A small piece of sheet metal.
Add to that, some cat hair.
Then, lots of time to spare.
Ten hours, to be exact, while I waited for the art admirers, the looky-loos, the students, and, maybe the buyer, during spring open studios this March. There was lots of dead time between that occassional visitor. Enough space I figured, to allow the creative juices to get juciy. So there I was, at my work space, feeling creative and, why not, I had nothing to lose. In front of me was a small piece of sheet metal. I closed my eyes then opened them to the metal. I took hold of the metal. I allowed the metal to speak to me. “Make me into a neck piece,” it communicated. With metal shears in hand I made two cuts, one here, one there. It now had a left and right side, or the ends I would need to attach neck wire to.
A few visitors came and went, a beneficial distraction to the creative process, it has the affect of refreshening the mind. Now, where was I. Again, I take the metal in both hands. “Go ahead, cut me some more.” OK I will. I had to obey. Creating is another world, or mindset, one where the logical mind is told to get lost, go away, come back some other day, because right now I am here to play, and you can’t stay. My hands took the shears again, cutting the metal in two more places. Next I intutitively bent and shaped the cut metal, giving it’s shape volume. Then I saw it, Octopussy! That was how day one ended.
The next day, I placed myself in front of Octopussy. She had an exoskeleton, or form for sure, but I needed to incorporate cat hair as well. The arms that extended outward seemed to call to MEow. While I rolled the hair in my palms, disks of flattened hair passed through my mind. And that is what I ended up doing, making disks of different sizes, wrapped with steel wire, which hung from the arms.
Oh, how I would like to be,
. . . in an octopuses garden in the shade.
>”< >”< >”< >”< >”<