We Can Spin Some Yarn
At some point people began giving our guttural sounds meaning, and ever since existence has been full of mystery, allure, and frustrations. “What did he mean by that,” the cave-girl wondered, peeking at her cave-boyfriend’s lips after he said, “You’re one of the good ones.” How can we ever say what we actually mean when each of us has such a unique relationship with words?
And that’s not even touching on the static nature of the symbol vs the fluid nature of meaning. Which is probably the most fascinating part of communicating and what I’m trying to explore almost always. Positively or negatively, the meaning of the words change with duration, but the words stay the same, sometimes enhancing their original message, but just as often revealing deep ironies.
Which inevitably brings me to Love. As Cleo says in Cleo in the Universe, “How can I love somebody when infinity exists?” How can I tell someone “I love you,” when what’s making my heart beat isn’t those three words, but something much nicer, bigger, and more sincere? I’m stuck with these clunky languages which don’t allow for any sort of uniqueness, and are tied to history, mythology, and all that. There just aren’t enough words. I need an infinite amount.
But, that’s life. We only get “I love you.” And so, we put our most fragile hopes and thoughts into these static words that stay the same, while the meaning remains in flux.
With this project, I wanted to explore the fragility of the meaning, and impose it on the static symbol. Instead of impenetrable, revered, and absolute, the words are delicate, made with the flimsiest, most ephemeral materials at my disposal. I want the words to be vulnerable. I want them to be affected by people passing by, by gravity, and by their own imperfect construction.
The project is on-going, but this is Part One:
8x12’ Acrylic yarn and scotch tape.
Published by Jimmy Marble