The large and delicate snowflakes grasp perilously to the top, center and bottom of the camellia's petals. Knowing that the flakes will fall or melt off soon, there is the urge to capture this tenuous moment. Artists are in the business of documenting fragile events.
The underlying structure of this sculpture is now complete. You might notice that this seems to have less text than my finished sculptures; for the base I use entire book pages, including the white margins. The final text layers will smooth out the form both visually and physically.
The toothy edges of these leaves lead the eye into the collection of segmented square-ish ball forms. It helps that the leaves have a repetitive star pattern. The combination of stair-step flat and the tight little wads is pleasantly surprising.
Yesterday was a super clear, super cold day on the waterfront with many violent waves--which is unusual for the Puget Sound. And yet the waves provided a texture to the water that is often not seen. Art sometimes needs to shake up the natural order to make us appreciate the usual.
I've started on my new series of sculptures. These will be small, about the size of a hand, and inspired by mushrooms and nests. Here's the beginning of the first one with a third of the underlying structure constructed. More updates to follow.
This jumble of intersecting lines in this pile of sticks is visually interesting because of the varying thicknesses and shapes. When I create sculptures I often have to concentrate on creating variety with each aspect of the form.
I like how the big, smooth, waxy leaves provide a nest for the intricate puffs of the flowers. In my early sculptures I applied a semi-gloss coating to the surface but then I moved on to matte finishes. I don't think my work is suited to a full glossy finish, but I might try it sometime.
The strong lighting in the sky makes the clouds look 3-dimensional. But the lack of lighting elsewhere flattens out the other forms. Lately I've been paying attention to lighting as I prepare images of my sculptures for a grant submission.
The ridges and valleys that make up this tree bark come together and flow apart, creating a flowing pattern. It makes me think of water and currents. The squareness of the photo works in this instance to concentrate the viewer on the detail of the form.
When I took this photo I was attempting to capture the texture of tire tracks in the grass. What is more visually interesting is the shadow (it's me in my big down coat). Sometimes the unintended mistake is the key to a an interesting exploration.
One of the things I find inspiring about rhizomes is the interconnectedness of their nodes. Together they stretch out horizontally, but broken apart they can start new plants. It makes me think about connecting several sculptures together as well as breaking one apart to create new sculptures and installations.
The 25' tall Viking ship prow sculpture at PLU by Paul Schweiss is a intriguing form. It is representational yet abstract, a fragment but monumental, a ship as well as a wave. The lines are truly elegant. It makes me consider how I might make more fluid sculptures.
A few weeks ago it snowed tiny little snowballs. In looking closely at the snow I discovered this sprout. Its shape is abstract and monumental--it would translate well to a large, multi-story sculpture.