Andy Rolfes

For the best reasons in the world at the time, we weren’t allowed to fly up. But, despite the best reasons in the world, not being able to properly say goodbye to Granddad Rolfes remained a dull sting. There’s never really any getting used to losing someone, and it wouldn’t have been the first family funeral we’ve gone to. But the whole world was feeling the threat of painful death, so despite my own complaints, they felt meager in the grand scheme. Though my complaints grew quickly – almost at the same time, Grandma Foreman got hit with a cluster of strokes. She evened out, but after Granddad, we were on alert from then on.

As time marched forward, and focus shifted back to our collective situation, it seemed like everyone collectively found a great yearning for the greater outdoors. It was only natural – being in the cities meant near-constant anxiety whenever slipping out of your bunker to grab food or huddling outside of a restaurant for the rare moment of physical interaction. We got the small outdoors in the city parks, but the same thought kept echoing around town for what felt like years: “I gotta get out of the city. I need the great outdoors.”

Things again tumble on, forests are explored, quarantine opens up, and the slow explosion of lives colliding begins anew. It was a relief to be commissioned for a work to be shown at the Miami Nature Reserve, frankly, as it could be a moment to finally slow down and consider life. Especially as the email hit not long after we had celebrated, in person, what was expected to be Grandma Foreman’s last birthday.

Staring at the photos of the protected foliage, it felt likewise on the edge of flourishing and a slow diminishment. While locked away, nature flourished; now, we’re back to being as busy as ever and trying to keep this biome alive. It was pretty direct to see the comings and goings of Life at large and the self-sustaining push of the wheel of life. Now, with another grandparent close to passing while pouring over the biome, I don’t think there was anything other than seeing the wheel of nurture that continues with each generation. A strong tree rising high, providing much for its surroundings, and in its fall returns to feed the soil and those younger plants below.

I have long heard, whether actual or just folklore, that to be truly with nature is to appreciate the whole of a thing. The rotting fruit fades, but it was no less part of the tree, and no less part of the vibrancy of life.

There’s a bittersweetness in having to know, from experience, that the joys of a person stay alive with you beyond their moment. What they have provided will continue to nourish you for years to come, and during that time you too can nourish those who come next. That there’s life and love in and from being a salve for others, within the entropy.

I don’t remember their funerals that well because I remember their love too clearly.

About the Artist

Andy Rolfes is a New York-based visual artist and director focusing their practice on how the dichotomy between escapism and humanism plays out in the spaces between tech and physicality. Using performative and interactive toolsets alongside traditional methods, they work extensively across industries to build stills, animations, performances and interactive experiences. As an artist, Andy has worked with Lady Gaga, PC Music, Lincoln Center, Danny Elfman, MoMA, Adult Swim and many more.