Stringy Tree Art

This week, outside Bellevue City Hall, Andrew and I came across this:

It made me think of a lot of stringy things, starting with that William Stafford poem "The Way It Is" -- the one about following the thread... Oh, it must be around here somewhere... Hang on a sec... Okay, here we go:

The Way It Is

There's a thread you follow. It goes among

things that change. But it doesn't change.

People wonder about what you are pursuing.

You have to explain about the thread.

But it is hard for others to see.

While you hold it you can't get lost.

Tragedies happen; people get hurt

or die; and you suffer and get old.

Nothing you do can stop time's unfolding.

You don't ever let go of the thread.

.

It's the kind of thing people send you when you're looking lost or frazzled or discouraged, to remind you that you do have a purpose in the world, even if you're not always sure what it is... and that it's okay -- crucial, even -- to stick with the things that really matter to you.

Of course, sometimes the problem isn't so much that you don't have a firm grip on the thread. It's more that your thread is hopelessly tangled, or dangerously frayed, or wrapped around your legs like the leash of an energetic puppy. Or that it's become so tied up in other people's threads that it's holding you back instead of leading you on. Or that somehow you've managed to grab ahold of five or six threads, and they're all headed off in different directions -- what then?

Still, I’ve always liked the thread metaphor: especially the way it lets you claim your own individual path while allowing you to join up with other strands to form a strong rope or a magnificent tapestry. I can’t tell if this particular web is made of one strand or many, but either way it’s a beautiful piece of threadwork.

Then you’ve got the whole tree metaphor – or rather, a whole branching, leafy forest of them. The tiny acorn that grows up into a mighty oak. Roots in the ground, branches reaching for the sky. Fruits & flowers, shade & shelter. Family tree, tree of life. That this particular tree is just getting started makes it all the more evocative.

I find I keep returning to this picture, drawn into it different ways each time. I love the way the web floats above the ground, while the tree is rooted in it. I love the way the orderly tangle of threads – the kind of thing a spider builds to trap its prey – somehow defines a perfect open circle at its center. I love the way the tree rises up out of the nest, luminous and tender. I still haven’t decided if I’m the string or the sapling – or, somehow, both.

P.S. Here's some more about this piece, if you're interested.