Limning Liminal Contours

Take a minute — take ten, if you can spare them — and I’ll try to articulate, to rearticulate really, what I was beginning to poke at back on April 5, 2024 in a post I called “Tracing & Retracing“. It’s fair to say that my first foray was confused and confusing. I’m hoping today will be less so. I’m hoping today will offer a few building blocks, maybe even a foundation upon which to construct with some durable clarity a three dimensional map with which to navigate. I believe that limning liminal contours is part of that cartographic process.

“Make a drawing, begin it again, trace it, begin it again, and retrace it.” — Edgar Degas

Limning

Let’s start with the idea of limning. Etymologically related to illuminating, this fascinating verb contains several overlapping ideas including depicting or illustrating in an visual and/or artistic way; outlining something literally or figuratively in a vivid and defining way; and verbally recounting, narrating or reporting.

limn
1: to draw or paint on a surface The artist limned a portrait.
2: to outline in clear sharp detail : DELINEATE He was limned by a streetlight. — Stephen Coonts
3: DESCRIBE The novel limns the frontier life of the settlers.
(Source: Merriam-Webster)

To limn something is to begin bringing it into focus, defining the subject clearly and distinctly, drawing attention to it.

“I shall retrace the path of songs
already sung, and from them find
new music.” — Empedocles (translated by Eric Hoffman)

Liminal

I’ve often waxed wordy about liminal experiences and liminal space, but what does it really mean? I think of liminality as the boundary between stages during a transition. A liminal experience denotes a threshold crossing — or perhaps a threshold straddling — in which the interstitial state is especially relevant, possibly even enduring.

liminal
1: of, relating to, or situated at a sensory threshold : barely perceptible or capable of eliciting a response
2: of, relating to, or being an intermediate state, phase, or condition : IN-BETWEEN, TRANSITIONAL In the liminal state between life and death. — Deborah Jowitt
(Source: Merriam-Webster)

So… liminality is all about change. And liminal space is that interval when change actually happens.

“He is like a writer striving to attain the utmost precision of form, drafting and redrafting, canceling, advancing by endless recapitulation, never admitting that his work has reached its final stage.” — Paul Valéry on Edgar Degas (Source:  Edgar Degas: A Strange New Beauty, MoMA, Mar 26–Jul 24, 2016)

Contours

Of the three terms in the phase, “limning liminal contours”, I expect that this is the most universally understood.

contour
1: an outline especially of a curving or irregular figure : SHAPE The sleek contours of the car. OR The map shows the contour of the coastline. (Also : the line representing this outline)
2: the general form or structure of something : CHARACTERISTIC The contours of a melody. OR The contours of political and social theories. — James G. Paradis
(Source: Merriam-Webster)

I think it’s the first of these two definitions that probably comes to mind for most people. But the second usage is common as well. I consider both relevant here. In fact, that’s true for all three of the words I’ve define.

Limning Liminal Contours

What am I getting after? The notion of limning liminal contours refers to describing (maybe even illustrating albeit sketchily or preliminarily) the characteristics of an in-process transition. And, in my case, not only the transitional in-betweenness itself, but also the space(s) within which this change occurs. And, yes, let’s amplify this idea fully to include physical as well as conceptual and metaphorical contexts.

In terms of Rosslyn’s icehouse rehabilitation, we spent enormous time considering and brainstorming and troubleshooting the diminutive spatial environment. The volumes, relationships between volumes, visual and functional porosity within the structure as well as between the interior and exterior of the structure all are defined in large part by transitional elements like doorways and windows, stairways and railings, staircase landing, deck and landscape levels, and the vestibule. So, from the perspective of design and architecture, limning the liminal contours of the icehouse as an environment and an experience was essential in order to maximize the functional and aesthetic experience and to minimize the inevitable challenges and limitation of such a small building.

In terms of leaving Manhattan behind two decades ago and moving the the Adirondack Coast, Susan and I were limning liminal contours of a new chapter in our life each time we tried to explain to our parents and our friends why it all made sense. Why buying a tumbledown home, two actually (first the Lapine House in 2005 and then Rosslyn in 2006), was a logical and reasonable. We were both undergoing sweeping transformations individually and together. We were embracing a new life as husband and wife, and we were walking away from familiar and reliable living environment and occupations to reimagine and reinvent and reboot… but without a particularly clear path forward. More than anything we we leaping into an all consuming adventure, gambling everything we had, and trusting that our love for each other (and some old buildings on the shores of Lake Champlain) would guide us forward.

There was also a profound but peculiar psychological element the the liminality we were navigating in those early years. Susan’s father and one of my closest friends had passed away. Somehow these seismic losses catalyzed in me a new clarity and confidence about my relationship with Susan and about somewhat difficult to articulate but profoundly magnetic homing instinct I was experiencing drawing me to the Adirondacks, the Champlain Valley, and — although I didn’t initially realize this — The Farm my parents had renovated in Upstate New York in the early years of their marriage. Much of this website has been a prolonged attempt to limn liminal contours of these many shining frontiers and motivations.

And this brings me to the creative writing and the artistic expression that comprises this sprawling online environment I call Rosslyn Redux. Whether storytelling or poetry, photography or sketches, artifact curation or theatrical performance, I’ve been exploring the blurry borders of creativity, experimenting with the insights affording by each while pushing the limits until sometimes, often, I stumble. I’m confident that limning the liminal contours of this adventure through multimodal means (from creative nonfiction, both prose and poetry, to visual, conceptual, and performance art) will eventually — hopefully soon! — reveal a path forward. I will discover how to present this story. And I will be able to let go and move on.

I’ve pushed this post far enough. And your patience too. Thank you!