I never thought I would be writing about myself and my sculptures when I was 90 years old. In my youth I couldn’t figure out why anyone would want to become 90, I changed my mind when I became 89.
My journey into the world of art began some time ago. Nearly 60 years ago in fact. When I was visiting MOMA the sculptural work of the Russian Constructivist Naum Gabo stopped me in my tracks. I was fascinated by the way he weaved wire around vertical patterns to form parabolic shapes. Then and there I decided to try it myself and took it up as a hobby. Over the years I’ve become pretty good at it.
One day I accidently discovered that the nylon monofilament I was using reflected the light from a bulb in the ceiling. By running a flashlight behind a strand of monofilament, the idea came to me that if I could find a way to attach a light inside the work; the refracted light would seem to move as the viewer moved around the object. To my delight, I discovered that as I circumnavigated the sculpture the light shining up through the many strands of monofilament created unexpected designs. As I moved around it, I was able to watch as the designs forming magically – seemingly out of nothing. Then, of course, it was only a short leap to the thought that if I could somehow rotate the sculpture, the viewer would be able to view the emerging arcs and sliding light patterns from a comfortable chair. It took a while to assemble the proper turntable and cabinetry, but finally, the design of my Traveling Light assemblages came into being.
During my years of creating my technique as an artist, I earned my living as a television director. It was daunting. In the 1960’s everything was live, and every show was a tense adventure. Later on, when most shows were recorded in tape, one was always up against the clock; the work had to be accurate and completed on time – the clock never stops. But I was good at it, and I spent 40 years grinding out soap operas, and musical variety shows like Search for Tomorrow, As the WorldTurns, Another World, The Electric Company and The Ed Sullivan Show. It goes without saying (I’ll say it anyway) that this work created a good deal of stress, and being only human (I have to admit it), I fell into a deep depression. So, in order to find my way out of the emotional hole I was digging for myself, I sought help. Through a set of curious chances was directed to a Jungian psychologist. Funny how the unconscious operates.
One could call it lucky, but I have come to believe that here are no coincidences. The Buddha is supposed to have said, “When the pupil is ready the teacher appears.” I certainly needed wise council – if that translates as ready, I was ready. It was not hard for me to fit into Jungian thought, especially the life-long quest for wholeness. I soaked it up, and slowly, with my teacher’s help, I got back on my feet. Importantly, I had learned that the rigorous discipline of taking hundreds of strands of monofilament and weaving them into strictly formalized shape were in fact meditations – attempts by my unconscious to organize my conscious life. They were my personal mandalas – designs used by Tibetan monks to aid them in their meditations.
Of course, all the objects I create have their genesis in the unconscious – as, I guess, all art does. You think you are controlling things, but when you look at what “You” have made you see that it doesn’t really turn out exactly as “You” imagined. You wonder “Who” or “What” had a hand in it. Frankly I never know exactly what the piece I‘m working on will look like until I’m finished and I turn on the LED light. Wow!
I often add an acrylic disk with a hole in the center to my sculptureto act as an accent piece. No special reason, it just seemed right. It wasn’t until later that I discovered that it was akin to an ancient Chinese symbol: a “Bi” disk; a thin disk with a hole in the center that most likely symbolizes infinity or eternity. Funny how the unconscious operates.
I’m fascinated by my work. Sometimes at night I’ll sit up smoking a pipe with a couple of fingers of Woodford Reserve by my side gazing at the intricate movement of the light across the monofilament as the sculpture slowly turns…wondering who the hell made it. – Bob Schwarz
