I just finished reading a very interesting article in the double issue of The Tablet (Dec. 22/29, 2007) regarding the risks taken by artists while creating their works and developing their careers. The author, M.S. Roberts, comments extensively on the work of British sculptor Andy Goldsworthy whose works are characterized by ultimate risks – “laying his creations open to the ravages of weather and time, allowing them to be changed and even destroyed” (see a sample of his work in the image). Roberts attests that Goldsworthy has also unphotographed works which waste away unwitnessed by anyone except the artist. Ironic, isn’t it? What I know is that most artists want their works to endure, to remain as monuments or documents of their greatness. But that’s how it is with A.G. That's part of his uniqueness. Reading through the artist’s intentions, Roberts intuits that it is perhaps the very vulnerability in Goldsworthy’s works that renders it powerful and beautiful.Going further into the sphere of spirituality, Roberts extends his reflection to the mystery of Christmas. (Sorry, but you have to bear with me. I “close” my Christmas season, as most Filipinos do, on the Third Sunday of January – the Feast of the Sto. Niño!) What is the secret of the durability of Christmas? How does it withstand all the controversies that come forth from generation to generation? Here is how Roberts puts it: “Whatever cultural noise and gloss is put in its way, it remains rooted in the story of Bethlehem, the poor family, the miraculous birth. And its power comes from the conscious and willing vulnerability at its heart. The creator and sustainer of all that is, delivers himself into his free creation as one of the least powerful individuals in that world, as a poor refugee baby. Now, that is creative vulnerability. In fact, given what the stakes were, it’s fair to call it true creative risk.”
