We live such small fleeting personal lives of roughly 3 score years and 10 (72.6 is the average on earth) and thanks to all the wonderful 'technology' of our lives we have no time to think about the future of our grandkids because 'someone else' is supposed to be doing that. Well, those same 'someones' are making decisions about a big clean-up, and we might not like what they have planned.
The Dangerous Shores is a painting from my (Helen Norton) latest collection of works that explore our memory of the Garden of Eden - and whether we need to return or learn from the idea of a raw and magnificent wilderness that man has not yet disturbed and spoiled. The question can't be answered fairly unless we throw in the imaginary (spiritual and creative aspects of human thought and direction) as well as the archeological evidence of our past. Perhaps it's not about returning to the cave as much as getting back to a more tangible and tactile connection and harmony with the animals and the plants. Not to turn into a green monster, but to get rid of the 'long chain supply middle men' that have made our lives so much more 'plastic', both metaphorically and literally. Maybe nature offered us a natural cap on our consumption but we simply ignored it.
These works, explore not only the darkness of the mess we are in, but hopefully the incredible beauty of the blessing we are bestowed by being given the capacity to use our imagination and aspiring heart to heal our world. As bleak as things seem, that human wild card offers us an opportunity. It is a miracle that we even know about the beautiful garden and the delicate nuances of love. That we know what is beautiful is a wonder in itself. That we can all agree that bird song, rainforests, and puppies are peak experiences, means that there is already agreement about what is good and right.
How do we tap into this on a wider scale in order to create that better world for all? That would require leadership with vision, and not a bunch of rich bastards who own all the resources on earth including our arses. We ain't there yet.
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