Holding and letting go

I get, literally and figuratively, very close to the objects I make. Every part of each has been picked out, picked up, held up, examined, altered, cut down, sewn in. They're covered with fingerprints, needle pricks, there's DNA on the end of every thread. When they're done, I line them up and stare at them. Some have eyes - they stare back.

I just finished Collection 2. (There was a Collection 1.) I'm in love with the idea and the practice of collecting - that obsessive need to gather objects that simultaneously explain the world to you and you to the world. In my case the objects were conjured rather than found, the end result of merging of what I see and what I think into tangible things that I can touch and hold. I'd keep all 20 objects for myself if I were crazier-they're off to a show that I'll post about later. So they have to go. And I want them out there. I do. Really.

Saturday with Sunflowers

I'm right in the middle of non-stop prepping work for a show in March, but when you hear that 4 miles away there's a pick-your-own sunflower field, what do you do? Come on. You go off to the farm and pick yourself some sunflowers.

Eye-squint studio tour

Little pieces of my studio: a bee in an live-oak acorn.

A papier-mache face.

A plastic hand.

A paper moth.

Some kind of pod.

Pins and thread.

Brown in the pinks.

Fortune.

Sunday flea market at the Fairgrounds

The good things are inside, but the best stuff is outside.