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Obsessed with the Infinity of Uniqueness.

Intention is part of what makes us unique. I am working with vines that I find on my walks in the woods. The life has gone from them, yet they remain as a precise record of that life. Intentions preserved.

Some reach high then fall low and begin to rise again. Some rise directly upwards never faltering. Some seem to waver and wander. All have a personality, lyrical, forceful, graceful, show offs, monstrous, carefree, grandiose, enamored. I gather them as precious portraits.

One could say at quick glance that these are cute little, pretty little ornaments, but on looking closer we can see life’s struggles, fights, battles, hanging on, holding on, reaching an impediment and moving past, infinite metaphors of the truth of our existence.

I like to observe how the vines do it. Even with the absence of psychological states there still exists the same struggle for life, to find that next rung, to lift oneself up to the sun. As well as clinging to, even strangling another vine,,,,, happens all the time.

Each vine has a different approach to finding what it needs.We can understand the motive and intent to reach the sun but can we explain the different methods used to get there? Is it just response to shadow and light? In other words chance? Some wind themselves into tight little balls, some reach out in abandon. Is there a preference in the intention? Spirit? Desire? Often vines find each other and concoct various ways of staying together.

My clay has intention as well. And definitely desire. If you will notice the cracks in back of the sculptures, these are the result of the clay releasing tension. It happens at very high temperatures in the firing process. I admire these stress releasers because they are unselfconscious free gestures that I could never duplicate. The rawness is perfection to me. For me there is no chance involved here, unpredictability yes. I cannot predict whether and where and how the cracks will look. Yet once it has occurred we see clearly the intention. And what a relief. . I am obsessed with the infinity of uniqueness.

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