as I was working on another project, I continually passed this piece of aquatic matter. It had an air of wabi-sabi to it, which I feel pervades my work. Even my most precise work it rounded and fragmented, just by the very nature of the elements used. (I’ve had people suggest I try using bricks in my art, but they’re to regular and uniform for me to enjoy myself.) With each pass by the fungus, I felt more drawn to using it in a piece. I settled on a simple frame to encase it. The box was tucked behind the tree trunk I built my sandwich on last summer – that massive piece of drift wood has been pushed down the hill along with a few other large logs since then. I figured it was sort of a private build, something a little harder to exhibit to others, but anyone who decided to stop and sit might find their focus narrow and their mind settle to a calm place where this little build might be interesting to them, as well.
decayed and discarded objects are very interesting to me. there is a natural impermanence to things; each object has a context and a “home” when it is originally formed, and when the context is lost or changed, the boject takes on new meaning itself. this piece of vegetation is very out of place on the frozen beach, sitting unexpectedly on top of the snow, more yielding and spongy than its new stone neighbors or the sheets of ice it’s been thrown across by the rising tides. to me, it seemed to be a traveler, lost and unsure. it reminded me of this song.
I’d like to do more frames for small objects later; maybe I’ll revisit this next time I head to the beach.