Tag Archives: change

Momentum. Inertia. Resistance. Change.

18 Mar

I captioned this post Momentum. Then thought, “Perhaps ‘inertia?'” so googled “inertia” to be sure I understood how I was thinking about it–and the definition has bowled me over for several reasons:

The vis insita, or innate force of matter, is a power of resisting by which every body, as much as in it lies, endeavours to preserve its present state, whether it be of rest or of moving uniformly forward in a straight line.”

Bowls me over because of that one phrase: “power of resisting.” I’ve been pondering resistance in other forms–not physical forms as in this definition–but thought forms. Emotions. Reactions. Old programming. Any and everything that arises and feels like a flow deterrent. Any and every thing that disturbs my “wah.” I know I didn’t make that up–this word “wah.” But again, I just googled its spelling and can’t find it. It was a common concept in something I read years ago. A novel probably and “wah” as I interpreted it, broadly referred to tranquility–an unfettered state. Can anyone help me with this reference?

So anything that disturbs what I’m calling my “wah” creates what I’m also referring to as “resistance.” And paying attention to this–to resistance–has preoccupied me for the last few weeks. In the past I’ve struggled with it–or more aptly–against. Made resisting resistance a career. To be overcome. But suddenly the irony of “resisting resistance” becomes almost laughable. So–the practice has been NOT resisting but simply acknowledging. Allowing room for it to be without globbing onto it and making it all pervasive. And noticing how this simple shift reduces the charge. Fine tuning. That’s all.

When I sat down to post, I was stunned that it’s been a month. A few weeks I thought. But the momentum of thoughts and creation hasn’t translated to blogdom. Still, here’s what I’ve been doing. Bowls taking precedence for a while over slow cloth. I’ve placed a lot of them down town at Woolworth Walk and at a local market in W. Asheville. Constantly having to rephrase my thinking from “no one will buy these” to “they’re beautiful and will find good homes.”

Here are a few recent ones. Bowls with lids:

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and a larger bowl, inside outside:

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and several from this morning–moving back and forth between color and neutrality:

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So. A month of momentum focused on bowls and recognizing/allowing resistance. And one more thing–the cloth that earns the title “slow.”DSC02457

Maintaining Transparency

6 Nov

sphinx lovely

Lovely. Wasn’t it? Well, for a moment at least. And I’m so glad I have this image to remind myself of what happened. A lot, actually. First, I wanted to have song flowing from the figure’s mouth. And so notes were added when suddenly I remembered Grace’s cloth of the Rio Grande. I scrolled through her posts and there it was. The same thing. And because I’m pretty sensitive to plagiarism I thought “No, this feels like I’m appropriating someone else’s work, and as much as I love Grace and her cloth, it didn’t feel quite right for me.” (This decision took more than a few moments–I had already spent a lot of time with the music and I was also thinking about “nothing new under the sun” and all that.) But there was an unease about it that I was not comfortable entertaining. And so…what to do?  

I thought about sending the image to Grace for her feedback.  But I didn’t.  Instead I removed the stitches and re-stitched light coming from the eyes instead, and all the while I was mucking around with the shape of the profile and before I knew it every thing was so NOT RIGHT.  But still I stitched.  Added things.  And the more I added the further I moved away from the original image intent. My original intent. Not the cloth’s.

The more I fiddled with it, the less I loved it.  Disliked it, actually. And at that point I whipped out my BIG scissors. What difference would it make if I cut it up into segments that were still pleasing to my eye?  And so I did–creating puzzle(d) pieces– and after some fiddling around another incarnation evolved. A different kind of woman. Pushing something. Not as in Sisyphus pushing the never-ending boulder. More like a woman tending to something precious–something in a pram perhaps?

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But here’s something else that I’m seeing here. Something that closely parallels my own life cycle. An event. Several events. Situations that totally turned my life upside down. Restructured every thing that had come before. And my pieces, re-assembled, bore little resemblance to the “me” that preceded the event. But still, there I was and here I am. Whole cloth for better or worse. I’m curious to see where this is all heading. All of it.

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