Around my home “city” (more like a community as they call it here; to us, it is a crossroads), I am the art lady. The center of this organic place is the “Solid Waste Collection Site”. The trash heap. Remember, this is South Carolina.
They don’t call me that to my face; it is my reference. Perhaps because at the solid waste collection site, sometimes I am more interested in acquiring trash than delivering it. And it is a good place to exchange all kinds of information about others.
So this art lady started this blog to talk about her work, and maybe sell it, and when writing about my ten gliders, the “hits” go way up. Now maybe I am the glider lady. More than once help was given me to take an old glider out of the dumpster. One time, up in the biggest city near here, I was refused help and refused the glider. Said those were the rules. Once the thing is in the dumpster, it stays.
I have a solution to this art vs. glider problem, and would do it if it were possible. I would weld eccentric elements on gliders and call them “art”. Can see it all now; it would be wonderful. But not being a welder, the job is too big for me. Have tried to interest my husband in this, but he is allowed to have his own art. It would not be fair for him to do mine. He IS a welder.
The picture of the fine glider shown above is one a friend sent to me. Her grandfather made it, and she learned through the blog that what she had was a glider, not a swing. It had been in the basement for forty years when she rescued it. What is wonderful about it is that it shows its various painted history. The colors represent its decades of life.
Of course another stunning feature is the circular structure on both ends, securing the system that allows it to glide. This example is made of wood. It is a family piece and should go on forever. Good that it is under a roof.
Think about gliding on a front porch ( wish I had the one my grandmother, Mattie, had on her front porch in Decatur, IL). Gliding is like a heartbeat. It is rhythmic and it calms everyone, not just babies. Admitting my history in textiles, I know for sure that weaving on a floor loom does the same thing as the beater bar establishes a rhythm. Of course, rhythm is predictable, we know what comes next, and is therefore soothing. It is through rhythm, otherwise stated, pattern, that we feel more comfortable. Its resemblance to a heart beat cannot be overstated.
This is a swing on my front porch. It precedes in the collection all the gliders, and is fun to have, but maybe not as expressive as a glider.