the aesthetics of rest and perfectionism...
Monday, we stopped by to tame some of the larger bottles with the heat gun and fuss over details. As Chris snipped the ends off of zip-ties, and I double and triple checked for gaps, a gentleman exited the building, then exclaimed cheerfully, "You've gift-wrapped the courthouse!" Practically on his heels, a woman sighed, "Doesn't it look like a giant birthday ribbon." Their comments remind me of what a gift creating this installation continues to be, and how many people I have to thank for enabling me to give voice to a crazy song of colors that can't stop singing.
After a literally mesmerizing trip to Michael's, Chris and I spent yesterday making extra special blooms to hide in the panel. Taking into consideration the 10,000 precedents, she hesitated to suggest it, but Chris thought it would be fun to add individual pieces from our hands, inspired by the many other contributors to the project. We had an inspiring afternoon playing with new materials and will add the blossoms today, the official opening day of ArtPrize.
It was nice to be able to spend time creating the bottles, a switch from my previous production mode. I think Chris might have had an an ulterior motive, divert Dale from incessant tweaking, and it worked. I rail against perfectionism like a wanna-be former smoker rails against cigarettes. "Can't I have just one puff?" I recently posted on my FB page, 'perfectionism is a sure way to live your life in constant regret.'
And as I wrestle with the perfectionism, I recollect creation; God at the end of the work of spinning out every wonder we enjoy. At the end of the work, in community with the earth and the heavens, there was rest. "A-ha" is what they call it in aesthetics, when you give your work an 'it is finished' and feel a satisfaction you hope to pass on to those who see what you have made. When I teach art, I believe displaying the finished works as a celebration of the Sabbath. I thought a little deeper too, about Jesus breathing His last words, the last word from the one who called himself the Word, "It is finished." Oh do I strive in life, trying to perform, produce, and perfect. I imagined myself walking bent over with a burden that only truly exists in my imagination. If the last word is 'it is finished', I'm going correct my posture and step, light on my feet, into the 'a-ha' my faith invites me to dwell in. I might even dance on joy's horizon.
John, Chris, and Dale at the venue.