I tend to think about art as something that transpires outside my body. The creative energy and ideas are within, but the work itself is external. I’ve been watching videos from PBS, the show Art:21 is great, and I’ve seen a lot of installation work that has intrigued me. This morning I began to think about how the external, the creation of the piece, is really an extension of the internal. How did I come to this realization?
As I was stitching this morning I took note of the places where the stitches were tight, almost too tight. They started to pull on the fabric, scrunching it, making it look as if it were in pain. Then I realized that my back and shoulders were tight. I was a performance art piece in that very moment. I am the personification of the stitch. When the mirror is held up and the reflection becomes clear the art takes on a brighter resonance. It allows the piece and me to become a more conscious collaboration between mind, body, and spirit.
I’m sure it’s a lesson I’ll need to learn more than once so I’ll keep myself open to the possibility.
Blessings to you…