Good Leather

 

A little post for my birthday, which was — unlike the vast majority of material in this space, even the other birthday post— written today, on the day I post it.

The other day, a friend of mine reminded me of Gurdjieff’s comment, “I have good leather to sell, for those who wish to make shoes.”

Shoes, of course, are what we put on our feet, the lowest part of our body, in order to support our contact with the earth. They provide both support and protection from that contact, which, while absolutely necessary, can be rigorous and demanding. If one wants to travel the surface of the planet, shoes are a necessity. 

If we want to get through life, we need a good pair of shoes on our soul as well as our feet.

Leather, of course, is from the skin of another animal — gained through the suffering and death of another, and appropriated for our own use. We can obtain this either callously or with gratitude for the sacrifice that the other being made to provide this important material.

The allegory of the shoes reminds me of the paintings of Hieronymus Bosch, which for the greater part center around the travels of the wayfarer, a pilgrim or journeyman through life. Not only does he feature prominently in multiple paintings, he's also often present in the background of paintings, playing out tiny dramas that seem completely disconnected from the intense and complex symbolism of the foreground.

Yet each one of these images provides a thread that sews the theme of all the paintings together; the fabric is stitched, the pieces are connected, by the idea of moving through life, traversing a huge landscape, filled with extraordinary things, which are to be perceived as wonders and digested as facts at the same time. I say this because the paintings, as extraordinary and inexplicable as they seem to be, are indeed facts and present the fantastic right there in front of us as a fact, even if it seems to be a fantasy. 

There are sophisticated philosophical questions raised by this action which I believe the artist was well aware of when he undertook the paintings. The late medieval and early Renaissance mind was as acutely sophisticated and aware of irony as we are today; and Bosch knew irony, for sure. In the midst of his hells his humor always shines through. 

This, I think, is how we should be, as well.

Anyway, this is just a brief thought for readers. If you have a chance, browse through the extensive collection at the Bosch project site and look for the wanderers, all of whom need good shoes to wend their way through the incredible places that Bosch has created. If there were ever paintings of the holy planet purgatory, these are the paintings.

Wishing you all the best on this, my 66th birthday.

Lee