Art on Fire

On a warm March afternoon, a handful of artists gathered on a hillside in a city park, built a fire and began burning their art.  The concept was a metaphor - clean house, make room for the new, purge and move on - but the flames were real enough.  There was a good deal of cheering and chanting encouragement as canvases were smashed and torn and laid in the fire.  The smoke, probably toxic as someone observed, swirled and floated on the light breeze, the ashes accumulated quickly, the heat spread like sadness.  I remembered I'd read that the event had been inspired by the passing of a California painter and the recent deaths of three local artists, all of whom had left behind a body of work but no instructions for its disposal. 

We are not what we used to be, a painter friend of mine pronounced solemnly, We let go of the past.  We do not leave our work to be a burden to our friends or family.

Each piece had a history and a story and each artist recalled it clearly, when it had been done, what the inspiration for it had been, where it had been exhibited and for how long and what the reactions to it had been.  They recited the details quietly.  As each piece went into the fire, I realized I was torn between admiration for their actions and a fuzzy sense of sorrow.  I am usually merciless with material possessions and feel no sentimentality at all about tossing them out with the dust they've gathered but no part of me goes with them.  This was somehow different, a little right and a little wrong.   I thought about the photographs I've taken over the years and knew I would never be brave enough to see them destroyed.  I've lost track of some and still sometimes grieve, wishing I'd been more careful, more discriminating about who they went to.  The negatives are long gone, lost in the shuffle of living, divorcing, moving from one state to another.  They may mean nothing to anyone but me but it makes me sad that they can't be re-created.

It takes a special kind of courage to create art.

It takes a special kind of of courage to let it go and watch it burn.