I love live music. Much more than recordings. I like the moving parts coming together; sound and light and motion in real time with all of its frailties and imperfections and the improbability of everything being absolutely right at the same moment. So I guess it follows that I would like live art. Theater, readings, and art. We have a fondness for kinetic sculpture, and it seems to have a fondness for us.
A few years ago while in France I learned of an automaton museum and was determined to find it though I had only a vague idea of where it was. Turns out the information was vague because the museum had closed due to a fire. But we found it, though getting directions in French to a non-existent place is no easy feat. After some convincing Aidan got us an invitation from the museum’s creator to enter an be given a personal private tour by the artist who created every part of the wind-up scenes. That is a long and fantastic story for another time.
Closer to home went to see an outdoor installation of whirlygigs by Vollis Simpson in North Carlolina. Vollis is now known as a folk artist, but when he made these things he was a retired house mover. The park displaying his work was just being set up and there were a few large pieces on display. But the grounds keeper alerted us the the garage where the pieces were being cleaned and restored. We found ourselves in the company of a folklorist turned preservationist and got a personal, private tour.
You might recognize those things, “mechanical creations by a strange Frenchman” and “whirligigs made from recycled signs”. We adored those things and their creators so much that we wrote a song to honor them. Whenever we play it folks share their favorite local places, artists, creations, and oddities. And off we go to see what’s out there. At our Glasgow concert we learned of Sharmanka, a collection of kinetic sculpture. The next morning we headed straight there.
It was closed. Of course it was. They would be open for a demonstration later in the day, but we had to hit the road. We stood at the door. Visibly disappointed, reading the brochure, watching a short video on a loop. Someone came to the door, rang the service bell. A deliveryman we presumed. But no, it was a friend of the curator. For the third time the improbability of everything being absolutely right at the same moment brought us inside the closed studio for a private look around. It was stunning. A wood carver combined amazing sculpture with industrial gear to create a complex moving scene. That would have been good enough, but each piece was set to music with a simple but dramatic light show. Each piece was a performance.
My life is better for having seen each of these things and having met people with a passion for creating or preserving them. I can’t articulate how but I know it is true. The things that would make your life inexplicably better are out there. Go see them. Go experience them. Go create them.