ah, the assembly line feel of of taking a step by step approach to major jewelry production. how i love it. not. this step, the one in which i take all of my small silver bezel forms and find my own images (limited, now that i've lost all of my computer files, mind you), cut them to miniscule size and secure them, then fill with resin and wait, wait, wait for the resin to cure overnight - watching for the ever errant bubble to form, to rise, to stubbornly stay unless i forcibly remove it - i hate this stage. i do.
but oh, the fun the day after when i have before me like a tray full of hard candies all of the little pretties, shiny and ready to be made into a story in jewelry form! this part i like, i truly do. i'm trying desperately to get ready for art and soul, coming up this weekend in virginia, so i worked through the weekend sitting at the big windows looking out to the mountains and forest beyond my front deck; it wasn't as bad to be hunched over a table, nose and eyes and hands concentrated on the spread before me, when i could glance up and out, from time to time, to see an occasional hawk, the resident phoebe, a fussing wren, a scattering (or "murder") of crows. spending day in, day out, day after day, working like this with my hands, eyes, heart takes its toll on my body and mind: come nightfall, i'm bleary eyed, addle-brained, and my poor aching arthritic hands can hardly hold the book i'm trying to read in bed. is the work worth it? yes. am i rewarded? truly. some words of rumi come to mind as i write this, and i'm reminded of a favorite journal page i designed back in 2002 (thank you, o thank you again LK, for your wonderful gift so long ago of the rag and bone journals xo):
Your grief for what you've lost lifts a mirror
up to where you're bravely working.
Expecting the worst, you look, and instead,
here's the joyful face you've been wanting to see.
Your hand opens and closes and opens and closes.
if it were always a fist or always stretched open,
you would be paralyzed.
Your deepest presence is in every small contracting
The two as beautifully balanced and coordinated
taking out my journals, pulling them down from the dusty shelf, has made me realize how very much i miss the act of keeping a private journal; having been over-committed to a couple of large collaborations for going on two years now, the act of pulling out a journal - someone else's - and making art in it has become more of a chore, an obligation, than a pleasure, and that is a crying shame. i need to get back to my own artwork, my own musing, simply for the fact that i can pull the books off of my shelves years from now and see just where my mind and spirit and artistic endeavors were at that particular point in my life...
for now, the endeavors rest solely in teaching and in creating art to be worn as orna- mentation for the body. this brings me pleasure as well, in spite of the fact that i don't get to store them on bookshelves and pull them out for musing in the wee hours of the night. as usual, my work is centered of late on birds, birds, and birds. nests, eggs, twigs, branches, sky, clouds, wind that blows gently, the grasses that are greener now with spring. see? (you may click on the jewelry photos for detail). they make me feel better, these pieces of spring worked from silver and paper and wire, these images from nature that come from outside my window and onto my worktable, to go back out into the world again and be worn around necks and dangling from the ears of the likes of someone such as you...
mr. and ms. phoebe of firefly road, north carolina, are proud to announce the brand new arrival of their five "beautiful" babies, born april 30, 2007. mother, father and grandmother nina are ecstatic.