The Way In
Sometimes the way to milk and honey is through the body.
Sometimes the way in is a song.
But there are three ways in the world: dangerous, wounding,
To enter stone, be water.
To rise through hard earth, be plant
desiring sunlight, believing in water.
To enter fire, be dry.
To enter life, be food.
by poet and writer Linda Hogan, from Rounding the Human Corners, 2008
20" x 17" x 3"
ceramic with terra sigillata, glazes
found objects and twine
Sometimes it takes a while before I finish up a piece. I do sketches and make plans. There is momentum and in the wee hours, maybe, inspiration. Mostly it is just trying different things.
Over the year I have found things left or washed up on the beaches here. Mainly I find things in the most ordinary of places, in the gutters, on the cracked sidewalks or even forgotten corners of my house. I rarely go to flea markets or garage sales although I know they can be treasure-filled. I am not a seeker of those objects displayed. Bits and pieces find me. These are little inconsequential gifts from flotsam gods, who whisper in a language of coincidences and wonder.
|trail out to Pacific Ocean near Mendocino. California|
Today, I have to find my inspiration in making sweet potato pie. There's also a roast turkey to consider. I saw its wild cousins just the other day taking a stroll through the industrial park near the bay shoreline. Imagine, wild turkeys in an urban area! They caused a little ruckus as they scattered across the street, dodging trucks and startled commuters heading west towards the bridge. I had to laugh and give thanks.
|once the land of the Tuibun Ohlone---now Don Edwards San Francisco Bay Area Wildlife Refuge|