Bright Sunny Morning, is a 1987 piece by the artist Andy Goldsworthy. Goldsworthy's studio is the outdoors where he makes all of his work. In Izumi-Mura, Japan he set a slab of snow upright. Using a stick he scraped away at the snow in concentric circles until he had almost broken through. The snow piled up at the base like a pyramid. Because of its ephemeral nature, like most of his work, it is documented with photography.
Messiaen’s commentary on V. Regard du Fils sur Fils (Gaze of the Son upon the Son):
“Mystery, rays of light in the night – refraction of joy, the birds of silence – the person of the Word in a human nature – marriage of the human and divine natures in Jesus Christ …
This is, of course, the Son-Divine Word contemplating the Son-Child Jesus. Three sonorities, three modes, three rhythms, three superimposed musics. The Theme of God and rhythmic canon by the addition of the note value of a dot. Joy symbolized by the songs of birds.”
A light is beginning to break through in the thinnest part. What was it like on that first morning after Christ's birth? It is odd to think that for so many it was just another morning and yet a new sort of light had entered the world. This artwork and the music reminds me of when Bilbo Baggins says, "Why, I feel all thin, sort of stretched, if you know what I mean: like butter that has been scraped over too much bread. That can’t be right. I need a change, or something."
How thin and troubled must human history be when the light begins to break through? How much of us needs to be scraped away so that even a small glow will pierce our shadows?
This music causes me to feel on edge. Unlike what I would call "Christmas Music," it makes me feel thin and tense. For the first time this week I feel as though I am the discordant part of the music, the part that is chaotic. I am the raw chunk of snow and it is the calm plodding that is scraping away at me.
There is hope, no matter how long the scraping takes, that it will end fully encompassed by the light.
