Saturday Mary and I visited our longtime friend and fellow artist Marge Roche, who is an art friend I have known since I first moved to Evanston. A founding member of the Figurative Art League, she has travelled to Nepal, bringing art and conversation to a remote village there on many an occasion, and returning with stories, sketches, and watercolors.
We talked about my project and I shared stills and video of the Widows so far. She likened the chalk lines and the lines in the sand to Buddist monks who carve a phrase into a small bead, the same phrase over and over for 12 years. She also brought up the Rosary as a means, like the monks', not of getting to a certain number, but as a means of meditation, of getting beyond distracted everyday thought into a prayerful, focused realm.
She also asked if she could help. I had mentioned the man on the beach who had calculated that it could not be done (three million lines in the sand in one year). She thought a few of us could go down to the beach and do a few hundred lines. What a selfless and wonderful idea. Again and again, I find that I'm coming to the conclusion that it is not about me, it's about the healing possibility: what can be do to advocate? not what can be done to validate my art?
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