The Coldness of Stone
and the kindness of a heart at home in the world
Leafing through an art book from our shelf today, I saw a picture of an outdoor rock sculpture that struck me as brilliant. The author of the book didn’t comment on the two ancient-looking concentric circles, so I don’t know the sculptor’s intention.
In spite of the circles, it isn’t a labyrinth. In spite of the stone it isn’t a fort. To me, it is instantly, simply inviting, in a human way.
Except for our own flower-warmed rock walls, I’m not usually drawn to stone structures. For example, there’s a handsome old stone house on Brevard’s Park Avenue. I know I should admire it, but first I have to warm up the outside by imagining a comfortable interior. I picture deep soft chairs in the living room and happy people inside, perhaps with dessert in the oven.
So why would Nancy Holt’s Rock Rings stone structure be so attractive?
First, it’s round, a human quality. You make a circle with your arms when you hug someone. You have a circle of friends.
The round eye-level openings in the walls are large and generously spaced. And the entryways into the circles invoke trust; they aren’t disguised or have doors that might lock behind you. The sky is overhead. Patches of sunlight fall on the flat walkways with their clean, well-defined edges. No signs are posted to tell you what to think or feel.
The person who made this sculpture saw it through the visitor’s eyes. She felt it through their bodies, as a positive experience. Inside this structure I would feel safe, and free to explore.
I think of another book, A Pattern Language, where Christopher Alexander reminds both the reader and the civic planner that private and public spaces should adapt to human needs, not the other way around. For examples, Alexander drew on a romantic European tradition.
Today, in contrast, when it comes to “affordable housing”, human needs usually lose out to what the builder can afford to invest. For example, I recently drove past this pair of new homes, below, which seem as cold as the stone house in town was at first glance. But with these two buildings, try as I may, I can’t imagine happy lives going on inside them.
I’d like to return to the stone structure, Rock Rings, that started me thinking about a person’s relationship with their environment.
The fact that I can find such a cold, hard structure in a field so inviting, tells less about me than it does about the times we live in. We’re hungry for kindness. Today’s Republican leadership in America has a demoralizing undercurrent. Heather Cox Richardson said,
If Donald Trump wins again we’re going to put in power people who want to burn it all down. They want to hurt their enemies for sure but, so long as they can be in control, they don’t care. As long as somebody gets hurt, that’s enough for them.
So when I open a book and look at a stone sculpture with human-friendly features, I see the creator’s respect for human needs.
These days I’m extra sensitive to any act of kindness, say, at the grocery store or doctor’s office. A small generosity makes my spirit soar. I’m just grateful that no heartless person is out to hurt someone.
At a school board or commissioners meeting now, I wear psychic armor against the next word-heavy deception or the next legislative attack on our most vulnerable citizens like teachers and students. I wince at every official refusal to authorize money for public school building safety upgrades that voters approved over 5 years ago.
But with Rock Rings, the windows offer plenty of different views to go around, and every one (everyone’s) is legitimate. With Rock Rings, there is always a way in and a way out, each to be taken freely. There is room for anyone and room for more than one. There is a place for private thought in a shared community.
The artist created something carefully, with respect and beauty. She shared it. She didn’t have to burden or destroy other people’s lives in order to feel ok about her own.
Very thoughtful, Deda. Thank you
Loved this one!