Some years ago I suffered a devastating loss from which I thought I might never recover.
For a moment, the whole world stopped spinning on its axis, nothing made sense, everything lost its color, its taste, and I found that those things that had once mattered could not be borne. I found myself well and truly lost.
Enter Art is a Beating Drum . . .
I don't recall how, but I came across Bill Viola, described alternately as, "a pioneer in the field of video-art" and as, "one of today's leading contemporary artists". Shooting single-channel videos that place emphasis on the human condition and its attendant emotions, Viola's videos are moving homages to life itself. For me, Viola encapsulated my grief and found a way to express it meaningfully, more so than I felt I was capable at the time. He measured it, diagnosed it, and categorized it with little more than silence and a simple gesture.
I began to understand more fully than ever before that art could be the balm to heal my wounds. The literal and metaphysical salve for the feelings and emotions with which I continued to struggle. Art was the catalyst and antagonist that enabled me to feel fury and joy, despondency, and hilarity. Plainly, it kept me company.
The most powerful examples gave me actual, physical, and visceral feelings; they punched me in the gut, shook me from my stupor, and reminded me that like a rhythmic drumming, my heart beat. I breathed. I lived.
Art is a Beating Drum is the truest expression of what that felt like for me. In the moments where I had forgotten how to breathe, and to rejoice, and to love, and to cry; art reminded me, like the ever-present drumbeat of my heart. Art connected the disparate parts of me to each other and continues to do so. It is both primal and involuntary. So, Art is a Beating Drum was born to express and record those instances where I felt most keenly. To keep those instances alive and safe long after they had passed.
And to perhaps share them. . .