“Mark would have loved this.”
(That is what I said to myself when I passed this object
lying near the curb.)
Flash back a couple of years and I would have picked it up
and brought it to the studio, or maybe saved it for an anniversary present for
him – June 24 would have begun our 13th year together…
But it is 2014 and I was on my way to meet a friend, so I
captured the image and went on my way. This
small by-product of recent street work on the block would have been transformed
to something entirely different in the studio – a tool (to create one of his
final series, Street Markings, Mark set aside brushes in favor of found
objects) to resist and apply paint, likely the inspiration for one or more new
works.
 |
| Untitled, Wed, Aug 11, 6:00:00 pm, 20" x 21.5", mixed media on paper, 2011 |
In that moment I felt grief not only for Mark, and the fact
that I could not give him this object he would have so enjoyed, but all the
paintings he did not create, the objects he did not use. The world is a better
place because humans are creative, we take the most humble of resources and use
them to share feelings, ideas and inspiration.
Did the worker who left that there know he could have been
making art? We all leave traces of ourselves, our work, our belongings behind
at times, with no real way of knowing if someone else has observed, recorded,
acquired them and what they have done as a result. This forlorn piece of pipe
with threads, lying in the gutter, had at least once the potential to become
something far more.
In that moment, the object also stood for the fragility of our way of life, and the capriciousness of fate. So much human potential goes untapped for so many reasons, it underlines the importance of all that we do, or can do, to support one another, hopefully so we can all realize something more to add to the universe. Mark and I were very lucky to be surrounded by so many who "got it" ( and they still do). We are on this planet and in this world together. Reach out, be inspired, give your spark in return, it could be our only chance... imagine life if no one had noticed that rounded objects could be rolled, if Shakespeare had never loved, or Turner not looked deeply into a sunset.
By the way the piece of metal was still there on my way home, and I later retrieved it. It may join others in the studio even though it will not be used as a brush. After all, it became a story.
