The Marriage of Sol and Luna

"The Marriage of Sol and Luna." 38" diameter mandala. Mosiac paper collage on board, finished with polyurethane varnish. Hanger affixed on back. $2,250.00. SOLD

The British sculptor, Henry Moore, stopped halfway through the first chapter of Erich Neumann’s book, The Archetypal World of Henry Moore (1959) because, as he later said, “I did not want to know about these things. . . .  I did not want such aspects of my work to become henceforth self-conscious.  I feel they should remain subconscious and the work should remain intuitive.”

I don’t know whether it was a sign of strength or weakness, but I was halfway through the creation of this large collage, The Marriage of Sol and Luna, before I realized what I was making might be symbolic of a lunar eclipse.  Days after that I learned a lunar eclipse was soon to occur, in a rare coincidence with the day of the winter solstice.  At that point I was within striking distance of finishing the work, which took me nearly a month of long days to complete.  Thus it was with conscious intention that I laid down the last of what seemed like a million (probably closer to 10,000) tiny collage pieces within one hour of the occurrence of the solstice, on December 21, 2010.

The dark lines which curve throughout the piece, dividing it into many smaller sections, are in fact a single line which I made at the outset, never picking up the pen until the line, through its labyrinthine twists, turns, and undulations, was finished.  I established the area of the inner white circle by tracing a 78 vinyl record.  The template for the larger white circle was an enormous quilting hoop that once belonged to the grandmother of my college roommate.

In his notes for the 1937 article, “The Sculptor Speaks,” Henry Moore wrote this:  “The subconscious plays a great part in art, that is to say that in conceiving & realising a work a great deal happens which cannot be logically explained–the mind jumps from one stage to another much further on without there being traceable steps shown between–preferences for one shape over another which cannot be explained–sudden solutions which cannot be followed step by step–in a word–inspiration.”

Part of the ongoing, and sometimes difficult task of the artist, is to cooperate with this process, rather than imposing one’s self in a way that occludes or subverts it.

–Deborah Norsworthy

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“Mandala: Gran Cirque”

"Mandala:  Gran Cirque" by ameliamandala
“Mandala: Gran Cirque”, a photo by ameliamandala on Flickr.

Mandala, 44″ diameter, paper collage, created by Deborah Norsworthy for March 2010 exhibit “6 @ 549,” at Gallery 549, Lafayette, Louisiana. Now held in private collection.

Making Mandalas

From "The Gracious Circle." Gallery exhibit at the Jung Center of Houston, January 2011.

Making mandalas has taught me that it is good to be centered and it is needful to have boundaries.  Making mandalas has shown me how things grow.  I have seen that

1.  You must start from somewhere.  Anywhere.  Preferably the center.  But anywhere.  You  must start.

2.  It is perfect to be imperfect.  Even more, it is beautiful.

3.  What seems like not much in the beginning may add up to something good, even remarkable, in the end–if you persevere.

4.  It is not helpful to judge until a piece is finished.  And even then it is not good to judge too much.  Or maybe I should just go all the way and do as Jesus said:  “Judge not. . . .”

"Poesis Lyrica." 18" x 21" set mandala wallpiece. Paper collage on wood finished with polyurethane varnish. Hanger fixed on back. $325.00.

5.  Repetition of the same simple thing may become beautiful.

6.  When you work from the center the piece maintains a measure of wholeness at every stage.  As the circle grows it becomes more complex and interesting it gains depth.

7.  Things that seem not to go together can go together if you let them and help them.  This is called integration.  There is integrity in that.

"Song of the Eye." 7.5" x 9.5" set mandala wallpiece. Paper collage on vinyl record, vintage book covers, and wood, finished with polyurethane varnish. Hanger fixed on back. $125.00.

8.  Surprises stand out in the context of a consistent pattern.

9.  Many pieces go through an unattractive adolescent period.  Don’t give up.  Sometimes the ugliest adolescence develops into the most beautiful and unique maturity.

10.  Expectations and preconceptions are often unhelpful.  To create a piece that is alive one must be open to what it is and what it is becoming, and then help it to become that.

11.  Courage is essential to creation.

Here is a poem I found in a list of words I made out of letters of the word “refrigerator.”

To get fire:  rare.

To free fire:  rarer.

To err:  oft.

Tiger at gate:  go

Forge art or fear.

Great gift after grief.

—Deborah Norsworthy

"No One's Perfect." 13" diameter mandala wallpiece. Paper collage on discarded cd, ceramic charger plate, finished with polyurethane varnish. Hanger fixed on back. $165.00.

Queen of the Heart

 

“Queen of the Heart.” 16″ diameter mandala wallpiece. Paper collage on assemblage of compact discs, finished with polyurethane varnish. Hanger fixed on back. $375.00

I sometimes fear that too much struggle in the creation of a work will violate its purity and integrity.  Time and experience have shown me, however, that each artwork has its own story and character, and that a piece born smoothly is not necessarily better than one over which I have worried.  Sometimes it takes me a long time to learn to like a work simply because it is so different from my expectation, unlike anything else I have made.  Rainer Maria Rilke, in Letters to a Young Poet, writes “We must assume our existence as broadly as we in any way can; everything, even the unheard-of, must be possible in it.  That is at bottom the only courage that is demanded of us:  to have courage for the most strange, the most singular, and the most inexplicable that we may encounter.

 In Queen of the Heart, the struggle for art and love unite.  I created the piece in 2009, near the end (of course I did not know that then!) of a four-year period of living alone without an intimate partner.  During that time I encountered many individuals who were cynical about the possibility of loving relationships; I myself sometimes struggled to keep my faith.  This mandala incorporates an earlier collage which I had to seriously refashion in order to create an aesthetic harmony in the piece.  It also incorporates texts that encouraged me to trust love, even in its winter; those include a stream of consciousness meditation on excerpts of 1 Corinthians 13, part of an e. e. cummings poem:  

love is the voice under all silences,/the hope which has no opposite in fear;/the strength so strong mere force is feebleness:/the truth more first than sun more last than star

and the important words of Clarissa Pinkola Estes in Women Who Run With the Wolves, a book that has become like a bible to me.  Wisely she writes:  “Three things differentiate living from the soul versus living from ego only.  They are:  the ability to sense and learn new ways, the tenacity to ride a rough road, and the patience to learn deep love over time.”

Benedictus

 

“Benedictus.” 7″x9″ (approx.) mandala. Paper collage on vinyl record, set on collaged cedar, with text: “Wild grasses hold you in their arms; the trees sing over your sleep.” $75.00. SOLD

Benedictus  

Shortly after my partner, Steve O’Keefe, and I moved to Staunton, Virginia, in May, 2010, we discovered an abandoned cemetery behind a campus of old institutional brick buildings that once served as a state prison.  The graves, set in straight rows, are each marked with upright concrete slabs.  Over time the headstones have assumed various angles of repose, and are textured with moss and erosion.  Remarkably they carry no other distinguishing symbol–not a name, not a number.  

Although I would probably not have wished to associate with any of these souls in life, I nonetheless felt a “nagging compassion” for them in their oblivion.  Several years ago, in an exchange of e-mails with a friend, I wrote, “It is interesting and mysterious to me, even strange, that we seem to have duties to the dead, and that in performing them something in ourselves may be completed and put at rest.”

Recently I returned to the cemetery with my friend, Lisa Ayres, a Louisiana artist, and we photographed the site.  This small mandala, Benedictus, incorporates pieces of my photo of a section of the burial ground.  The artwork embodies my consideration of human beings anonymously buried, as was Mozart, and the constancy of nature, in particular the trees standing over the forgotten ones in their rest.  

Photo of headstones taken November, 2010, Staunton, Virginia.

 

 

“Flower of the World” by D. M. Norsworthy

 

"Flower of the World." 13" diameter mandala wallpiece. Mixed media collage (paper, plant materials, glass) finished with polyurethane varnish. Hanger fixed on back. $165.00. SOLD

 

The combined materials in this mandala present a reconciliation of sorts, a peaceful coming to terms with the crosscurrents of life.  The dried roses at the center are from a former husband (or, as I wrote on the box into which I packed them for the movers, “Dead roses from my ex-husband”).  They were beautiful to me, nonetheless, and since both he and I gained  much from our association with one another, it seemed good to keep them, and then use them (along with pieces of stems from those flowers) in this collage.  When a very special man appeared on the scene more than four years after the last roses, he loved to bring me tulips. I have learned that if one drops one’s preconceptions about what constitutes a lovely flower, the tulip possesses an individual winsomeness in every stage of its flowering and withering.  Therefore I used dried petals saved from flowers Steve brought me to form the middle circle of flowers, bringing flowers from the past and flowers from the present together.  I also incorporated the base of garlic stems (those whiteish discs surrounding the rose centerpiece) and pieces of broken glass (I think of it as “naturally” faceted glass, and often find it both interesting and beautiful) into the center of the collage.  

Radiating to the outer rim of the piece are the 31 lines of a poem I created for the work:

1 Why any flower may be
2 being but a day
3 a week
4 to die too soon.
5 But in the life of dying
6 quickly saying
7 what may be
8 fragrant
9 lovely 
10 reaching
11 seeding
12 softening edges
13 of the earth
14 to tell the wisdom:
15 ALL MUST CHANGE.
16 All changes,
17 all rolling to
18 Death rolling to
19 Life rolling on:
20 YOU, PAY ATTENTION!
21 In the dying
22 is beauty also
23 if you see.
24 Flower of the world
25 never bloom or fade
26 far from the rooms
27 where I, as you
28 go swiftly, softly
29 as we are
30 and will be and always
31 to never be taken back.

 

 

“Makarios,” by D. M. Norsworthy

“Makarios,” is an ancient Greek word for happiness, connoting in particular the happiness of God.  This mandala is somehow, in my mind, emblematic of divine cheer, the revelling of a creator in his or her creation.  

"Makarios." 14" diameter mandala. Paper collage on recycled compact discs, finished with polyurethane varnish. Hanger fixed on back. $350.00.

 

"Makarios." Detail.

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