I made a ceramic plaque once, illustrating a dream, or was it a shamanic journey? to the moon. Either way, it was thoroughly deep and meaningless. I was in the shape of an owl, and I remember feeling very strange.
Never sold, but much admired. I like it that this very personal object is being re-claimed by the parrots.
Nibbled to bits, in fact.
I always found it so difficult to adhere to this notion of ‘Art’ being separate from daily life. I like the idea of being able to produce work, but I want to do so anonymously, without big ego and without big money being involved. I would like a daily rate as a crafts person. That would be sweet.
I remember reading about when Picasso and Apollinaire stole the Mona Lisa in 1911 and then couldn’t figure out what to do with it. It think it was stuck in a squat for several years before it was finally returned to the Louvre.. This was before ‘Art’ became big business and Art dealers entered the scene for real.
But I think something was lost when ‘Art’ became part of the money scene. Because art is not , to my mind . created solely by the artist. It is a privilege for some people to be able to keep their ears to the ground and hear the beating heart beneath the dust. Someone whispers sweet nothings in our ear and we go forth and we make it visible. On a good day, that is.
C. S. Lewis once said ‘there’s only one Creator and we mix’. I believe that is the function of the artist; to mix the archetypical elements and produce something new.
There is a tremendous amount of anonymity involved in that. To see and acknowledge that ‘I’ am nothing but an alchemist, an interpreter, makes leaving the Ego far behind a necessity.
I see patterns, and I play with them.
Nibble away, my friends.