I'm creating a second "piling" of what I'm now considering raw material.
Using parts and pieces of what have been/ could still be workable sculpture units to rearrange
a new tangle of textures and associations to materials, color and condition.
There's something unsettlingly satisfying about "destroying" my own labor. I haven't unleashed my full
hurricane on it yet, still a bit timid about ripping my own stitches...but trying to get to a place where I can have the confidence to know that these actions are more about elevation than masochism.
|(this shot's all about the feather)|
The abstraction seems to hold more power for me now than any literal narrative that might
have previously overshadowed any threshold to individual interpretive image tripping.
and it's one way to get over being so darn "precious"...