2012 day 10 | weld that you little dog %¥!!^~#!?!

not to shameful for "an artist!" who only sporadically glues metal together. got temp to feed on the little Lincoln a little more appropriately balanced in ratio which made all the difference in my little swirligig metal glue wads (welds). metal hot glue gun. nice toy. though I definitely have splatter issues! and who designs these silly little don't-burn-my-scalp caps?!. they aren't fooling any one with zebra stripe fashions. welding caps make any one look like a goober!

ha! I do need a chef! I spend the day fabricating with welder, grinder and grinding wheel, and not once burn myself! I cook and within 10 minutes, OUCHY my finger. that hurt!

2012 day 10 | undisclosed dog turd welds -- oh the shame of it!

but nice Lilly pads!

2012 day 9 | girls' late night living room spin on the lake

2012 day 8 | artists hunker down in the living room

taking her for an evening spin

2012 day 9 | I broke the rules and now I must fake reruleifying

yesterday afternoon I slapped some neutralizing paint down to minimize my structural material adaptions.

OMG what was I thinking!



naturally this broke my rule of rawness, of using the recovered materials as is in all their own glory and shame. but I formally had inclination to reduce the visual color disjunct. my bad. so now I am trying to sand down to the natural rust patina. it is just not the same. real sameness is never attainable offline. in failing to follow my ruled system with redemptive attempts at command z (edit > undo), it has come out even better than I could have hoped for. fail that! and my Eeyore lethargy moves just a little more forward in enjoying my hopes of a piglet day.

2012 day 9 | untangle but whatever the hell I do, don't pull the threads!

without the click or slide of plastic, I extricate myself from the isles I found myself meandering. I'd intended a hardware run with list in hand. but like a mindless drunk lifting the bottle to my lips, at the circle circled red dot, I turned in. what the hell!?! how is it that I am at this residency at capacity with amazing artists, in a drop dead gorgeous landscape at my senses beck and call, pampered with chef and housekeeper and my legs are pumping me up and down the isles of Target? omg. is it about some freakin kind of safe sameness that I cling even when there is so much before me, right here, right now? perhaps it is the illusion that the next cute outfit will move and motivate me out of isolation, smooth my innard awkward social gate, or with the latest 5 buck video, I'll be hunkering down in the hermitage. I know why Target--pacification--mind eye candy without costly plastic sliding damage. but it doesn't work. I have so much to do, that I actually want to do, I've only got this one life so I actually don't understand this regular stuckness which naturally replicates... stuckness I keep embedding in.

I wonder how our culture, how i, would be different if we/I simply went back to thumb sucking. just think of all the money we would save and how sober we would be, if we quit trying to mask our awkward thumb sucking innard anxieties in our consumptive grown up ways.



needless to say and obvious by this post, I awoke kind of internally funky this drizzly morning, contemplating several tasks at hand to be used to redirect whatever thinkings got me stuck again.



awe my morning on the pond not thwarted as I write and thumb my iPhone under the canopy of my purple poncho. yes I came prepared! so my morning ritual continues as the drizzle and the funk tapers off. so each morning I try to future cast my way and untangle that which hinders. remembering to untangle the lines and whatever the hell I do, don't pull the threads Kathy!

chairs and table call me.



oh hormonal imposition, go far away!

2012 day 8 | my fabricated chairs

now to design and build floating table! yay. some work just starts feeling right somewhere along the build phase (or wrong). this one feels right and I am pretty dang excited about it. it will be perfect her amongst the trees with an undulating grass carpeted meadow underfoot!

round two for disassembly.

2012 day 8 | quiet morn out on the pond

as is my habit. same space. same viewscape. but new each morn.

2012 day 7 | one more run then on to the seating unit

c-2 should be done mid day tomorrow. by afternoon that day, I'll be off on the floating table top then secure a site. will tubify it on location.

2012 day 7 | a visitor

2012 day 6 | a must have lowe's item

ummmm. had to restrain my gadget impulse buy inclination. when I saw it, I instantly lusted for one and I didn't even know what it was!!! a magnetic led to use when working on plumbing, cars etc. oh coolness. I absolutely do NOT need this, so I forced myself to reinsert it in the display rack! really they should have introduced this on market at Christmas. awesome stocking stuffer!

fabricated c-2 begun!

2012 day 6 | brrrrr. I think I'll stay awhile

here or home. here! yes. yes. please.

2012 day 6 | still a clamp or two no really I didn't intend her to be do large

partner to be fabricated
though materials need harvested
via deconstructing domestic thresholds (doors)
then on to the suspended table
move to site in wooded meadow carpeted with velvet like undulating tick filled grasses
then she will be tubified, stitch, stitch!

I keep looking over my shoulder for Rapunzel or Hansel and Gredal (sp?)<

2012 day 6 | change, she finds me and, yes, I am afraid, trying to avoid, ducking into lethargy

no blog posts naturally surface
quiet corners remain still enshadowed
am I guarded even against myself
does an unconscious fierce hiding hold on
emanating from deep exposures
real and not

how do I let go of one line
to enter another
even knowing a line is never one
but many, interwoven, inseparable
a living, moving path
a thread to be followed
not pulled, no
I've done that before and in horror
watched the unraveling

change, again I find myself at her edge
I am unsure as to the arrival
it seems almost never of a conscious choice
yet I know this to be simply untrue
I avoid the knowing
ducking into lethargy
I am afraid to look still
at the ways I've written my thread
but I sense her

though i still hunt a knowing
from where she comes
where she will take me
this time I try to enliven her steps
to future cast, to do the work
prepare for the edge to step from
no. more a preparation for the step itself
into a tomorrow that becomes
a today in which I want to dwell

change, she finds me
and yes I am afraid
even without pulling

I guess I did have a post
one that beckoned me in the writing
so I write to right myself

2012 day 5 | fabricated chair one almost complete

i still need to finish the back piece which is currently just placed atop the back structure--needs trimmed down and notches cut in which to place cross members of back. in theory then i'll have one more to fabricate from the doors. then the table, which will be legless and instead suspend from the backs of each chair will be constructed and tubified.

2012 day 5 | any questions

medium sized black snake adjacent to black tubular art supplies. lovely! no I didn't scream or grunt but my inner reactive self is all girl when it comes to those that slither!

2012 day 4 | awesomeness

if I were home... but I am not! amen

2012 day 4 | a shot of my beast and the previous night's adventures

one shoe brought bedside for early morn fidgets, other shoe in undisclosed pup hidden local, rubber dogbone acquisition from unknown source, a Michael hat, and one cat plate licked clean and neatly bisected! current adventure includes two shepherds, one Michael, and a swimming hole in the woods! somehow I am no longer under the illusion that my Dopt (the dog) may actually be missing me.

2012 day 4 | rest + read + ?

2012 day 3 | threshold fabricated chair prototype process

need to design/construct back; then add side beams and seating in a manner that is easily disassembled so the chair will lay flat for transport. it's true, I am slowly learning to be more functional! port that!

2012 day 3 | rung

perhaps I failed to mention that my fabricated chairs built from domestic thresholds, doors, would, well, be abnormally sized. here are the front legs requiring a multiplicity of rungs in order to plant your fanny upon its throne. it took longer than expected as it is my first rung through in building a chair let along an elevated domestic fanny throne! once I finish this chair, I expected its partner to come along rather quickly. perhaps not the initial door disassemblage as I totally have girl muscles, thank you very much, and my wrist torquing strength is somewhat minimal with negative results if I over yank them or rattle them a tad much with a mini sledge hammer percussion riding up their core

2012 day 3 | brushing against her, she will give way

silence speaks her veiled secrets
delve gently into her corners
death does not lay there
deconstructing the mechanisms
of fierce hiding

write unseen
with safe memories decentering
by the uncensoring of quiet recall
pull her shunned threads gently
turn toward fear
brushing against her
she will give way

2012 day 3 | a frame of fifty is clearly evident this morning

she does in fact not creak and moan loudly this early but she has clearly been texting my brain communicating her need that pacing is now in order, in effect. so in this morning filled with scattered crystal orbs, I will listen, move a little slower, noting the worlds within worlds in these scattered sliding crystal orbs that drip.

2012 day 2 | exhausted sloth filled moment opens wide

deconstructing doors requires a bit more exertion than expected. first run, pry bar. nope. so I've broken out my sweet semi new plunge cutter to loosen the old fashioned, well made, mortise and tenon system. plunging around the end most edges of tenon/stub, but alas to no avail. I conclude with simply plunging into the tenon stub along the door seams attempting, I suppose, some kind of cross cut, hoping for structural release. but she still gives me fits, so a sweat/swear break under the graying sky that leaks is due. so I sit her slothfully thumbing away on my iPhone with a mindless stream. hmmm. I do exhaust even myself. ha. no, not with the mundane stream that is plentiful but simply with physical exertion. perhaps it is that the well used 50 year old frame has begun to creak and grown a bit more loudly. dang.

and sometimes I wonder if this exhausted sloth filled moment opens wide because some how I've run down the wrong rabbit trail with my making or material choices.

2012 day 2 | suspect

material line up for the to be fabricated chairs of unreasonable proportions, constructed of doors, domestic thresholds (sans a couple :) ).

2012 day 2 | here AND there noggin traveling

I am here and there
and the work keeps shifting and sliding around in my head
my binary self wants to cast off
the this or that tomorrow thinking
and choose one but not both
make for now here
to hell with functionality transport and what the next moon brings
the counter, make for tomorrow
as my "barren plains..." exhibit encroaches
banging incessantly at my door
prepare to answer I must

my cognitive self
is trying to weave the two together
into today tomorrow both
my emotional reactive self
is daunted with unattainability
so I blend cajole coddle
with my cognitive self
quietly and gently texting my reactive self
addressing her fears and ongoing dauntiness, "oh sweet reactive heart, your dauntiness is real but not true."

and so I slide about
here AND there
with ideations of fabricated chairs resurfacing in my noggin
my reactive self concurs
in all her normal dauntiness
but she likes these ideations
warming up to a certain
doability

so the mundane ramble, a poem of sorts, of a year ago begins to finally visually manifest within the field of barren plains of back turned could have beens

---

I dissolve my fabricated chairs

I have this table
bare laid built of soul
one where I repeatedly
in my recesses
draw those I love

I have them here
against their spoken wills
as I awaken I latch on to their stay
naked in heart speaking pleading
I hear my own whines

they pushed back a bit ago
not righting their chairs
nor to draw up again
yet their memory flattened
I strap upon these seatings not their own

this morning with usual effort
i dissolve these fabricated chair seatings
with straps of intimate mind musings

i set afresh the table
spilling it with sun risen scents
of just turned soils
i glide my hands
furrowing rich long runners
where water from spilled crystal seeps still
and the sun's glance splinters gracefully
across the richness piled warmth

i flare my nostrils
with the fertile ripeness
await in acceptance of unacceptance
listening even now again
for the ever drifting scents
of the emergent

i dissolve these fabricated chair seatings
with my hands deep amid turned soil
again

wow! my fellow I-park artists in residence

I am honored

Lilian Beilder -- www.loul.ch
Chris Bell -- www.dashdotdash.net
Jamie Horgan -- www.jamiehorganart.com
Danielle Julian Norton -- www.DanielleJulianNorton.com
Thessia Machado -- www.ThessiaMachado.com
Lisa Ko -- writer
plus me

2012 day 1 | mmmm grief poured out

tired and weighted by her solitary time in the woods since her June 2010 construct. i gaze at her, clearly soon to pass as gravity has her way and the sky teeters with her release. grief poured out stilling itself heavily in the dappling light. I tighten her up, a stitch here and there to reinvigorate her tension, but I letting her go so something new may emerge in her stead. oh metaphorical life parallels be far away or close. :)

2012 day 1 | returning but different

the space is the same but altered
I am the same but not
I will look for new ways of being here
ways that will move me forward not back
a different kind of presence in today's moments
I will use this space for vision casting into my own tomorrows

--

I remember being here so differently but the same. already I miss the pond's artist dock that refused to be straight winding out to where it hampered even the thought of casting a line as its end enclosed as egg/womb in it's skeletal structure of sticks. early I would enter each morning being cradled safely there for hours. now, a new dock. its structure straight and almost academic yet as open as the daylight that splashes sliding across it so warmly. so I move from safe to open with yesterday only pushing gently now against my today.