A Memoire in Glass
For the last 6 months, I have been working on my show The Apparent Magnitude of Everyday. This has been a project that has essentially taken up most of my studio time. Hardly a day goes by without me getting up early in the morning and unloading and reloading my large kiln.
The work is comprised of 365 tiles that chart the moon over a year, and include a personal reflection of each day.
This spring, Angus brought back for me, from one of his England trips, a lovely red leather bound book, which I immediately turned into my moon diary. In this journal, I have, and still am, collecting the rising and setting of the moon, the brightness with which it shines, what phases it is in, and, and, and, and. It's a mindful, gargantuan task.
Now, when I first thought up this project, I was trying to find a way to visually present the huge importance the moon has for me. How it traverses my life and grounds me to this earth in a way that nothing else can. 365 tiles should do it.
"But laawwwwd, that's a big number", she says, and curses her creative mind.
On a more serious note, as an artist, it is always interesting to see how you personally react to your own work over time. I often feel, soon after I have finished a piece, that I am so done with it. There aren't many of my own pieces that I connect to anymore. Their creation, their meaning, the space they took up in my psychic is all but gone. So often, I am already onto the next impluse by the time they are ready to be exhibited.
However, there are pieces that change you as an artist. Their birth is your birth. Usually these are pieces that are not for sale and are kept in the artist's collection. Perhaps they speak to the spark of a beginning, or the hint of a new direction. Sometimes they are harbingers of great change...
I am not sure whether this work falls into that category, but I know that what I am thoroughly enjoying is that this particular process is new, everyday. Each passing day is unfolding at it's own pace with its own lesson, and everyday, I must sit for a still moment and be mindful of where my mind and heart lie, with the moon as my witness.