Cold Dark Matter – An Exploded View by Cornelia Parker (1991)

A series following the 72 British mini-seasons of Nature’s Calendar by Kiera Chapman, Lulah Ellender, Rowan Jaines and Rebecca Warren.

Dear Readers, as you might have noticed I’m a day late with this one. However, unusually the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year, was at 3.27 a.m. this morning (not on  21st December) so I’m not too far out! From now on there will be a slow lengthening of the days in the Northern Hemisphere, and a slow shortening of the days in the Southern Hemisphere. I rather like the balance of this: one half of the planet becoming lighter, the other darker, until the summer solstice when the pattern reverses again. It feels as if whatever else is going on, the basic engine of the planet is still in place.

Light and darkness is the quintessence of shadow: the way that light passes through some things and not others can create the most extraordinary effects if you have the time to notice them. Cornelia Parker used shadow extensively in her installations, such as the exploded shed in the photo above – Parker got the army to blow up a garden shed, and then she painstakingly mapped where the individual parts had landed and put them all back together in the instants just after the dynamite went off. The shadows across the walls and floor and ceiling are an intrinsic part of the work, and it begs many questions. A moment has been frozen, but is this just after the explosion, or is the shed somehow in a process of being remade, put back together again?

There are often other questions that arise at this time of year, especially (I find) as I get older. Did I make the best use of the past twelve months? What would I do differently? Is there the right balance between being productive and being thoughtful? I am not a great fan of New Year’s Resolutions, maybe because so often I find that they centre on things that I’m planning to ‘do’ rather than  how I’m planning  to ‘be’. I have a suspicion that the ‘being’ should come first, and should gently direct the ‘doing’.

How would it be if I wanted to be ‘more creative’. Or ‘kinder’? Or ‘calmer’? Or ‘more enthusiastic’ (Lord help us)? Something to ponder on, for sure. This seems to open things up in my head, rather than close things down.

So often, resolutions around ‘doing’ imply that there is something quintessentially wrong with us (too fat, too lazy, too stupid, too….boring). But resolutions around being seem to accept that we are a particular way already, and we just want to bring out more of our best features. I am creative already, but I could take up creative mending (quite a thing at the moment!). I am kind already, but there are lots of people in my community who could do with a helping hand, or a smile, or just a word of encouragement. I am calm already, but a bit of meditation wouldn’t hurt.

What do you think, Readers? I am a bit fed-up with resolving to do ten new things (Go to the gym three times a week! Read more literature in translation! Take up crochet!) and then feeling like a schmuck when I’ve dropped the lot by February. I suppose it’s about finding what really matters to us, and doing more of it, rather than trying to reshape ourselves as a whole new human being. Maybe we’re fine just as we are, and that’s a great starting point.