While reading a text on Hinduism and Buddhism (it contains selections from the Vedas and Upanishads, but there is more as well), I came across a section "On Truth in the Religions; Insanity: My Religion Alone is True." This selection from the text says in perfect words the belief that my work is based on.
"The entire world is being driven insane by this single phrase: "My religion alone is true." O Mother, you have shown me that no clock is entirely accurate. Only the transcendent sun of knowledge remains on time. Who can make a system from Divine Mystery? But if any sincere practitioner, within whatever culture or religion, prays and meditates with great devotion and commitment to Truth alone, Your Grace will flood his mind and heart, O Mother. His particular sacred tradition will be opened and illuminated. He will reach the one goal of spiritual evolution."
I will have to have this quote there with me at the Thesis Exhibition on May 4th. The myths that are being told as part of the show are based on this idea. They are from no religion, and every religion. Duality...now there is something interesting.
Just the journal of a free spirit. Viollca (Kelsey Byram) of Tricks of the Light talking about her art, performance, and life.
Friday, April 15, 2011
The Seer's speech
It will storm tonight. Raw power sizzles and cackles through the air, making my hair stand on end and making me shiver with anticipation and desire. Tonight, I touch the sky with my fingertips and feel the Mother's kiss on my face. 
The Scorpio dances in me and as the thunder rages, I think maybe the storm and the power are actually inside of me. Tonight, it storms.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
You must give more, always more
It is not enough to put in long hard hours behind the scenes; no one sees those hours.
It is not enough to put a labor of love into your work; for others it is just a commodity.
It is not enough to sacrifice all you have until you're tearing yourself to shreds; what do people care about another's sacrifice? To each of us, no one else's problems are ever as dire as our own, no one else's life so desperate as our own struggling existence.
There is no work accomplished until there is a result, and there is no accomplishment until there is a reward. The struggle comes in finding our own reward, because the reward from others will never be what we were hoping.
It is not enough to put a labor of love into your work; for others it is just a commodity.
It is not enough to sacrifice all you have until you're tearing yourself to shreds; what do people care about another's sacrifice? To each of us, no one else's problems are ever as dire as our own, no one else's life so desperate as our own struggling existence.
There is no work accomplished until there is a result, and there is no accomplishment until there is a reward. The struggle comes in finding our own reward, because the reward from others will never be what we were hoping.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Threads of Rain and Grass
I'm finally weaving again! I'm using fine wools in rich jewel tones. These deep, beautiful colors I keep returning to remind me of my family's garden after a rain. That's when the light brown tree trunks darken to a near-black, the grass is an unmatchable green, and all the flowers darken a little from the water, before they brighten in the sun.
The colors in the warp (the vertical threads that the weft - the horizontal threads - get woven into) blend from blues to purples to greens, with a touch of yellow as a highlight.
Bad news is, I'd forgotten just how long it takes to set up the loom! Each strand of yarn goes first through the reed (essentially a really long comb) in front, which you can see in the picture above, and then through an individual heddle, which you can see in the picture below. That's what the loom looks like when you're hunched over the back of it and pulling each individual strand through. I have less than 200 of the 840 strands threaded through the loom so far! Luckily, this is a rather meditative process, and I zone out to music.
I'll be keeping track of my progress - hopefully by next posting I will have the first bit of fabric woven!
The colors in the warp (the vertical threads that the weft - the horizontal threads - get woven into) blend from blues to purples to greens, with a touch of yellow as a highlight.
Bad news is, I'd forgotten just how long it takes to set up the loom! Each strand of yarn goes first through the reed (essentially a really long comb) in front, which you can see in the picture above, and then through an individual heddle, which you can see in the picture below. That's what the loom looks like when you're hunched over the back of it and pulling each individual strand through. I have less than 200 of the 840 strands threaded through the loom so far! Luckily, this is a rather meditative process, and I zone out to music.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
The Story Begins
I am the vessel that carries the Otherworld into this world. My creations were conceived in another time, another place, but born in this world as prophets. Each piece carries the essence of an aspect of spirituality, without also carrying the established meaning of any specific religion. The warm glow of fire in darkness, chanting and music, ritualistic motions, processions and journeys, script and symbols - detached from proselytizing, these things carry individual meaning to us all.
My materials are intimately connected to the world that they are a part of. Leather, stone, wood, bone, and linen are children of the earth, and are reminders of the grass beneath your feet, the bark under your hands. Silk, glass, mirrors, and shimmer are children of the sky, and are reminders of the wind in your hair, the feeling of raindrops on your skin.
A costume is not complete until it is worn, a mask is not complete without the face concealed behind it. Empty of the bearer, the costume is still and silent like a relic in a museum. Someone once wore it, someone once knew its meaning, but its life is lived, its history condensed to a few short phrases tacked on the wall beside it. Time does not leave anything untouched, and its passage is recorded in accumulation and decay. Time binds us all together.
My materials are intimately connected to the world that they are a part of. Leather, stone, wood, bone, and linen are children of the earth, and are reminders of the grass beneath your feet, the bark under your hands. Silk, glass, mirrors, and shimmer are children of the sky, and are reminders of the wind in your hair, the feeling of raindrops on your skin.
A costume is not complete until it is worn, a mask is not complete without the face concealed behind it. Empty of the bearer, the costume is still and silent like a relic in a museum. Someone once wore it, someone once knew its meaning, but its life is lived, its history condensed to a few short phrases tacked on the wall beside it. Time does not leave anything untouched, and its passage is recorded in accumulation and decay. Time binds us all together.
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