I’ve been pondering physical stability for a while and would like to submit a piece of writing to Tenderfoot. My interest began when I read of how a stream of salt will form a conical shape that, at some apparently unpredictable point, will collapse into a new stable form.
I’m intrigued by the feel of a heavy object suddenly becoming weightless when you push it, using leverage to discover its fulcrum.
In my sculpture I can’t resist making flimsy things that will fall over – I thought I just wasn’t making them properly but I wonder if I’m just being annoying and provocative? I like leaving heavy objects dangerous near edges, putting a wedge under a plinth so it cants up the sculpture.
I’d love to write a piece for Tenderfoot and work through these ideas, linking them to the spirit of the time.
March 2021′
Yesterday I got a message from a friend
I had a picture of her, where she was..
In a studio, in rural wexford, warm, heading for lunch, surrounded by gorgeous people, lovely chairs and food
and
blue marl
She said “I have something for you” , “I’d love to drop it off with you tomorrow..”
I thought to myself “NO”, it couldn’t be , could it?
And I wasn’t sure, but my muscle memory began to twinge, I began to think of the slip, the wash, the grit, the gluey malleability of its consistency once it dries a little, the sparkles of mica, quartz, maybe, pine needles, the the drying, the crumbling, the coating of surfaces, the brittle, powdering and the feeling of it on the skin, the dryness and contraction..
Anyway
and then faced with the.. “so we have de cOOvid” quagmire, and the “i’ll see you at a distance “ surreality, STILL!!!
still
But arrived, all borders broken, chats, stories, plans swapped and shared and
The blue marl
At its perfect consistency, still runny enough to evolve through a myriad of changes, guises, mOOOOds!!!
What is it about anticipation?..
Anticipation of a material.. taste buds ignite, mouth salivates a bit, cos you’ve tasted it.. but mostly
a memory that rises in the muscles..
a longing
for the past
an association
like the stages of in this case, poignantly, a kind shared earth,
a shared experience, of grief.. …
(a happenstance exchange between two friends, myself and Jamie Ashforth, who had on separate occasions been on residency in the same location in Co.Wexford, Ireland. On the land in this particular residency’s location is a ‘marl hole/pit’. Marl soil in the Wexford area is derived from marine clays pushed up onto the land by glacial action thousands of year ago. My Mum had passed away 5 months previous to when I received the marl from my friend.)
2 Comments on “Submit Your Writing”
Hi Laura,
I’ve been pondering physical stability for a while and would like to submit a piece of writing to Tenderfoot. My interest began when I read of how a stream of salt will form a conical shape that, at some apparently unpredictable point, will collapse into a new stable form.
I’m intrigued by the feel of a heavy object suddenly becoming weightless when you push it, using leverage to discover its fulcrum.
In my sculpture I can’t resist making flimsy things that will fall over – I thought I just wasn’t making them properly but I wonder if I’m just being annoying and provocative? I like leaving heavy objects dangerous near edges, putting a wedge under a plinth so it cants up the sculpture.
I’d love to write a piece for Tenderfoot and work through these ideas, linking them to the spirit of the time.
Best wishes,
Stephanie
best wishes
March 2021′
Yesterday I got a message from a friend
I had a picture of her, where she was..
In a studio, in rural wexford, warm, heading for lunch, surrounded by gorgeous people, lovely chairs and food
and
blue marl
She said “I have something for you” , “I’d love to drop it off with you tomorrow..”
I thought to myself “NO”, it couldn’t be , could it?
And I wasn’t sure, but my muscle memory began to twinge, I began to think of the slip, the wash, the grit, the gluey malleability of its consistency once it dries a little, the sparkles of mica, quartz, maybe, pine needles, the the drying, the crumbling, the coating of surfaces, the brittle, powdering and the feeling of it on the skin, the dryness and contraction..
Anyway
and then faced with the.. “so we have de cOOvid” quagmire, and the “i’ll see you at a distance “ surreality, STILL!!!
still
But arrived, all borders broken, chats, stories, plans swapped and shared and
The blue marl
At its perfect consistency, still runny enough to evolve through a myriad of changes, guises, mOOOOds!!!
What is it about anticipation?..
Anticipation of a material.. taste buds ignite, mouth salivates a bit, cos you’ve tasted it.. but mostly
a memory that rises in the muscles..
a longing
for the past
an association
like the stages of in this case, poignantly, a kind shared earth,
a shared experience, of grief.. …
(a happenstance exchange between two friends, myself and Jamie Ashforth, who had on separate occasions been on residency in the same location in Co.Wexford, Ireland. On the land in this particular residency’s location is a ‘marl hole/pit’. Marl soil in the Wexford area is derived from marine clays pushed up onto the land by glacial action thousands of year ago. My Mum had passed away 5 months previous to when I received the marl from my friend.)