Something unexplained
Massages have a strange effect on me, especially if I have not had one for a long time. I read a study given to me by a masseur about muscle memory; and how the body locks up feelings, and when the muscles are relaxed the feelings emerge. This time the feelings I have locked up seem to revolve around apathy, if my lack of get up and go is anything to go by. Lorraine with a sore throat and tired too, so our weekend was less than dynamic.
There is one area on the left side of my back under the shoulder blade, that when given a good thumbing and unlocked, releases a sudden flood of anxiety and sadness. In fact on one occasion it has made me start to cry. It feeling only lasts a few seconds, but the emotion is profound. Even yesterday I felt a panicky surge when she released it.
We did go to see a colleague of Lorraine's called Nora Young, who was having an art show in one of Worthing's Open Houses. I could tell at once that Nora is a really interesting and creative woman, and I particularly liked short filmed moments, which were on her TV screen. One was of an old cobweb blowing and catching the light, another of the movement of leaf shadows on a wall.
Others she did were of the sea, but turning the camera on its side, so that the moving light on the waves became more abstract. These film fragments were remarkably beautiful, and I found one or two of them intensely moving and could have looked at them all day.
Lorraine brought one of her pieces, a coloured etching I think, which she will collect soon. Nora's work made me crystallise something that I have been half thinking about lately. I am increasingly attracted to art that is unexplained and enigmatic, and leaves an unexplored space for the viewer or reader etc. to step into. I have been guilty in the past of over-explaining things in my writing. I am finally beginning to realise that what many people respond to is ambiguity. I think it takes confidence as an artist to know when to stop, and that in a sense no art should be complete, for it needs room for its viewer/reader/listener to step into it, and still be left with questions.
Lorraine talking about he piece she had bought in the car afterwards. It had figure with a heart. Lorraine said this symbolised for her a new and healed heart, which was rather lovely.
Massages have a strange effect on me, especially if I have not had one for a long time. I read a study given to me by a masseur about muscle memory; and how the body locks up feelings, and when the muscles are relaxed the feelings emerge. This time the feelings I have locked up seem to revolve around apathy, if my lack of get up and go is anything to go by. Lorraine with a sore throat and tired too, so our weekend was less than dynamic.
There is one area on the left side of my back under the shoulder blade, that when given a good thumbing and unlocked, releases a sudden flood of anxiety and sadness. In fact on one occasion it has made me start to cry. It feeling only lasts a few seconds, but the emotion is profound. Even yesterday I felt a panicky surge when she released it.
We did go to see a colleague of Lorraine's called Nora Young, who was having an art show in one of Worthing's Open Houses. I could tell at once that Nora is a really interesting and creative woman, and I particularly liked short filmed moments, which were on her TV screen. One was of an old cobweb blowing and catching the light, another of the movement of leaf shadows on a wall.
Others she did were of the sea, but turning the camera on its side, so that the moving light on the waves became more abstract. These film fragments were remarkably beautiful, and I found one or two of them intensely moving and could have looked at them all day.
Lorraine brought one of her pieces, a coloured etching I think, which she will collect soon. Nora's work made me crystallise something that I have been half thinking about lately. I am increasingly attracted to art that is unexplained and enigmatic, and leaves an unexplored space for the viewer or reader etc. to step into. I have been guilty in the past of over-explaining things in my writing. I am finally beginning to realise that what many people respond to is ambiguity. I think it takes confidence as an artist to know when to stop, and that in a sense no art should be complete, for it needs room for its viewer/reader/listener to step into it, and still be left with questions.
Lorraine talking about he piece she had bought in the car afterwards. It had figure with a heart. Lorraine said this symbolised for her a new and healed heart, which was rather lovely.
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