Many houses, the house
Friday, 28 March 2014 16:37
Written by Alex Fleites La Habana y febrero del 2011
A house can be made from a vast range of materials, some so flexible that they allow the wind to blow through them. These houses tremble like ears of corn or corn, but never break. Others are rigid, safe by virtue of their thickness, good for raising towers above the blue sky. But the most surprising of all these materials is dreams, the substance we press like a fruit, a beloved face or a star.
In order to transcend it, dreams put down roots in the most immediate reality. A house made of dreams is the epitome of all the houses there have been, are, and, most importantly, will be.
They follow happiness and catastrophe, migration and settlement, laborious days of founding and fiery nights when you have to rush out, leaving the bread on the table.
Becky Guttin is a wonderful home maker. She draws, paints, carves and sculpts them from dreams. She builds her essential homes as a child would. In other words, with the seriousness of someone who puts her life into what would only be a game for others, those who do not see.. But that is not really what I mean. This artist does not go around populating the world with houses. On the contrary, she scatters the fragments that will be used to build a house, in the singular, a space that can contain everyone, that provides calm and love, and where food and songs are concocted.
Of all the possible definitions, the one I like best is the one that the homeland is where we rock children’s cradles. We can therefore conclude that our homeland is home, the part of the universe we happen to inhabit.
Art has a moral duty to be inclusive. Becky suffers from the enlightened delusion of wishing to wrap us all up in her warm, attainable work, which also has dense meanings. I like this segment of her work because it energizes me, engages me and forces me to think more clearly about myself. Becky Guttin’s art mobilizes the senses. It can move us to tears and provide us with the necessary calm and joy that is the best foundation of a house.
A house can be made from a vast range of materials, some so flexible that they allow the wind to blow through them. These houses tremble like ears of corn or corn, but never break. Others are rigid, safe by virtue of their thickness, good for raising towers above the blue sky. But the most surprising of all these materials is dreams, the substance we press like a fruit, a beloved face or a star.
In order to transcend it, dreams put down roots in the most immediate reality. A house made of dreams is the epitome of all the houses there have been, are, and, most importantly, will be.
They follow happiness and catastrophe, migration and settlement, laborious days of founding and fiery nights when you have to rush out, leaving the bread on the table.
Becky Guttin is a wonderful home maker. She draws, paints, carves and sculpts them from dreams. She builds her essential homes as a child would. In other words, with the seriousness of someone who puts her life into what would only be a game for others, those who do not see.. But that is not really what I mean. This artist does not go around populating the world with houses. On the contrary, she scatters the fragments that will be used to build a house, in the singular, a space that can contain everyone, that provides calm and love, and where food and songs are concocted.
Of all the possible definitions, the one I like best is the one that the homeland is where we rock children’s cradles. We can therefore conclude that our homeland is home, the part of the universe we happen to inhabit.
Art has a moral duty to be inclusive. Becky suffers from the enlightened delusion of wishing to wrap us all up in her warm, attainable work, which also has dense meanings. I like this segment of her work because it energizes me, engages me and forces me to think more clearly about myself. Becky Guttin’s art mobilizes the senses. It can move us to tears and provide us with the necessary calm and joy that is the best foundation of a house.