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Marsh Slyph |
For me, a studio series starts naturally after I’ve been focused on
other creative efforts
for a while. I return to the artistic nest ready to embrace a lingering
new material or aesthetic direction, open to what serves the exploration.
It’s an unabashed act of optimism, knowing from experience that the
initial endeavors may well be backtracked, reconsidered, perhaps
jettisoned as the gist of the work emerges.
It’s an exquisite
arc from adventurous curiosity to starting a new artful family—fueled by
showing up daily and leaning into the journey of tasks inherent in a
practice of making. I count among my gifts a romantic’s fondness for the
beauty of honest labor, and a monk’s inclination to stillness: listening,
watching, inviting.
Walk in the Wild
is the lone survivor of the earlier explorations for this new series,
Spiritus Naturalis. I wondered at the time if this new direction would evolve into works
that don’t emit light, and for now it is so.
Along the way of initial discovery, there’s a piece that turns out to be
definitional. It’s an evolutionary leap in the work that brings to focus
the hazy potential lingering about, quickens the heart with realization of
others of its ilk yearning to come through. The pivotal piece in this
series was Marsh Sylph.
I was several pieces into the exploration before realizing this family of
works were embodiments of nature spirits. Sylph has long been a
term for imaginary spirits of air and earth, and I love its poetic
lilt.
The fleshy, sensual Madrona trees on the island provide
branches ideal for playing with creature form. The process of reimagining and
rearranging them reveals the nature of each
piece.
Introducing the copper tendrils with their
pod-like tips allows me to integrate
spiraling elements that seem intelligent and
curious with
the wonderfully odd wildness of the branch forms.
At roughly 6' tall, Marsh Sylph has a heron-like feel. I readily imagine it wading out in the marshlands, at home with the grasses and reeds.