There must always be art.
I have to tell myself this as I have been preparing my presentation to the Salem Millstream Fiber Guild for April 9th starting at 10 am at the Willamette Heritage Center. The reason? I wanted to include a basic level of scientific information on coral reefs, climate change, acidification of the ocean, and pollution such as abandoned fishing gear and plastic garbage which leads to entanglements, ingestions and breakdowns into microplastics.
In other words, I want to give the “why” behind the PNW Community Coral Reef Project.
Much like working on bleached corals, this all feels so overwhelming and depressing. As news of the sixth mass bleaching event to hit the Great Barrier Reef comes out along with the disturbing temperature surges at both poles, I must admit I felt very small this morning as I was sorting through our donated corals.
There must always be art.
It helps to realize that people have used creative mediums throughout history when they were on the brink. From graffiti in war torn areas to the orchestras of the Warsaw ghetto, people have created art. A show that I have been absolutely loving since the pandemic hit has been Grayson Perry’s Art Club where all members of the UK public are invited to send in their art, sometimes during the very bleakest days of the pandemic.
There must always be art.
I’m always one to muse on history in the long and short term. I wonder what it must have been like to be the cave painter at Lascaux, 20,000 years ago, painting by torch light. Surrounded by darkness, possibly fear, possibly exhilaration, they made art.
Will there come a day thousands of years in the future when a sentient life form visits our planet and finds hundreds of satellite fiber art coral reefs all over the world and wonders what they are? Because the beautiful inspiration they were based on no longer exists. Will they wonder what we were doing? Will they understand that we were trying?
Today I am feeling a bit defeated. I believe I will pick up my needles.
I need to make art.