Skip to main content

The Dance






Learning new image languages
Is the same as inventing new words.
How do we know their derivations?
We view them in the context of history.
Does the history matter?
When the ‘present time’ is so trendy?
History looms large in consciousness.
Yet what happens right in front of our eyes
Can be held in disbelief and ignored
Or understood through study.
To study can be instinctual.
Rather than built into the rapidity of button pushing.
The digital age has always existed.
Instruments implementing the parts are different yet correlated.
So why can’t we study and understand?
As opposed to scan, send and share?

We can tap the larger, denser, more information picture.
We can learn about derivations and history.
The potential of discovery underneath the keyboard is vast.
To take advantage of it is even admirable.

Sometimes taking things apart and putting them back together in unpredictable ways
Allows for unexpected perceptions and learning.
How could we forget?
What did we learn in school?
Did we pay attention?
Did we take hold of the process of the discipline of learning?
Or did we just memorize to pass?




In Time:
The derivations are built in.
The present tense is built in.
The understanding is built in.

The kind of truth that we want to know
Is ready to be revealed.
Waiting and wondering when it will be apparent
Are wasteful.

Truth surprises us.
It is real.
It is without question.
It surrounds us.
It guarantees our safety within ourselves.




Truth is the nirvana state.
It either is or it isn’t.
It does not exist.
It happens.

Who we are becomes a stack of truths.
No one can tear the stack apart.
We breathe, we walk, we see, we feel.
We do all that.
Each aspect of being alive supplies a torrent of information that integrates itself into our being.
Being aware of that integration is a gift to ourselves.
A means of taking steps outside of a comfort zone, outside of a norm, a habit, a routine.

Later on, we do no walking, breathing, seeing, feeling.
The information input dies.
The relics proving our lives happened remain.
In a box, on a computer, in the dump.
Somewhere on earth.





Copyright 2018 Lyn Horton

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Art Salon Presentation

These images and words were delivered at a meeting of The Art Salon in Cummington, MA on September 21, 2018.

As you listen to the words, scroll down to see the images.  The images represent one for each of the last 20 years.
















Time Trial

A live Tanglewood performance is on the radio.

It was my intention to be outside, sitting in the chair by the table on the terrace while the music was on. I have pictured myself there all summer.

The minute I went out to do this, my neighbor started up his mower. He is probably 40, divorced and has a penchant for machines, which has been transferred to his son, who, at 8 am this morning, revved up his ATV to travel around his yard for a while. That stopped quickly much to my surprise. It was difficult to meditate with noise pollution, which accompanies living across the street from that neighbor and the other ones, too.

In my email Inbox, every morning is a "feel good" newsletter. Most of the time, the subject matter is timely. Today, it had to do with doing something that pleases me.

So, the aforementioned placement of myself popped into my mind.

I tailored my day to make it happen.

At 6 am, the cat came into the bedroom asking to be fed. Which I did do. Afterward, I got b…

As Seen on ARTEIDOLIA: Peter Pincus's Finesse

Peter Pincus’s FinesseLyn Horton
January 2019





Artists live in a tight world of history and influence. The medium an artist uses often points to possible penchants for attractive pods of that network. How an artist assimilates those areas of interest is complicated and eventually translates into what the artist ends up doing in both apparent and undetectable ways.
Peter Pincus is a contemporary ceramic artist. He has in his own practice evolved a means to unite history and influence to create his signature vision. Although he speaks of ceramics as being “too material specific to be classified as fine art,” he has produced an array of objects that walk a fine line of defying that statement.
As a teacher, husband and father, he and his wife have bonded to establish a vibrant working environment. Their studio is organized and stocked plentifully with materials exemplified by shelf after shelf after shelf of color-infused liquid slip clay. Twenty hours of studio time per week unfolds not o…