Hands

Human hands are tools unique to our species. Hands build and sooth, can be used to harm or heal, and can communicate a novel of feeling in the most subtle of gestures. I’ve been thinking about hands as they relate to art, making, and the sacred. From the intricate mudras of India to the stern benediction of Russian icons and welcoming palms of ancient goddesses, hands are often indicators of the soul. Hands produce the art that illustrate these iconic gestures. When many hands create a single object how does that affect the makers? When we place our palm against another it symbolizes an act of trust. When an artist creates they can touch their work millions of times, tenderly in reverence or perhaps gracelessly in frustration. How does this translate to the observer? If we could watch Leonardo paint the Mona Lisa would that change our perception of her smile? I often think of my grandmother’s hands, soft, skin thinned by age, yet calloused from years of domestic labor and adorned with silver charms collected over decades that I would carefully sort just for the chance to hold her hand in mine.