in no time!

Pavarotti Loves Elephants

Full disclosure: I don't consider myself to be much of a fan of opera. My dad loved opera. Every Saturday afternoon he listened to the broadcast from The Met, and it gave me a headache. He used to walk around the house in his long johns, humming parts of operas. All the time. It was embarrassing when I was an adolescent.

He took his unappreciative kids to see a good many performances. He especially loved Mozart and Gilbert & Sullivan. And actually, I do like The Magic Flute, The Marriage of Figaro, and Don Giovanni. And I like Lakmé by Delibes, but so does everybody else, right? It's like the Pachelbel Canon of opera.

I was even once in an opera, The Poacher by Albert Lortzing. The director of the university's opera company was also the director of my Unitarian church's children's choir, and The Poacher featured a children's choir. That was cool.

But what I'm really trying to say is, I was never a big fan of Pavarotti. But I am a fan of this video: http://www.rathergood.com/elephants/

I apologize that I couldn't embed it in my blog. You'll just have to see it the old-fashioned way.

Cabinet of Curiosities

My long-time friend, photographer Lewis Koch, has just posted this interactive art installation on the web. It is beautiful and, I think, hope-inspiring. I hope you find it so as well.

I have always admired Lewis' absolute commitment to a creative life. The first time I visited his home, some 26 or so years ago, I was awestruck by an enormous bulletin board in his kitchen that was a virtual scrapbook of his adult life -- photographs, labels, postcards, a shriveled carrot ... I am fond of creating mini-museums on windowsills, the dashboard of my car, any relatively stationery flat surface, and I think I can credit Lew's bulletin board for being one inspiration.

I also love the way he combines his photography with found objects and snippets of text harvested from works both well known and obscure. At various times his work has made me laugh, made me cry, and always moved me.

(If you watch the "Duct Tape Works" video segment, and you don't blink from 5:26-5:28, you will catch a glimpse of a 14 year younger version of me, looking awkward as usual in a party situation.)