Some words don't have letters; not even voices but they are still words. Inexpressible for the ear but heard by the Soul and captured by the Spirit. Precise randomness absorbed by the blindness of the eye as the hand cajoles it to be. Manifesting themselves through complicated or hazy thoughts and spontaneous movement synchronized with freshly unravelled emotions; the door opens wider... Some words choose to be silent because when and where they are needed to be heard, like a bolt of lightening they will erupt... except quietly. Some words are just unforgotten feelings, memories and energy. Then there are those only you need to understand.

Today I chose to write, speak, think, listen and be 'Silence'...

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The weather here in East London has been quite dismal for this time of year and it was really slowing me down. So, I prayed for sun, danced ritualistically for sun and pleaded on bended knees for the sun to make a meaningful appearance! And Thank the Lord, didn't we get some SUN today!

There were lots of illuminated smiles everywhere and sun-kissed bodies that swaggered rhythmically in the heat. I needed that and I presume we all needed it for our own reasons... The exchanges of warm-hearted smiles with passing strangers (something that rarely happens in the grey, damp winters) and the light filtering through the shady trees accentuating the different types of green in the leaves... Yes, all these things are always very uplifting... Thank You!

The sun also served to remind me of what inspired me to start working on this piece of Spring Stone in the first place, and why ultimately I love carving. I am excited by the way it catches the light and casts shadows and how the emerging contours and lines unite to define its form. It is testimony to my active involvement and highlights our vision.

I say 'our vision' because I believe (be+live) the stone will not become what it does not want to be. If it didn't like it, it would just break in some way and then it would have to 'become' something else. 'An Interlude' (see entry below) illustrates this perfectly. That piece of stone was an integral part of 'Serendipity' until it just fell off and so the journey had to continue without it. Repairing a piece whilst it is still in progress is one of my BIG no no's. That would be forced and superimposed rather than letting narrative echo truthfully from within.

Today I spent most of the day smoothing the forms, feeling them out with my hands, observing the translation of sight to touch. The best thing about sculpture is that you don't need eyes or even 20/20 vision to 'see' it, feeling and caressing is by far the best method to know and experience it. Tomorrow, Creator willing, 'we' will continue on this journey by taking things a little deeper...

Once again, Thank You!

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Ne'er cast a clout till May be out...

Well, I certainly know the meaning of this Irish proverb now! The sun has been rather constipated lately, to say the least and even the rain is not making a concerted effort to do its thing of washing and quenching... It's just drizzle... then a squint of sun... followed by a gutless wind serving only to disturb the pollution... grey clouds and wispy smiles... all blended into one unpalatable mishmash... Weather this, or whether not? It is confused, without definition and quite uninspiring... And so for the past few days I've decided to stay indoors.

As an interlude whilst I await the impending sun I'm 'tinkering' with this intimate piece. It is actually a fragment of the Green Opal used to make 'Serendipity: The Dance'. The emerging forms were inspired by just holding it. Something you never do with 'real art', for that is beyond touching, past the physical embrace of the viewer, much too precious for mere mortals to experience.

For a slideshow of this piece's transitions click on the image! (Opens in a pop-up window)

The work I create is sensual, they are all meant to be touched, stroked and investigated... This is what brings them alive. Empowering themselves as they tantalise the hands and fingers. This is my express intention: The plinth for this sculpture will most definitely be the hand; my hand, your hand... any hand that so desires to feel and be felt...

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Friday the 13th, unlucky for some...

But lucky for me... I was born on a Friday the 13th. It was the day when I moved form one dimension to another, realised Life with my first breath and vocalised it with my first cry, a cry that echoed all those that went before mine; they were the trailblazers and cleared a path for the future that belongs to us all.

The number 13 holds great significance: there are 13 lunar months in a year, thirteen Apostles, thirteen tribes of Israel (Dinah is often excluded!), there are also thirteen stripes in the American flag (representing the 13 original states, ummm)... I wonder how this number got such a bad reputation?

This was another Good Friday, a magpie dances and squawks alone in the branches... one for sorrow... where is his partner? I think he's a young one... two for joy! three for a girl, his parents have come to join him, encouraging him to explore the world and find his own partner (they mate for life you know!). I am amazed by the pearlescent black of their wings that sparkled in the intermittent sunlight and punctuated by a crisp white feathers on their breasts. How do they keep them so clean?... Yes I'm blessed! It was another 'Kodak moment' that I captured in my mind, recorded for replay in my thoughts...

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