Burning Down the House
Destroying to Create Anew
how do you get to the light? go through darkness
Destruction permeates life.
During turbulent times, it’s easy to forget how ruination leads to rebirth. My wise brother-in-law said to me, about current events in the USA, “How do we know that this chaos isn’t ordained, so something better can happen? We don’t know how the Universe works.”
Okay, not quite his words, but the idea stubbed out my rant, because I understand GOD as Generator — Organizer — Destroyer. Destroyer is the scary part: the tragic climax in every civilization. A denouement of wreckage. And a sequel of rebirth.
We all suffer loss, injury, bereavement. As an artist, I flow in the swirl from seed-vision to manifestation, dissemination to deterioration. An original artwork cannot escape extinction — of effort. Versions. Its own existence over time.
Burning Down the House is my deep dive into welcoming destruction because what follows is renovation.
I say prayers, summon my courage, and choose to befriend the Destroyer aspect of the Divine: mushrooms and fungus that morph matter into “dust” so new forms can be born — as in, “ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”
Can I bear to look at the dust? Gaza. Aleppo. Bakhmut. The list of rubbled cities goes on and on. Palmyra! 😭 And that’s just these days. I watch Oppenheimer and Grave of the Fireflies. I scan history. Warfires bloom and fade like fireworks unto Time Eternal.
Yet, in making a Destroyer artwork, what if …
… someone fights back? … ignites the entire sky?
What if wreckage purges all that is useless in heart and mind — worn out ideas, attitudes, and beliefs — even excessive anger? What if a fearless, fire-wielding Herald vanquishes all that is no longer needed … with joy?!
inspiration
fires i have witnessed
1994. Union Square, New York, NY. Before dawn, smoke woke me. From the seventeenth floor of Zeckendorf Towers, the Lüchow's building on 14th Street raged: a fire of mysterious origins. For long hours, I watched as firemen triaged and operated, but fatality was inevitable: the ruins had to be razed.
Summer 2012. Glamping with friends at the Great Sand Dunes, the Waldo Canyon Fire turned the sun red, the sky brown. The scope of these Western fires astonished me. Smoke chased every insect in the Four Corners towards the fireproof sand. Every time I stepped out of the tent, my arms and hands stippled with a hundred bugs. Eyes stung. Breath shallowed. Coughs prevailed.
I dreamt of water. Of mermaids.
artworks i have loved
What if … this Renovation artwork … repeated the same model in different positions?
At age fifteen, I had a poster of Waterhouse’s Pre-Raphaelite painting — the visual counterpart of Rachmaninoff’s romanticism. Swept on the waves of Piano Concerto No. 2, I floated amongst the Waterhouse Nymphs. There, I noticed how the artist used the same model for several nymphs! Was replication cheating in art? The answer came later: as an animator, I drew the same character over and over at key moments during her gesture — and all the positions inbetween.
And what if … Destroyer G.O.D. … was frolicking — even joyful?
Hylas and the Nymphs opened a fascination with pantheons of gods and goddesses, who personify natural forces through human-like forms. The Buddhist Dakini emotes either nurturance or wrath because her dance intermingles fire — of digestion or destruction— and blood — of life or wounds. I was astonished at the Dakini’s volatility and playfulness, her power to dance souls up to the sky.
And what if … I capture a dancer’s unbounded leaps?
A multiple-selfie, The Fifth Sun, depicted a celestial ellipse lifted skyward by the artist herself.
making the artwork
June 5, 2014. Principal photography at a friend’s farm in Erie, Colorado.
I just finished capturing Drop Your Baggage in the north field, then turned south as the sun slid toward evening. Our shoot started at 6:30pm, with sunset scheduled for 9:00pm. I set my camera on a tripod, low to the ground. Scraped a circle in the dirt, around which our model, Olivia, would dance the playful side of Fire: the dance of shifting shapes.
Seven was the lucky number of leaps in the final art. Olivia must have leapt sixty times. Fortunately, she ran on seventeen-year-old energy.
I wanted the dancer sprite-like and tiny. Close-up campfire flames captured at the Great Sand Dunes yin-yang Olivia’s scale, making her appear small and the fire large. I avoided traditional wings: the fiery scarf and Highland-fling leaps achieve the feeling of flight.
In the digital realm, I hand-painted colors for the skirt and scarf. Remembering the red sun photos, I chose a NASA capture of Mars.
what i thought as i created
Fire’s intrinsic power reshapes. Destruction is the primal transformative event on the spiritual journey. First, we must burn away obstacles to higher consciousness. We must decimate the ego, acquire knowledge of our insignificance in order to open to the wonders beyond. Ironically, to be humble—like humus—is to be truly Great. By emptying ourselves into a hollow bone, we open the flow of Divine healing energy.
Recalling the 14th Street fire, I thought about the Lüchow's building’s many incarnations. How its obliteration opened space for something new. A metaphor for psychological transformation: destruction of the old self to create a new self from the embers.
Through this artwork, I intend to convey acceptance about life, to help people embrace every chapter of life — without classifying some “good” and others “bad.”
We all die. Autumn and winter chase spring and summer. Night follows day in an endless cycle. Destruction launches rebirth.
I love the account of your ideas and processes. Intriguing! Amazing artworks result.
You've pivoted readers' beliefs about fire (tragedy or crisis) with messages about renewal. ...A needed reminder.