Getting there through twists and turns.
The three dimensional piece below started with an image in my head of something going vertical. Arm, head, neck. Branch? And then where? The face — a take on the comedy/tragedy masks. An idea that hadn’t found it’s place became the face of Tree Spirit watching from below the birdhouse.
The root, fungus and pheromone system of connection and communication that trees use felt like a universal truth. The tiny vibrating networks of string twisting and turning are actually mycorrhizal fungi creating a network for tree communication in exchange for vital sugar.
A feeling of everything not really being separated from everything else, one color connecting to another. Light wrapping around, bouncing off, refracting and slipping thru feels like a connection to everything and yet leaves me feeling like I’m about to slip away.
Find the subject of the sentence.
An idea that took time to realize suddenly bursts into a light in my mind.
My wonderful obssesion of finding the form does not rely on finding it hidden in granite. Rather, for me, form is air with light. Light with air. Color. The twists and turns find inevitable conclussion.
Under the Drink a sculpted table. Fabulous beasts and creatures below the surface, sitting on worlds.
Fanciful ideas betraying a darkness.
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