After
our discussion the other day, it seems that at least some of you would like to know more about what happens behind the green curtain - and want to know about the spark (or fire!) that gets me started.
Although one person said that they'd prefer it if that explication were a "few short sentences", that's not how I roll. These entries will be word-heavy*, so get yourself a cup of coffee and settle in, or move along! ;)
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As I may have mentioned here before (and if not here it is) - generally, I work concurrently on two, sometimes three pieces.
I've found this method works well for me because I almost always have two or three pieces sitting here (points to a spot between my eyebrows), and quite heavily too! Often, it's very hard to think about anything else and I get quite cranky if they sit there for a long time without being made. (Yet another way in which BSP et all suffer!)
Of the things that hunch on my forehead, one is the piece I'm working on, and the other one or two are the ones that are clamouring to GET OUT. (Read that in an Amityville Horror voice.)
That doesn't mean that I only have two or three ideas at a time, on the contrary, I have hundreds of potential pieces in notes and sketches (almost all of which will never be made); but it does mean that they're the loudest at that particular time.
So while one is curing or drying, I work on the other, and vice versa. Usually I can only do two in this way, otherwise I lose focus, but I have, on occasion, done three. (The third has always been an abstract when that happens though.)
Side note: when I was working on the mermaid for the City Waterfront Gallery in Charleston, one that's currently clamouring was in fact, yelling at me REALLY LOUDLY and I think that's why it was so hard for me to work on the mermaid, and why it turned out so bland-o-rama.
So that was a really good lesson learned for me. Although it was immensely flattering to be asked by the curator to create a piece for the show, and I jumped at the chance to be in a gallery - if it's not something that I can get behind - I need to say:
Because I hate, (HATE!!!!!!!!) that that mermaid is out there, hanging in a gallery (!!!!!) as a representation of my work.
(As for the piece that was clamouring - I'm currently waiting to hear from the family about whether it's okay for me to use her as a subject, so though it still wants to get out, it has to be patient.)
NOW TO THE POINT OF THIS POST (lol)
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Thirty-five years ago, as a teenager, I wrote a play called
The Chair By The Window; the titular chair in the title a metaphor for the complex
mix of love, loss, and betrayal that comprised my relationship with my mother.
The play won an award, and was mounted by The Sears Festival, (does The Sears
Festival even exist any more or was it a local thing? ETA: It was and it
does!)
Then, twenty years ago, as young mother, I found myself writing
the piece again in the form of an unpublished novel (oddly, and against my will, it was from my mother's perspective) and that too, was called The Chair By The Window.
In March, after the intial weeks of shock and
numbness wore off after my mother's passing, I felt a strong need to talk about our
relationship again, but this time through cloth.
And of course, it was that damn chair again! I had intended to make a physical
representation of it (I can absolutely see it whole on the design wall in my head); and I've made
sketches, written notes, gathered inspirational images and created it in my mind
again and again.
That piece was what I had intended to work on concurrently with the one I've been talking about these last couple of weeks, but every time I tried to do more than what I have already done, even if it was just gathering fabric to audition, I'd end up turning off the light and leaving the studio.
It seems I don't yet have the
emotional distance from her death that I need to bring it to life at the
moment, so the one I'm currently working on has been solo work.
But, I've had another one in mind that has been percolating for at least a year, about an aspect of my (equally complex) relationship
with my father.
It involves a man's dress shirt - and
really - that's the whole of it - the image I've been carrying in my head for this last year or
so - a man's dress shirt, worn, slightly rumpled - the kind your kindergarten
teacher asks your mother for, so that you can wear it in art class to protect
you your clothes. But I haven't known what to do with that shirt.
The other night, I woke from a dream about another piece (that's now yelling at me), so I clicked on my night light and scribbled it down in the notebook I keep on my bedside table.
But when I was done that, I started writing about "the shirt" - and suddenly, there it was - whole, in my head.
I'll be starting construction this weekend I think, so next week I'll continue to show you progress on the one we've been talking about these last two weeks and I'll also talk about the shirt piece.
Okay? Okay.**
See you tomorrow with some buildings!
* I'll label these word heavy posts "behind the green curtain" so if it's not your thing, if you see that label, you can just scroll on by. :)
** And if you find it confusing or annoying to have me talk about one thing and illustrate another, feel free to let me know, and I'll change how I go about sharing that process - like maybe do a start to finish on one piece, regardless of the fact that two are on the go, or do a week of one, then a week of the other.
Something like that, it's all fluid right now, so whatevs.
On diamo!
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