As a species we have this thing about leaving traces, even in the simplest of ways. I have often been asked - especially in University circles from the parents of prospective students - about the point of 'art'. Since I work in a Faculty of Arts, my answer over the years has been consistent, 'work is what we do, art is who we are'. These small pebble works on a beach in Georgioupoli, Crete, are temporal and unlikely to survive the night (I will check them again today) but I like the child-like simplicity in the creating and the narrative they come to represent for the makers and us who stumble upon them, even for a short time. John Keats captures it perfectly:
A thing of beauty is a joy forever:its loveliness increases; it will never
pass into nothingness; but still will keep
a bower quiet for us, and a sleep
full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
The day is full of promise, the apea ptoroenta, the winged words, arriving as light and airy, on the back of last night's full moonlight, will only lie if you let them. I have always liked this version of Bob Dylan's song, Boots of Spanish Leather.
