#themetaphorofthetrip

This Friday’s Impression has a tinge of wistful mixed in. It’s officially the end of summer and, on that quiet note, I’m reflecting on my travels through a scattershot of images.

I can see the whirlwind it’s been as I scroll through my camera roll. I fly and once again marvel the tapestries of the world beneath me. Each time it’s a different patchwork of colour and the meandering lines that connect all are purposeful and artful as if guided by a master calligrapher. The clouds; they play tricks with shadows over land and glass pools. Once in their lair, and when all is white, the billowy mass hypnotizes the soul to stay for a while and I sink in. But that’s another story. Pictures turn to cobblestones and honey-coloured stone houses along Venetian canals. Memories continue through open windows and terracotta rooftops mix with bell music marking day’s end.

The images blend and blur together like a moving picture book. Time mixed with adventure moves so quickly.

But I settle in on just one page this Friday. 

Through a gallery window in Venice, the quiet, self-absorbed gaze of a seated figure was enough to slow me down while everything kept buzzing in St. Mark’s Square.  

He seemed to be unfinished, this partial sculpture of a man in bronze with his leather-strapped backpack. There was a weathering to the half-man and a patina to his half-clothes. It appeared that he had traveled far. Seen things. I wondered if he’d left some of himself behind - gradual fragments lost here and there along the journey.

The clear window caught every reflection of the famous Piazza. Clock tower, colonnade and café tables with the whitest sun-lit linens played into the gallery. It was a rich scene and so was the half-man who offered his unfinished place for the surrounding world to dwell for a short time. Strangely, his lack of materiality is what completed him. It made him whole. The quiet gaze, it seemed, was now committed and shared an open intuition with things lost and rediscovered. 

“The Metaphor of the Trip” by contemporary artist, Bruno Catalano is a unique and self-interpretive exhibition that I personally experienced in May of this year at the Galleria Ravagnan in Venice.  The Morrocan born sculptor who later emigrated to France takes inspiration from the great masters such as Rodin, Giacometti, and César.

Forced to leave Morocco as a child, he traveled with packs of memories and origin that are represented in his work. His ethereal bronze characters, “Les Voyageurs”, with glaringly missing pieces are each accompanied with baggage and are an expression of movement through life.

Through their non-parts, Catalan's "travelers" find distinction within their urban context. Offering themselves to different readings, they establish a fascinating dialogue between environment and the creative musings of those who observe them. The bigger narrative lies between human life and travel. We are indeed each a journey.  

As a traveler, my experience of the art was through a window. It was my observation point that offered its own set of glimpses within the ‘non-finished’. I absorbed, took part, and left just a bit of myself behind, I suppose. 

Reflecting back, my scene shows a ghost of a traveler moving through with backpack and suitcase in tow. Where was he heading, I wondered? Our journeys, I realize, are deeply intertwined. They resonate long after with the fragments of our footsteps and other seekers of adventure, connecting life with time and place. 

My moving picture book is rich with untold stories. It leaves a lasting impression.