SPIRITUAL VISIONS EXHIBITION @ HERMITAGE MUSEUM AND GARDENS

Here is an outline, will hope to flesh out soon..

This time, I was accompanied by my mother. We are much of the same mind, and so, aside from our compounded distractabilty, we make natural travel partners.

I had planned to drive up the day of the opening, about a 4 hour drive. But after a full day of raking and hauling leaves, my wise father delivered news of incliment weather, and after some deliberating, we decided to leave earlier than expected, (Wednesday night 11:30pm) because of impending snow/freezing-rain storm at around 3am the next morning. So as the temperature plumetted towards freezing, we flew out of Durham, driving North to Emporia, VA, and crashed in hotel there, arising early the next frigid morning to find snow quickly coming in. We got in the car and raced further East to try to beat it.

And indeed, as we drove, the snow drifts moving Eastwards nipped at our heels, always just a few miles behind us.. We'd stop for gas, and by the time we had returned to the car, the merciless snow would be upon us again. It seemed to be sending a clear message, 'tarry not'.

However, when we had bought ourselves a little bit of road milage=time, I did find a swath of cotton floatsam and jetsum lining the side of highway 58 east through VA, and spent a hurried moment collecting a bag full to restuff Mighty Hercules with.

Fancy hotel, Hotwire.com

Opportunistic Photo Shoot in Hotel elevator. See, I told you we are a dynamic team!

Next day, visited Chrystler Museum of Art and found and met Mr. Ed Pollard, the Museum Photographer, who I might have the privilage to show with next Fall! He was kind enough to show us a fascinating restoration project that he with the restoration department are working on there at the Museum. The Chrystler Museum actually has a truly AMAZING collection of both ancient and contemporary art works, much like a place we are getting to know... (And as it so happens, according to Mr. Gibbs and the Restoration expert, this collection was first established by none other than Mrs Sloane, who used her house to found/become Hermitage Museum).

It was a rare oppurtunity to look behind the curtain of an Art Museum, and gave me a whole new perspective on what is involved.

This was a very rich visit.

I left somewhat dazed, humbled and inspired.

Went to opening a half hour early to prep sculptures. Moreover, didn't get Armor-All all over All, per request of gallery staff.

The Staff did an extraordinary job mounting the show! I think the arrangment of the pieces is just superb.

With Ed Gibbs' (untitled) floral mandala greeting the visitors,

Conferring with Captain Carl

my wall of black rubber intrigue,

and Anne Iotts breath-taking center piece 'Tibetan Prayer Book 1'  acting as a anchor/nucleus to this tableau.

Artist Victor Freiling contemplates West Oakland Intersection.
I had run into Mr. Freiling earlier that day at the Chrystler Museum of Art,
where he was leading a group of high school students. I hope to work with Mr. Freiling this fall for Reclamation Exhibition. I also enjoyed talking with his wife, Ann?

And that was just the second room!

Met lots of groovy people! Some friends of the Museum/Board Members, some other Artists in show.

Was good and didn't drink too much, too soon. Had lots of fun talking to folks. Got a lot of positive responses to my pieces. One person told me that, in the large treadknot piece "Leviathan" at least, I had 'transcended the tire'. While it sounds glib repeating it in this context, I appreciated this at the time, as I understood her to mean that the piece 'took the tire higher', to paraphrase. 

Leviathan is perhaps the most photogenic sculpture I have ever made.

This is what my mother and I would call an 'AF shot',  the 'A' signifying 'Artsy'....
The expression on my face signifies: 'Ma, what the hell are you doing?'

Giving in to the 'AF' force...

Was a little bit disappointed the museum didn't post our letters of intentions. I think people were intrigued, but also maybe a little (understandably) befuddled by the pieces, and the letter would help. 

Awards Ceremony

The Hot House Out Back

Public Programs Director, Melissa Ball had subtly primed me for this a little; she had reminded me there was to be an Awards Ceremony a few weeks ago, when I mentioned I was bringing my Mom (To be completely honest, I was actually so psyched to just be included in the show, and focused on publicizing that fact in my postcards, that I totally forgot about this aspect).

Then, the day before the opening, Melissa called to ask me how my last name is pronounced...a nice subtle hint if I ever caught one..

Still, I tryed really hard not to let my hopes get built up. But by the time we got to the opening, I have to admit that I had pretty much utterly failed at this effort.

So I stood with a few of the other artists in crowded tent, a plate of yummy orderves in hand, internally strategizing: "ok, if they call my name, I'm not going to spill this plate of food on myself, or anyone else, and I'm not going to crash into anybody." I scanned for a clear path to the 'stage'..

And lo and behold they did call me name, I had won second place! With some warm urging of my compatriate artists, I walked to the stage with out soaking or running over anybody.

They weren't really doing speeches, I only got to deliver a fraction of my semi-prepared speech, which was probably for the best, and I guess you could say it all worked out real smooth. Better to be over prepared, Right?

Public Programs Director Melissa program directs, as Programs Assistant, Caitlin program assists, while Executive Director, Melanie executive directs, and I just stand there.

They handed me a check, I made people laugh a little, and nothing bad happened. Great! (I do wish I had seized the chance though to express my appreciation for Melissa, and Melanie and Colin and Caitlin, and Truly, and the rest of the Hermitage Staff, as they have been Truly great to work with thus far!

This artully blurry photograph of Our Dear Hostess captures
the feeling of the evening pretty well actually.
Photography by Edie Cohn  

Next day, me and Edie (me Mum) went back so she could get an excellent tour of the Sloane collection.

Then we headed back home to North Carolina.

I had been thinking if I won first place, I would have to make myself a tshirt that says MOST SPIRITUAL. Somehow, 2ND MOST SPIRITUAL doesn't have the same ring, though maybe its a little closer to home. 

And I still have my cotton, which I am still picking the seeds and pebbles from.

We stopped by Nauticus, a Naval Museum. I must have been feeling pretty full of my self..

Booyaa! 2nd Most Spiritual. How you like me now?

My Mom with her Naval namesake, the USS Wisconsin

Here's to West Oakland Intersection. I always knew you could do it.
Here's also to Travis Nathaniel Bench,
who shared the experience that inspired this piece,
and who marched through this Intersection everyday for a year.

Hangin' with the Hadlettes

This weekend, I had the good fortune to hang out with the good ladies of the Hadley Hotel Studios, 

and a few Choice Others, selling our wares there in their gallery space for their first ever Holiday Handmade Market.

It has been Good times, working with these gals. Traffic has been just a wee trickle, due to snow, cold ass weather, and of course the frozen assets of this witchy titty economy, but it has been toasty and warm inside, with Jere's cider, crafts to work on

Shelly Joyce, Designer at Lila's Trunk works on her 'eclectic, vintage inspired jewelry'.
See Lila's Trunk on Face Book

and great company.

Katt, Matt, Sarah and Jack, looking mighty cheery.
Must be all that Home Brew of Matts'.

Can't think of a better way to spend a cold wintry day.

I am blessed that my good pal, Artist In Wood, Diane Swan is in the hood, sharing her gawgeous mirrors and business card holders. And Today, her manmate, and my bandmate Scotty Young came over and brought his guitar, and a nice drum for me to play (mines busted), plus some wicked tunes, and as always his beaming self. Between the two of us, I think we managed to stir up a groovey little scene! Even got a customer with a great voice to join us for a few rounds! People came together around the music like a fire.

I also made an Atomic Tire Sphere for my homies at the Arts Incubator. I had made a few last year, and they liked them, so I made them another one this year. My man Ricky, an interior designer who has a painting studio over there really took to it, which was flattering for me, and helped me hang it in a place of honor, right in the door way.

Good bless Siler City. For an outa towner like me, its pretty lonely these days with out Mina Beana's cafe to bring us all together, but I am still managing to find warm pockets with good, (and humorous) people.

Next weekend, maybe I'll make some moene.!

1st Annual Trash Bash by the YIKES Recyclique

This evening, upon returning to NC, I attended what looks to be the first Annual Trash Bash, organized by Sandy Nononi-Smith, the UNC Anthropology Proffessor who started the Recyclique. It was a really great event!

FIRST
The had super-star Murial, the trash queen there, speaking about her job with Orange County Solid Waste. She delivered an awesome presentation.

THEN
we also had a representative from the African American community who's back yard the dump had been dumped in in the 1950s, speak about the response to the raw deal they got, which is basically to be proactive. Was pretty awesome actually..

CONTEST
 They also had a contest of upcycled prototypes and artwork. I feel this contest shows a lot of a promise!

 Was cool to get us all there together. There was also Heather Morrel, from Wake County Solid Waste, who represented our newly forming Reuse Alliance (I should have pumped this more), Leslie Fesperman, George Danser, maker of very nice rain barrels, good guy, and glass artist extraordinaire (he one Best In Show at the same show I won Best Emerging Artist). Don Nononi, Jean Marie were all there. Also a German fellow who has an interesting operation, making soap from Neam Trees that he has helped people plant in West Africa. He seemed to appreciate my art, and ambitions for it, and I get the feeling I have not seen the last of this fellow..
Was A GOOD TIME!!!

Diesel Van- Successfully Ushered the Blue Beast to Safety

This past few weeks has been a bit a bit of a challenge, regarding my vans.

As you may or may not know, I have a black Chevy Van that I have lived in/slept in for the past 10 years. Her name is Sofia, and I have her parked in back of my studio, in the parking lot that the Farmer's Alliance owns (they have been VERY gracious to let me stay there).

I also recently inherited a Blue Chevy '83 Diesel Van, from my friend Jennifer Sugg, whose father, David Sugg, recently passed away, leaving her this van which he had cherished in life (she reports that the van is mostly what David talked about!). So it was quite an honor for Jennifer to bestow this vehicle to me..

But as awesome as the gift of a diesel van is, it was also perhaps one which I was a little unprepared to take on, some what like inheriting a baby elephant, that eats 800 pounds of cabbage a day..To be honest, I am not really great at caring for cars with the regularity that they need and deserve, and I have quickly learned, from research in town and in books, that Diesels need a certain kind of loving that I was not sure I was in a place to give. So I have had to really weigh out, if I will be a good new owner to this vehicle, whose care I have been charged with..

Well, in the meantime the starter and batteries went sour, and so did the city's taste for my two broken down vans... as Vito aptly put it when Sofia broke down, there is a big fat line between a running van and a broken down van, and I know that he is so right. It really amazing we have lasted this long..

So, with a sculpture to make, 3 to deliver to a major show in VA, very little money in the bank, to bad batteries and a bad starter in the van, I find an orange Tow sticker stuck to the windshield, saying the City wants me to move it in a week, or they will tow it (of course at my dear expense). The local Diesel Guru Mechanic tells me that year of engine is a total 'dog', and I should just do myself a favor and scrap it.... I am left in a tight pinch.

At David Sugg's funeral, which I attended to learn more of the man, I had promised his friend that I would not scrap the van (he actually explicitly forbade me this option) not that I would scrap a diesel van, no matter the vintage. But, I did wonder, again, if maybe this thing should be someone else's problem...someone that cared passionately about Diesel engines, there is, after-all the Piedmont Biodiesel refinery just down 64 in Pittsboro. Surely there must be someone over there, who gives a damn about this thing. I really didn't want to give it up, but damn, it seemed to be dragging be down.

So, in an act of desperation, I racked my brain, and came up with a few names. I sent out an email to a handful of people who I thought Might be interested, offering to sell, or even better... SHARE the van... Of these, I only heard back from a few, but a couple were interested! First, I  heard back from Moia, a very kind hearted woman who does collections for Piedmont Biofuels, and in keeping with the very strong community orientation that I know of Moia, she was enthusiastic about the idea of a van share! This encouraged and emboldened me to think that maybe this thing was possible! I also heard from Jeremy, who is one of Central Carolina Community College's Bio Diesel Program's first proud graduates! I knew that he had a Chevy Diesel Van of about the same vintage, so I was pleased to get a response that he was interested in either buying or sharing the van, as I know he would know the animal's ins and outs.
I also heard back from Ray, a mechanic at Blue Heron Farm,  who said he Might have an occassional use, and would put out his feelers around the farm for need for it. Living at Blue Heron, a commune of sorts, for lack of a better word, is kind of an expert on sharing I would say, so I thought he would be a good guy to have on the team, in addition to his awesome mechanical skills of course!

So yes, a team was begining to materialize, and with it, the hope of keeping the Blue Beast on the road. Now...I just had to get the thing started....up and out of there... and this was not to be too easy.

You might or might not know that a Diesel engine, and accompanying components, make it a very different animal that a gasoline powered vehicle. For instance, a diesel van requires two batteries, these costing about $100-$120 each. Ow. So when I couldn't start the van, this was what I was faced with. Fortunately, blessedly for me, Jesse Brown, the owner of the Sidewalk Cafe below my studio, is proving to be a wealth of knowledge and reccomendations about caring for diesel trucks. He runs several, to haul his  giant draft horses to festivals. And he has been very generous in sharing his acculated resources. So Jesse told me about a place in Sanford, where I could get rebuilt, and factory reject batteries. I went down there, gave them my two old, dead batteries, and picked up two 'new' ones for $30 each! This was to be my entre into a who new world of automobile part reuse that Jesse Brown has been introducing me too.
  So I plopped the two big lugs into my van, hoping to make off. No such luck. It turned out that not only were the batteries bad, but also the starter. I checked around, and found that this would cost me about $300 to get replaced, including the tow to the shop. OW again! Once again I began to wonder, SHOULD I just scrap this thing? Very knowledgable people were telling me that I should!
But I can be a little stubborn. AND, interestingly, Jesse Brown Down Stairs encouraged me once again not to give up hope...he had Another resource, a place in Burlington that rebuilds starters! He said they swing through town everywednesday, and could even pick up the starter. What did I have to loose? About $170, thats what. So, in the spirit of 7 parts desperatation and 3 parts adventure, I pulled the (massive) starter out from beneath the oil drenched engine, and left it in a cardboard box behind the cafe, per Mr. Brown's instrucutions. I had never removed a starter, and was suprised to find it held on by only one bolt! It seemed a second bolt was missing....

So, begging an extension from the guys down at City Hall, I raced over to Burlington, upon returning from VA, to deliver the sculptures, and picked up the rebuilt starter from a make shift shop in an old brick building. When I got home, I crawled up under my van (parked on a semi busy street), and tried instal the thing. It was not easy! While I was smart enough to wearing googles, bits of grease were falling onto my goggles. And the starter weighed a TON, probably about 25 pounds actually, which I had to support with one arm, while trying to ratchet on with left, all the while trying to keep these cryptic oily shims in place. UGGG. Bolt they gave me was wrong size too short. So zip up road to part store for right size bolt. Crawl back under van, and resume procudure sans forklift. Finally it dawned on me, why this was really not working.... The 2nd bolt that I had presumed missing was not missing because it fell out, it was missing because the shaft had Broken off....leaving the bolt's stock still lodged in the hole! FUCKING HELL. Back to the drawing board. I trudged back to the Downtown Automotive shop behind my studio, for yet more advice (they had also been a wonderful source of councel in this undertaking, which I probably wouldn't have, with out), and also to weigh out, once again, wether this this was really worth toiling with after all. When I told Greg, the mechanic, what I had found, and asked if there was any way out of THIS one, or was my goose finally cooked?, he looked me knowingly in the eye, and taunted "I told what you should do with that Van". "Yeah, yeah, I remember what you told me very well!" (which of course was to scrap it). A man seated in the office, looked down in shook his head, I guess at my stupidity, or the futility of the situation, or both. Greg told me there was in fact a way out, in fact called an "EASY OUT" a special drill bit. Easy out, well I'll be. Sure hadn't expected any easy ways out of this one! Greg and the old man gave me another look and shook their heads, as I trotted out the door towards the hardware store; hope springs eternal in the young, desperate and foolish..
  Well when I arrived at the hardware store, my good friend Herb Handley, accompanied by the requisite old man, quickly disposed me of my glee..."Ha!" Chortled his old grizzled friend, "they call it an easy out, but there ain't nothin easy 'bout it!". Oh, I see.."you've got to drive that thing straight into the eye of that bolt! If you don't, it'll bite it off, and then your stuck with an easy out lodged in there too!" He cackled. Yes, you get all flavors of advice and encouragement in Siler City. And this generation seems to  take particular pleasure in the naive misteps of my own generation...
  So back to the van I trudged, wondering how much thicker I get get myself into this mess?.....No doubt,  probably I good bit...
So I took lunch, and a little power nap. I know I had to be fresh to bore that hole, because it had to be dead on. I only had one chance, and I didn't not have time nor elbow space on my side...
  So eventually, I knew it was now or never, and marched down to the van, to let be what would be. If it didn't work out, I guess I'd just have to get somebody to tow it somewhere, I didn't know where.
   I picked at the bolt with the drill bit I'd bought for the job, it didn't seem to want to catch any where near the center. But it HAD to, so I had to keep trying. eventually I got it to catch somewhere that seemed as close as I could get it, and then adjusted alittle once it had bitten. My drill was right up against the engine block, so in many ways, I was at the mercy of both of these intstruments' casing contours...in many ways it would be a matter of luck, if they would let me get the clear shot I needed. Fortunately, it seemed like they Might just allow it. It seemed to be going in straight, as best I could tell looking behind the drill in the dark, so eventually I had to trust my sense of 'plumb' (not that the van was level), and drive it home. Thunk, the drill bit pierced the back end of the broken bit of bolt, and it was done. I backed out the bit, and squirted some WD-40 in the hole I had just bored, hoping some of it would run down around the threads holding it cemented in place, instead of leaking back out of the hole onto me, as most of it seemed to be doing.  Then came the moment of truth (actually ran back to shop at this point, to make sure I was aware of the main ways to screw this up). So back on my back, I loaded the corkscrewed bit into my drill, and sunk it in. To my total and utter amazement, the slug of bolt metal just SLID out of the hole, and sat there, pierced on the drill bit before my stunned eyes. I could not believe them. It was as if the bush pig, just sort of crawled up and hurled himself on the hunters spear....
My nerves elecrtic, hairs on end, grin impossible to restrain, laughter laughing itself, a ran to the auto shop, spear and impailed trophy in hand, grinning like a fool.

Once I had shared OUR triumph, as I felt like they had pulled a splinter from my paw..
I climbed into the drivers seat, for the second moment of truth of the day. Time to see what its got. Because I knew, that I could just as easily still not start, and I tried to prepare myself for this solomn possiblity, as best I could. I put the key in the ignition.. and got not nothing.    I tried agian, this time a staggering choke, I pumped the gas, and for the first time in months is dispair, the engine ROARED to life again, billowing smoke from its tail pipe, clearly happy to resurected. It was SUCH a happy sound, that, though I hadn't really planned what to do it I DID get it started, I put it into drive, and down the road we slid..right on out to the highway. NO STOPPIN BABY!!! As I pulled onto Hwy 64, a dusky setting sun glowing in my rear view mirror, I gave Stacye a call at Blue Heron, to let her know that a big blue van was headed her way.
   And as I hauled ass down the highway in this old blue van, knowing it was fleeing a fate of certain death and doom and resentment in Siler City, headed to a promised land of biodiesel refineries, and people who like to share things, it strangely began to feel like I was driving a much younger van..It seemed to WANT to get out of there, and to get where it was going! And though it might sound trite to say so, as I drove East across Chatham County on 64, past the various Alston road, through those darkening, cooling fields and woods, I thought of the slaves who had probably, not THAT long ago, run, dashed, through those very same woods, headed North, to Snow Camp, to be ushered to a 'promised land', bearing in their hearts a roaring, burning coal: hope of survival, and a better life.

Working on Rain Barrel Edge Design with The Recyclique

2 Sundays ago, I had a product design session with some of the folks down at the Recyclique.
I had an idea of how they could possibly improve the edging of their rain barrels with a tire gasket of sorts. Their barrels are beautifully hand painted, and well constructed, but they are still lacking some refinement in regards to the edges of the misquito netting which guards the opening at the top. Presently, they had a rubber band and sting holding this shut, it did the trick, but I thought a tire could do it with a lot more style. As the barrels top was of course rounded, and just the right size, a mountain bike tire could fit snugly on this edge, and hold the netting in place, also creating a sort of frame for the artwork featured on the barrels.

Sandy, the mother of this coop in the making, was open and receptive to such ideas, and so we set up a meeting with Henry the main builder of the barrels, and any one else who was interested. Ismael, an aspiring designer who had been working with Mark at the Biofuels plant there also joined us, who a good addition. We also had Joanne, a steady force at the Recyclique. Also in attendance was Connie, who's Birthday we had the pleasure to celebrate, and her son. So it was a good crew, generally focused on the task at hand, and so out back amid the falling leaves and railroad tracks, we conviened around the barrels, and their edges, to see what we could do to enhance them.
  They were receptive to exploring this idea, and we had a good time/ work session exploring different options to dress the edges of the misquito netting with bike tires and innertubes. We came up with some interesting stuff!

  I have to admit that I was dissapointed that at the end of the day, they didn't spring for the tire edging, as I think it could provide a really handsome, solid and flexible lip/handle for the netting. The fear was that it would harbor the rainwater and misquito larvae they were trying to avoid with the netting, a problem which I think could easily be worked around with a series of holes. Perhaps I should just work of a mock up model for them to see in the flesh.
   There was also a reluctance to add too much time to the production of the barrels, to maintain low overhead on them, so that they can keep them affordable, something which is pretty central to their mission I think. While I can somewhat appreciate this sentiment, I personally believe this is the wrong approach. If people are going to lay down $60 - $70 anyways, why not strive to create an attractive product, and Then figure out how to bring the production prices down?
  To me this was a somewhat self-defeating attitude, and to be honest, it makes me a little bit weary of partnering with them on my designs. Its seems to me like a step in the wrong direction, almost like reducing value rather than adding it...

Perhaps there is still time to convince them of this, though probably I need to also hear them more about the realities of running their cooperative organization. I am working with them both to offer, and to learn, so why not learn too?

I was pleased though that they did take some of my point about the edging to heart, and we very effectively incorporated some inner tube edging across both the top and bottom edges of the netting.
I don't think this design has yet reached its full potential, but what we accomplished was a good step in the right direction. It was definately a positive developement, and showed promise for the future.

Artists Statement for Spiritual Visions Exhibition

ARTISTS STATEMENT: WORKING WITH TIRES

by Travis Cohn

For the Spiritual Visions Exhibition, The Hermitage Museum and Gardens, 2010.

             For me, the leathery, black rubber of an old tire has its own spiritual presence, and in my work, I seek to honor that presence. Imagining the tire turning, over, and over, over so much terrain, I can’t help but think it must become a little bit wise in the process, in this repetitive, constant contact with the road. For me, I guess, tire rubber has become a metaphor for the soul’s experience in the world.

Perhaps it is significant that I started working with tires while I was living in my van in the ‘industrial wasteland’ of W. Oakland, while teaching health and urban gardening, through Americorps, in the grade school’s there. It felt like a tumultuous moment in history; the attacks of 9-11 had just rocked the foundations of the western way of being in the world, and closer to ‘home’, that year there was both a state take over of the Oakland School System, as well as a federal slap-down style take over of the traditionally grassroots-led Americorps program. Massive monoliths seemed to be shifting all around us, and my job seemed to be to protect the tiny tender worts and mosses, growing in the cracks between empires. Have you ever scraped your knee on the pavement, and had to dig the pebbles and asphalt out of your flesh? At night, after work, I would often retire to my van, and spend the night mentally picking pebbles out of my soul; images from the day swimming forward; a young African American student, beaming, seemingly unaware of the telltale yellow pollen dusting her nose. Looking back, I wonder if it was this particularly gritty contact with ‘the road’ that led me to connect with these tires.

            To give voice to, and explore some of these feelings that I project onto this material, I have taken these road worn tires to ‘the mat’, and reworked them. I have wrestled them, bent them, twisted them, tied them, turned them, burned them, chopped them, sliced them, punctured them, carved them, and gently coerced them. And finally I have reconfigured them into (among other objects) a form, which I feel finally does the tires justice, and which I personally find endlessly sublime and transfixing…

            I call this form a ‘treadknot’. It is composed of a single strand of worn tire rubber, which weaves and winds, serpent-like, endlessly over and under itself, struggling with it self, tying itself in a knot, and in this process, ultimately re-finding itself. And the result of this weaving and rejoining of ends, is that this single strand creates not only a knot, but, in so doing, also a vessel, capable of carrying another object, in the empty and still space at it’s center. (Elemental, single-celled, primordial basketry, if you will). Like the ouroboros (or snake swallowing its own tail, of ancient and classical mythology) the treadknot is a form that, in its winding, searching and struggling way, evokes, for me, the arduous, but rewarding process of self-regeneration. This is what I have brought to the tires, or perhaps, more accurately, the place where they have brought, and continue to bring me to.

  I would very much like for my tire artwork to be included as a part of Spiritual Visions. Why? Because in this work, I seek to bring forth the tires’ road worn beauty and wisdom. I believe that its inclusion in the show would honor this work, as well as the tires that are both this work’s material and its subject, its means and its end, its journey and its destination.