10% happier and Rothko

rothko_no_14

Anyone who knows me knows I love serendipity—little connections between disparate things that somehow make sense. I am going to propose a new connection—meditation and Mark Rothko.

On Sunday I started to use an app, suggested by my mate, called “10% Happier.” It’s developed and supported by a local company, the Change Collective, based in Cambridge, which always makes me happy to shop local.

As I was practicing my meditation this morning, I started to think about the strange but lovely sensation of vibrations like I was flying on a magic carpet. This being meditation, my mind wandered a little bit, until, of course, a soft voice reminded me to focus on breathing (thank you, Joseph!). In that short time, however, I experienced a vibration between my eyes—and no, I was completely straight—and I realized that it reminded me a day, about 22 years in my past, when, visiting dear friends in London, I went to the newly completed Sainsbury wing at the Tate. It’s hard to describe using language what I felt when I walked into this darkened chamber, lit lowly, but enough to help my eyes differentiate the amazing, 1-story tall Rothko paintings. The colors on the dark fields seemed beyond pigment, and to vibrate intensely as if aliens from space were trying to communicate through them. It was a transcendent experience. I stood for a period of time that I cannot recall. I could not look away, and yet, when I finally did, I sobbed quietly, collected my bag, crumpled on the floor, turned, and silently floated away back into the maw of the Tate.

So, no, this is not a sales pitch for 10% happier, or even meditation, but maybe next time you are in front of a Rothko, you may consider meditating. I am sure Joseph would approve.

Nek Chand’s vision

nek chand rock garden monkeysI must admit I am a bit obsessed with reading obituaries. Of course, I would prefer to learn about amazing people or the occasional talking parrot while they are still alive, but many times I only learn about them in the carefully crafted obituaries that many periodicals take great pride in. It’s funny because there is definitely an art to obituaries, and many authors take some license to reveal something heretofore unknown about very famous people (who knew Lux Interior has a voice over role on Sponge Bob Square pants?!), or lift a person like Nek Chand from relative obscurity—at least in the western canon—to the great delight of folks like me.

Nek Chand, for the uninitiated, is similar in some respects to Hundertwasser and Sisyphus. Left parentless at an early age after the creation of modern-day India, he assumed the role of a civil servant, yet had a vision of art, which he acted upon by creating an entire city of sculpture made from pot shards and other everyday waste, cemented together. His art has a look not unlike Nikki St Phalle, with sinuous lines and a bric-a-brac embroidered look that somehow looks harmonious. Apparently he laboured for years on his city in the middle the jungle, until the city expanded out to him. Threatened with destruction by civilizing forces, his vision was saved, and ultimately celebrated. The Economist obituary claims only the Taj Mahal gets more visitors each day.

Nek Chand was untrained (a primitive, I guess), yet the beauty and sheer magnitude of his “city” can only be described as art. Hundertwasser built a toilet in a remote village in New Zealand and made it a tourist attraction. Nek Chand built a visionary city in a jungle. I am glad I have discovered him and his gentle and humble art.

Hundertwasser!

huntertwasser

My daughter Francesca is studying the art of Austrian artist and architect Friedensreich Hundertwasser in school. I must admit that I had never heard of this amazing person before encountering her vibrant painting inspired by his work (above), and her enthusiastic articulation of his name—Hundertwasser!—always with an exclamation point—real, or implied.

Born jewish, he suffered under Nazism and joined the Hitler Youth as a subterfuge and means of staying alive. In later years he became a passionate advocate of individualism and bold, bright colors, and raged against the monotony of standardization and mechanization. Sounds like my kind of guy—a proto Wabi-Sabi. He was also an early environmentalist—into composting toilets—and developing mixed-use housing and encouraging “spontaneous” vegetation.

His architecture looks somewhat Gaudi-esque. I love the organic shapes and unrestrained colours. I think I have found a new inspiration.

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