SCULPTURE
In 1996, I made a number of works using Plaster of Paris. At the time, I
would have told you it was because I was poor, and plaster was cheap.
The truth is, though, that I had boxes and boxes of useable paints and
drawing materials, paper, canvas, everything I needed. Money was short,
but it was not the sole reason I was using plaster. Now, when I look back
at that time, I think I chose to use plaster because plaster is plaster.
It is so very clean, so pure, so stable. I needed its pureness and
stability. My soul needed its pureness and stability. I spent a lot of
time that year embedding objects in plaster.
Another preoccupation of mine in 1996 was hunting for, and clutching at,
various signs which could help me navigate through the confusion which
evil had cast me into. Once, upon a visit to a nearby archaeological site,
I noticed a display that outlined how the local Natives had used turtle shell
markings to keep track of time. Weeks, hours, minutes, years, all these
become too abstract when confusion reigns; but moons, even a person
wandering in the wilderness can relate to moons, and the turtle shell
calendar tracks the changing moons.
Watching and following the changes in the moon was, for me, a very necessary
experience. It provided a cyclical pathway for my disordered mind to begin
to focus around. It helped draw my attention from inside, outward, and showed
me that there was true order in spite of my experiences. Eventually,
I constructed my own personal turtle calendar taking the liberty of naming
the passing moons as I knew them. I even went one day to get a turtle tattooed
on my wrist as a reminder of my new understanding of the nature of time,
but the studio owner talked me out of it.
Well, if I wasn't meant to have a turtle wristwatch, then I would have to
make myself a turtle clock, and that is just what this sculpture is meant to
be. I made the turtle from clay, painted it with egg tempera and dry earth
pigments, surrounded it with the woven vine, and bound it all together with
plaster and sand. Of course, it doesn't tell time like an ordinary clock does,
but, then again, I'm not convinced an ordinary clock tells the time either.
This is a charmingly honest work, quite profound in its origin, and yet it
hangs humbly on my wall, quietly fulfilling its function, all the while
appearing as nothing more than a piece of simple wildlife craft.
This work is in my collection.
Your comments and questions are welcomed. E-mail me.