Saturday, December 29, 2012

The ocean's salt water just like my tears are.

"He had some feelings."
This is what my friend, the painter, said about Aguste Rodin, the sculptor. I spend the afternoon wandering through the Cantor Center for Visual Arts and looking at the largest collection of Rodin bronzes in the world.
While on campus I saw a blooming peony plant--you know, 'cause plants bloom all year round. It was on the edge of a walking path, but it was far away from where I was standing. The plant beckoned to me. It waved in a gentle breeze, kissed by a soft sunbeam. I found myself striding across the lawn to the bush, and when I got there, something electric happened. I stood before this plant buzzing--it was as if there was something there calling me to it. I thrust my face into a bloom and took a deep breath. It didn't smell the way you imagine peonies smell: no sweet floral heady perfume. It smelled green and vegetal, like a cross between tilled earth and cucumber. It smelled like something growing.
"Thank you," I said to the plant. I felt like it was sharing with me, like some part of it was a part of me, like we were made of the same thing. And we are, aren't we? I feel like it's absolutely true that some part of my being a human being is connected to other humans, and to animals and plants and bugs and dirts and whatnot. It felt so nice to be so close to something made of light and rain and dirt and time, and to feel so deeply connected to it.
But I don't have any shots of it.

I do have shots of the Rodin. It was so deep to see. I'd never seen so much in one place, and it stunned me how emotional the work is. The pathos is so strong. I felt like I could cry looking at some of it. The work feels like it's fairly vibrating with humanity. It was trembling, which is not an easy feat to accomplish if you're made of bronze. I've never seen anything that was so solid that seemed so positively fleshy. I kept expecting to reach out and touch warm skin and muscle instead of cold, hard metal. Kind of amazing to think of the possible connection that I might share even with this sculpture, cast hundreds of years before my birth, but somehow still a part of my molecular identity.

1 comment:

meditate said...

very nice blog !!!!!!!!