As I twisted and taped newspaper on, snippets of text began to catch my attention, strips of tragedy and superficiality one over the other, one over the other. I finally felt myself falling into the rhythm of the sculpture.I was hearing the incredible voice of Lisa Gerard, and wrapping long, wet strips of heavy paper around and around the frame and everything about this figure became strikingly clear.
This kind of visualization is the pinnacle of the creative process for me. These moments can be very intense. I’ve considered several times creating a sculpture on site as an art exhibit. It occurs to me tonight, as I write about it just after, how personal the experience can be. I have to wonder if I were doing this as a performance piece, if that moment of clarity would be recognizable to those watching-- would it show on my face? or even if I’d be able to get to this level of creativity in that environment. Pete suggests working in an isolated room with a monitor in the art show. Then I could have the impression that I was alone.
Interesting to consider. Another day.
But tonight, in the studio I was alone, then I wasn’t. I recognized exactly who I was conjuring here. I know his texture, his shape, his weight, his posture, his energy, his history and most of all, his name. I can imagine his scent, follow the turn of his head, hear the scraping of his feet and the whisper of his voice.
I’ve known this fellow for a long time, I think.
I’m going to leave this here, for now. Tomorrow I’ll show you something entirely different, while I work uninterrupted. I’ll keep taking photos, and will post them all at once….maybe on Monday.
Oh, and I’ll tell you his name too…
G’night
TEN
4 comments:
Live creation is an interesting idea. Have you ever thought about setting up one or two video cameras to tape the experience? With a little editing it could be a really cool thing to watch.
I don't know about live creation, but as the RSS feed has been pouring into my computer and I've been following the process as it moves along, there is a sense of the personal, of your love for your creation. There seems to be a magical intensity to your posts that portray your bond with your work, and it is a beautiful experience to see (albeit as impersonal as a blog may be to a reader you've never met from hundreds of miles away). Still, the process as you post does give insight into something mystical. The art is just beautiful, and I'm looking forward to seeing it move further along. Now, just waiting to find out the name...
That's actually a good idea, Carl. If I had someone there to help tear and wet paper, it would go a lot faster and be less boring. I'll think on it.
Thanks, Brandon. It's weird, when I started the journal last December, it felt sort of like speaking out into a void, but over these months a lot of regular readers have become familiar enough that when I write or post a process like this one, I have a real sense of you guys with me. Is it imagined? Don't know, but it's definitely there.
"Oh, and I’ll tell you his name too…"
Y'know, they have names for people like you. Terrible names. And I'm saying them lady. Oh am I ever. You better believe it. And I'm inflecting. I'm projecting my voice, and enunciating, and really speaking from the gut.
Monday? Christ on a candlestick, I'll have chewn my own limbs off by then.
And yes, that creepy feeling that the rest of us, peering over your shoulder is real. Figuratively anyway. I hold my breath in anticipation.
Is chewn a word?
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