The Art of Taking Away

"Sculpture is the art of taking away, while painting/clay modeling are arts of adding on." ~Michelangelo originally said in Italian, translated into Japanese, I'm remembering vaguely and translating into English...does it still count as a quote?

After leisurely strolling through galleries filled with Michelangelo and Leonardo's sketches, designs, and sculptures, mostly of the human form, I did a triple-take at the above quote written in large white letters high up on the museum wall. A simple, obvious statement, that seemed to hold so much truth about humanity.

Adding on is great: we learn and grow in many ways throughout life by adding on. But there is something especially beautiful in the refining art of taking away. Of finding the beauty hidden within.

The taking away of chiseling off chunks of marble. Of marble marred with a black streak; of perfectly good marble! But masking the beauty of a masterpiece.

~~~

Walking back to the train station I couldn't help but notice how absolutely gorgeous the everyday people around me are. The form of the neck of the woman in front of me with her head twisted down, the way that businessman's pants fold as he walks up the escalator, the lines and variations in lips and noses and cheekbones (and oops! Not staring I promise. *awkwardly quit making eye contact with all these gorgeous people).

But at the same time, I was saddened by how much more full of life Leonardo's 15th century sketches seemed compared to the actually alive faces around me. And wondered whether I look just as done at the end of a work-day. Or if maybe part of Leonardo's genius was showing the life hidden within that can't be seen at a glance walking by.

I wonder if we all need a little more of the art of taking away. The taking away that finds the beauty and life in others, and in ourselves. The taking away of saying "no" to some good things, in order to prioritize the best. Of chiseling off hours spent working overtime, or worrying, or on social media; of packing all our time in the guise of a rich, full life, stuffing ourselves with accomplishments and productivity and glowing screens.

What could we chisel away, or allow to be chiseled away, to become more in the image of the masterpiece we were created to be?

Spectrum

In Ginza, tucked between thousand-dollar purses and million dollar necklaces are a few priceless hidden gems: free admission art galleries!  My favorite find today was this piece by Tokujin Yoshioka, which the iphone/my lack-of-photography skills/your computer screen will not come close to doing justice, but:

   

Clear glass prisms beam rainbows of color, gently swaying on the walls and floor, brilliantly transforming as you look from different angles. Maybe it's because the first work I saw by this artist was Rainbow Church several years ago, or maybe it's because I had just finished preparing music and slides for tomorrow's worship service, but I couldn't help feeling similarities between what I experience at this art gallery and in the church.

People gather together who maybe have absolutely nothing else in common. Diverse backgrounds, ages, languages; some alone, some with family or friends; united together because they have come to see, to wonder at, to appreciate, to soak... for all of their senses to be captivated and focused not on themselves or each other but on the thing, the One they look to in awe. 

We can't help but be drawn to the Light. And the longer we look, from various angles, the more we see the infinite possibilities. 

Like most I started far away in the back corner of the room, slowly wandered closer, then turned back to see how it was painting the whole room in light from the perspective of the prism itself. And I saw a small crowd of people facing the prism, their eyes glued... to the screens of their smartphones (to document the shining glass, or check the shot they had just taken). Each and every one was completely oblivious that they had become part of the exhibit: their hands and faces and jackets were painted gorgeously with the reflections of refracted light. Just as mine must have been several minutes before.

Then two ladies visiting together noticed the light on each other. Beautiful! They smiled and instructed and positioned each other to make the most of the light shining on them. 

A beautiful reminder to notice the Light around me, in community, and hold on to a sense of wonder.

Bonus: "Wonder" by Mika Aoki (Such incredible detail and whimsy in these glass sculptures based on microscopic patterns in cells/bacteria...unseen but silently and fantastically breathing life into the world)