“Joy and grief were mingled in the cup; but there were no bitter tears: for even grief itself arose so softened, and clothed in such sweet and tender recollections, that it became a solemn pleasure, and lost all character of pain.”
–Charles Dickens, Oliver Twist
An unfinished sculpture has been languishing on my dining room table for months.
If you’ve come to my house for dinner in the past six months, you will not have eaten at the table. The body and head have been in pieces, disconnected because I kept changing my mind, attaching, detaching and re-attaching parts like an orthopedic surgeon. Or Dr. Frankenstein, as the case may be.
I’ve learned that if it doesn’t come, don’t push. Be quiet and listen. Do something else.
Life. Death. Joy. Grief. It’s a work-in-progress. My beloved college girl on Thanksgiving and winter break, another trip to Texas during the holidays, a New Year, gardening, and rain. My 15 minutes of fame, having won 3rd place at the 8th annual Southern California Open Regional Exhibition.
I had a breakthrough this week. Suddenly I knew what this piece was supposed to be, and I’ve made great headway on it. Today I’m finishing construction on the piece, and then I’ll apply underglazes to it. Then it needs to dry very, very slowly.
That’s a good thing, because I’ll be busy painting a minimum of 2 hours a day in preparation for my Master Class with Michele Cassou at the end of the month.
I love when one thing dovetails into the next, and I’m walking around in a permanent state of gratitude these days.