A Differrent Perspective

This is a sculpture from many years ago...done at a time when life was all about the body dancing. I also sculpted the dance. This figure expresses - by kneeling and curving her arms around her head - something I was currently going through.

A few days ago, not having taken many photographs for that day, I decided to take one inside at night. So I placed this old sculpture on a piece of black cardboard on my drawing table and used the existing light which swings over the table. I liked the broken patterns of shadow and light, especially from above...as the figure that was so familiar became something else. It made me want to look, and to think about why my mind was attracted and my heart was calmed.

Seeing it later on my computer screen, I see something broken but beautiful. Something changing into something I cannot see clearly yet. But I like it even in its not there phase.
Perhaps because it is showing me my present existence.

Recently, my long happy sojourn at the Shearwater annex decorating pottery was interrupted, and I have felt broken and sad ever since. Not constantly; I have carried on with life, even had beautiful and insightful moments...comforting moments that eased my heart until the next time sadness brought tears to my eyes. My life appears to have returned to its solitude...regardless of loving family and friends, including a few blip friends that I already cherish. They do help...

Looking at the sculpture; bisque fired clay speaking of mysterious potential, I am forced to be honest with myself. Yes, I was happy with the camaraderie realized at the annex, but I was also becoming just a bit restless with decorating the shapes available to me. I was itching a bit to return to sculpting my own shapes and evolving these to include incising and colored glazes. I had even, nervously, purchased a small kiln and begun a sculpture which I barely had time and energy to work on. Now I have time. I may miss creating with comrades. I may sometimes feel lonely and not quite able to face my solitary work. I may not be there yet, but I am almost ready to believe that now is OK.