Shards and Stories – Lessons from Greece (continued)

Taken at the National Archaeological Museum in Athens

Examining shards of pottery in Greece, especially in historical museums, is a fascinating and often deeply meaningful experience. These fragments, bearing partial symbols and images, are remnants of ancient lives and cultures, offering glimpses into the past. Each shard is a piece of a larger narrative, a fragment of a story that once was whole.

Taken at the National Archaeological Museum in Athens

The symbols and images on these shards might depict scenes from daily life, mythological tales, or intricate patterns that were significant to the culture that produced them. Even in their broken state, these fragments can tell us a great deal about the artistic styles, technological advancements, and social practices of ancient Greece.

One of the most compelling aspects of these shards is their ability to be reassembled with other pieces, even those from different pots. This process is akin to piecing together a complex jigsaw puzzle where the final image represents a broader cultural or historical narrative. When these shards are put together, they often reveal a more comprehensive picture, connecting disparate elements to form a richer, more detailed story.

Humans have always told stories with symbols and pictures and objects.Even a small scrap of of pottery gives a rich clue that inspires us to infer more of the story.

My personal artwork has  been strongly influenced by the idea of “shards” as a metaphor for human communication across time. A shard can be a found fragment of clay, a rusty nail, a scrap of handwriting – any little clue that becomes a “secret handshake” between the maker and the discoverer.

Lyn Belisle, Encanto Assemblage, 2011

Have you ever wondered whether fragments of the artwork that you create today might one day be discovered and displayed in a museum, offering clues to the creative expressions of the 21st century? Imagine a future archeologist unearthing remnants of our contemporary art, much like how we now marvel at the fragments of ancient Greek artifacts. Each piece, though incomplete, tells a story of its time, revealing insights into the culture, technology, and aesthetics that defined an era.

In ancient Greece, even the smallest fragment of a vase, statue, or fresco can speak volumes. These pieces provide invaluable glimpses into the past, allowing us to reconstruct the visual and cultural landscape of a civilization long gone. The intricate designs on a pottery shard or the delicate chiseling on a broken statue reflect the artistic prowess and thematic concerns of their creators.

Reconstructed Lion, National Archaeological Museum

Similarly, future generations might uncover fragments of our current artworks—perhaps a piece of a digital print, a shard of a ceramic sculpture, or a remnant of a mixed-media installation. These fragments would serve as tangible connections to our present, helping future historians and art enthusiasts understand the themes, materials, and techniques that shape our creative output.

Lyn Belisle, Shard Components

As artists, the possibility that our work could one day be part of an archeological discovery adds a layer of legacy to our practice. It encourages us to think about the durability and impact of our creations. What messages are we embedding in our work? How do our materials and methods reflect the values and technologies of our time? In contemplating these questions, we become part of a continuum, linking our contemporary expressions to the vast tapestry of human artistic endeavor.

Lyn Belisle, Icon, 2020

So, next time you create, consider the enduring journey your art might undertake. Perhaps, centuries from now, a fragment of your work will be unearthed, sparking curiosity and admiration in a future museum, much like the ancient Greek artifacts do for us today. Through these fragments, our stories will continue to be told, and our creative legacy will persist, connecting us to future generations in a timeless dialogue.

Birds on columns, Heraklion Archaeological Museum

Learning from the past enriches our understanding and inspires us to create meaningful, lasting art for future generations to cherish. Or maybe just to wonder about . . . .

End of lesson from Greece !!

Lyn

 

 

 

The Clarity of White

I returned from Greece this past weekend filled with awe and wonder and new perspectives. Here’s the first one.

One of the many revelations that came to me while I was there was the strange and beautiful properties of the color white. Of course, if you remember your science lessons, white is not really a single color but a mixture of every color on the light spectrum.

In Greece, white dazzles everywhere – in the architecture, on the clothing of the men, women, and children. The bright white color reflects the intense sunlight, helping to keep buildings (and people) cooler during the hot summer months. The uniform white aesthetic has become a cultural and architectural tradition.

Intuition would suggest that if everything is white, then nothing stands out. But actually, white provides a clarity of detail that would be lost in a mass of various colors through the emphasis on form and value. Look at this rock wall in Mykonos – each white-washed stone is clearly outlined by form and shadow.

In this photo of Santorini, each building is clearly defined by its shape and its non-white accents such as the windows. If every building were a different color, this clarity would not be so evident.

And here is a Greek chapel. Does this white abstract form remind you of Georgia O’Keeffe? It does me 🙂

Sculptor Louise Nevelson used this principal to clarify her signature work because she wanted to emphasize and give power to the forms.

This morning, I was thinking about all of this while working in my studio on some base forms for the Vessel workshop I’ll be teaching at UTSA/SW School in July. The forms start out as pure white and are intended to be expanded and embellished. Here are a few that I made today, stacked up together:

Here they are individually – I experimented with various base materials:

Plaster gauze over balloon armature

Cotton rag and plaster

Mulberry paper and cheesecloth

Layered cheesecloth with acrylic medium

There is a huge temptation to leave them just as they are – variations in white that show the texture. But of course they are just bases that are intended to be added to.

On a whim, I took a couple of scrap assemblage pieces that hadn’t been working and painted them white, like the rocks in the Greek stone wall – I liked the result. The white clarifies the design and gives me some new directions.

I’m obviously not going to take a can of white spray paint and cover everything dimensional that I’m working on because of what I saw in Greece, but this new appreciation for white as a clarifier and unifier rather than just a blank element or space-holding color is inspiring. White. Simple. Limitless.

End of Greek Lesson One – next lesson, shards and faces!!

Thanks for reading!

~~Lyn, Intrepid Greek Island Explorer