Indra’s Net

I've been working on this series "Indra's Net," which is a symbol in Buddhism of the perfect interconnectedness of all phenomena of the universe.

Francis H. Cook describes this image of interdependence as "Far away in the heavenly abode of the great god Indra, there is a wonderful net which has been hung by some cunning artificer in such a manner that it stretches out infinitely in all directions. In accordance with the extravagant tastes of deities, the artificer has hung a single glittering jewel in each "eye" of the net, and since the net itself is infinite in dimension, the jewels are infinite in number. There hang the jewels, glittering "like" stars in the first magnitude, a wonderful sight to behold. If we now arbitrarily select one of these jewels for inspection and look closely at it, we will discover that in its polished surface there are reflected all the other jewels in the net, infinite in number. Not only that, but each of the jewels reflected in this one jewel is also reflecting all the other jewels, so that there is an infinite reflecting process occurring."

But I got here in a nutty way...

In the fall, a raccoon (or something) got into our garbage and junk was strewn over the backyard. Peter was a gem and picked most of it up, but he missed (luckily!) a really interesting object: this net, thick with fat, that it took me a while to remember what it was. It was a tube that I cut into a square (maybe 6" x 8"), and when I laid it on my heated palette in my studio, everything started to smell like bacon. Then I remembered it was the netting that covered a small picnic ham from our favorite smokehouse. When I cut up the net, I saw that I could print with it in encaustic paint. If it wasn't for this hungry and curious raccoon who left it on our deck, I never would have found it.

So many layers here: the mass produced netting, the carnivorous conversation of a pig turned into a ham, the serial printing, the modularity of various pieces working well together, the netting turned into garbage and discarded and brought back into attention by a raccoon.

There are beauty secrets in our detritus. It's what we've got.

As this series continues, I keep adding marks or all kinds of debris, especially those from the emerald ash borer. We have lived in our home for 25 years on two acres of mixed hardwoods. When we first moved in, our yard and woods were filled with ash trees, and now 25 years later, they are gone. In a smaller timeframe than my own lifespan (typoed as "lifespam"). The ash trees were decimated by the emerald ash borer, leaving their dead trunks covered in the serpentine pattern of insect destruction. These trees have fed our woodstove.

After 25 years of looking at these patterns in the underbark of the trees, I'm finally using these marks in art. Like they've come to tell us something.