When i got home, I started making my "special quesadilla" meaning that it not only had cheese, it also had thin slices of deli turkey, guacamole, hummus, and lettuce. Delcious. And while I was eating, I thought about all the paint on my fingers (because if it's going to look like sidewalk chalk was smeared all over it, you kind have to use your fingers as your main art tool) and it reminded me of this girl in my Jewelry Making class at SLCC who had a real passion for working with silver. So much so, in fact, that she often spend long amounts of time in the studio, bringing snacks with her, and eventually got so used to the taste of silver dust with her food that she kinda craved it. And then I thought about how wonderful it is to work with silver..how it becomes are part of you as you shape it and polish it, and how whatever you do to it, you often do to your hands at the same time. And then, this poem fell right into my head.
Flakes of wax
shreds of silver.
That satisfying, burning
chemical smell of flux,
Bubbling and glowing,
and turning the torch flame green.
Black fingers, polished shiny
after being sanded to perfection,
Mold both wax and metal
Into a part of me.
The torches the files,
The blades, the shafts,
The smells, the sounds,
Seeing is barely part of the process.
Oh, Jewelry Making at SLCC
How I miss thee.
When you make something and really get into it, it's like the divine bits of you show themselves a little more. Even though it was just an oriental trading wooden birdhouse, I got to experience that outlet a little bit today, and for a little while, I was The Escapist. :)
For more thoughts on creativity and divinity, watch this speech: (we watched it in my public speaking class)
Are you going to post pictures of this lovely birdhouse? you should.
ReplyDeleteWhen i replace my camera...(sigh)
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