This morning light seems full of new clarity & brilliance, inside the remnants of last night’s fog. I worked at the wax desk last night until after 1 o’clock this morning… which sentense contains the paradox of my prefered schedule. The extraordinary time deep between ordinary days has always been creative elixer to my artist…
The water of the Sound seems to be driven toward some errand in the south, moving with a deep determination & wasting little energy making waves of any stronger texture than a rather angry corduroy. I’ve been attemting to catch this photographically, missing, of course, the long low loop of eagle flight that happened while my fingers wrote on my laptop, sitting here with coffee in bed, watching this show.
My attention is torn & leaking between these ways… digitally recording a life rather lived more organically. Understanding the impossibility to resist attempting to capture the expanses of sensory light. The wax work is calling, even as I am hungry… Stephen says there are bagels in the toaster oven. offering the additional promise of at least a bit of the time together which was postponed last night when he was getting home from a day in the city just as I was getting into my wax groove.
So I can eat, retaining other apetites, & return to the wax… I’ve begun recarving the Alphabet Bell… I want to make it a bit more compact, tidy, & thus easier to produce, while retaining its original composition & essense.
