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  • I saw Andy Goldsworthy’s movie, Rivers and Tides the afternoon before going in for a difficult surgery.
    I was afraid of dying and was facing an unknown outcome.
    The movie had a calming effect on me, like a good piece of poetry.

    To make a poetic study of Nature, as he does, is a type of riddle.
    He provokes small ruptures in our perception of time and material.
    His message is impermanence and the transitory nature of all life.

    If the question is “What is Art ?” I might answer that he is not an artist, but a poet.
    His work has as much to do with writing as it does making art.

    Instead of words he sews leaves together.
    He makes a paragraph from snow.

    Is that writing, or a primal signifier?
    Leaf as symbol of temporality attached to another leaf equals a sum greater than its two parts.
    Suddenly we are at the doorstep of modern physics.
    Quantum leap.

    Perhaps for me the real question is put well by Paul Gaughin:
    “Who are we, Where do we come from, Why are we here?”

    When I carved a knot in marble, it symbolized, for me , the complexity of forms.
    The knot was a visual puzzle.
    When I carved the marble hinge it became a joke; Stone Hinge.
    If the marble carving were a piece of writing that sentence might read: “This is knot a hinge.”

    I wanted to make it clear that the mechanical fastener was holding together an illusion.

    As Shakespeare wrote in Prospero’s speech, in the Tempest:

    These our actors,
    As I foretold you, were all spirits and
    Are melted into air, into thin air:
    And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
    The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
    The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
    Ye all which it inherit, shall dissolve
    And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
    Leave not a rack behind.
    We are such stuff
    As dreams are made on, and our little life
    Is rounded with a sleep.

    That is not writing.
    That is Art.
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