Showing posts from March, 2022

A garden

I have been thinking why my small succulents have been looking so unhappy (and one of them gave up its ghost last week). This is despite the grow lamp and the generally dry weather. I have also reduced my watering, so the rocky surfaces look dry.  There is often no better test that sticking your finger into the soil. And yes, just a centimeter beneath the surface and the soil feels slightly damp. If you are still in doubt, there’s the sniff test. Indeed - that smell of early mould. I have an hour to rest before getting back to Esplanade this afternoon. So I decided to sun the succulents and myself by the balcony, and reread this classic by John Dewey.  Dewey sets out this conundrum. Art is created from experience. But when it becomes a product and is set apart from experience - say in a museum - it acquires its aura and aesthetic value. But it also loses some of its initial potency of its creation, the risk or finesse or pleasure in the process of making or in the community life that c