I had to rethink a lot of things in the studio this week.
For example, I have been secretly working on this project that involves knitting typewriter ribbon, but after a number of test runs I had to let go of my attachment to the knitting and acknowledge that weaving is the superior method when it comes to leaving the ribbon intact, with visible letters.
Then I know I said this bunny gardener painting was done but, sigh, on looking again I wasn’t done and I spent more hours this week with a tiny brush, fiddling with the shape of the right eye, which wouldn’t quite come in. Then my 4-year-old said, “He needs white in his eyes, like our eyes.” I gave it a shot and…I had to agree with her. Not sure if this image actually gets it across, but he now has a laser presence that stands up to the intensity of the rest of the piece.
Then I really thought the silhouettes for my new panel series would be of people walking by, and after carefully choosing images, I spent an hour or so with a jeweler’s saw making a couple. Sadly, they just weren’t doing it for me and I’ve now gone through multiple revisions of what the people are doing and am planning to have them laser cut.
Sheesh. Sometimes I feel sheepish about how tired it makes me having to rethink things. Then I have breakfast with my daughter, and I see how much she likes to have all the details of how she makes the toast be the same every day. If there is any additional stress, she is even more attached to her routine.
And I realize we adults are just the same. We may not cry or throw a tantrum (or at least not one that I’ll tell anyone about), but that whole thing about being creatures of habit is really literal.
The main lesson for me is that releasing attachments, even small ones, takes a surprising amount of energy.
One of my favorite ways to recharge, besides blabbing to other people, is to take a walk in the sun. Which brings me to my next found artwork, part of a series at the bus stops on Market Street:
In case you can’t read it, it says:
not to see anymore
not to know but
your own self