I first saw two of George’s stone sculptures at a gallery in Chelsea, accompanied by a warning to stand back, so as not to inadvertently topple the rocks. George, you see, has invented the art of balancing two rocks (and sometimes three).
Many of them look impossible – and indeed, in this age of ubiquitous trick photography, one must accept on faith the assertion that all of them are really balancing, without glue or invisible fishing tackle – or simply Photoshop! But this element of trust, in the photographs, is key to the art Quasha has developed. There is trust all around: between the stones, between George and the stones, between us and George. The universe is predicated on trust; that’s one of the ideas of this “inanimate tai chi.”
The sculptures look like other items: Etruscan gods, skulls of horses, anvils, big teeth, Marcel Duchamp. Most of them are accompanied by a brief punctuationless sentences, such as:
to wake one stone wears another
As with cooking, ingredients are key. George finds memorable stones, usually by rivers, often with his wife or friends. (There are extensive notes by George throughout the text.) Also, as with cooking, a lot of time is necessary. George must find the “balancing point” of these earthly weights. It’s a meditation, plus a Pointless Practice. George backed up into an artform, while pursuing an obsession – or maybe a “game”?