The sublime moments that I remember, the ones that pull at my mind, tugging open the door to a well of elation, are solitary ones. That’s not to say that I’m always alone in these moments but in experiencing them there is always an awareness of my autonomy.
It is my elation that washes over me. I see them, I see the tree, I catch a turn of phrase, I run my hand along it, the scent reverberates in my mind, the image resolves, the wisdom is heard, the view behind my eyelids, the land lays itself out before me, the light hits the ocean, the path continues on, the silliness plays out, the bliss expands.
How we recognize and share those moments, whether as a by-product or artifact, is what Agnes Martin is speaking of when she writes: "Seeking awareness of perfection in the mind is called living the inner life. It is not necessary for artists to live the inner life. It is only necessary for them to recognize inspiration or to represent it.”
The title of this series is a play on words; trascendere is the Italian word for transcend, and when broken thus tra means between and scendere to descend or step down.