My art is like a song, first in the distance, I hear it softly.
The tune catches a place in my heart and I feel it closer.
It goes from a few disconnected notes and keeps swelling.
I hear the song completely.
I see it in my mind.
I hear it in my heart.
It moves me in a dance, the flames of the torch, the softness of the fabric.
I see it, piece by piece, come together in my hands.
I recognize it as the notes I first heard in the distance.
A mixture of mediums is how my art is made.
It could be fibers, gently teased apart to become felt or ceramics fired in my kiln.
It could be precise sewing, either by hand or machine, each stitch evenly spaced.
Often it’s metal, cut and welded, manipulated and shaped by heat.
Sometimes it’s done in quiet meditation in comfort and seclusion.
Sometimes it’s in my welding shop, where it’s hot and gritty and I have to pay close attention because it is dangerous.
No matter which one of the mediums I am using I hear the music and I dance.
From my Blog
This town is the most intact that we have visited. Unlike the previous towns that were substantially bombed in WWII and since have rebuilt this town has the buildings that have lined these streets since the 1400's and 1500's. There is a pub in the street level of a hotel, which has operated as a pub since it was built in 1411. It has large doors that [...]
Today we are headed to the Residence Palace, originally built for one prince-bishop of the Schonbrunn family. While we have been in Europe we have learned that before the separation of church and state that bishops would become prince's thereby having their own wealth and that given to them by the church, taxing the people and controlling property. Before entering we have been warned that no backpacks [...]