|Space In Between|
My challenge to myself was to work looser; I've really gotten absorbed in the details lately and I wanted to try and simplify. Didn't quite work out :)
I took a little longer with "Familiar Face" than expected... like 3 weeks. There were just so many layers and I wanted the final effect to be subtle, but I didn't want to lose the contrast in the cliffs and banks. I had to put it aside for a few days here and there so that I wouldn't chance over working it... and then we had our museum audit at work and all life stood still for a few days. It may be a few weeks late, but I'm pretty happy with the end result.
I had been planning a feltscape of Cheverie beach next, but then I received an invite from the Wolfville Memorial Library to show there this November. Last summer I began a series (best intentions) that was centered around my time living in Wolfville when I was 3 and 4 years old. I have many intense memories from that period and realize now that I suffered a great deal of disappointment in my early years, which eventually led to me developing a shell to inhibit excitement. With this collection I wanted to capture that moment of anticipation prior to my eternal disappointment. Conversation with Snow White is a prime example of this. I unearthed many memories planning this series, I'm happy to have the opportunity to work them out in fibre.
I love when my art is revealed to me like a puzzle... when I began working on "within every fibre" I soon discovered it was going to be a series on reflection; reflection of the river and reflection of myself.
|I Believe I Can Fly|
Now that I've been given a chance for a re-do I've decided to explore more of my childhood memories between capturing my favourite sites along the Avon River.
My latest memory involves my first kitty, Fluffy. I only had the pleasure of knowing Fluffy for a few weeks, but he certainly made an impression. Fluffy was a wild little critter who thought he was invincible. Fluffy was my first love, a love that was cut short. My father found Fluffy along the curb just outside our house and buried him in the wee patch of grass along the side of the road. Every time we went out I would look and try to figure out where he was buried, so I could say a silent hello in my head. Luckily we didn't live in the house very long, we were in Port Williams a season or two later.
A few years ago my dad joined Bryan and I and several of our friends for a viewing of a Led Zeppelin concert at the theater in Wolfville. Afterwards we went to my friend Eric's house for an evening of conversation, as we pulled out of the driveway to head back home my father exclaimed "hey, that was my house!"
Life is so interesting, happy to know that I can say hi to Fluffy whenever I stop by to visit Eric.