Made a mold of the most recent sculptures, Dos Cojones and Travel. Rubber went on on thursday and jackets friday by lunchtime, not very big molds but there was purpose. No procrastination. I just got in, did it, cleared up, mopped and out again.
Usually I am sick bored by mold making and I take forever but I don’t seem to here. I knew I hated it so I just got it done. When I work here its done quicker, you start and you get to the end. Ideas like Travel seem to pop out and I can take tentative steps out of boundaries. Not carefree but it is freer. It’s not playing but it maybe less restricted, more adrift.
Maybe its not the freedom, its the intensity of being adrift, you make sculpture quickly like clutching at rafts that go by to stabilize yourself, at home you feel safe on your container ship of stuff. Of phone calls and business. Of the studio, the shelves, the boxes hidden in cupboards stuffed with separation anxiety, of memories of girls gone, me’s of yesteryear in angst written dairies held onto for what? for comfort, for having been there, for marking a page.
Am I not me, now, here. Not the angst girl of 16 in the dairy, do I need to know her, I dont really remember her, she is not me now, so much has happened since I was her, she is no longer, can I go home and throw her away so my little boat remains smaller, more agile, more adventurous.
Here I have 11 boxes, 6 buckets, 4 plinths, 2 tables and 2 easels and a trolly. A van with four wheels to put it all in. Not forgetting my gorgeous boyfriend and sometimes faithful dog. With these I am who I am now and it can be just as much.
Love is……. seeing your boyfriends shirts hanging out of your balcony window when you return home from work.
my little boat person being cast