Living Wood

I prefer to work on dead wood. A tree just felled, that's still alive, makes me wonder if it hurts. I know, strange thoughts for a non-vegetarian, but I do agree we could all go a lot further to consider the pain someone or something else might feel. Trees are alive. Vegetables are alive. Plants are alive. Animals aren't the only thing we kill for food. I don't discriminate on what I'll kill for food. But, I do worry if a piece of wood is dead enough to be carved. I know. I've been this way my whole life. I'm used to it. This wood is beautiful. I first noticed it when I moved here. 4 years ago. It was deep in the side of a hill that was very slowly eroding. I did help loosen the dirt sometimes. Whenever Webs and I went for a walk. Just a little. That's probably really environmentally treacherous, but I just live on the edge. I had to have it. It really called to me. So, this is the wood I mentioned yesterday. It still has sap. Today, the sap had been bleeding out of the right shoulder. So cool. It's almost like amber in other places. Proper polishing and it will shine like gold. I just really feel an intense connection to this wood.

I'm also examining other artists and works that exhibit great passion. And I mean passion - not the Hollywood over used kind (I have a PASSION for Facebooking) - no the real, deep down, impossible to ignore, c'mon baby light my fire passion. Like Georgia O'Keefe kind of passion. Sexual kind of passion. I mean, isn't that really the only kind of passion? There has to be a better word for all those other things. Flitting through these thoughts and feelings, it occurs to me now that I have been missing a huge part of creating art. Sensuality is expressed so often and in such depth. Where the hell have I been? Really, I knew it was there, appreciated it, even sought it out. For some reason, now that I have actually achieved it, witnessed it, art lives and breathes on a whole new level.