With the onslaught of 90 degree weather (in the midst of high pollen season) comes a healthy dose of allergies for all of us at residence Denouement--our home was given a name by its former occupants and who are we to strip it of its title? But also, I can now resume my love of hanging laundry out to dry on our line. If I had a momentary studio, where nothing really got made but a good deal of thinking, looking and just plain BEING in a space that is fully my own was had...well, this patch of weedy grass between two trees on the edge of our property would be that momentary studio.
I've been thinking a bit about worlds within worlds as of late because I am nearing the end of the second book in Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy--in which walking between worlds, cutting windows to other worlds and sorting out the reality of worlds one can't see residing within one's own world are ideas all played out with a great deal of imagination and a lot good writing. I bring up Pullman and the notion of a world within a world here because it's an apt analogy for a healthy studio. When my studio is a place beyond my normal life, I step into another place--of my own devising, my own making. I step apart.
Walking to the edge of my property, peering into the woods, hanging color on a line is a way to step apart for just a moment.
1 comment:
and we see the sacred in the ordinary--a gift really.
Post a Comment