The Infinitesimal & Me

Sometimes I forget, you know? 

That I love the small things,

that the small things are what speak to me loudly.

I return to my blog to carve out space for me,

sculpt my reality,

offer to myself what no other place provides for me. 

I come here to remind myself of truths that I need to remember

and to highlight to myself who I am.

 

 

Does it make sense, to find a piece of the infinitesimal

glinting on the floor while vacuuming at day's end? 

And then to spend five to ten minutes photographing it to get it just right,

so it can be seen,

not overcome by its smallness

or washed out by bright light?

To take the tiny seriously; what does it take, really?

Oh, the reminder of my heart cry -

how I needed it so.

 

 

I need my art and I need this space for words and photography.  Last night I sat on the couch stitching my thread painting, and it is going to take many, many hours more until I can call it complete.  And then, and then - there are variations to do of "A Gift For You".  There will be one that looks more like a Claddagh symbol, with the heart shining in the middle.  There will be another that will have the hands placed beneath the heart, palms up.

(as I look at this picture, I realize how much more clearly photography allows me to see)

I love the worlds created in tiny spaces, such as Elisa Kleven does in her wonderful children's books, and the stories I read to my son - The Borrowers and The Littles.  I am enthralled by tapestries, and I love the unicorn series.  Stitches speak to me, and fiber art entices me.  I dream of creating tiny scenes with the little things I collect, placing them in mini frames or shadow boxes, and showcasing them on display.  I desire to blow up the macro photographs I take of teeny entities, making them huge and forcing them to be noticed.  I envision worlds in tiny spaces, such as this necklace charm I created out of wire and beads.  My three little birds.

“Do the little things.”

— St. David of Wales

This is my life work and this is a large part of who I am.  An embracer of the infinitesimal, a lover of the tiny.  Does what I am going to look like it matters?  No?  Then I am going to do it.  Yes?  Can I promise myself this?  It goes against the grain of the world, with its big ways.  To stay here at home with my children, while the NYC and Dubai size bigness loom on the horizon.  The dreams placed within me matter and have purpose in the world.  Will the world overlook them and me?  Probably.  Am I okay with that?  Yes, I think so.

My kids and I have been collecting postcards from the 50 states.  One we received from Oklahoma had information written on it stating that the state experiences thousands of small earth shakes each year.  My son and I were surprised to read this!  Most of these quakes are not strong enough to be felt, but they still occur there.  They don't usually lead to a larger earthquake, but the vibrations still must do something to affect the inner worlds of the people whose feet touch the ground above them.  Wouldn't you think?  How do I know the earth is not shifting beneath me?  After all, it is mustard seeds that move mountains, not huge machinery.  Big change comes from underground movements.  Big change stems from the tiny. 

::Patience::Trust::Persistence::

These words - patience, trust, persistence -

are words that I have recently sculpted for

three different dear friends of mine.

I love sculpting these soul words;

their message intertwined with the metals

twisted to create them, my thoughts interweaving

with prayers lifted into the air.

 

"{t}he word patience means willingness to stay where we are and live out the situation out to the full in the belief that something hidden there will manifest itself to us. :: Henri Nouwen" 

(The quote above is one I found recently on someone's blog.)

 



 

Trust & patience serve as ingredients for persistence,

 



"I was most happy when some friends arrived and brought the news that you persist in following the way of Truth. Nothing could make me happier than getting reports that my children continue diligently in the way of Truth!" 3 John 1:1

Colors of My Dreams

she approached with the

scarf around her and i thought,

where will i find it?

is it possible

to create the colors of

my dream's existence?

 

there they are in threads,

modeling clay and fabric;

blues, pinks, yellows, greens, purples

 

colors of my dreams

exist; grace leads me to them,

tangible and real.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sharing with lovely

recuerda mi corazon

haiku link-up day

 





The Kitchen Sink

 

There is something profound about the kitchen sink.  It seems odd to say this of a seemingly mundane entity which carries the loathe of daily life's chores, mostly for women.  (My husband, bless him, helps out most nights, when he is home, because I've done so many dishes during the day that I am done by evening time.) 

The sink, whether in the kitchen or laundry room (as pictured above), carries significance.  Our daily lives, 0ur seemingly mundane tasks, carry significance.  Abstracted, highlighted, and placed in a different context, we are able to see anew what lies beyond the surface.  

Over the sink, we have time to think.  Our thoughts connect us to the divine as the water runs and we wash and the grunge is washed off and sinks down the drain.  I placed my word, freedom, over my sink, wondering {and deciding} that this place was holy.   



To see the sink literally in a different context, as artist Ann Agee has done through her installation in the picture at the top of this post, sheds light on the work of women {by means of the artist} exemplified in its true essence.  As my friend Anna expressed recently, "... I understood why people write fiction - you can FREELY talk about what is under the surface.  It can be more true than nonfiction.  Similarly, for me abstract art is more true than realism, because it tells the deeper story, 'what's essential.'" {"It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye" is a quote from The Little Prince that a group of us Art Journalers were discussing online.}

Ann Agee's work plays with historical conventions of decorative and fine art, as seen through contemporary eyes—the white porcelain quotes both the eighteenth-century English porcelain, and chinaware found in second-hand stores. The resulting body of work resembles a range of fantasized objects that tell the artist's daily life, which is inseparable from her art. The gallery space is transformed into partly a replica of the artist's home studio where all the pieces are produced, and a hybrid market place. Stenciled floor-to-ceiling scrolls reproduce parts of Agee's home studio in unrealistic, bright colors. A jumble of white, flowery sculpture-objects in porcelain cover large tables. Figurines represent daily life activities, from gardening to street protesting, children studying, and the artist modeling her pieces at the wheel. Some are kept under glass domes, while smaller porcelain objects are stored in jars. Hand-made shoes, dresses, and steel chairs, among other things, complete the tableau. A hand-made catalog advertises the objects on show, most of which bear the Agee Manufacturing Co. stamp, as a signature of the artist's "production". Quoting the artist, “for the sake of the labor, and the freedom to make variations,” she will carry forth concepts and motifs that continually develop in unforeseen ways. The resulting body of work resembles a range of fantasized objects that lie between the ideas of usefulness and decoration. On the walls, Agee’s large-scale paintings on paper often function as a backdrop for her installations by depicting the space of her Brooklyn studio—a creative cacophony in which all the pieces are produced. info

During the Thread Painting workshop I recently took, we had plenty of time to talk about art, and found a common love for fibers and beads and such.  Liza Lou's Kitchen was mentioned, as she covered the whole scene in beads, as seen in the sink above.  It's beautiful.  Liza Lou is known as the Queen of Beads, whose world is glittering.


"A splendid introduction to an artist whose devotion to her work
produces environments so dazzling they verge on the miraculous."

I believe art can transform our vision.  I believe art has the power to change how we see.  I know it has happened for me, as I click away, urging my camera to capture fragmenting views of the sink that has become an altar space {an alter place}, a holy place, where I spend plenty of moments of my days. 

Why not honor it as venerated?