Jitterbug

 

Okay, I admit I’m driven to make stuff. When I’m on the wind up, I feel like an alarm clock suddenly going off. Jitterbugging all over the place. How do I stop this winding up? I make something. Most often it’s art. Sometimes it’s not. Like painting my house.

When making art I’ve learned through hundreds of hours of practice the pace of creating. I also realize my jitterbugging is avoidance of the inevitable pull to do it. Switching nervous energy into a form with a pulse is a scary, exilerating leap from an inert ball of clay to something life-like, whether in my hands or head. Until I set forth the clay onto an armature I don’t know exactly what’s going to happen. That excites me.

I’m not surprised anymore when an art work has become its own object, daring me, as the facilitator to create it. But I’m also wary of the commitment all this does to me, exhausting me at the completion of my art making task. I do need breaks from this dance, I call it forced inaction. Much like putting a thunder shirt on my storm wary dog. He stills himself. I need this on occasion to recharge and ready myself for the next adventure.

Mansfield Plantation

Man, Guest Cottage

Mansfield Plantation

I find solace from going to a place not related to my workplace studio, a place of nature and solitude. It quiets me, and makes me ready to do the jitterbug again.