Ｂｏｗｖｉｅｗ　Ｍａｎｏｒ：　Ｔｈｅ　Ｃｒａｆｔｓｍａｎｓｈｉｐ　ｏｆ　ｔｈｅ　Ｓｏｕｌ

Bowview Manor: The Craftsmanship of the Soul

 

Liam, Aliza, Kayla

 

What is the purpose of art? From what aspect of art does enjoyment stem? The answer will vary, depending on to whom the question is begged. Some will say that art is a reflection of the great intimacies of life. Common way points that can be understood by all who walk life’s vast branching trail. Something relatable, something comforting.

 

Others will say art is meant to elicit discomfort, sadness, discovery, joy, and all other emotions in between. That art should highlight the nuance of these feelings, and say something profound of the human condition. All of these answers can stem from any part of a person’s being: their personal experience, their values, the things they enjoy, the things they believe; and they are all as right as they are wrong.

 

The lowest common denominator of all these, however, is one’s understanding and appreciation of art, regardless of how the particulars manifest. This is the reason why art entirely derivative of the artist is difficult to understand and appreciate by most. Oscar Wilde once claimed that the purpose of art is to conceal the artist, and to reveal the art. But what of the antithesis? What of the art that reveals the artist, rather than concealing them?

 

An unfinished poem written of a lover, on the basis of obsolete emotions, never sent and never received. A diary, kept to chronicle the life of one person, preserve their experiences and their discovery, and maintain the illusion of longevity that fosters in one’s memories. A desk, built at the tail end of one’s life to contain their belongings, capture their soul, and continue their legacy.

 

When someone creates a piece of art such as this, it is impossible to understand every aspect of it, because it is impossible to know with doubtless certainty the meaning and origin behind them. These are pieces that are meant to reveal the artist through the art. A mahogany desk. Built with the craftsmanship of a life well lived. A desk, the dark brown wood reflecting the sorrows and wisdoms of one’s experience.

 

To anyone beside the creator, this art is nothing less than unextraordinary. Something relatable, yet dissonant all the same. Beautiful, yet impartial. Enjoyable, but never essential. Not generic, but not unheard of. A gorgeous furnishing, representing nothing more than that to the eyes of anyone but it’s creator, to whom it may mean the world to. The desk carries with it the craftsmanship of one’s soul. The beauty of all that is the individual, the artist. The craftsmanship of the soul, drawing from a life that has been lived by one person, and communicating all that is worth to those who have not lived it.

 

It is these pieces that happened to answer the question of “what is the purpose of art” in a way that is most comprehensive. Art can be relatable, enjoyable, meaningful, emotional, cathartic even, but it is never any one of those things, nor is it everyone of them. This desk can be all that to some people. It is the craftsmanship of the soul. The life of it’s creator is captured, in all its essence and character, in this desk. And to some others, it may be nothing more than a beautiful desk. And that, is the purpose of art.

 

From Aliza, Liam, and Kayla, Dedicated to Don, a man who has lived a good life (and built a beautiful desk!).  

 

 

 

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Appendix:

 

During our trip to Bowview Manor, we were originally assigned to a woman named Maria, however due to complications, we were unable to find her. There had been a mix up, and we were in the wrong place. We were with a gentleman that a different group was supposed to interview, by the name of Don. In all honesty, I’m unsure if Don was ever supposed to be interviewed, or if we were given him because he was closest to us. Nonetheless, we decided it would be in the best interest of everyone involved to just interview Don instead, and so that’s just what we did.

 

Don didn’t talk much, nor did he hear much. He sat in his bed, and listened to us with as much vigor as he could muster. He spoke of his time in Bowview, and how nicely the staff treated him. Asking him questions was difficult, and getting answers was even harder. He spoke of his life as a Safeway employee, a career in which he had dedicated himself to since the age of thirteen. He had been a custodian, a cashier, a manager, and imaginably everything in between. We looked out his window, (we had vantage since he was on the third floor) to the Safeway that was a few blocks away. We wondered if he had known it was there, or if he had ever saw it. Perhaps it brought back memories for him, pieces of his youth. We would get no farther than that.

 

Next, he had spoken of his wife, and how dearly he missed her. He was here to see her, and as he told us this, he pointed to the desk behind us, with pictures of his loved ones placed in memorandum. He had built the desk right before he had arrived, which at this point, was around two years ago. It was beautiful, and after much deliberation, we had decided it would be the focal piece of our final assignment.

 

Don was tired, he had told us. I don’t think he was expecting us, and I didn’t want to interrupt his resting time. Before we left, I had held his hand. It was soft, cold, and kinetically unlike its appearance. He told us he had lived a good life, and with that, we had thanked him for his time, and left him in peace.

 

We didn’t get much from Don, but what we did get was an experience that we will remember for a long time to come. My only regret is that we didn’t get a picture of that gorgeous desk.

 

 

 

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featured image: japan vaporwave, n.d. June 5th, 2018, 12:50 PM, courtesy: https://www.tumblr.com/tagged/japan-vaporwave 

 

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