reaching out

installation by Andrew Wright

Installation art hasn't really sparked much interest in me, but this did. There's something disturbing to me about the hands reaching out. I imagine running my hands across their fingertips, not allowing them to grasp my hand, and I imagine that it would feel like cold, fleshy stubs, writhing, wriggling, feeling like thick worm heads, longing to be held by warmth. Then, another scenario...teasing the hands I pass by making contact with the length of fingers, with palms, maybe holding hands every now and then. What would I feel? Caresses, fingers tickling my palm, a flick, a pinch, a clap.

Most disturbing would be desperate clutches at my hand. I would feel an urgent cry for help that comes from a mouthless, body-less being. It has nothing but two hands that need to express and to be understood. I try understanding, asking questions, but these don't help. They can't hear! They communicate with touch and gesture and nothing more. The hands create various languages but I can't understand. Soon, the grasp is one of angry frustration. Scared, I wrest my hand free. I look back and it still signals for me. I can't help. What am I leaving behind? From what does it need to be freed?

For more info on this artist, visit this site.