I am reminded on this Eve of Valentine’s Day that most of life is about the Time in Between. Reminded in part by a painting I bought many years ago that shared this posts title. I didn’t know at first, that it even had a name. I would just come into the shop and stare at it. Lost in the pink amorphous swishes of paint across canvas, and wonder at the black boxes that seemed to definitively interrupt the serenity of that moment. The one that I was in, and undoubtedly whatever notion or chaotic storm that caused the painter to dip her brush in the noir in the first place. In between starting and completion, Single and Married, construction debris and photo shoot ready. I don’t think I am alone at sitting quietly in that time. I’m a racer, a finisher, one set on accomplishment, and while I appreciate that isn’t all bad, I know too that it ain’t all good.
Last night I returned to find after a lengthy and phased process, the orb hanging from a custom hook designed to hold more than 200lbs. It sat naked, stripped of its branches, and devoid of light in the dark expanse of my living room, awaiting the final stages of completion that will bring it to its full expression of brilliance. I carefully over the course of three hours selected and screwed in, adjusted, and tweaked, reconfigured, and arranged – oh you get the point, but I was seriously delayed in the entry of this post because my poor little fingers are banged up from this tinker toy bonanza. My dear sputnik must continue to circle around in space, living in between its Marche aux Puces home in Paris and Boston’s South end, because after all that re-wiring, retrofitting, hanging and barely hanging on – that chandelier hangs so low I can feel the bars of Sweet Chariot whistling past my ear.
This is the point at which many would throw up their hands. This is the point that I simply pretend as if someone pays me to do all this, and that I am not at all crazy. Off with all 65 arms, down from the ceiling, back to Fun Antiques in Cambridge where the rod will be cut, refit, rewired, and the process will commence again, on its way to final completion. I can only hope that it will receive as much attention, and contemplation, in its completed state, as it has received in its Time in Between….I think we’ve both earned it.