Alice and I have been talking a lot this weekend about how the mechanics of eyesight can change the way someone experiences the world, often in dramatic ways. My first pair of glasses at about age 9 brought the world into sudden, sharp focus. My brain nearly exploded when I went from seeing fuzzy, vaguely green blobs to the wild mash-up of vivid, individual colors that made up the dense Samoan jungle at the end of our street. It was a dizzying experience, but it took just a couple of days for my brain to adjust. I think of that every time I see a Van Gogh – that most experts think that he was not being deliberately innovative so much as he was just painting what he saw.
Maybe that’s why I like art that requires more than looking. When I’m working with fiber in deep, saturated colors, it’s as much about what I feel as what I see. I just returned from SOAR (the Spin-Off Annual Retreat – aka fiber heaven), where the phrase, “Oh, I love your (fill in the blank with the garment or object of your choice)” was universally accompanied by an automatic – almost involuntary – reach for the object in question. Complete appreciation started with sight, ended with touch.
