I used to say that sometimes a work of Art will be born as a burp, and that meant that it had no place in the spectrum of my current work. These works of Art are too different from ones that came before or after them. A wild child. Projectile vomiting.
When making art with stitches years ago (as seen in the insert on my masthead), I lusted over simple, calligraphic work. It seemed my stitched work was way overdone, and the truth was that each piece took FOREVER to create.
In “Shield” above we see where my work is currently. I am heading towards making a piece that might be described as calligraphic. But not quite yet. There is detail in the piece that might not need to be included. Currently on my workbench is a piece with just four parts of a chair, reworked. If that chair finishes as a winner, maybe the c term can be used.
And that’s how artists work; on a continuum. You make a piece, finish it, and then ask “What if?” For me, the process goes—ooh, I like that part, what if I can make it do this in the next piece? But do it better?
And also I like to think of a piece of work as a poem. Nothing unnecessary is used. The form is stated in its essence.
Above is the back of “Shield”. It is quite different from the first side. I like that to happen too, and as I sit and write this, it occurs to me that if my work were to get more calligraphic, there would be less of the contrast of two or more sides going on in the piece. Hmmmm.
So here is my burp. What the hell am I doing? Is this lush or what? I like the repeat of the swirly shapes, I love the aluminum screen porch door elements. But there is a lot going on here.
This is not like a poem. It is like an orchestra. It satisfies my textile sensibility only in wood. But should I want a textile sensibility in wood and aluminum?