I suppose when I think about it..it makes perfectly good sense.
Line. Shape. Form. Color. Balance. Order.
Trained as an architect – I often think of myself as a one who has been condemned to a life of visual dissatisfaction. A constant need to arrange and re-arrange..to make order out of disorder..to create aesthetically pleasing and balanced space. A never-ending quest for that perfect orchestration of individual elements that when combined together create symphonic harmonies.
It’s almost visceral. A physical feeling that comes from within. When it’s right..it’s so very right. A static ballet. Every object planned and placed so as to balance out another.
It’s that time of year. To pause. To reflect. To look back at what was..and look forward as to what this next year might be. It’s been a year of change..of stretching and growing in ways and directions I never would have imagined. Old shoes..sitting idly..waiting to be worn again. New ones..to try on and wear. The titles ‘daughter’..’mother’…’sister’…’wife’ and ‘friend’. Still hold true. ‘Architect’…’swimmer’…’yogini’..and ‘dog-lover’. All mine to own. And with a recent invitation to be represented by a gallery – I am trying on new shoes. Big ones. These ones entitled ‘artist’.
Without any credentials..experience or higher academic degrees – I find myself wondering how it is that I’m going to fill such great big new shoes. What is an ‘artist’? What are the requirements? How is it that I’m supposed to ‘be’??
The dictionaries say: An ‘artist’ is one who creates art…whose creative work shows sensitivity and imagination…who is a follower of a pursuit in which skill comes by study or practice.
And I say back: Is that really me?
Never have I been one to make New Year’s resolutions..to use that defining moment as one to institute change. For me – those kinds of absolutions are bound to fail. Change happens when it’s ready. When I’m ready to take that leap. To jump. To fall. To pick myself up again and again. To re-create. There is no time like the present..and now seems like the best time of all.
Here I am – finding myself entranced and intrigued by the arrangement of simple objects. Suspended in space. Of color. Of light. Of balance and form. It began as an experiment. Having been gifted 2-dozen pears..and unable to possibly eat them all – I thought I’d set them up and photograph. See where it may lead..and where I might go. It’s a different sort of meditation. Mindfulness. Careful placement and organization. Combining colors and shapes and forms. Balance. The permutations and combinations are endless..and that pursuit of perfect dance of elements both stops me dead in my tracks..and propels me forwards. More..more..more. It’s not yet ‘there’. Not just yet.
As I enter into this new year – I am finding myself surprised by how the oh-so-familiar..has transformed itself into something different and new. The same words..but a new language. A new vision…and an old voice.
In the end – it’s what I believe it’s about. Recycling ourselves. Discovering how the different parts and pieces and lifelong passions – can be re-ordered..re-combined..re-formulated into something unexpected..yet something that is really so obvious and predictable and so much the same. That same passion and energy I’ve thrown into my ‘work’ for so many years..is now showing itself up differently in this.
In one little ‘still life’ project. I’m studying. I’m practicing. I have new big shoes …and a whole new year up and coming to fill them.