I am a compulsive list maker. I don’t do digital, I need paper and pen, analog all the way. Once a week, I condense last week’s list with the coming week’s calendar, to give me an idea of what the docket looks like. My desk is littered with various binders and notebooks, full of documentation pertaining to projects in the works. At any given time, there’ at least a hundred things jostling around in the hopper, but only so many can come out at once, and what will emerge completed from the mix is a combination of planning and happenstance. I have maybe 4 hours of usable time a day, it’s a battle.

Copper is a medicinal metal when worn against the skin, I wear a cuff for my left arm.

In revisiting astrological and numerical correspondences recently, I was reminded that my ruling planet as a Capricorn is Saturn. Slow moving, in love with the journey, but powerful and constant, like the procession of time. I’m working on simplifying and integrating my opposites all the time, to come up with a synthesis of all, which is both uniquely my own but not obscure. Always trying to weave ideas together into a tapestry, or to funnel massive conceptual framework (some would say baggage), into a parti, an icon to guide the work going forward.

Copper neck-pieces; assemblies and arrangements ahead of learning to enamel.

Every six months or so, I think I’ve got a new understanding of what I’m trying to say, spend hefty amounts of time re-writing statements, re-researching driving concepts, getting sucked down the bunny hole, to reemerge with new forms to integrate. The physical products that I make don’t quite match the concepts, yet the concept is something I’m always obsessed with. My hope is that these two forces, long adversaries in my work, will become more friendly with each other as I settle more into metal smithing and resolve the unifying theory or image that everything is supposed to relate back to visually.

I know it’s all in there and that it’s coming in good time, as long as I feed the flames, they’ll keep the fire burning. You must be thinking how exhausting this kind of reflective process must be, that if she just stopped churning it all over and over for no good reason, that a pattern would arise from wherever the pieces fall. It would, and you’d be right, but I have a feeling that just over this next hill is the perspective I’ve been looking for, and from there, I’ll be able to see everything from the vantage point I need to unite it all. Trust me, you’ll see.

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