The general trajectory of museums has been to go from private, religious, and royal collections to public ones. But we should look more closely. Those closed collections reflected the power of the collective. Royal wealth was made possible by the labor of the people. There was nothing intrinsically “right” about monarchy: look how we’re slowly abandoning it throughout the world.
If you visit any of the remaining palaces around the globe, you will quickly realize that no single person could ever have achieved such grandeur. Only a large number of people, whether directly or indirectly, had the power to create magnificent structures. For another reference point, consider the Suzhou gardens, the inspiration for the Astor Chinese Court (15.0). The owner didn’t make or maintain the gardens. Dozens of gardeners and builders over generations did.
The principle of collective power is still true. The public, united, achieves far more than any one person or oligarchy could ever do. The power-greedy knows this. They try to take collective wealth to get richer. They often do this by convincing the masses to give up their power.
What does that mean for us? Art doesn’t exist in a vacuum. To think that any one of us is the first to be creative or to make images would be absurd. We come from a long history of art, and all art exists in a matrix of history, styles, mediums, regions and nationalities, eras, subjects, and cultures. Both the artist and the viewers must be aware of this web of meanings.
.It’s hard to be an artist. It always has been. Someone asked me recently whether any of my siblings went into the arts. They did not. They did sensible things like medicine and finance. They freely admit that they have little tolerance for risk.
The difficulty of being creative is the condition of art in today’s society. But the fact that we are moving toward greater democracy and equality socially and in the art world means that there’s room for us to pursue our work.
I got off the plane in San Francisco close to midnight. As I walked toward the exit, I saw the TSA gates I passed a week before. I had made a big circle.
I had only thought about my return in the abstract. I wondered whether my seeming confidence of making appointments for the weeks after my return had been sheer folly. What if I died on the trip? After all, I was now older than my father who had first sent me to New York. I am in the late autumn of my life. But no, I was back, safe, and on my way home.
The next morning, I awoke from dark sleep. During the night, air had come to me across space and had kept me alive. The light that entered the space of my eyes had come across millions of miles. Sound vibrated through the room. The scent of the foggy air drifted toward me. To reach across the bed, to get up, to begin to move—all that was about space. Life is good, a space filled with glorious experiences.
Art is my response to that glory. I was back, and ready to start again.
Every journey is a circle. And what does that circle enclose?
Energetic space.
_________
Stencil with Pattern of Concentric Circles. Edo period (1615–1868). 19th century. Japan. Paper reinforced with silk. 16 1/2 x 15 1/2 in. (41.91 x 39.37 cm). TheMet.
https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/70011
Water Stone. Isamu Noguchi (American, Los Angeles, California 1904–1988 New York. 1986. Japan/United States. Basalt; on a foundation bed of naturally rounded granite stones. H. 25 in. (63.6 cm); W. 42 3/4 in. (108.6 cm); Wt. 1 ton. TheMet
https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/44520
Wheel of the Buddhist Law (Rinpō). Kamakura period (1185–1333). late 13th century. Japan/ Gilt bronze. Diam. 5 in.(12.7 cm); Th. 3/8 in. (11 cm); Wt. approx. 1.2 lbs (530 g.). TheMet