Monday, August 17, 2009

the poetry of process

holding the wool and silk in my hands
scrunching and folding
repeating over and over again
fingers inspired by the materials
look at the lovely essence of the silk
dancing together with wool
like Isadora Duncan
on stage
many tiny steps
until it is finished, complete

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

complexity of life

One strives for simplicity, but often times has to deal with the complexity, the mess, the disorder that arises while one is searching for order. Cleaning out the studio, I feel like a bouncer at a night club- you, not you- are the decisions I have to make. Striving for perfection, there are little murky puddle areas along the way one has to contend with. What was I thinking? what am I striving for? Does the artwork come from within, or from some preconceived notion, a vision dancing like sugar plums in my head? I see it , envision it, way before it can come to fruition. Making pottery is like the birthing process, pots come through the wheel from some mysterious place, sometimes with their own will, other times mildly related to an idea I had. Keep going, cleaning up, honing the vision, perfecting. All in the stream of consciousness. Ta da..,