Twine bowl

Dendrites

...Tea-dyed burlap fibers sewn into ropes and split at bottom. Wind resistence from the fan shaped the fibers as they dried.

Bowl

Bowl of twine

Number 9

When I was photographing this one, the image of Rodin's Balzac came to mind-- maybe because a friend mentioned the word "cloak" in reference to these sculptures.

Models

Some of the bottles I use as base-moulds for shaping the textile sculptures.

Number 8

To the light

Light jacket 7. Same piece, shot in indirect and direct sunlight. The transparency and opacity of the shell varies depending on the light.

Bird's nest

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.

In progress-Bird's Nest

Standing on it's own-- no gesso or stitches to hold it in place-- a first look at the sculptural possibilities of the textile on this bottle.

Light jacket 4

"The images of lightness that I seek should not fade away like dreams dissolved by the realities of present and future..." - Italo Calvino. "Lightness", Six Memos for the Next Millenium

Light jacket 3

Less burlap-- more light. Knotted button thread adds texture.

On lightness

"One should be light like a bird and not like a feather."
-Paul Valery

Light jackets

In my studio is an antique pie safe filled with old bottles of various shapes and sizes. On a whim I decided to try wrapping these in a "jacket" of of burlap and gauze, and then use gesso to set the cast.

A room with infinite views

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.

Sketches

Faces I

The architecture of my mind

I often think about the architecture of my mind, as described by the marks I make when I draw. Defined shapes, straight lines, marked points of intersection, net-like floating grids, seismographic scribbles, and rhythmic loops are elements that reveal shifts in energy, and the conflict and frustration that comes with that.

Like an automated slide show of incongruous ideas and feelings, the one constant is the inconstancy, the variability, the state of flux.

There is the desire to define location, gain a sense of orientation and direction, and most importantly, to determine a fixed point of reference.

Kind of like wishing upon my own North Star.

Rajj the rhino

Perspective construction

These are from an independent study course I wrote in architecture school. I was interested in learning to construct perspective drawings and had good fun designing the spaces, setting up the drawings, understanding shade and shadow, and finding my way through all the lines, (not to mention siting the Seagrams Building on a cliff.) With computer programs generating perspective projections, I suppose perspective drawing by hand is becoming something of a lost art.