Where does the sea end?

Roz Driscoll was 80 years old when she received her Odyssey, however her age was far from the only exceptional thing about her. She had dedicated her life, so far, to an expansive practice as a visual artist and poet, making ambitious and evocative sculptures with rawhide, publishing a highly-researched book about visual art that prioritizes touch rather than sight sensorially, as well as several books of spare and precise poetry. She also had a decades-long meditation practice and had moved through a deep inquiry about the tensions within Buddhist tradition and being an artist that pertained to ego and self-hood. Roz was a unique participant in that she had a tendency towards privacy, retreat, and remove, and choosing to embark on this Odyssey was a new edge where she sought out being more visible and known.

Roz had always had a deep love of the water and was fascinated with how the water cycle was related to various conditions and phases of her creative process. And so, we focused on making an Odyssey that would traverse the elemental landscape on the island of Zakynthos in Greece and serve as a wellspring for her own creative work. Using the phases of the water cycle as a guide for her experience, she explored the threshold of self and art through a series of experiences that asked her to dissolve the boundaries between identity, representation, & expression.

We began with groundwater. After spending the night in a treehouse in an olive grove, Roz was brought to a dusty hillside where she encountered six statuesque women standing silently atop six old wells. Each of them were labeled with roles Roz had been in her life: Artist, Maiden, Mother, Lover, Disciple, and Mentor. One by one, she was beckoned to sculpt them. From there, she journeyed deep into a series of caves and out to the sea where she kayaked and swam along the coast. Then, she climbed steadily up a cliff, beginning the phase of evaporation just as the salt water lifted off her skin. Each phase of the Odyssey was punctuated with a token from beloveds back home, each of whom had gifted her mirrors in various shapes, and an invitation to draw, to make art within the art we made for and around her.

As evening approached, she crossed paths with a group of people who were on their way to see an art exhibition, only to quickly realize that there was no installation to see, only her. Things began to condense quickly and she was brought to the ruins of an old stone building on the coast, where the gaze shifted from one of uncomfortable examination to affection. When she emerged, she found herself on a cliff overlooking the sea looking west towards the sunset with a group of dancers scattered amongst the scrub brush and rocks, each holding up a large mirror. As the sun lowered itself towards the horizon, the group moved on the hillside, reflections of the light, sea, sky, and team of artists all mingling together, occasionally folding in glimpses of Roz herself.

What will precipitate next? What form will the precipitation take?