...or tries to...

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

The Bell Jar


I've been asked more than once to put my work under glass, something the Victorian in me actually likes. But the small pieces I've made have survived cat attacks-that's part of the point to them, that they aren't real, and they aren't delicate. I clean them up with rolled up masking tape. But there is something tender about the zone of silence, and melancholy in their distancing and limitations. Something ceremonial about raising up the dome of the bell jar, letting people see up close.







2 comments:

Daydreamer said...

Ooohh... Belle!
Your bells are BEAUTIFUL! I have none... but I have always thought they represent the height of refinement and tranquility. That "Little Prince" thing of creating a little isolated world of protected perfection.... They would not have survived five minutes in my house with my two boys..... which is probably why they hold SUCH a nostalgic pull at my heartstrings! Are all those bells in your home? They do invite one to look closer.....

Amy said...

The bells in the top two are in Joyce's house, she of the amazing garden. The rest are in my old house.
They're meant to create little greenhouses for warm weather plants, right? I always have trouble putting real plants under glass-I get a little nutsy about them suffocating, though I know it's not true! I had to take the dolls out of the dome, like I could hear them saying, hey,we can't breathe in here. I think I've watched way too many Twilight Zones....