clay

The mess of clay brings me back to my childhood, country play, hours digging in the earth. There is great satisfaction of filth beneath one’s nails after a day well spent rolling in grass, scraping up loam, building—all under a fresh pale blue sky in early summer.

The practice of throwing clay is an ongoing journey, and one I’m just dipping in to. I leaned toward clay in order to sculpt. Working in fabric is meditative and rewarding, but I wanted to push beyond the craft of needle and thread, juxtaposing soft materials with hard. Always I’m thinking of new juxtapositions, of nature, of man-made materials, and the woman-made.

It’s nice to learn new skills. These plates were made by molding clay, and were kind of a toss off for me. But, after a few dips in glaze, voila! I find these two friends.

Musings on a snap piece

This piece is one of a series using snaps, cotton thread and hand-laid cotton paper; I donated to an auction on behalf of my daughter. Each December pointe and contemporary dancers wear white and red robes and perform in a vespers service at her school. The dance, energy of the girls and the emotional power of their performance inspired me to make this particular piece.

I like that snaps—seemingly insignificant objects—are a perfect design in form and function.  Although tiny and useless in parts, they have the monumental task of holding substantial things together.  They are strong.  They are beautiful and marvelous.

Strung around on paper, the snaps reference movement and space.  They offer a strange suggestion of time.  What are they doing there on the paper?

How does the unpredictable use of a material bring assumptions into a new story?  It’s a challenge to take such an object, loosen it from the original intention and preconceived boundaries, and to consider it anew.

Snaps, string and paper are things we hardly take notice of, but use every day to hold almost everything together, for body and mind.  What if the snap becomes the object, and the thread is set free?  The snap waits, suspended, for its partner. The string is now the quiet mechanism of action.  The two have new conversations, new references.  A cardinal darting through space and over the snow.  Dancers, moving across the stage.

Which brings me back to this particular piece, inspired by our girls dancing at Vespers.  The girls dance, each spellbound in her own exhilarated pitch of movement, all lost in a marvelous dream; together they become Art.

Looking with wonder, asking visual questions and creating tactile juxtapositions encourage the mind to ponder larger ideas.  Art, we hope, inspires the viewer to look a little longer, think a little deeper, and feel a little more connected to our world.

waiting for the snow

I’m waiting for the snow to fall

in between painting and catching the sky.

Bluejays dart here and there.

My coffee is hot.

I’ve listened to Greta Van Fleet’s Flower Power three times, volume way up.

I’m thinking of the two vintage nightgowns

and Emily Dickinson,

bracelets of invisible words are her halo.

Song birds weave paths of blue velvet ribbon through the branches.

The trees reach up, limbs expectant.

The breath of it all is a prayer.

wake up

The white sky falls, 

heaping itself on branch

and roof

and ground.

Water's frosty weight is but cold cover for the musings below,

too temporary for quite forgetting, 

too heavy for quiet remembering.

Soaring he

beats heart red

life-full

in winged fury.

Echoes float, urging up green below.

The day is here.  Singing.