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Years ago, my father had heart surgery. My mother and I sat in the waiting room together for hours, silent. It was nothing like you see on TV. There was no praying, no crying, no holding hands. No nervous pacing with coffee from a machine in the corner. We simply sat there, numb, suspended in a space where emotion isn’t really possible. When the surgeon finally came in, he spoke two words that in a different kind of atmosphere would carry a very different weight: Everything’s fine. In everyday conversation, those words are so light, so airy, so devoid of real consequence, that they barely register. But in that room, on that day, every syllable carried unimaginable heft. “Relief is not a weight lifted from your shoulders,” I wrote in the notebook that had been sitting untouched in my lap. “It is a force that pins you firmly back to earth.”
I could describe the rest of my time with Sprecher but it would be doing a disservice both to him and to you. He is one of those rare artists whose work stands brilliantly on its own and adopts infinite new dimensions when described by its maker. Fortunately Sprecher will be on hand for the closing party of “Anchors” at Peanut Gallery tomorrow (Fri 11/15, 6-10 PM). Take the opportunity to experience the reality Sprecher has created beneath the weight of his words.
