Taking
It Lightly: This Artist Has Learned to Create Spaces in the Midst
of Absurdity; (detail), A Journal of
Art Criticims, Volume 5, Number 2, 1998
Andrée
Singer Thompson
When
first asked to "free associate" with the word "light"
in order to write something about it, there were two different
directions that came to mind: The first and more obvious, is the
profound magic and importance of light as a visual artist. It
enables us to "see" and by definition, visual artists
have a love relationship with lightful seeing. I am also aware
that as a child I used visual magic and"delights" as
an escape , source of a long history with survival issues.
Having
come from Cleveland of Hungarian, Jewish and Catholic(converted-to-Jewish
in order to marry) descent, it was inevitable that I should have
a lifelong art battle with "schmaltz," known more acceptably
as Romantic. So while Light can be seen in many ways, for me it
is primarily a romantic commodity, embued with spiritual, poetic
and mysterious layers of meaning. Now as I enter the twilight
of my life, this kind of poetic meaning seems
important. For me, the essence of the spiritual and mysterious
excitement that keeps us addicted to art making and artseeing,
that keeps us searching for that elusive truth, has its core inLight.
The
second direction free associating took me to was that of psychological
"lightness", and a sense of the absurd, which I learned
from my then-husband, now close friend and father of my children,
ERThompson. I learned that humor, another form of Lightness, is
also a valuable
survival mechanism.
When
the term "dysfunctional" first appeared, we all felt
our own families were the most
"dysfunctional" of all. And so did I. Hungarians revel
in drama. My family provided me with important "educational"
experiences: alcoholism, divorce, all sorts of abuse, schizophrenia,
several suicides,(a popular Hungarian custom) and being second
generation Holocaust survivors. All accompanied by wonderful Hungarian
music and dancing (my mother was a pianist), and lots of Palinka,
a 90 proof brandy. Homemade. Instead of therapy and confrontation,
this was and often still is, the use of addiction and denial as
survival mechanisms. Unaware of how common this all was, I considered
us "freaks" of the neighborhood. When I later taught
children in the Other America, inner city urban children who live
in war zones, some of whom are refugees from war-torn countries,
with stories far more traumatic than mine, I didnt feel
quite so "special".
Nevertheless,
out of this background came memorable stories with which I have
entertained many a therapist over the years. One of my favorites
is the time my mother shot her boyfriend in the balls. From jail,
she was allowed one phone call which she made to her
mother, my grandmother, who promptly dropped dead. My sister and
I arrived shortly after to find my dead grandmother with her living
bird flying above her head. It goes on from there, but the point
is that I can now tell these stories almost glibly, with a sense
of the absurd. Of course, I have the distance of time and lots
of therapy. But there was a time, before ERT, that news from home,
or the telling and remembering left me deeply depressed, humiliated
and
feeling helpless. My face and walk reflected the pain and angst(another
popular Hungarian custom) of all the tragic dysfunctionalities
I inherited and of which I felt I was victim.
In
many ways, I was naive in spite of those life experiences. When
Roger and I married, it took me several months, even years, to
detect the twinkle in his eye when he read the morning paper aloud
and there was my mothers name in some ridiculous story about
Cleveland that he had just invented. When I got a letter from
my mother telling how her fat alcoholic tree-surgeon boyfriend
tried to run her down with their car as she ran away from him
and other such tragic episodes, I was saddened once again by the
tragedy of her lost talents and self-destructive addictions. Then
Roger read the same letter, began smiling, and finally laughing
out loud. I was furious; then curious. He apologized for being
insensitive, yet he couldnt help but visualize the absurdity
of two fat drunks, one being chased by the other, neither having
the sobriety to drive or run in a straight line, etc. He would
create a FarSide/Pizarro Fellini-esque type scenario that made
me appreciate the absurdity of it, without degrading the really
sad truth.
While
discussing this article with a friend, he related his own story
of sitting around the bedside of his dying mother with all his
siblings. At one point, a brother leaned forward to hear what
his mother was whispering. When he sat up, he reported "
She said she always loved me the best!"
It
is an irony of life that as I work on this essay we are recovering
from yet another young family suicide. I am watching how much
we all need light spaces in the midst of the confusing sorrowful
tragedy; how we are embarrassed for laughing at some small quip
or absurdity, and yet how desperately we all need something to
help balance the weight of pain and loss. The Meanings we have
given our lives are never so challenged as in the Face of Death.
Probably
because of early experiences, including death, much of my lifes
artwork has been an
expression of an interest in the nature of Survival, why and how
healthy survival occurs, individually and communally. I have come
to believe that a major challenge in the survival process is to
expose, confront and befriend our greatest fears. Once conscious
and visible, we have the opportunity to give them our most creative
and knowledgeable attention,
foundations of health and hope. (I believe one of my functions
as an artist is to give form, clarity and voice to that confusion
of unformed, unconscious material.)
Each
of us must find our own tools with which to do Survival battle,
to Dance with our Demons along this journey. Artmaking and "seeing",
with its multi layers of Light and Lightness, coupled with Absurdity
and Humor--have been my survival techniques. For me, the miracle
of our lives is that we can and do not only survive, but are able
to survive with love and hope.
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