There I was, driving to my studio to work on my latest obsession, a change of clothes beside me for the evening’s openings, a full tank of gas, and a gut load of ambition. The Jeep was flying along at illegal speeds, passing newer, faster vehicles, unafraid with the approach of the Big Hill. As we passed a car that had just merged from the 57, a sudden jolt and loss of power signaled that the Big Hill had snagged one more unsuspecting victim in its unmerciful grip, just the latest of many who have fallen to its sun baked shoulder in defeat. Our luck had run out, and as I coaxed the slowing Cherokee out of traffic I realized we would now pay our dues. We had mocked the Big Hill frequently on our treks to Chinatown, passed arrogantly those who bowed to its great power, smug in our belief that we would never succumb to its might. Ok, Big Hill, you won on Saturday. But we will see you again tomorrow, and we will once again pass your crest with ease. We can be beaten but not defeated!
All right, so that was a bit cheesy and laid on thick. Truthfully, I was very disappointed that I missed the openings on Saturday, was really looking forward to them. I think that the distractions of Summer are giving way to the anticipation of Fall and all the good stuff that will be happening in September. In the meantime, work, work, work is the mantra for me. If I could I would spend all of my time in the studio right now. I love it when I’m in the stage of a new piece where every bit completed prods me onward to see where it goes next. My work is of a nature that while it is all planned out and predetermined by design there is a randomness in the way it plays out. I know what I want to do but in the end the pattern of the fabric determines what the piece looks like. Writing this makes me wish I was working now!
Tomorrow that hill belongs to me and my Jeep!