Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Look and leave.
Then look again, and on second, third and fourth returning slowly,
something emerges-- a glimmer of the exceptional and peculiar; a glitch, a shape, a spark of recognition.
Beauty takes time, and with each new glance what is beautiful is redefined layer by time-elapsed layer, re-presented on its own terms, evoking a new way of seeing, of being.
Beauty is progression in the mind and life of the beholder.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Friday, February 6, 2009
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Light jacket 6. This is the bottom part of the textile used on the green bottle (see post below). It was starting to look like a bird's nest, so I cut the top of the textile and let it slump to the center. I'm finding I prefer using lots of gesso. It lends a grittiness that contrasts with the softness of the fibers, and keeps the cheese cloth from having a cotton candy-like quality.
Tea-dyed burlap fiber, cotton cheesecloth, knotted button thread, various scrap threads from previous projects, gesso.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Friday, January 23, 2009
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Thursday, January 8, 2009
This is where I work. It used to be a kitchen, which is perfect because what I do here feels very much like what I do when I'm cooking-- learning by doing, and making things from what I've learned. It's a small space (7' x 11'). In it is a card table, a straight back chair, a fan for drying paint, and my favorite arm chair facing the window. I sit in my chair and dream and sketch, looking up into a huge old oak. The branches, like my thoughts, are dendritic, infinitely splitting and reaching for the sky.
I feel extremely fortunate to have such a view, but I wouldn't say that my imagination is dependent upon a tree.
To do good work you don't need a big space, a lot of gear, or a view. In general I find I do better work with less-- less money, easily available and fewer materials. Against the absence of stuff, my mind is thrown into relief. I learn more, my explorations go deeper. There is no interruption in the flow of ideas, no stopping to switch between different techniques and media, between facilitating and creating. My thoughts are disparate enough in themselves. Using fewer things allows me to express my ideas fluidly.
What you do need is a place that is yours, a little space, time, and silence-- like Virginia Woolf says, a room of one's own -- a place where you can dream and do, taking the threads of your unconscious and making them into something real.
And ultimately, if you think about it, the most important room you will always have is the one you have in your mind--- a room unbounded by walls, a room with infinite views.