Thinking of Things In Space

/ bobbiecasey2day / Leave a comment

origami spinning top artworkspira 4Oldest living things in the world, natural, organic, and remarkable is what is on this mind, today: A trip to Fish Lake, Utah, is where I first saw the Aspen trees which have been dated to be 80,000 years old. I stay at the lodge or camp here during my wanderings. I love these trees. I and my sister have climbed to the top of the summit where we tossed ashes into the universe.

Today I have been making origami spinning tops. Corel Draw is a program I have used for many years. It is amazing to play around with things like this. Play is a great way to start something new if you follow where it leads. I began with thinking about the trees and a book review and of course, origami.  “Oldest Living Things In The World“ by Rachel Sussman is the book I am about to read.

This activity leads me to other ideas. This is what I always do when I get stuck on a more serious work if/when it is stagnant. Science or art, this is what I think of, usually, when I am in this mode. Soon flowers will bloom, again, I will see the fractals in each edge of everything I ponder. Like I always say, “If I were only big enough or small enough. . .”A Microscope or Telescope is what I need, or maybe just a new pair of glasses. I am a white dot floating into a black hole. I wonder what is really on the other side?

Ongoing Conversation

/ bobbiecasey2day / Leave a comment

A life is built layer upon layer (contradiction here, always that moment when God touched the finger of Adam or the moment the big bang occurred ) is it now?

A dwelling is a place to contain this moment. So, each moment we can find astonishment when we see what is here. It is as if each moment is wrapped in cellophane like a piece of candy: everything is suddenly here. I am astonished.

conversation1

Wasp dwelling in my dwelling

I’ll Be There

/ bobbiecasey2day / Leave a comment

Remember the times we ran off to Santa Fe? The art was magnificent in the galleries, you cried to go home. Your Kitty was missing you? I recall the box lunches the hotel made for us to bring on our ride to the top of the mountain where we fished in the stream. The trout were small but a challenge to catch. We stayed and stayed and talked and talked. Faded memories of cherished days well spent, listening to my sweet daughter, her hurts and regrets. I was there to catch you if you fell. The job of being a mother never ever ends. I pass this knowing on to you. Someday you will let your daughter know, you are there, for her and her and him.

I'llbe-there

Write A Story – Cut it up – Put It Back – A picture quilt?

/ bobbiecasey2day / Leave a comment

I have been surfing today. The waves are very high! I think I live on Utopia Parkway. Move over JC. Truly I am seeing through eyes long past and thinking how that pertains to art today. I think of Richard Kehl as well as Joseph Cornell, and Robert Rauschenberg, and Tracy Hicks. These artists inspire my artistic sensibilities,

I wonder if Joseph Cornell picked his address: 3708 Utopia Parkway, Flushing, 58, NY? It is almost surreal, do you think?

My friend, real friend, Tracy is one of the spirits I think of very often. I have one of his pieces. For a while he was using mason jars to segregate his artist thoughts, hundreds of them. I have not seen him for a million years. I think it might be an eterniday.

Dallas is slip sliding away, just like here. So I am content to be in my studio truly connected to the world. It might be a while until I get out, that is OK by me.

Some of the photographs are crappy, I know, but. . .I had to have a lot to flip, so there. I just want you to know that I know that. I am just sharing another process.

The Edges of Things

/ bobbiecasey2day / Leave a comment

sobelow

Above is a work completed lately, So Below, as it exists, presently. Dripping watercolor flowing from graphics seems to be showing up in the media these days.

It is National Poetry Month, which is almost over, so:

“In the sacred disorder of the box, a rosary. It’s not telling us how to think about the hour of our death. It’s making a hole large enough to draw a thread through. Long enough to pull a woman back out of the labyrinth.”

Steady Digression to a Fixed Point

BY ELIZABETH WILLIS

I quote above, Elizabeth Willis, just one line of this amazing poem, Steady Digression to a Fixed Point. I am very interested in Joseph Cornell, his dossiers in particular. This poetry is inspired by him, I am sure.

Have you seen the film, “Chicken With Plums?” I see the influence of this in that, too. It is such a beautiful visual delight.

Foldings

/ bobbiecasey2day / Leave a comment

foldedthings1Colors, lines, tessellations, objects in space, a small cutting edge building tucked into a traditional neighborhood, these thoughts run through my mind-scape as nourishment for other pieces to be made; I allow it to flourish until later. I see edges in space.