Edge Gallery September 11-27, 2021

Orbital

Two objects with mass ensnared in gravity—in orbit.  The sun and moon rise and fall on the horizon every dawn and dusk asking us about our place in the cosmos.  They are the fundamental metaphor of birth and death, emergence and dissipation, sometimes brilliant and exciting, sometimes disappointing, and boring, or blithely unnoticed.

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There is no mathematical law for the gravity of beings who orbit each other in desire and love, or factions trapped in the grave pull of conflict. The hunter and the hunted twist around each other, oppressors and resistors encircle each other. Over and over in our endless, ongoing history.

Coyotes howl at the moon. Bats, skunks, aardvarks, racoons and owls scurry in its diaphanous light. Camels trudge under the blazing rays as the sun crosses the sky, and cats lounge in its winter glimmers coming through the window.  Wrapped in a thin, tenuous curtain of atmosphere, we search for shade from our relentless, flaming solar disc, the life-giving nuclear bomb. Forest fires ignite. Tides bow and curtsy to the orbit of the moon and astronauts see the sunrise emerge over the curved horizon every ninety minutes, sixteen times a day, from their orbital perch.

Do snails know the moon as they slither under its vague luminosity? What do whales, fish and other creatures of water think of it all as they gaze through beams of sunlight filtered through the aqueous blue? Does it print into treasured memories, as  it does for lovers held in the magical gravity of romance, glancing upwards, between a kiss, under the luminous sphere that arcs across the sky?