And every time, I am surprised how the real thing differs from the imagined thing. Coming into being changes everything.
My abilities, my frailties, time and material contort ideas.
Any work of one's making bears the marks of this struggle to become material, to overcome mere idea. The toolmarks, the imperfect measurement, the transformative meeting of structure and desire.
Is that not a lesson that applies to life beyond beading?
These little earrings, made of very old, if not ancient, mummy beads (so-called because similar ones have been found among grave goods in the middle east and Africa) turquoise, Native American trade beads and modern seed beads are my building project this week. At first, the upper part of the design seemed like a tiny naos, the door through which the spirit enters and leaves this world. From that gentle pyramidlike shape hang graduated dangles that dance like the limbs of marionettes.