Featured image: Eve Leonard, Where You Have Never Been
Art can capture a single moment in time, focusing on a distant horizon. But the world is not orderly nor does it or we stand still. We see the near horizon, but a distant line calls to us –– or taunts us. Beyond each horizon lies another line, and another. If we turn our backs on one horizon, another is waiting. A horizon line can be interrupted by ranges of mountains or massive buildings that reduce our view to that which is right in front of us. Until we move.
Art reinterprets a constantly shifting view, often creating openings beyond what we experience or acknowledge. Art allows us to see beyond the mountains, while we stand in the valley. An artist can place a viewer in the center of work, reflecting all views simultaneously. With art we can soar above a flat landscape until our neighborhoods and cities and rivers become abstract marks on a canvas. We can float at the waterline of a massive ship that blocks all the light and becomes our near horizon. We can see an obstacle and the way around it at the same time. Reflections mirror both where we have been and where we are headed. Art can offer lines that cross the horizon side by side, marching evenly across the canvas, never connecting, destroying our sense of near or far, past and future. There is only the present, which can become a point in the line of yet another horizon.