No Lines In The Sand

The more I walk around this great city, the more it energizes the artist in me (or so I'd like to think there is one in all of us). I am familiar with the abundance of street performers and on-the-spot poets and painters. But it never ceases to amaze me how much these people trust their talents enough to not sell out and work for "The Man". And just when I thought i'd seen it all, I come across this piece of work.

I've heard of sand art before, but I always thought it was only possible in a controlled setting. From what I gather, the Native American sandpainting, which was primarily used for healing purposes, the Rangoli, which is a popular form of Indian sandpainting, and the Mandala, which is a Tibetan form of sandpainting, are all laboriously created indoors. Just recently, I also saw a video of the winner of Ukraine's version of "America's Got Talent", Ksenya Simonova, who did a live sand show assimilating WWII's German invasion of Ukraine using sand, a giant light box, and music. It brought me to tears (and I'm not even Ukrainian).

One October Sunday, my boyfriend Ellis and I ran into the artist of the piece above, Joe Mangrum, who I gather has devoted most of his life learning as much as he can about art. He's traveled the world to discover new mediums to work with. And for much of the past few years, his installations have included sand art. Under normal circumstances, I probably would've thought this person was spoiling a form of art that other religions consider sacred. Then again, I've only seen two of his installations in person (including the one he did at the Washington Square Park on Aug. 29, 2009). So the past couple of days, I've been scouring the world wide web to further experience and better understand (though I feel like a cheat for doing so) his craft. And the more I search for his work, the more I'm convinced that there's an aspect to his art that ignites in his audience a certain spiritual relationship with everything that surrounds us. His elaborate details and bright popping color arrangements remind me of how I imagine people's auras would look like, rekindling in me an awareness of how different emotions translate into various colors--an awareness, I realize, that I lost in the hustle and bustle of this rat race. It's very humbling.

I've grown to respect his work, even more so that he creates most of these intricate patterns outdoors, where the forces of nature are always unpredictable. And yet, for all the times that he's tested the powers of nature, Lady Gaia seems to agree his work is impressive. I mean, I assume she enjoys his work so much that she lets him have all the public exhibitions he has under his belt so far. I'm sure from here on out, his work is only going to get even better.

The more I think about it (and with the help of artists like Joe Mangrum and the rest of the street-performer brood), our full potential is never really achieved; it just keeps growing. Our realm of expertise will only keep expanding the more we stay in touch with all that surrounds us. I understand not everybody can be artists like Joe Mangrum. But hopefully, we all find our niche. And if all else fails, there's no harm in becoming more well-rounded human beings, having this realization in our artillery. In fact, I think having this mindset would even make for a better world.