Can you see the bird’s nest up high in the tree to the left? (and yes, that’s snow falling…)
I feel like I’m experiencing “empty nest”. Hmmmm, sounds like emptiness. Similar actually. It’s the oddest feeling that comes on when the art work is done. All this time, months and months there has been this relationship: first the preparation – setting up the frames, stretching the silk, soaking the soy milk, prepping the cloth, dyeing the colors, then tearing them into squares, arranging and sewing. All that sounds kind of matter-of-fact, dull, right? What kind of relationship is that?
What’s missing in that list is the intrigue. The dynamism. The choosing just the precise colors, the trial and error of getting them, and then – how they are put together, how they interact, how they work with what’s next to them – before actually seeing if any of the colors I saw on the frames work when they are hung in the light. And, as each part evolves, whether it works with the whole… and that’s just the beginning. What looks right at night, “my god, how could that be?” in the morning. It now needs a totally new color. That needs to be eliminated. Zeroing in, then pulling back. Adding and subtracting, reversing. Moving, dancing with it. Partners. All of it soo soooo sooooo much fun.
It’s immersion, day in and day out.
Now the piece is standing on its own. Or is it moving on its own? It’s ready to leave the nest. And, I’m done with the dialogue of creating.
Soon the piece goes out into the world. Interacts with new viewers. Empty nest here, but hopefully it will move others, dance with others.
