The beauty of winter lies in its sunsets. The contrast of the bare black trees against a kaleidoscopic sky rekindles my sense of wonder as night falls.
I always look forward to the week between Christmas and New Years Day. It's unscheduled, do anything time. And yet, without my usual looming deadlines and tight schedule, I find myself floundering.
Weeks, months even before I anticipate all this free time and think of all the art I will be able to create. Yet during this unseasonable warm week I have been frozen. I feel at a crossroads, looking back and looking forward, not just because of the change in the calendar, but because I am aware of change developing in my art. There are things I want to express, new materials I want to use as my tools of expression, but what to do so eludes me right now.
It was seven years ago, January 4th, 1999, that my Fragments were born. They came about after a similar pregnant period of confusion and longing. I remember that day like I remember the birth of all my other children. I had finally found my voice. But just as children grow and change, so too must ones art.
Creating art causes growth in the artist. It is easy to keep creating the same thing - you know how, you know where you are headed, you know the result will be good but the thrill is gone. Finding a new path is scary. The woods are dark and deep and you do not have a map. I am reminded of Edward Bloom in the movie Big Fish. On his journey, he chooses the path through these same dark and scary woods and comes upon a magical world. That's why I am not afraid of the journey, as hard as it is. I know that I too will find magic. It will be as close as my own fingertips. In fact, I know it is almost within reach.