Saw Where You Are
I met TM last year at Jazz Fest but when we met again he couldn’t quite place me because I had on a pink wig then. He said, “I remember, I took a picture of you,” and I said no, you took a mental picture. I enrolled in his workshop this weekend because even though I respect and admire his jewelry, it was the model for a sculpture that drew me to enroll. Hard to believe someone as non-visual as I am would imagine being a sculptor but it has always been a thought that surfaces now and then.
One of the first Mann-ism I learned was to “saw where you are” – TM said people are always trying to saw ahead of themselves and this creates tension, and friction, and inefficiency. Phew – how many tmes do you have to hear the same thing delivered to you in many different ways – SLOW down – ahhhhhh.
TM manages to combine that odd dichotomy of business acumen and artistic talent – and he’s enjoying a renaissance right now in New Orleans. One of the first artists back, he collected items from Katrina and has made shadow boxes themed out of his collection – these are on display at the Ogden Museum of Southern Art. I went last night, dressed in white and ruffles, and the collection was impressive. Unfortunately, I wandered into the room beside his exhibit to the Times Picayune photography from Katrina – I say unfortunately because I should have passed in reverse – the photographs were so unbelievable, I found myself again, in tears in front of a photograph of water water water everywhere.
The Ogden was filled with the beautiful people in their white all decked out for White Linen night when the galleries in the warehouse district open their doors to city. In front of the Ogden was the “ModGun” – the shotgun model an architect had designed as a prototype for rebuilding New Orleans. It was actually nice. You walked through it to enter the museum – good idea.
TM was standing outside the exhibit as I exited the photography, still wiping tears from my eyes. He said in his charming way, “You look fabulous!” – and I said good show, everything came together well. And he said, “They didn’t hang my statements,” and I said, no? I thought it was curated well, but I’m sure your statements would have been great too. But then I realize that he missed the metaphor himself – saw where you are – was he enjoying his success, his show? Or had this slip up cost him his own moment? I hope he did realize that as an artist he had managed to collect the detritus of a tragedy and reorganize it so that we, the audience, could see it again, but see it new. Because if not, he had missed where he was at the moment.
I ran into C who was part of the show himself – TM having dedicated an entire box to him. He too missed the moment, disgruntled that his own art had wound up in someone else’s art, who perhaps might be profiting from it, he could only see what he had lost, not what he had gained.
And then there was P – I walked downstairs and saw him standing in the lobby, looking very handsome, standing out amongst the crowd and he said, “Oh Rachel, just go ahead and kill me now, today I turned 50.” I hugged him tightly and said, you’re young P, enjoy. TM had come down to the lobby and I called him over – he had just celebrated his 59th three days earlier – and I said P thinks he’s old. Poor thing.
It’s back to my saw this morning – I’m making a brooch – at the center are W’s eyes from a Valentine’s Card N made for his school last year. He’s at the heart of my Katrina brooch of loss. The “eye” of my storm.
Living hell is the best revenge.
– Adrienne E. Gusoff