Some observations would have me believe I am hardwired to weave: culture and environment, blackberry vines and roses, music, street theater and battery recycling, and words and pictures.
So is the bower bird, albeit for other reasons; depicted here in its wikipedia entry:
"the bower ranges from a circle of cleared earth with a small pile of twigs in the center to a complex and highly decorated structure of sticks and leaves — usually shaped like a walkway, a small hut or a maypole — into and around which the (bird) places a variety of objects he has collected. These objects — usually strikingly colored — may include hundreds of shells, leaves, flowers, feathers, stones, berries, and even discarded plastic items or pieces of glass. The bird spends hours carefully sorting and arranging his collection, with each object in a specific place...the collection of objects reflects the personal taste of each bird and its ability to procure unusual and rare items..."
How can the physical part of one's practice substantiate and reveal the concept behind the work? In the end, visual art needs to be read by viewers, and in an ideal world there is meaning inherent in the work. But isn't there power in the labor that might be important to understanding what we are doing and how it is conveyed?
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