Sunday, January 2, 2011
Broken Clocks
It would help if I were better at ladders.Like my cat Momo, I have gravity issues. I can get up there but there's no grace getting down. And if I ask the dogs to spot me, it's much worse if I fall on them, rather than just splatting myself on the floor.
So a stopped clock is a real problem. And I have three of them in the house and studio at this point.
That makes time an internal process. It's interesting when your time is wholly internal. Time is always elastic. It stretches through moments and flies in odd ways. Without a clock in charge it can't be trusted. I slide into this laziness that isn't watching the clock. The time creeps and runs at the same time and I find my time eroded in irrelevancy.
Except for the moments when time stops and bathes in creativity. These pieces were several I designed in an afternoon where, for reasons I don't understand, I sat down to one of these and had 6 of them planned when I was done. And I'd only blinked thrice.
Some days I tie myself to my machine with stories and songs, to keep in in a grid-like process. The clock reminds me that if this is my job, I should put in the time to do it.
Then there are those moments when time stolen and stopped, makes all the space art need.
Does it happen if I don't hold the course? I still need to find my way through the studio door, over to my machine or cutting table. But every so often, my broken clocks measure the time in the only way creative time can be measured. In what pours out.
So a stopped clock is a real problem. And I have three of them in the house and studio at this point.
That makes time an internal process. It's interesting when your time is wholly internal. Time is always elastic. It stretches through moments and flies in odd ways. Without a clock in charge it can't be trusted. I slide into this laziness that isn't watching the clock. The time creeps and runs at the same time and I find my time eroded in irrelevancy.
Except for the moments when time stops and bathes in creativity. These pieces were several I designed in an afternoon where, for reasons I don't understand, I sat down to one of these and had 6 of them planned when I was done. And I'd only blinked thrice.
Some days I tie myself to my machine with stories and songs, to keep in in a grid-like process. The clock reminds me that if this is my job, I should put in the time to do it.
Then there are those moments when time stolen and stopped, makes all the space art need.
Does it happen if I don't hold the course? I still need to find my way through the studio door, over to my machine or cutting table. But every so often, my broken clocks measure the time in the only way creative time can be measured. In what pours out.
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3 comments:
I love the intensity of these colors. Glad you had the time!
Such rich colors...like them all, but just love the second one with the highlighted flowers. Beautiful!
Ellen, your flowers" sing". How beautiful!
I don't wear a watch at home, and have no clocks in my sewing room.Time seems to have this lovely stretched- out quality. I used to teach, and everything was planned within an inch of its life!!Gosh, I am so glad I don't have to be like that now!!
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