The flow of life: on spiders and artists

Spiders are such generous creatures. They are ceaseless weaving and spinning their intricate homes and forever seeking their life’s sustenance. I admire their diligence and determination. Whenever I brush away their lace offerings in an irregular cleaning spree, I feel deep admiration for their immediate response of shooting out one thread and then another and yet another to begin once again the task of reassembling a gossamer webbed abode. No matter how many times I wipe away their handiwork or shoo them out of my house, they soon reappear and begin their delicate artwork once again.

It also fascinates me how humans work and think. Some of us seem to experience life as a ceaseless flow, while others tend to gravitate towards absolutes. From personal insecurities and uncertainties, until recently, I was driven by the need to build up islands of firm, established order and objectives within the ongoing river of life. In fact, I was so taken up by projects and attaining goals that I was most often oblivious of the vicissitudes of the world around me.

A person of a different ilk is Dave Merga. Dave is British and was born into a very artistic family. His father was an art instructor, so Dave was blessed to grow up in a world of ceaseless creativity. That had a profound effect on him. He breathed art, so attended University Kingston, where he got a degree in sculpture. That was in 1997.

From the very start his work focused on recycling found objects for installations and assemblages. Then he started to blend his work with nature and with its surroundings. That idea came about because by chance Dave had an opportunity to work in Grisdale Sculpture Forest in the Lake District. That was the catalyst for him to experiment with larger, outdoor pieces, made with an underlying sympathy for nature and the environment. This became a characteristic of all his ensuing work.

Dave’s drive to exhibit pieces with environmental themes lead him to work closely with Green Futures, building sculptures for the Green Field at Glastonbury Festival. Five years later and his work is still a regular feature at Glastonbury. He creates spaces for people to meet and for natural theatre arenas where outdoor performances are held. He has also created pieces for Kingston Green Fair. In 2000 he founded “Randomsoup Artworks”, a name he uses for his work at festivals.

Works of note include ‘Neptune’s Lanterns’, which uses huge fabric jellyfish forms, designed to move in the wind. At night they transform into ethereal, solar powered lanterns. Dave’s latest work, entitled ‘Willow Trees’ uses recycled coffee bean natural fiber sacking to create branches and leaves. Hemp rope is used to weave six-foot diameter flowers that stand high above the viewer.

Through his work, Dave aims to create an inviting outdoor space, attracting people to work and play within these focal points. (Also David is a successful watercolor painter, once again drawing on nature for inspiration.)

As you can see, Dave carefully builds up his sculptures, one precious piece at a time. They grow and expand step by precise step in a process of continuous amazement and unfolding. Gradually they evolve to the point of filling up the entire garden and basement.

Most artists would seek a permanent home for their beloved offerings: a museum, an art gallery, a park, or an individual’s living room. But Dave, in his humility and wisdom, does not cling to the sculpture pieces themselves. For him what truly matters is the process of creativity itself. So, after months of painstaking, but enjoyable and emotionally satisfying, effort, and after presenting his works as “happenings”, such as festivals around the UK, Dave simply disassembles them, collects the pieces, and begins the building up process once again.

In Dave’s own words, as he sent them to me in an e-mail:

The festival culture of the UK is a very transient thing, many days before an event opens to the public the whole site is undergoing a dramatic transformation all building up to something far bigger than the sum of its parts, the creative energy at this time is enormous as every one tries to make it the very best they possibly can. It is always a fairly tense time in the run up to opening, wondering whether the pieces will be finished and how they will actually look in situ, as up until this point the separate elements of the sculpture/space have never been up together as a whole. The sculptures being made in a relatively small space (my garage/workshop) for a relatively large space (open field) can pose interesting questions regarding scale, initially seeming obscenely large and once on-site concerned whether they will hold their own in the space.

Beyond existing by themselves the sculptures form a space for meeting and relaxing as people are drawn to attractive areas. To encourage this around the pieces I also have a circular arrangement of benches made from materials found onsite and often have a large bonfire in the middle which offers a nice alternative illumination a night.

Because of this I sometimes think of my work as a 'happening' rather than just an object. For after the event it feels like there is no point in hanging onto the art like there is no point in hanging onto the moments it existed. As it has passed and all those people who were there and enjoyed it, made new friends by it, chatted, and shared a beer by it have gone their separate ways. There is always the next time though, with new energy, new people and a new festival. The wheel turns.

So, Dave’s art is truly an egoless, ongoing process that works through him. He never allows any work to become a permanent end result. In his flow of observation, of piecing together fragments and parts, of evolving cohesiveness, and then of appreciation and of disintegration, Dave allows his work to reflect the diligence of the spider and the wisdom of the life force itself. In that way one might say that Dave’s attitude itself is a work of very fine art.