Redemption

Redemption. Of several kinds, really. First, the light of the lamp against the Wurster plywood wall, which makes the whole thing possible. And then the small, plaque-like work next to its base--a bit hard to see here, but a kind of portrait-in-clay made for me by Cassie Seo, a solemn but bright-spirited Korean-American girl from years back. I remember once when Cassie came in for a talk, in the office (sitting no doubt in the gray chair alongside my desk), and it dawned on me--for the first time, really--that there was something important I had to tell her. "Cassie, I have the feeling you're 5000 years old." She was mystified, of course--but I know that my observation sank in. Not the kind of thing you tell a student everyday. She'd just finished sharing some stories about her growing up, in Seattle, and with each new turn, I could see that she was faced with a world that was preeminently new--and that the reason things puzzled her so was because she had so much of the old within her. Quite beautiful, really, to be able to help a young person sort things like this out.

I don't even know if I meant it literally--Cassie was also perfectly American--but the truth of the image made sense.

She sent me a letter years later, with photographs, experimental work she'd been doing, as an artist, now in Berlin. It made sense too...
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On the theme of redemption: The small light-brown box just behind. I used to make those. Wrap them, that is--for underneath is a Wrigley's Extra Chewing Gum container--I'd take the box, carefully run a piece of wet paper tape around the sides and bottom, and end up with a something mysterious and  unknown. (Is that too grand?) Thinking perhaps of Josef Beuys, and the way (in his multiples) he'd take objects of common commercial origin (two wine bottles in a wooden wine-bottle box), cover the printed labels with a piece of his signature gray felt, thereby eliminating all trace of culture--we were back to the ur bottle, as if all the rest of history had never happened. (With all the Evropa stuff today, that's a little scary--but I found Beuy's insight illuminating.)

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And the Chinese scroll to the right. A painting, given to me by one of the students, also years ago. It's been a long time since I've looked. Sent by the the students father, I think. A copy of a masterpiece--but a copy made by hand. And in that sense, something to be honored. It has found a place, though...

Cassie Seo

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