The small things…

Tanya sent me a link to a post:  in which Emlyn Pearce writes about both what is important and what is precious – the way children feel about simple, small pleasures:

Children have always found abundant magic in objects that are so small that their very existence is almost a kind of secret. But just give a three-year-old a key, a coin, a ladybird or a leaf and you will see that for small people, an object’s allure only increases the smaller it gets.     E Pearce


It has made me think a lot about the work I am currently doing, making a lot of small things. Each, subtly and by nature of being the maker, a ‘piece of me’. I was discussing with a friend last night the journey I wish for each of these pieces and have been researching options for tracking their journey. Attaching a tiny satellite recognised tracking device to enable me to ‘follow’ them, or working on a large scale gallery piece at the end of which each piece is given away, the whole installation dismantled and shared. I thought about creating a competition to get them to all parts of the world and home again by passing them hand to hand. Surely this would not work? The possibilities are limited only by my imagination and funds – and I can apply for funding! In the meantime I am making more connections and the works I have been making recently will be given away during half term. This is after the deadline for our marked coursework as part of the MA, but I am not doing it for that. It seems only right that my practice is not contained within the parameters of the course structure, but is open to development and expansion through that ongoing urge to make and to connect. I have this week started volunteering as an artist at a Hospice, working with the day patients. This will be something that will no doubt feed into my own practice and be beneficial in a multitude of ways. I will be giving some of the patients these works to make of what they will, to hand on, to reject… as ever, some will find beauty and something meaningful and beautiful in the work and others will not.

Adulthood is tightly packed with so many bland, gigantic, IMPORTANT things, things that barge in, all sharp elbows and shouting like drunken students at a Chinese buffet. Our cities rush and rage, our politicians demand that LESSONS WILL BE LEARNED, our banks shudder and fail, our bosses berate, our computers and smart-phones and widescreen TVs explode and crash and dazzle – and before you know it, it seems impossible to remember how exciting it was to find the hidden face in the rust on an old bicycle frame, or how relaxing it was to spend a few hours sitting cross-legged on the garden path whittling a popsicle stick. But occasionally, if we just allow a little space for contemplation, even our jaded adult attention spans can bristle and spark as if they were still brand new. E Pearce


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