"The eye has to travel." The eye has to travel, in order to discover what reverence means. Not because we've been taught this in some church, or in some room, or by some one and have since forgotten, but because we are curious about the word. Reverence. The eye has to travel if one wonders how to instill reverence in the most ordinary things, the object we step over or toss, the thing that in our constant seeing has become unseen. The forgettable rock. A bit of shell. The unidentifiable bone. Someone's cloth. Does one build a vessel? A frame? If I say, "This is an object not to be forgotten," will you believe me? I have no scrap of parchment proof. No indication that what I'm showing you is some true relic. You can question the authenticity, but I'm also not asking you to worship. I'm just asking you to think. All I have to show in my hands is reverence. Time and time and time amassed.
5 Comments
judy martin
2/22/2015 04:49:31 am
I am intrigued by the images of your work that you give glimpses of Amy. The rows of stones on beautiful old cloth resonates with me. I could see a whole gallery with a floor of cloth and stones...
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judy martin
2/22/2015 04:50:17 am
I am intrigued by the images of your work that you give glimpses of Amy. The rows of stones on beautiful old cloth resonates with me. I could see a whole gallery with a floor of cloth and stones...
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2/22/2015 05:53:27 am
Judy--Oh, I'm aiming for the gallery walls...but the floor is good, too. Thank you for such nice comments.
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2/23/2015 05:04:09 am
Greetings Amy,
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2/23/2015 05:30:01 am
Susan,
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Amy MeissnerArtist in Anchorage, Alaska, sometimes blogging about the collision of history, family & art, with the understanding that none exists without the other. Categories
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