When my friend and neighbor Chris was out watering his sculpture late at night a couple of winters ago, little did I know pictures would end up on the huffingtonpost.
Life is strange.
My son and I walked over the next day to visit the ice house and Ari was so intrigued that he snapped one of those delicate icicles off in his little hand. Chris and I quickly intervened lest any more of his hard work be undone by a curious three-year-old.
But that is the way with Chris’s work: my boys — most everyone who encounters it — want to climb inside and animate the work. Chris’s sculpture begs for it. In a good way.
That huffingtonpost article interprets the work in a way I never would. Global climate change? If anything, works like that will become harder to create as Minnesota gets warmer. Chris had to ice that house two times, as after the first time it thawed out. That’s where the quiet fear is for me: winter is disappearing. I need winter just like I need summer: it resets my psychic clock.