Not too long ago I read that the mysterious artist Banksy had created several new murals in Ukraine. Going to locations that had experienced the fury of war, he found broken and damaged buildings and used them as his canvas. In one a gymnast practices a handstand upon shattered walls and in another a woman who is wearing a bathrobe and who has curlers in her hair and a gas mask on her face holds a fire extinguisher next to a blown-out window. I am not clever enough to know what they all mean, but I do understand that the artist means to make a statement about the war and its many victims. I understand this as well: that by creating these murals, Banksy has made something valuable out of what would otherwise be valueless. What was only busted-up concrete has now become an intriguing and desirable work of art. Though his canvas was one for which no one else could see any value, and though it had been assaulted and destroyed, it is now valued and treasured. And it’s not like just anyone could do this. Had I been assigned the task I am quite certain that I would have made the mess even messier. I would leave the rubble even less valuable and less beautiful than before, for I have no artistic talent and no ability to bring beauty from literal ashes. It takes a skillful artist to work in the medium of rubble. We are a stained and torn canvas, a broken … Continue reading Banksy and Beauty from Ashes