Some of the most important things on earth go unwitnessed. Hydrothermal vents are such things. Often existing miles deep in the sea, the vast majority of them are completely unwitnessed by people.
The processes of life on earth are largely driven by the power of these vents, which are cracks in the earth’s crust where water grows super-heated under great pressure. The water shoots back into the ocean with incredible force, carrying raw materials of life up from the crust into the water. A column of life arises in the miles of water above these vents. Ultimately, human beings eat from the same food chain that these vents support.
Let’s visit one, shall we?
As we travel down from the sunny surface, we notice that there is only a thin layer of ocean where we find all of the normal creatures. Descending further, the light wanes, and there are fewer creatures. As we finally descend out of the light, into the great depths– less and less is recognizable.
But if we keep going deeper, miles deep, we might see the red-hot screaming vent, and the incredible rush of its water.
There it is.
In this place, certainly nothing could live.
Yet there is life.
On the sea floor, near the vent, we see absurd creatures. Things live here that could barely be classified as earthly. Yet they are able to withstand the heat, and the pressure, and the lack of sunlight. They actually live and reproduce here.
Are they grotesque? Sure. But how could they not be?
After we’ve had enough of gawking at the aliens, (even though we’re the aliens,) we begin moving back up the water column, and as the pressure lightens, and sunlight increases, the features and creatures become recognizable again. And the further up the column we go, the farther from the vent we go, the more recognizable the creatures and features become.
And perhaps as we bathe in a school of brine, a whale swims by and scoops us up.
This is my metaphor for Art.
Perhaps you can fill in the metaphor without further explanation, but, so I don’t forget myself:
The Creative is heat from the earth’s core.
The darkness and pressure is the unconscious mind.
The crack is the seam between unconsciousness and consciousness.
Water is us.
The food column is art.
Art that is “close to vent” should be understood in this way.
Close to the vent, you have the avant garde, and the experimental. Here are the strange fish that make us feel uncomfortable. At the surface, you have pop culture, the whales and the brine. It is all connected by the food column.
What does this mean, and why does it matter, if it means or matters at all?
If you find yourself out and looking around, and you don’t recognize the fish, hesitate before you run off. Consider— you may just be standing at a vent. Don’t worry, nothing here can physically harm you. While near a vent, try to appreciate where you are. How deep you are. How special it is to be that deep. Because the vent is a lot lot deeper than we normally are.
And if you let go of your fear, and of your attachment to the pretty, palatable creatures above, you may find that the small, fine particles of food nourishes you in ways different from the food on the surface.
You may find yourself falling in love with some translucent, delicate-looking but indestructible, alien creatures.
And you may find yourself returning to the vent, over and again, for the fine particulate food that can only be found there. For unlike the vents in the ocean, these vents can be visited by anyone willing to travel into deep places.
I hope we can all meet there soon.