ALCHEMY EDITION 114

Back in February, my friend Blythe presented me with an opportunity to jump off a cliff. Not literally of course, but an energetic leap nonetheless. One that would have me jumping back into the studio as a fine artist. At this point I had just made the decision to close Zelma Rose in the spring. The decision was not public yet, but I had started the process of moving my energy from one path to another. I didn’t imagine I would be visiting my artistic studio process for some time. And this felt right, but also made me feel a bit unsettled. 

 

I’ve wrestled with the fine artist in me before. She’s a fucking wolf. She’s demanding. And she has to be. How easily we let these beautifully creative parts of ourselves fall away. I’ve neglected her before and the results are never good. The wolf needs to lead. When she doesn’t, any wholeness, groundedness, satisfaction I feel is false. And I can ride on this falsehood for years. I think we all can. 

 

It was this truth that opened me to trust and receive Blythe's invitation. If what she was proposing felt even a little good, the best response was YES. Maybe she knew more about what was next for me than I did. And that felt exciting. The project was a total joy and it turns out I was right to trust. Blythe envisioned a way of transforming the weaving techniques I’ve spent over a decade refining into something new. Something different. Something deeper. 

 

Working on the pieces for Blythe was a level of flow I am not sure I have ever experienced. There was definitely an expansion. As a listener to JOY and a reader here, you probably know that flow is my drug of choice. My goal is to be there as much as possible. It is the place where my mind and body truly feel connected and I am in full response. There is no chase. No hustle. No plan. The only intention is to listen and be led by the materials. A true connection.

 

I sat with all this for a few months. Not seeking, but just letting the process settle within me. One late spring afternoon I was working in my cactus garden when a curved branch caught my eye. I remembered when my husband put the branch aside nearly 10 years ago when we moved into our house. He had found it while we were completing some truly glamorous sewer line work before we moved in. It was part of a tryptic of items he found - the branch, a horseshoe and an antler. The branch sat under an old Ginko tree for years. I’m not sure why we saved it. I guess because it had an indescribable beauty. Or something inside of it let us know it wasn’t finished. 

 

I put down my garden tools, picked up the branch, found some wire brushes, steel wool, and fine sand paper and started to listen. I sat for about 2 hours gently smoothing the branch. Removing any dirt from the deep crevices. I submerged the branch in an outdoor sink to remove the dust and dirt. Then let it bake in the sun.

 

About a week later I received an email from a design community I have long been a part of as Zelma Rose. Join Design was having an open call for an upcoming show based upon the changed relationship we all have with our home and surroundings from the pandemic. I thought that this branch baking in the sun might be part of what feels new and changed. I just didn’t know how. So I sat and listened. 

 

To my surprise what emerged is an entirely new body of work. 

 

Talisman - Photography by Amanda Ringstad

 

 

Imagining joy as a joining of our sorrows has been an unexpected exploration. The loss and grief of the pandemic have been inescapable. Incredibly, the pandemic is one of the few happenings in human existence where every single living breathing thing was impacted all at the same time by a single event. It’s extraordinary in all of the amazing and deeply awful ways. And this collective sorrow, while heavy and weighted, also holds a beautiful potential. 

 

Poet Ross Gay writes of joy being a joining of our sorrows, “What if we joined our sorrows, I'm saying, I’m saying: what if that is joy?” As an artist, I question if this is true. As a psychotherapist, I know that it is. My current body of work, Talisman, explores this joining and the ease and often difficulty of connecting in this vulnerable way. 

 

Each piece begins with the challenge of responding to the curves and shape of wood with leather in a variety of knots and weaving techniques. My purpose is to join wood and leather and connect them in ways where the challenges and sorrow of the materials are shared to create a new joining. Quite possibly a joy. And that this joy and joining of our sorrows might offer us the protection of deep connection at a time when there exists great possibility for a dramatic falling apart.  

 

I’m excited to announce that Talisman No. 3 is part of New Essentials, presented by Join Design at the Bianco Gallery in Seattle. If you are in the Seattle area I hope you can go check out the show and send lots of pictures! Please view the gorgeous Exhibition Catalogue here. There are still many beautiful pieces waiting to join you in your home, including Talisman No. 3. 

 

I guess when we ask the question can we ever return, go home again, revisit - the answer is yes. But we are never the same. And thank goodness. 

 

The wolf lives. 

xxx

LAS

HUMAN DESIGN