is granted to the less talented as a consolation prize.
I must be a very good artist then. Doubt is a constant companion.
Working night and day on the town Chamber of Commerce brochure... it was scheduled to be finished two weeks ago, but a series of glitches has made it difficult. I'm on the home stretch, finally. It's become fun. That means I'm close to finished.
When my #2 brother heard that Jim & I had joined the chamber he practically fell on the sidewalk laughing. "Do they know about you?", he asked. Hmmm... probably not. Fortunately Brandon's Chamber is progressive and inclusive, and appreciative of what the arts have done for this community. We all work hard.
I'm also intensely in the process of adding color to Bird Dog, who is also two weeks late.
First name Bird, last name Dog.
Hard to decide on what to do with the bird. Blue is appealing, but seems too much of a contrast... it might be jarring and demand too much attention. Blue has been calling out to me though. The dog wants some blue.
This weekend we had a group of antique Citroen drivers tour the Granary. They were invited by Chef Robert Barral, the creative genius in our beloved Cafe Provence. Chef Robert drives a red Citroen. The cars were lovely, sculptural. They were from Quebec, NYC, Boston etc. It was interesting, but a distraction. Too much talk when I am in need of quiet.
It does not matter how slowly you go so long as you do not stop. -Confucious
That's a good thing, since trudging is my current pace, despite intentions to the contrary.
I found an interesting site of quotations: http://quote.robertgenn.com/
Art is about transformation. - Christo
Preparing for my intro to studio class @ Castleton, I just previewed a video about Christo wrapping the Pont Neuf in the early 80's. So interesting to read about his early development, and the political process he had to go through to bring his dream to fruition. Darned handy to have a father-in-law who is a General and a cohort of De Gaulle. Privileged connections help. Money too. But there is no denying his original, vibrant talent. Such sensitivity in the work, which his wife refers to as "roman detectif"... I don't know if that's spelled correctly, but she refers to his portrait work dismissively as "police novels." Entertainment.
Informative to follow his tenacious, dynamic development through the years. The passion it took to persevere is impressive, but he always has a little coyote smile on his face in the video. A lucky man, who knows how lucky he is to be able to pursue his passion. The triumphant trickster.
Transformation... to change, to alter, to reinvent...
On-line dictionary definitions of the word are quite dry and uninteresting...
To me the word connotes magic. Cinderella and the magic beanstalk... wait... she was the pumpkin chick.
Here I am two years ago standing beneath his Central Park Gates walk way in an unexpectedly matching jacket. I should always try to wear clothing that matches the art I am about to experience.
Today I would have worn clothes the color of mud, sticks and the strange hues of epoxy and fiberglass that I'm using on Bird Dog. I am transforming the fiberglass shape that was delivered to me into a real dog. Just like Pinochio. Maybe that should be his name... No, Bird Dog works well.
No more additions, other than color. Enough is enough, because it actually is ENOUGH. Is that somewhat like a rose is a rose is a rose?
I am intrigued by the possibilities of the medium of fiberglass... Additive, yet adaptable and workable; extremely durable in all sorts of weather. Unlike my clay pieces which are sparring like glaciers in the flowerbeds. The lower fired ones. The higher fired ones are intact.
However, I must invest in a good vapor barrier mask. The particulate mask is good, but inadequate. Something like what Darth Vader wore might be effective.
But can I sing with it on?
"Artists have no choice but to express their lives. They have only . . . a choice of process. This process does not change the essential content of their work in art, which can only be their life." - Anne Truitt
My work and sensibility is very different from Anne Truitt's, but I have always yearned for her serenity. Her writings have given me clarity, direction and validation over the years.
Bird Dog grows... aided by a creature who craves the light of the sun, yet shields herself from it. Here I am grinding the fiberglass wings. An interesting medium... So much more durable than clay sculpture. I would need a huge well ventilated studio to do what I envision with it.
"Where you really see life energy, there's consciousness." Joseph Campbell
This quote was chosen a week ago, but today the world is different yet again. 32 young and hopeful students were murdered in Virginia yesterday in a bizarre and senseless act of violence. One individual should not have that power; should not be able to act on a destructive whim to inflict such horrific damage.
Cornell's simple quote is telling, yet my reeling awareness of the situation asks the question: what sort of damaged consciousness would enact such harm? What sort of injury merited such brutal revenge? I'm looking for reasons, as if the world made sense.
How sad, nothing but horribly sad. The dead, the survivors, the families, the institution, the nation. And the issue of nationality... that he was a South Korean, and among the dead were two professors: a Romanian Israeli and an Indian-American. Here in this melting pot, where the chances aren't equal, but nevertheless exist, a young man who presumably came here for opportunity detonated his own. I worry.
And here in our quiet little Vermont the world is a little different as well. Yesterday a storm of historic intensity tore over the Green Mountains into the meandering glacial valley of Otter Creek, wreaking another sort of havoc and devastation. Power lines dangle, green houses are shredded, immense, ancient maples and pines uprooted from the soggy earth. All the while an eerie rainbow hung over the western horizon, shimmering and lovely. Our home is just over the last lingering ridge of the northernmost Taconics, and so we were spared, but Brandon is still without power.
Because in the human spirit hope springs eternal, it is heartening to hear all of the PR about global warming and the environment. Thank you Al Gore, and the Academy Awards. Those of us who labored to build awareness 15 years ago were throwing stones at the Goliaths of the American and global oil cartel. Their pedestal and power base are shattered and crumbling, but we've lost so much time.
Bird Dog now has lovely wings, and a stick in it's mouth. The stick has a nest and a bird perched on the nest. Completely whimsical and silly. Comic relief. Far too much inhalation of fiberglass fumes. But I am inspired to do more, to explore the medium and the possibilities of durable additive form.
