Wednesday, January 02, 2013
questions from left field
I had a dream that I was looking at a painting - it was a very large, old oil landscape, something like a Frederic Church spectacle - quickly, the painting morphed into an intricately worked leather belt and, when I looked again, a bracelet of layered silver links and then, a very large watercolor seething with flowers.
Then I realized that I was looking at these things from the perspective of a person who had no concept of "making" anything - a pure consumer of end products made by others, the mysterious Makers.
It was the oddest feeling; an off-putting incompetence with a dash of defensive arrogance. I thought of a TV show where a crystal skull was being examined and it's provenance could not be explained so it was attributed to aliens. It was a little scary. Who are the Makers? What was their objective in creating these things?
My Maker guise quickly stepped up and took back control of the dream and I was left with questions.
Who are the non-makers and what do they think of Art? What does Art matter to them. Are they another tribe altogether? When does resentment fade and wonder take over? Do they ever get over being on the outside looking in? I have to ask around outside of this space since I know 99% of my readers are Makers of some sort.
Sweetie was not much help in the search for Tazmeena Green. It's a color to bask in, mostly. There were a few that were close, ...
Play it again Sam.
Colin modeled a bit when he was a baby. How could he not, as cute as this and he was a laughin' fool the minute anyone broke out a ...
writing I have been idly dreaming about having a small, vintage manual typewriter, as if that would help. I don't even know i...
I'm researching fish faces for a piece I'm working on. Ever take a close look at their eyes? I used to fish a lot when I was a kid ...
Mom's Christmas cactus is struggling. I have to find the right kind of soil and a decent clay pot it can become rootbound in. Any advi...
It's a Charlie Monday. We spend the whole day together working it out. He is a delightful tornado of life and love. There is no doin...