A Case for the Holographic Object
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Harman, Mary
The reconstructed holographic object embodies both the physical reality of the original and its altered, transcendent state; in effect, it is simultaneously the real and the abstract, the body and the soul. When the artist combines the hologram with other elements, creating multiple realms and dimensions, the viewer can glimpse the possibility of a larger, more encompassing reality. This is, perhaps, the experience of Art. The author surveys her own work, beginning with early attempts to simulate three-dimensionality and explore the interfaces between two and three dimensions. Prior to her work in holography, she created trompe l’oeil painted constructions and “vitrines,” windowed boxes that contained objects and layered transparencies. She will discuss her recent paintings and installations in which she continues to use representational images, familiar objects whose allusive nature readily connects to the viewer’s own memory and reality. Through metaphor and symbol, the simple holographic object aids in the exploration of illusion, what is real and what is false, what is permanent about life and what dies.
 Thank you. The act of making art involves taking an idea to its final realization in a material form. Through the hands of the artist, the spirit of the muse reveals itself in the final object. The viewer does not need an intellectual understanding of the work to be moved by it. All that needs to be there should be there within the object itself. Written critical interpretations can certainly add another dimension, but the experience of art is primarily emotive. Artists who make art objects have watched their work lose validity with those curators and critics who make up what we call the art world. Furthermore, if the object looks like something that actually exists, it is still termed realism and too often viewed as inferior to abstraction. A preference for certain styles can be attributed to the fashion of the times, but in this case the devaluing of the object has persisted and is pervasive in other aspects of our society as well. Over time, there's been a subtle shift in how we value the work we do with our hands as opposed to the work we do with our minds. The prevailing notion is that craft and intuition are of the body, our base ourselves, while abstraction and rational thought are products of the superior mind. This paper is the defense of the material object and all of its unsubstantial, immaterial and irrational properties. In this version, I presented a longer version of this paper for the proceedings, but right now I'm just going to give you a brief presentation of images of my own work and the objects that I make. I've painted objects, photographed them, created them from clay and made holographic replicas of objects. Some I find, others are given to me, rarely do I buy them. Those that have been around for a while acquire histories and personalities of their own. If atoms and electrons are in a constant state of flux, cannot an object acquire properties from those who possess it? Poets and artists give life to objects, granting them human characteristics. In certain cultures and in myth, the souls of the deceased dwell in objects. I will first show you a few examples of the painting I do. This is primarily the work I'm doing right now. This one is called Elemental. My painting is generally representational. That means I use a recognizable image, one that can easily connect to the viewer through metaphor and symbol. My audience has no need of a special language to look at my art. It works on different levels of interpretation and response. In some ways my paintings are very sculptural in the same way that my holography is sculptural. I'm very concerned with the texture of objects, the material qualities, whether it be paper and buckets, containers. This piece is called Alchemy. It's about the same size as the other one, about four feet across. In speaking about my work, it's hard to avoid using the word real. This word is practically meaningless. It no longer conveys information. If someone speaks of realistic painting, he's probably using an obsolete language created in the 1950s for a confused public looking at modern art. If you preferred abstract art to realism, you were a more discerning buyer. Now the words real and abstract are merely keywords or tags. Any information that was once there was further compressed and categorized for internet search engines. What am I trying to say through my objects and through my art? For 30-some years I've attempted to approach reality by creating illusions. Perhaps all artists, and especially those working in holography, are illusionists who like to fool people. Then as most of us are also political, we like to point out how easily people can be fooled. I make objects and then I create environments for them. In my holography, the setting is usually a wooden box filled with other objects and images. This is one of a series of clay figures that I used as models for the first holograms that I made at an artist in residency at the Museum of Holography in 1991. Later that summer I rented Doris Vila's lab on Hope Street in Brooklyn, where I produced a series of different image planes all on glass plates. I've used these same transfers in various new works over the years and have made a few more on film, but I could never match the clarity of these first images that I made all by myself, all alone in the dark, in my first serious attempt at holography. I will now show you three recent works. I'm just working on these this summer again. I'm using the last of these transfers, so I'm making new work using, I've made variations on the same hologram for a number of pieces, mainly because I really just didn't have the funds at one point to produce any new work, and I really like the little images that I made at the beginning. In any of these slides where the hologram obscures the contents of the box, I'll show you the box first, then with a hologram as it's a window to this box. So this is a box, it's just with objects and a photo. The box is actually 13 inches high by 17 inches long. It'll hold a 30 by 40 plate on the front, and it's got a depth of 5 inches. Now the little work that I've got in the exhibition is just a photo of this box right behind the clear holographic image. So that was a sample, this is the actual piece that now holds up with the hologram as the window in front. I call this work Economy Box. I just produced this this spring. Each object and image has a history. Who gave it to me? Where I found it. There's part of my personal history in this box. A miniature prayer book that I had as a child. A perfume bottle that I found in a burned out cabin in the Quebec Woods. And a photo of a hallway in a flap off Washington Square. The holographic figure floats a few inches behind the plate. It is either on top of or through the large bone, depending upon the position of the viewer. I use the hologram as a window to all my boxes. These vitrines function somewhat like a three-dimensional collage. Sometimes I use the hologram as an element in a larger construction or installation. But my holograms generally are not works of art in themselves. An individual object always seems to need others to give voice to that greater concept. That more encompassing realm that we call art. I created this installation called Shelf Life. For an exhibition at the Hollow Center in New York in 2007. The figure here is the same size as an 8 by 10. It's behind the plate. It floats through the glass jars. So it's maybe about three inches behind the plate. Just enough that I could put the glass jars in and the figure actually floats through them. This work has complex personal and political origins. It was completed during the Bush years. The time of war and greed. I finally realized that I was growing old. And on top of that I had the feeling that the planet would probably die before I did. I made transparencies of images that I had manipulated and I set them into one of my favorite objects, the glass jar. So these were just transparencies that I mounted on the wall. This was an image from an old photo of my mother. The tree and the sheep were photographed on a trip to the Isle of Wight. And I downloaded a Black Hawk helicopter from the Internet. This work represented a bit of everything in my world at that time. This is my most current work in progress. Again the box, these are three boxes. Each one is 17 inches across, 13 inches high with a 5 inch depth. All these boxes have no back. What you see is the wall. These will be suspended a few inches from the wall to incorporate the shadows of the objects inside. So the holographic image, you'll see it's the golden part. The other things are little objects I've made to put inside the box. I think in this particular transfer, the figure, I think most of these, the figure is really just dissected by the pane of glass. So in a sense I'm using the glass as well as an element in the work. It's a sculpture element. The image is very light and elusive, hardly visible against the white. But I wanted to stress this lightness, clarity and simplicity. I think they are about some stage in our existence, transitional states. Part body, part soul, perhaps a state reached very late in life, perhaps near death. It's a meditative state. For the models for these holograms, I made all of these figures from clay. This figure was taken from a Gauguin painting, a young girl lying on the grass with a fox draped across her chest. Gauguin's title was loss of virginity. I repeated the box, the fox in the second box. The symbolism of the fox is complex, but purely in a formal sense it adds an element of movement and time contrasting to the stillness of a suspended figure. Sometimes I use cats with reference here to Schrodinger's cat and the parallel realities. They also add an element of humor to temper some of the darkness in my work, a lot of which is about death. And this is the last box, which was my title slide. So I used the original model lying on the floor of the box on a little piece of linoleum that came from my parents' farmhouse in Ohio. And that's my version of a prayer mat. And the box I've got out in the exhibit, again the image is dissected by the pane of glass, but in this one, which is a larger one, 30 by 40 centimeter plate, this image actually again floats a couple of inches behind the plate just on top of the actual model. This next series is from the same period, these are a few of the clay figures I used as models. I started making all of these little guys in the late 1980s, but not with a hologram in mind. I just wanted a crowd of them in a room. I think I managed about 50 of them and I gave most of them away. The small torsos are just 2 to 3 inches high. This one little figure in particular seemed to work well in almost any box I made, and I have repeated it in different artworks, and I did bring one along for that as well. Perhaps it comes closest to being my personal icon. And some of them I did pseudoscopically, which was very interesting, the little head just swings, and I mean even though it's pseudoscopic, you still get the same image, but a strange thing happening to the head. So these are all 8 by 10 inches, most with photos and transparencies mounted behind the clear glass. Melissa Crenshaw made my last series of transfers on probably the last 8 by 10 glass plates that existed, and I'm really happy to hear that Elford is starting to make glass plates again. And this is the one I have out here, it's a poem. The words are on a transparency behind the hologram, and then I've got a piece of cloth behind that, a poem of a friend of mine. And this one I gave to Annemarie Nicholson, it's a transparency of your house behind the plate, and then a photo behind that. So you just have that little one inch space where you could add elements as well. So think of them all as, there's always a little bit of space. The ones I brought along have no space, but most of them have at least one inch on the smaller plates, but another five inches on most of the boxes. From the beginning I've used a holographic object as a sculptural entity. It is fragile and fleeting, transparent, weightless. It works well in combination with other elements that have a similar or opposing qualities like glass, or metal, or heavy plaster and concrete. Challenging an old rule of physics, it can and does occupy the same space as another object. Furthermore, it embodies both the physical reality of the original and its altered, transcendent state. The hologram is, in effect, simultaneously the real and the abstract, the body and the soul. I've always had a real job that supported my art making. For many years I worked as a registered nurse part-time in a neurosurgery intensive care unit. There were many ghost stories among the nurses, and one was that when a patient died his spirit rose up, and sometimes you could see the suspended intravenous folds swaying. So you knew his soul was on its way up. This piece was conceived during one late night shift at St. Michael's Hospital in Toronto. It's called Soap Dish and Lightbulb, and part of a series called Spirits of the House. The holograms are 8 by 10 windows in the little cabinet, and the back wall is covered with 1 inch tiles. So there's enough space for me to insert a real soap dish and a real lightbulb. So here's the lightbulb with the hologram and the soap dish. In this particular one I used to have a little clay body in there, and it was one of Steve Benton's favorite small dead objects he commented on once. And there's the little ghost appearing over the hologram. So the philosophy behind my work seems to be that of a quest to make some sense of the world I live in. This involves filtering information, truth from lie, reality from illusion. One of the first successful artworks dealing with illusion I did in 1985. I found an old painted door lying in the garbage on my street in Toronto, and I produced it on canvas. This all started as an exercising mixing paint and possibly boredom with the landscapes I was painting. The result was quite unexpected. When I finished and propped up the two next to each other, the object and its replica, I discovered that another dimension lay hidden in the intersection of the actual and the virtual worlds. A crack had appeared in my perception of reality, and holography became the means to re-enter that other realm. This is a detail. The door is on the left. The following are a few of my early constructions which reinforced my theme of illusion. Technicians at Fringe Research, Michael Soundon in Toronto produced the hologram of the bowler hat. In this piece, a tribute to Belgian painter René Magritte, I exhibited at the Third International Symposium at Lake Forest in 1988. Each has a hologram of a bowler hat. In the first box, a hologram of a bowler hat floats above two hands holding a painting of an apple. Then I repeated the holographic image in each of the next three boxes. Here one hand holds the apple, and there's another photo with the hologram on top. The transparent hologram is the window to the box, and the brim of the hat protrudes about an inch in front of the image plane. The painted plaster objects are behind the hologram. In the center's hinged box, a hand holds a metal pipe. I cast all these hands with using alginate and plaster from my own hands. Behind the hologram, a mass of tangled wire forms individual words, each spelling the word word. Magritte pointed out the difference between an object, its image, and the word used to describe the object. The message is so simple that we wonder why we need to be reminded that the picture of a pipe is not the pipe, and the image of the painting on the Internet is not the real painting. This one's called No Place. The constructed framework here is a blackboard and shelf approximately four feet long. I cast my own hands again and monrima over the words. The chalk words actually appear to float through one of the rooms in the house. The viewer sees the hologram frontally, but it disappears when one walks to the side. The image is fragile and fleeting, with hands frozen in time, writing words that are not quite completed. For the exile, as well as the immigrant, home exists only as a memory, and perhaps an idealized one at that. There is literally no place we can call home. So in conclusion, the object continues to play a role in my simple reflection, holography, and in my painting. I make objects, and then I create environments for them. I do not work from a well thought out plan. I have no idea what will be the result of taking brush to canvas, hand to clay. The process is one of creating, then destroying, then starting all over again. Eventually the idea emerges, but only through actual work with the medium. Slowly, through my objects, I begin to understand my own language and the world around me. The uniqueness of the medium of holography has been its appeal to the artist, and the scientist, and to the thinker, and the artist. Its magic drew us all in. The digital may transform the technology in usher in another virtual world, but let us hope that in this world we will still value the irrational, the intuitive, and the soul of the artist. We must continue to protect the art spirit that dwells in the things we make with our hands, and continue to search for the real and the truths. Thank you very much.
 Thank you.  The act of making art involves taking an idea to its final realization in a material form.  Through the hands of the artist, the spirit of the muse reveals itself in the final object.  The viewer does not need an intellectual understanding of the work to be moved by it.  All that needs to be there should be there within the object itself.  Written critical interpretations can certainly add another dimension, but the experience of art is primarily emotive.  Artists who make art objects have watched their work lose validity with those curators and critics who make up what we call the art world.  Furthermore, if the object looks like something that actually exists, it is still termed realism and too often viewed as inferior to abstraction.  A preference for certain styles can be attributed to the fashion of the times, but in this case the devaluing of the object has persisted and is pervasive in other aspects of our society as well.  Over time, there's been a subtle shift in how we value the work we do with our hands as opposed to the work we do with our minds.  The prevailing notion is that craft and intuition are of the body, our base ourselves, while abstraction and rational thought are products of the superior mind.  This paper is the defense of the material object and all of its unsubstantial, immaterial and irrational properties.  In this version, I presented a longer version of this paper for the proceedings, but right now I'm just going to give you a brief presentation of images of my own work and the objects that I make.  I've painted objects, photographed them, created them from clay and made holographic replicas of objects.  Some I find, others are given to me, rarely do I buy them.  Those that have been around for a while acquire histories and personalities of their own.  If atoms and electrons are in a constant state of flux, cannot an object acquire properties from those who possess it?  Poets and artists give life to objects, granting them human characteristics.  In certain cultures and in myth, the souls of the deceased dwell in objects.  I will first show you a few examples of the painting I do.  This is primarily the work I'm doing right now.  This one is called Elemental.  My painting is generally representational.  That means I use a recognizable image, one that can easily connect to the viewer through metaphor and symbol.  My audience has no need of a special language to look at my art.  It works on different levels of interpretation and response.  In some ways my paintings are very sculptural in the same way that my holography is sculptural.  I'm very concerned with the texture of objects, the material qualities, whether it be paper and buckets, containers.  This piece is called Alchemy.  It's about the same size as the other one, about four feet across.  In speaking about my work, it's hard to avoid using the word real.  This word is practically meaningless. It no longer conveys information.  If someone speaks of realistic painting, he's probably using an obsolete language created in the 1950s for a confused public looking at modern art.  If you preferred abstract art to realism, you were a more discerning buyer.  Now the words real and abstract are merely keywords or tags.  Any information that was once there was further compressed and categorized for internet search engines.  What am I trying to say through my objects and through my art?  For 30-some years I've attempted to approach reality by creating illusions.  Perhaps all artists, and especially those working in holography, are illusionists who like to fool people.  Then as most of us are also political, we like to point out how easily people can be fooled.  I make objects and then I create environments for them.  In my holography, the setting is usually a wooden box filled with other objects and images.  This is one of a series of clay figures that I used as models for the first holograms that I made at an artist in residency at the Museum of Holography in 1991.  Later that summer I rented Doris Vila's lab on Hope Street in Brooklyn, where I produced a series of different image planes all on glass plates.  I've used these same transfers in various new works over the years and have made a few more on film,  but I could never match the clarity of these first images that I made all by myself, all alone in the dark, in my first serious attempt at holography.  I will now show you three recent works. I'm just working on these this summer again.  I'm using the last of these transfers, so I'm making new work using, I've made variations on the same hologram for a number of pieces,  mainly because I really just didn't have the funds at one point to produce any new work, and I really like the little images that I made at the beginning.  In any of these slides where the hologram obscures the contents of the box, I'll show you the box first,  then with a hologram as it's a window to this box.  So this is a box, it's just with objects and a photo.  The box is actually 13 inches high by 17 inches long.  It'll hold a 30 by 40 plate on the front, and it's got a depth of 5 inches.  Now the little work that I've got in the exhibition is just a photo of this box right behind the clear holographic image.  So that was a sample, this is the actual piece that now holds up with the hologram as the window in front.  I call this work Economy Box. I just produced this this spring.  Each object and image has a history. Who gave it to me? Where I found it.  There's part of my personal history in this box.  A miniature prayer book that I had as a child.  A perfume bottle that I found in a burned out cabin in the Quebec Woods.  And a photo of a hallway in a flap off Washington Square.  The holographic figure floats a few inches behind the plate.  It is either on top of or through the large bone, depending upon the position of the viewer.  I use the hologram as a window to all my boxes.  These vitrines function somewhat like a three-dimensional collage.  Sometimes I use the hologram as an element in a larger construction or installation.  But my holograms generally are not works of art in themselves.  An individual object always seems to need others to give voice to that greater concept.  That more encompassing realm that we call art.  I created this installation called Shelf Life.  For an exhibition at the Hollow Center in New York in 2007.  The figure here is the same size as an 8 by 10.  It's behind the plate.  It floats through the glass jars.  So it's maybe about three inches behind the plate.  Just enough that I could put the glass jars in and the figure actually floats through them.  This work has complex personal and political origins.  It was completed during the Bush years.  The time of war and greed.  I finally realized that I was growing old.  And on top of that I had the feeling that the planet would probably die before I did.  I made transparencies of images that I had manipulated and I set them into one of my favorite objects, the glass jar.  So these were just transparencies that I mounted on the wall.  This was an image from an old photo of my mother.  The tree and the sheep were photographed on a trip to the Isle of Wight.  And I downloaded a Black Hawk helicopter from the Internet.  This work represented a bit of everything in my world at that time.  This is my most current work in progress.  Again the box, these are three boxes.  Each one is 17 inches across, 13 inches high with a 5 inch depth.  All these boxes have no back.  What you see is the wall.  These will be suspended a few inches from the wall to incorporate the shadows of the objects inside.  So the holographic image, you'll see it's the golden part.  The other things are little objects I've made to put inside the box.  I think in this particular transfer, the figure, I think most of these, the figure is really just dissected by the pane of glass.  So in a sense I'm using the glass as well as an element in the work.  It's a sculpture element.  The image is very light and elusive, hardly visible against the white.  But I wanted to stress this lightness, clarity and simplicity.  I think they are about some stage in our existence, transitional states.  Part body, part soul, perhaps a state reached very late in life, perhaps near death.  It's a meditative state.  For the models for these holograms, I made all of these figures from clay.  This figure was taken from a Gauguin painting, a young girl lying on the grass with a fox draped across her chest.  Gauguin's title was loss of virginity.  I repeated the box, the fox in the second box.  The symbolism of the fox is complex, but purely in a formal sense it adds an element of movement and time contrasting to the stillness of a suspended figure.  Sometimes I use cats with reference here to Schrodinger's cat and the parallel realities.  They also add an element of humor to temper some of the darkness in my work, a lot of which is about death.  And this is the last box, which was my title slide.  So I used the original model lying on the floor of the box on a little piece of linoleum that came from my parents' farmhouse in Ohio.  And that's my version of a prayer mat.  And the box I've got out in the exhibit, again the image is dissected by the pane of glass, but in this one, which is a larger one, 30 by 40 centimeter plate,  this image actually again floats a couple of inches behind the plate just on top of the actual model.  This next series is from the same period, these are a few of the clay figures I used as models.  I started making all of these little guys in the late 1980s, but not with a hologram in mind.  I just wanted a crowd of them in a room.  I think I managed about 50 of them and I gave most of them away.  The small torsos are just 2 to 3 inches high.  This one little figure in particular seemed to work well in almost any box I made, and I have repeated it in different artworks,  and I did bring one along for that as well.  Perhaps it comes closest to being my personal icon.  And some of them I did pseudoscopically, which was very interesting, the little head just swings, and I mean even though it's pseudoscopic,  you still get the same image, but a strange thing happening to the head.  So these are all 8 by 10 inches, most with photos and transparencies mounted behind the clear glass.  Melissa Crenshaw made my last series of transfers on probably the last 8 by 10 glass plates that existed,  and I'm really happy to hear that Elford is starting to make glass plates again.  And this is the one I have out here, it's a poem.  The words are on a transparency behind the hologram, and then I've got a piece of cloth behind that, a poem of a friend of mine.  And this one I gave to Annemarie Nicholson, it's a transparency of your house behind the plate, and then a photo behind that.  So you just have that little one inch space where you could add elements as well.  So think of them all as, there's always a little bit of space.  The ones I brought along have no space, but most of them have at least one inch on the smaller plates, but another five inches on most of the boxes.  From the beginning I've used a holographic object as a sculptural entity.  It is fragile and fleeting, transparent, weightless.  It works well in combination with other elements that have a similar or opposing qualities like glass, or metal, or heavy plaster and concrete.  Challenging an old rule of physics, it can and does occupy the same space as another object.  Furthermore, it embodies both the physical reality of the original and its altered, transcendent state.  The hologram is, in effect, simultaneously the real and the abstract, the body and the soul.  I've always had a real job that supported my art making.  For many years I worked as a registered nurse part-time in a neurosurgery intensive care unit.  There were many ghost stories among the nurses, and one was that when a patient died his spirit rose up, and sometimes you could see the suspended intravenous folds swaying.  So you knew his soul was on its way up.  This piece was conceived during one late night shift at St. Michael's Hospital in Toronto.  It's called Soap Dish and Lightbulb, and part of a series called Spirits of the House.  The holograms are 8 by 10 windows in the little cabinet, and the back wall is covered with 1 inch tiles.  So there's enough space for me to insert a real soap dish and a real lightbulb.  So here's the lightbulb with the hologram and the soap dish.  In this particular one I used to have a little clay body in there, and it was one of Steve Benton's favorite small dead objects he commented on once.  And there's the little ghost appearing over the hologram.  So the philosophy behind my work seems to be that of a quest to make some sense of the world I live in.  This involves filtering information, truth from lie, reality from illusion.  One of the first successful artworks dealing with illusion I did in 1985.  I found an old painted door lying in the garbage on my street in Toronto, and I produced it on canvas.  This all started as an exercising mixing paint and possibly boredom with the landscapes I was painting.  The result was quite unexpected.  When I finished and propped up the two next to each other, the object and its replica, I discovered that another dimension lay hidden in the intersection of the actual and the virtual worlds.  A crack had appeared in my perception of reality, and holography became the means to re-enter that other realm.  This is a detail.  The door is on the left.  The following are a few of my early constructions which reinforced my theme of illusion.  Technicians at Fringe Research, Michael Soundon in Toronto produced the hologram of the bowler hat.  In this piece, a tribute to Belgian painter René Magritte, I exhibited at the Third International Symposium at Lake Forest in 1988.  Each has a hologram of a bowler hat.  In the first box, a hologram of a bowler hat floats above two hands holding a painting of an apple.  Then I repeated the holographic image in each of the next three boxes. Here one hand holds the apple, and there's another photo with the hologram on top.  The transparent hologram is the window to the box, and the brim of the hat protrudes about an inch in front of the image plane.  The painted plaster objects are behind the hologram.  In the center's hinged box, a hand holds a metal pipe. I cast all these hands with using alginate and plaster from my own hands.  Behind the hologram, a mass of tangled wire forms individual words, each spelling the word word.  Magritte pointed out the difference between an object, its image, and the word used to describe the object.  The message is so simple that we wonder why we need to be reminded that the picture of a pipe is not the pipe, and the image of the painting on the Internet is not the real painting.  This one's called No Place.  The constructed framework here is a blackboard and shelf approximately four feet long.  I cast my own hands again and monrima over the words.  The chalk words actually appear to float through one of the rooms in the house.  The viewer sees the hologram frontally, but it disappears when one walks to the side.  The image is fragile and fleeting, with hands frozen in time, writing words that are not quite completed.  For the exile, as well as the immigrant, home exists only as a memory, and perhaps an idealized one at that.  There is literally no place we can call home.  So in conclusion, the object continues to play a role in my simple reflection, holography, and in my painting.  I make objects, and then I create environments for them.  I do not work from a well thought out plan.  I have no idea what will be the result of taking brush to canvas, hand to clay.  The process is one of creating, then destroying, then starting all over again.  Eventually the idea emerges, but only through actual work with the medium.  Slowly, through my objects, I begin to understand my own language and the world around me.  The uniqueness of the medium of holography has been its appeal to the artist, and the scientist, and to the thinker, and the artist.  Its magic drew us all in.  The digital may transform the technology in usher in another virtual world, but let us hope that in this world we will still value the irrational, the intuitive, and the soul of the artist.  We must continue to protect the art spirit that dwells in the things we make with our hands, and continue to search for the real and the truths.  Thank you very much.
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