Lignum Pisces Deserti: a Grouper Fish Disguised as Petrified Desert Wood

 

 

 

A friend of mine describes my interest in hiking in the desert as “walking in a place where one can close his eyes and still see and fell the surrounding with his feet.” Well, I have enjoyed those walks for more than a decade now and have to admit that sometimes what I feel with my feet are to be worried about. So, keeping one’s eyes open can keep you away from snakes, red ants and scorpions, as well as prevent tripping on a rock.

So I keep my eyes open because I believe that what I see is quite amazing, since the High Desert of Arizona is not the desert one finds in Saudi Arabia or Morocco. The trees and brush are home to large and small animals and birds, and after a few days of rain, parts of that desert looks like a golf course. Not for long, but I sure enjoy being there after the heavy rain season and the snow, for about two months a year.

… A few days ago I stumbled on a small petrified wood piece. When I looked down, I saw a grouper fish looking at me with its mouth open, its body buried in the sand. I decided to bring it home with me.

Here is what I saw, and I know that for most people it looks like just a piece of wood:

 

Yet, what I saw reminded me of a grouper as in this photo:

 

How about now? Are the right eye socket and the “typical” grouper lips more apparent?

 

If not, perhaps a slight touch up with water colour would prove that I was not suffering from heat and sun stroke…

 

Ok, I have to admit that I often use what would soon turn to dust in the desert for my artistic curiosity and explorations. I see a shape, texture or “attitude” that my brain immediately translates into an expression I can amplify or transform. So, I decided to pursue that transformation into a “desert grouper fish.” In fact, I have attempted this before, although I ended up with the creation of a new species of fish. (https://vaheark.blogspot.com/2021/05/dicotylederm-erratus-prehistoric-fish.html )

This time, I wanted to keep things simple, except to add a dorsal fin using the dried endoskeleton of a dead Prickly Pear cactus, which is indigenous to the Southwestern desertic and arid areas.

Here is a photo of that cactus:

 

And one of a dead cactus showing its dried endoskeleton:

 

A word about that fibrous structure. First, it is amazingly delicate yet very strong. It can survive the desert heat, the wind and the abrasiveness of the moving sand during storms. It is also amazingly intricate and symmetrical in its shapes making it a natural material local artist use by dipping segments of the dried endoskeleton in liquid resin and melted silver. I have seen the most intricate details of the result by Native American jewelers as pendants and earrings.

Here are a few small pieces of that fibrous skeleton shown with a portrait photo I made as backdrop, to add an artistic touch:

The finished work is shown at the top of the page with a small segment of the cactus skeleton as the grouper’s dorsal fin.

 

My artistic exploration aside photography remain what I see as “recycling metamorphosis” since I use organic materials to paint upon or sculpt. What attracts me to such a selection is that any project at its very start is a collaboration between the materials I use and my interpretation of what they already are. My painting canvas is a wild desert rabbit or hare skin not a plain and impersonal man-made perfectly flat and white canvas. I sculpt using petrified wood and sun-bleached animal skulls I encounter during my walks, not bronze or clay. In some way, what I see is a akin to a Rorschach ink blot – it tests my optic and predisposition of the moment and leads to the transformations I pursue.

And to illustrate the point, as I took pictures of my desert grouper fish which I now call “Lignum Pisces Deserti “I noticed that its tail was in the perfect shape of a coyote’s head! Here is that angle of view showing the coyote’s head with perfect ears, a snout with a pointed nose, and a half open mouth:

 

How appropriate for a desert motif!

 

November 3, 2024

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2024