So, despite this muckety-muck, the show must go on. There is no place to go but onward. I am practicing mindfulness, stilling internal voices, centering myself into a state of calm. The fire will be put out when it burns up it’s existing supply of oxygen and we deny it further fuel. We remain responsive to the facts as we are presented with them, not the fear that gains a footing through knee-jerk reactions. Slow yourself down to get ahead of this, because the golem is a slow-moving behemoth, and the law of destruction is the reversal of the law of creation. I’m a hopeless optimist at heart, and I still believe that there will be something good to come out of this, though what, I can’t say.
Test tile jewels; trying out stencil images on stoneware, and applied to enamel later.
Meanwhile, the golden thread that I follow has been disrupted. I’m untying the knots that were worked into it due to neglect, and stumbling while I catch-up to roll it neatly around a glowing sphere that has been growing larger with each passing year. Last I recall, I had just started experimenting with vitreous enamels, was working toward applying hand-cut stencil art, and then everything went blank. I recently picked-up again with some tests on stoneware tiles, airbrushing stencil images on to try out the look. The results were acceptable, though parallel tests with enamels on copper blanks didn’t translate as well. Time to scale down the cuts to work in miniature.
Eyes and ears; add a sixth or seventh sense if you don’t have enough already.
I’m also honing-in on a more specific set of images to draw from, more risky in some ways, also more specific to a particular niche audience. Trying to straddle something that exists between the fanciful and the factual, the new-age and the dark ages we are poised to slide back into should things really hit the fan. I’m feeling tired of fighting to make my story fit into what an artist is supposed to look like (yes, a mold still exists among some crowds), where pedigrees are supposed to be validated through, the taxonomy that we are supposed to be classed within. It’s exhausting, and I don’t have time for posturing, I’ve got real work to accomplish.
I’m an inside-outer or an outside-inner, I’m not sure which. I know what I know through having studied in earnest, and I paid and continue to pay my dues happily, but I’ve not passed through the threshold to arrive as yet. Perhaps all that is required is to give ones-self permission to step forward from the shadows and into the light. If that is what’s required, then I grant both of us the empowerment to do so now. Let all of us have courage enough to speak truth to power, both outwardly and inward to our greatest critic, to wherever it is needed most!
“It may be that when we no longer know what to do,
we have come to our real work
and when we no longer know which way to go,
we have begun our real journey.
The mind that is not baffled is not employed.
The impeded stream is the one that sings.”