A hard week of learning and working - cramming all sorts of new concepts and techniques into my brain and fingers. But I could not be happier. But what a relief to sit on the rocks in the fog of Penobscot Bay eating lobsters with the foam spraying in the surf. That was dinner. The we have a dance party. Today was all about sleeping in after a Friday night drinking, listening to the rain and a leisurely day in the studio. People spent time casually visiting the other classes to see what's up.
In the metal welding class they all came back from visiting an old tool shop and are creating a baroque salvages of bits of tarnished history. Bugs and shells and vintage buttons encased in bits of copper and silver; a fantasy of mechanics and embellishment.
In the design class they are essentially engaging in art therapy and delving deep into the psycho dramatics of their own creative lives - that's all. No big deal. One person is exploring the metaphor of the granny square and its embodiment in human pathos. Another is taking human hair from various residents to weave into s tory of identity. Another is creating a miniature theater from folded paper recreating Joseph Cornell's studio. In the wood shop they are taking apart a piano to make new instruments. The clay class is deep in the molding and casting process - with some taking a break just to throw pots on the wheel. It's an intense and lively group.
I was so proud to have finished threading my first loom today - seems somewhat of a weaver's right of passage - only to be told I still needed to thread the pedals. No problem - that seemed easy. Wrong! After two days of squinting into the thread holes of each heddle and nearly going blind, I find myself lying on the floor shoving hooks up into the sheds - another hour or so. By the time I was done I was exhausted and the prospect of weaving almost seemed anti-climatic. But my woven plastic does look good.
I was invited by an artist in the metal works shop to collaborate on a maritime themed co-creation this week. Going to be fun, but tonight we dance.
In the metal welding class they all came back from visiting an old tool shop and are creating a baroque salvages of bits of tarnished history. Bugs and shells and vintage buttons encased in bits of copper and silver; a fantasy of mechanics and embellishment.
In the design class they are essentially engaging in art therapy and delving deep into the psycho dramatics of their own creative lives - that's all. No big deal. One person is exploring the metaphor of the granny square and its embodiment in human pathos. Another is taking human hair from various residents to weave into s tory of identity. Another is creating a miniature theater from folded paper recreating Joseph Cornell's studio. In the wood shop they are taking apart a piano to make new instruments. The clay class is deep in the molding and casting process - with some taking a break just to throw pots on the wheel. It's an intense and lively group.
I was so proud to have finished threading my first loom today - seems somewhat of a weaver's right of passage - only to be told I still needed to thread the pedals. No problem - that seemed easy. Wrong! After two days of squinting into the thread holes of each heddle and nearly going blind, I find myself lying on the floor shoving hooks up into the sheds - another hour or so. By the time I was done I was exhausted and the prospect of weaving almost seemed anti-climatic. But my woven plastic does look good.
I was invited by an artist in the metal works shop to collaborate on a maritime themed co-creation this week. Going to be fun, but tonight we dance.
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