Art in Other Places: An Invitation to Adventurers – May/June 1999

I hate many things about travelling – jetlag and hotel food are the worst. But I also love many things, like getting to see art in other places. Sometimes when I travel, a sculpture touches me on the inside, where I live, where I feel things, and where I imagine. My life changes, usually in an instant. I slow down, breathe deeply, and experience things more powerfully than I usually do; more intensely, and in a way that changes me more the more I experience them. The work of art and the human being who made it change how I live forever, not only in that one moment but forever after. The work grows on me and in me, and stimulates me to grow.

Sometimes I have wanted to see a particular sculpture for years but never could, then jumped at the chance to go there for some other reason (hopefully one that pays for the trip). Sometimes I stumble onto a treasure by accident. And sometimes when I am somewhere for the first time, a new or old friend takes me to a special place and shares a special treasure, holding me by the hand. My life is always the richer.

Elsewhere in this issue is my first attempt to show you what I am talking about. Last winter, I saw two exhibitions of large contemporary stone sculptures from Zimbabwe in two countries. One exhibition was in a park in the centre of Singapore, on a former British military base called Fort Canning. The other was in the stunning setting of one of South Africa’s national treasures: the Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens not far outside Capetown. I could do a few more articles, but not many. I want to hear what you have to say.

Please do two things. First, before the idea fades in your mind, reflect for a few minutes on your whole lifetime of experience of art in other places. (For me in my youth, any town with stoplights was exotic and it seemed as far away, so don’t think you have to have been to Ouagadougou to play). Tell me about the art that has turned your life upside down. Get in touch with something that touched you in some other place and time and make a note of it, then get in touch with me. Write, call, or email me with your idea now, before you forget it or chicken out. I will respond to anyone who contacts me, and we will find the best way to get your story into print.

If you haven’t written for publication before, don’t worry about it even if you think you can’t write. I feel the same way about myself, and work with writers every day who feel that way. I will be happy to work with you in editing what you write. Together we will get it ready for publication, but it will be your article. You will have the last word on everything. I think that by cooperating in this way we can produce something to cherish. We will all be proud of what what we share. We will all be educated we will know each other and ourselves better, and we will all become better sculptors in the sharing.

If you have pictures that’s great. But don’t worry about that now. because the main thing is the story. Pictures do help people imagine being in the situation, but they can’t tell the story. To my mind the story of your experience of the sculpture is as interesting as the sculpture itself. And if you think the pictures you have are not good enough, don’t worry about that either right now. They might be better than you think, because we can do a lot on a computer to sharpen lines, improve contrast, and fade or even get rid of distracting backgrounds. The important thing for now is to tell me about your idea. If there’s a way to make it work, we’ll do it.

Let me know.

Thanks. I am eager to hear from you.

Lee Gass

5205 Windsor, Vancouver, B.C. V5W 3H7 604-322-1943 gass@zoology.ubc.ca