a sol lewitt moment.
it’s always been my contention that art is all around you; the purpose of the artist is to help the rest of us see it. every-once-in-a-while art breaks through on its own and you, not the artist, have a moment alone with it. a sunset, a garden path, a canyon of skyscrapers, a boat in the harbor, clouds in the sky, a speeding car passing you on the freeway, your lover’s ear or today, the drawing left by a spoon on the inside of a coffee cup.
its discovery startled me, which was followed by a moment of delight and the thought that here was a work of art i had created unconsciously, that in its simplicity of everyday materials and its random nature–putting a teaspoon of sugar in my coffee every morning, then stirring it, the ring and scrape of the spoon as i turned it round and round, sometimes paying attention, sometimes not, lifting the spoon slightly out of the bottom, running its edge around the middle of the cup and definitely not thinking of leaving a mark as a result.
the fine lines left by the ‘pencil’ are delicately cross-hatched, swirling and rhythmic, dark and foreboding. as you turn the cup, the mood shifts as the lines work their way up the side of the cup, every aspect revealing something new and beautiful.
now when i pick up my cup and take a sip of my morning coffee, i peer down, watching the liquid slowly reveal the drawing (i have to cross my eyes to see it at this point, it’s not until i’ve drank the entire cup that i can twist and turn the cup at a distance to fully appreciate what has been created.) i should sign it ‘r. mutt’ and submit to the armory show (oops, wrong century.)