We dedicate this issue to the artists in the valley. Why? Because these are the people who do something. Something (perhaps) ineffable, something that—every day makes this valley better. So whether they light an empty studio with dance, anoint a blank canvas with oil, or take a note and make it sing, they do something. When they make clay come alive, weave blades of grass into a hat, transform a hunk of metal into something else, they make a difference. And when they set a stage on fire. Or wrestle with words that will not stay in place. They perform a service, and nourish us in a way that truly matters.
Some artists are recognized for what they do; some do it with just about no one paying attention. We celebrate 100 artists (101 when you include Karen Allen who is interviewed on our back page) artists here—as individuals, and as a group— imagining no rank, conjuring no score, no handicap for success. We think that’s as it should be.
(By the way, it was easy—Amanda shoot me—to find 100 working artists. Next year we’ll do another 100. This place absolutely incubates them.)
Consider the example of sculptor Harvey Fite who, in 1938, bought ten acres in the middle of the Saugerties woods. He started off thinking of the quarry as raw material, which is, of course, what it was.
Then apparently “Opus 40” (named by him with exasperated irony) began to emerge as a setting to display a variety of his works.
But as he cleared away the rubbish, the place ceased to become a mere pedestal for sculpture. It became a sculptured environment; it became a work in process, the art itself.
Then using some ancient principles of Mayan art, he erected the monolith. He removed his old stuff. He improvised.
He found his rhythm and worked for 37 years.
I am told that the stones he put down will pretty much stay in place (with no mortar) for a very long time. Maybe even 10,000 years.
Of course, a magazine like this is made of more perishable stuff. Maybe that’s why we feel okay channeling something as timeless as Manet’s “The Picnic” for
our cover, and doing our own improvisation.
We didn’t exactly turn it inside out, but we did bring it home.
