Recently, while lying awake in my "thinking hour" before dawn, I was musing about Richard's art and how to keep it alive even as brain cancer gradually takes his life.
I remembered seeing Molly use her iPhone to record a conversation, and that provoked what may be one of my best-ever ideas: I could email photos of Richard's work to Molly, she could choose a piece, put a photo of it on her iPad, set it up at the table like an easel, and ask him questions while recording their conversation. We could at once archive his work and capture a series of informal teachings about art and his sculpture process. And if Molly's partner Mark, a photographer, wanted to join the project, he could shoot professional-quality photos of Richard's work to enhance the archive.
Further, I thought, the interviews might be a sneaky way to inspire Molly to join Grant, our friend and the executive director of Colorado Art Ranch, in apprenticing with Richard. Molly's got his artistic talent: she helped with the carving on the very first boulder-sink that Richard sculpted (the beautiful gneiss basin in two of the photos above) and has explored other artistic projects, but has never found a focus for her creativity.
My thoughts rolled on, and it occurred to me that if Molly and Grant took to the work, Richard could offer them the possibility of taking on his projects-in-progress and carrying on the tradition of his Salida Millwork studio.
(His sculptural wildlife drinking basins in the photo above are part of a project to restore wildlife habitat to the gritty industrial site surrounding a coal-fired power plant).
I looked at the clock: it was only five, too early to wake Richard. As I lay there contemplating the idea of giving Richard a way to pass on his art meme (a meme, as coined by evolutionary biologist Richard Dawkins, allows units of culture leap from mind to mind, just as genes pass on biological properties), I thought about his woodworking, including the cabinet and trim work in our house.
That work, I thought, would be perfect for our nephew Andrew, if he was interested. Andrew helped build the house and inspired by "Unc," loves woodworking.
The more I thought about the whole concept of passing on Richard's art to new hands and minds, the more excited I got. Finally, I snuggled close, woke him and poured out my ideas. He thought for a while and then said,
"That's really good."
"I thought it was brilliant," I said modestly.
Over breakfast, we proposed the interview idea to Molly. She immediately got her iPad and iPhone and went to work, starting with a photo of his very first piece, a shallow granite basin in the photo below. That began a series of breakfast talks, sometimes with Andrew and Grant, sometimes with other listeners, in which Richard elaborated on why he works with the rocks he calls "ambassadors of the earth," how he listens to what each rock has to say, and his tools and techniques.
The next afternoon, we four-wheeled Richard's wheelchair up the dirt driveway to the shop for a granite-carving lesson. Grant (working at the wet-grinder carving station in the photo above, with Richard and Molly watching) took to the work as soon as he saw the inner rock emerge.
The next afternoon Molly headed out to the studio for some solo carving time, and an hour later came in bearing one of the small "sampler stones" Richard had picked out. (In the photo below, finished sampler stones sit on an inlaid steel dining table that Richard designed.)
"I got it Sus!" she said, with a smile that echoed her daddy's smile when he finished that first basin.
When Richard's strength faded before he could get out to his studio again, they brought the studio to him, shooting photos of his tools and rocks, and clustering around his bed to talk over the images.
Now, even those conversations have ebbed as he grows weaker. Still, it seems my idea worked: Richard's art meme will live on in other minds and hands, their work extending his vision of bringing rocks, steel, and wood into our everyday lives as ambassadors to reconnect us to this wondrous earth, our home.
THAT IS SO BRILLIANT! Yes, I’m shouting! I’ve been wondering about Richard’s art, too, sad that he might not be able to make more of those soulful, gorgeous butterfly bowls.
I can also see a documentary in this one!
This idea is indeed brilliant, but also, so full of love. Lovely and brilliant.
What a beautiful post, Susan. My mom and grandmother passed their love of needlework and sewing to me. It’s a legacy of beauty and love. Thank you for sharing.
Passing on Richard’s art in this way IS a brilliant idea!!! It’s simply great..the “passing of the torch.” Grab onto these moments of inspiration~hold him, love him, love yourself. xo
What a beautiful and inspiring idea
this, this IS totally wonderful, huge thanks to you for imagining this. i just love richard’s caring for, his understanding of stone. i love seeing the way richard listens to the rocks as they became a new thing. my rock books come right from the earth and the weather without any working of them, just my added paper and bookmaking. richard takes this further and bigger, imagining a way to live with rocks, to interact with them, to get to know them. such love.
I felt like shouting too, Bobbi, when the idea first came to me. I only wish I’d thought of it sooner. :~( But at least Richard had a couple of weeks to pass on his knowledge, and I think he feels better about this process of letting go of life having made some steps to pass on his art…
Susan T, Thank you. Maybe the love made the brilliance possible…
Doc Chery, Needlework and sewing are such a beautiful legacy–I’m glad you’ve got that to pass on.
Jan, As you can imagine, I was pretty pleased at the idea, and thrilled at how well it’s taken root.
Thanks, Dianne. Seeing Molly, Mark, Andrew, and Grant take on Richard’s work this way has inspired me.
Velma, When I showed Richard your rock books, he got them right away: “She’s helping us read the earth,” he said, and smiled. “That gives me an idea…” I wish you two had gotten a chance to interact in person, but I love that your art is inspiring to each other.
This blog brought tears to my eyes, Susan. I can feel the transition of Richard’s art into the hearts and minds of others. I do think it was/is a brilliant idea, and one that will live on. I’ve always loved Richard’s concept of his rocks being ambassadors–so many layers to that idea. Sometimes when I lug a rock home to add it to my “collection,” before I do, I ask the rock if it wants to come home with me. Sometimes they say no; sometimes they say yes. So I understand Richard’s connection to the rocks–as I’ve experienced them—not entirely inert, but to the people who are a little nuts, well, they have consciousness an opinions too, if only we can hear.
he will guide thier hands at some point, like my mother and grandmother guide me sometimes when I am working on geneology. I often feel their presence and sometimes kismet things happen and I find out things by way of strange occurances. This is such a blessing to pass on to others. In this case the rocks will reveal the real things that Richard passes on. Thinking of you and good to see your face on the street the other day.
How wonderful! I love this idea and I am sure he does as well. Such a beautiful gift to share his talents and creative energies with others.
Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Brilliant indeed. And so right.
What a beautiful project. A gift to your family, to all of us, and as you say–to Richard. How lovely and important for him to know that his thoughts about his gorgeous and unique work will not be lost, but gathered and shared. We’re thinking of you both every day…
Maria, I love your connection to rocks, and the respect you accord them. I think those who understand rocks as fellow beings are not nuts, just more perceptive than the rest of us…
Laurie, How beautiful to think of your grandmother and mother guiding you when you’re working on genealogy (and perhaps poetry too?). It was good to see you–thanks for that loving smile you gave me.
Lisa, It’s been incredibly sweet to see how sharing his art has given Richard and Molly another way to be close, to cherish each other in the days we have left, and to perhaps assuage some of the pain of parting.
Thanks, Blanche! Hugs to you…
Lyanda, I love your phrase “gathered and shared.” Thank you for the gift of that, as well as for the thoughts and love you send.
One of the niftiest things about a creative life is when such brilliant and obvious connections/solutions happen. Too, the seed-crystal effect: You toss a wee little bit of something into the mixture, maybe thump the beaker, and voila, it all comes together. Also, the joyride when the idea takes off with its just-begun, full-bore life.
Of course, images of ripples “concentric-ing” outward; the notion that we’re something so “other” than just our bodies; legacy; our lives being about something beyond ourselves, and our lives; … But these things are for separate, later blogposts, ¿que no?
What a wonderful gift you have given; to Richard, to the apprentices, and to the many who will continue to enjoy the growth of the seeds planted by Richard and nurtured by you.
Eduardo, I’m so literal (and so tuned to plants and their lives), I didn’t think of “seed” as seed-crystal. That’s a wonderful metaphor. As for all of the associations to wider and deeper meanings, my brain freezes just trying to think beyond this moment, when I sit by the two beds side-by-side in our bedroom with Richard sleeping and Sting’s “Fields of Gold” playing softly in the background… Someday I’ll make those larger connections. But now is for now.
Diana, I’m pretty pleased with myself for coming up with this idea, and happy with how it’s playing out. I only wish I’d thought of it sooner, but who knows whether any of the parties would have been ready sooner. So we’ve got what we’ve got.
What an inspired, loving and perfect idea, Susan. Richard’s beautiful legacy will live on, literally until stone wears away to dust (and what do we know?–perhaps beyond.)
Blessings and warm huggs to you, Richard and Molly in these fleeting, precious days….
wow…i love your brain…that predawn hour is indeed a wonderful time to allow the dawning of ideas, the creationist spirit i feel is especially strong … bless you for always being open and thinking….love that Richard’s art is passing on to these wonderful young people…and that Molly has taken on this project of recording- wow- simply wow- what a teacher, what talent, what a lovely passing of the torch…love to all of you dear dear Susan…
Suzy, I love your image of his work lasting “until stone wears away to dust” and perhaps beyond. Thank you for those hugs and blessings.
Doc Chery, Thank you. I am thinking as hard as I can in this journey, wanting to make sure Richard has what he needs to make his transition with grace and graciousness. This idea is one that will continue to grow, I think, in the years to come, and that feels very good. Blessings to you and Maria and yours!
susan, knowing you and richard, this little bit, has been a blessing to me. and knowing he got the rock books made them sing more sweetly to my ear. maybe i will take them further, read the earth more deeply. yes. i will think about this.
Dear Susan, as with Maria, your recent posts have brought tears to my eyes. This one is particularly special. Keeping Richard’s art alive and sharing it with so many others is an absolutely brilliant idea brought to fruition through the creative talent of those closest to him such as his daughter, Molly. And as with Chery, I too love your brain, the way you think, the way you put words together, your creativity, and probably most importantly, the way you have been willing and able to share this most loving and most difficult journey with us. Sending sincere hugs and love to you, to Richard, and to Molly.
Susan, you have brought us along on another beautiful step on this path you and Richard are travelling. Thank you for your strength and this inspiring idea. I have felt the “meme” in my life from my Arkansas-deep family and our wonderful Ozark and Ouachita Mountains and Forests, actually toting pieces of it with me wherever I light. Today because of your words, I will begin to prepare for passing on the “units of my culture.” Bless you all, you are regularly in my prayers and thanks-giving.
Velma, I’ll look forward to what comes of your intention to take your book books further to “read the earth more deeply.” The phrase itself just strikes me as so right… Blessings!
Lindy, I think we all hope that some part of us will live on, and Richard’s art seems to me one of those creative lines worth making the effort to pass on. He has such love for this world, and one of his ways of expressing it is his work with what I would call “giving rocks voice.” I don’t think Molly will pick up his art fulltime, and I wouldn’t expect her to, but I believe that she and others will work to keep the heart of it alive, and that’s plenty.
June, I look forward to reading/hearing more about how you will pass on the memes of your rich Ozark/Ouachita region life. I know the beauty in those wonderfully worn ridges and the patchwork quilt of forest and field and town that blankets them. May those memes inspire you in ways you could not imagine…
Susan,
Ditto all of the comments above. I was grateful for your definition of MEME:
(a meme, as coined by evolutionary biologist Richard Dawkins, allows units of culture leap from mind to mind, just as genes pass on biological properties)
For years my father and I have worked on what I call “Lineage & Heritage” project. Each of us has a living legacy that the world needs after the carrier of that legacy dies.
Your idea carries on Richard’s spirit and soul at so many levels and vectors. Yes, a brilliant idea.
I’m so moved by Richard’s craftsmanship and the clean lines of his sculpture. It echos the natural setting, while showing how humans enter into nature and are part of it through our passion and creativity.
Janet Riehl
Janet, You and your dad are definitely doing great work carrying on his rich memes. I hope the younger generation in your family will carry on yours in similarly creative ways. I’m so glad that Richard’s work speaks to you–I find it haunting and hopeful all at once. Blessings to you and your dad!
Richard, my only true economist friend, your connection to stone, to rock, to my world of earth science, has always fascinated me. It is a connection that gives me hope. Thank you Susan & Molly, And BTW, Richard, You Rock!
Love, D
No way could I improve on Janet’s comment above, yet I’ll try. I love her (Dawkins actually) term for meme. My grandkids call me Meme and I think how neat..a unit of culture leaping from mind to mind. Now everytime I heard my Meme name, I shall smile. Blessing in abundance to you and Richard.
Dale, Thank you. I read your comment to Richard and it got one of his now-rare smiles (his brain no longer communicates emotion to his face easily). He said in his frail, halting voice, “Dale understands.” That’s a gift.
Eunie, How fun that your grandkids call you Meme! I suspect that they’re pronouncing it differently than Dawkins’ term, which is pronounced “meem.” I love the word/idea, and first used it in my memoir, WALKING NATURE HOME in talking about how the memes passed down from our families help shape our creative voices. The whole idea of how we inherit culture is a fascinating one. Blessings back to you.
Susan, I followed your health and wilderness journey in your incredible book. I’m privileged now to watch this new journey that you and Richard are taking together. This post made me cry as well; but as Tolkien wrote, not all tears are a bad thing. The thought of Richard’s apprentices learning from him, then changing it up using their own unique visions brings joy to me, and I hope to you both as well. And I agree that every ending is a beginning. Richard will continue to live here, though, in all those who knew and love him, and in all of us who have read your blogs and followed this story, and seen his beautiful creations, so close to the earth. Did I tell you that in the Cree language the word for rock is classed as animate (rather than inanimate)? Richard’s work celebrates the life in the rock and its connection to all living things. I won’t forget.
Lori Orser
Lori, Thank you for the “incredible” comment about WALKING NATURE HOME. I’m sorry that this journey includes so much sadness and pain, but Tolkien was right, tears aren’t always a bad thing. Thank you too, for your comments about Richard’s work and the thought about the word for “rock” in Cree. How lovely to know that at least some cultures understand that rocks aren’t just “things.” Blessings to you!
What a wonderful, loving, AND brilliant idea to pass on the art and the love of the art on to people he loves!
Susan G-T, The idea came just in time, as Richard doesn’t have the energy to think about his art for more than a moment anymore. I think we got in enough talking sessions to pass on the most important stuff, and we got him out in the studio once to show Molly and Grant how to use his most important tools. They can figure out the rest as they go…