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A love letter to Paper Dear Paper, I've always loved you. You're the stuff of books, of the signs in my father's art studio, of school papers and magazines and the Sunday comics. You're the stuff of the color postcards my aunts and uncles used to send me from their travels. My favorite childhood memories are full of you. When I first felt some freedom to make art, it was to you I turned. That was when Marge showed me the store there in Chicago that carried Japanese papers. What an opening that was, into a new world! With Japanese papers and colored tissue paper, I made collages night after night, after the kids had gone to bed. Now - more than ever - I want to give you a full say in the bowls. Be however you want to be - cut, torn, whole. Be flat or curved. Be fragile or strong or both. Pretend, or be straightforward. Be silly or serious. (I can't believe I said that. Silly? Yes, OK, I'm leaving it up to you.) All I ask is harmony and wholeness - between you and the iron - among you and all the other materials in the bowl - beads, wire, copper mesh. Is that too much to ask? I know it can happen. Surely you want it too? Sometimes you want to shine by yourself? Be the center of attention? Be the whole bowl? Why not? OK. All right. Sometimes you can be the only one. You're wonderful, by yourself. ------------------ |
