The Attributes of Deconstruction

We spend a lot of time constructing things in this country.

Shopping lists, belief systems, raised garden beds, weight-loss plans, viable career paths– we are all about composing, putting together and assembling a good plan.

Once it’s done, it’s pretty much carved in stone until or unless we need a new plan. Rarely do we break apart the old one to see which components and working and which may be flawed.

We bulldoze the old, construct the new and move on.

We are a forward-moving society above all else.

We don’t spend much time dismantling what we have or where we’ve been. Studying it. Breaking it down into components in such a way as to expose its underlying assumptions or implicit ideological stance.

I certainly don’t. If anyone is all about do it, get it done and move on– it’s me.

But, occasionally life slaps you in the face with really good metaphors.

Our boys’ golf instructor took a video of them in slow motion swinging so he could help them see what they needed to do differently.

He deconstructed their swing into visual, stoppable, analyzable parts.

And it changed their game instantly. He said children tend to self-correct pretty quickly. But I can tell you I have never seen anything they do change that fast.

IMAGINE what slow motion video could do for behavior modification?

I could you use it for sure. As long as no one else got to see a slowed down version of me behaving poorly. You kind of know when you are headed down a not so attractive path, but if you had to see it!

In SLOW motion!

I think this would be a big deterrent.

To see yourself shoveling spoonful after spoonful of ice cream while mindlessly flipping glamorous magazine pages

Or to witness your facial contortions as you rant again about how complicated can it possibly be to NOT leave your socks all over the house.

To see yourself in action… yikes.

But I am currently on hiatus from any self-improvement.

So, let’s move on to the more uplifting, self-affirming and empowering aspect of deconstruction.

The transformational possibility of things you think you know.

Last weekend we went to see America Is Hard To See at The Whitney with our boys. The exhibit itself took a very interesting angle on American art, artists and the evolving stories both have to tell. The curators wrote:

It underscores the difficulty of neatly defining the country’s ethos and inhabitants… By simultaneously mining and questioning our past, we do not arrive at a comprehensive survey or tidy summation, but rather at a critical new beginning: the first of many stories still to tell.

The idea of mining and questioning our past is evolutionarily aware.

Exciting, even.

It was liberating simply to take part in the outdoor workshop wherein we deconstructed three everyday objects.

White paper plates and cups and brown tape.

The project was based off Raphael Montañez Ortiz’s Archaeological Find, Number 9.

The work features a sofa he dismantled piece by piece. He burned, chopped and ripped it, then coated it in thick glue while chanting.

Our very young docent said jubilantly…

“He sought to set the inner spirit of the object free.”

Joe and I looked at Finn, and then each other while saying a silent prayer for all the couches and chairs we love at home.

Our docent continued, “He was objecting to American materialism and the tremendous value we place on owning things.”

Hmm. Okay. Not sure Raphael and we would hit it off.

However, the experience of ripping (no scissors) and brown taping (no clear tape or glue) and deconstructing to reimagine and create was… exhilarating.

We all worked silently for a while with our pristine white paper plates and cups devouring them with our fingers and imagination, kind of the way you would a sumptuous meal.

I don’t know if the objects felt their inner spirit being set free.

But I felt free, of me, of rules, of the way things are.