Seen at the Vancouver Art Gallery on our recent trip.
Yes, I’m back, my blog is back, and I’m not sure why. It feels like a bit of a burden rather than a pleasure, but that’s because it’s a new year that feels like a very very old year in so many ways. The burdens of history, of apparent cycles, of the irrepressible impulses to greed and power and its accompanying evil?
Yet artistic endeavor and accomplishment should outweigh all that, along with the good that we seek to see and express in all we do, all we see in each other, with each other.
This show brought me to wonder, brought me to tears, brought me to amazement. We spent nearly two hours and could have been in its grip even longer. One man’s vision, one man’s sight, one man’s awe, one man’s skill, one man’s pain. And he stored it with light in his small (or not-so-small) box and put it to paper so we could all share it.
I love the graphically stark anonymity of these generic garments caught in the breeze, and the lovely linear and formal qualities of the composition. When content and form enhance each other so perfectly, it’s a small but significant miracle.