78. Chakaia Booker, Mutual Concerns
There is nothing more unlovable than an old used tire. We see it and its long lifespan—the miles it has traveled, over what roads, carrying who or what above it—all that is an unknown and unknowable mystery, and who cares anyway, right? We just see its dirty, useless bulk taking up space in the world. That is, until someone remarkable looks and really sees it, sees its undreamt-of potential, and she cuts it up, and cuts up others of its ilk and puts them together into something wondrous: a spiky, thrumming drawing in air, energy and eternal delight.
Too many emails? For instructions on receiving a weekly recap, click here.
This post is part of MFAH 100, a series featuring works from the collection of the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston, in honor of its 100th birthday. 100 words on 100 works in 100 days.
Have a piece you’d like me to consider? Send a message or leave a comment—I can’t promise I’ll include it but I will give it a serious look.
Thank you, Rainey, you broaden my thinking and my spirit. When I first gazed on this for a few moments, I thought...an old tire thrown in a shredder, hmmm. Then I read your reaction and thought, Oh, Ellen...dream on....hmmmm....Thank you, eys
I love the way you open my eyes. Your narratives have a way of awakening or shifting something inside. Thank you.