Six years ago, images of two intercessors appeared to me. Part human and part animal, they woke me one morning.
This show has been a journey of ideas and feelings, spanning many years. It is a story told by small bronze figures and larger sculptures. It is an old story of return and love, of wandering, of searching for home — and most importantly, a search for hope.
For years, I despaired of the seeming inability of human beings to moderate the gratification of their needs and desires, not even to preserve the conditions that sustain them. What were we doing? After much searching, I came to see this behaviour, despite repeated examples of disaster, has been there from the beginning. And so, it must have been successful in evolutionary terms. How is it part of the process?
Creative pursuits encourage genius and idiocy, which is to say, we make a lot of mistakes. The same ability that allows us to attend to our needs is also manifest in our talent to create chaos. And the whole of humanity pursuing individual paths, whether playful or serious, thoughtful or thoughtless, gives us as much reason to hope as to despair: the havoc that necessitates novel solutions is inevitable.
Over thousands of generations, creativity has been selected genetically: it is part of our DNA. We learn by telling stories; that, too, is in our genetic makeup. It is us. Both science AND art are essential to our existence, allowing us to imagine, to question, to wonder…
Forty-five thousand years ago, our ancestors, with care and artistry, painted horses and hippopotami and the great aurochs on the walls of the Chauvet cave in France. I imagine, today, “The Minotaur” in the CERN tunnel, that torus costing billions of dollars straddling the border of France and Switzerland, waiting for the Higgs-Boson particle to announce itself, a messenger from beyond, the “Ox of First Principles.”
This show is a tribute to our journey of failure and triumph, to our stories, the words and the silences between them.