The Whole World’s Sitting on a Ticking Box. (C) 2014, Meri Aaron Walker, iPhoneArtGirl, Talent, OR. All rights reserved.
longexpo, superimposer, icolorama, oggl, snapseed, glitche
Just as I posted this image to Facebook, a fellow artist, Trish Geyer, posted a Rilke poem that is the perfect analog to what I was feeling and thinking as I was making this image this morning.
Sitting in a coffee shop after doing some archeological work on my hips and pelvis in theraputic yoga, listening marginally to the chatter around me, I felt like I was hiding out in public. No one around me could have imagined what I was making. Nor would they have wanted to.
Two old men closeby were talking about which grocery stores had the cheapest prices for organic food and how many ounces of wine it was safe to drink with their evening meals. A woman of about 50 was consulting with a steady stream of people who sat with her for about 10 minutes, seeming to want her to tell them something definitive about how they could be better “seen” by the business community in Ashland, Oregon.
Ashland is a town of 20,000 that caters to retirees and tourists and llikes to talk about “sustainability” while ignoring the fact that there are close to 200 teenagers living in the woods above town, camping with their babies, sometimes going to school, but mostly not. It’s a beautiful little stage where people can make cars stop while they walk across a street and there are more $8 an hour jobs than anything else. Tourists and retirees want to hang onto as much of their cash as possible, after all. The people of Ashland, while they talk alot about God and Peace and Love, are not interested in community development or real jobs or the facts of a sustainable economy. They’re entertaining themselves until they get back into their cars and drive somewhere else or someone lays them into their coffins.)
This poem of Rilke’s speaks the words I couldn’t find to say as I sat there eating my breakfast, drinking a coffee, and silently creating the image above from a shot of budding tulips in my yard and an old flier holder on the wall in the bathroom at the Wild Goose Cafe.
Calling myself up and telling myself the truth was far more interesting to me than joining in any of the conversations going on around me. I would leave here in a heartbeat, but I don’t have the money to finance a move… and I honestly don’t know where else to go…
I don’t want to stand before you
like a thing, shrewd, secretive.
I want my own will, and I want
simply to be with my will,
as it goes towards action.
And in the silent, sometimes hardly moving times,
when something is coming near,
I want to be with those who know
secret things or else alone.
I want to unfold.
I don’t want to be folded anywhere,
because where I am folded,
there I am a lie.
~Ranier Maria Rilke