(continued from last post, please see ENO 2012, Wednesday July 4th)
"under the oppressive heat of the days, the fatigue of the weeks of preperation, and the intertia and distractions of being away from my studio, I quickly found my focus dissipating, and my effort loosing some momentum…
I knew I had to make a break, so, after a lost day, that I don’t really even remember, I staggered out and over to visit my friends at the Scrap Exchange, hoping for some stuffing for my dragon’s eye’s, and maybe a little inspiration…."
As I staggered in, from the blinding, scorched Sahara of the
parking lot, through the front doors, into the cool cavernous expanse of the
Scrap Exchange, I found my eyes struggling to adjust to such a change in light
and temperature, and psychedelic patterns flashed before my eyes. I heard a
distant soothing feminine voice, welcoming me to the Scrap Exchange, and saw a
menagerie of weird things, cobbled together from used parts.
Yet I pushed past all of these, and staggered deeper into this cavern’s cool depths, down
towering corridors, lined with god knows what, whistful faces peering out from
unknamed tombs. I hurried past these, determined to find a blue Styrofoam
noodle, like the one I’d found before…Actually, I’d long since given up on the noodle, and
I was looking for Stuffing, any that could be found, to hold my dear mirrors in
place. I briefly considered the prospect of stuffing them with a tangle of computer cords, and panic
started to return, but then, I beheld, a giant towering TROUGH of holy stuffing, a
giant pale green chalic, issuing forth billows of white fluffy stuff.
Into this chalice I dove, burying my head, my neck and shoulders,
until finally only my ankles and feet stuck out. I didn’t care if they never
found me, I was happy to be there, immersed, stuffed into my stuffing as it were. I didn't care.
OK, so that didn’t really happen. But I did feel kind of a
gratified feeling to find this stuff/ing.
As I marched back to the check out counter, I passed a glass
doorway to one of the turqouise chambers that had previously been empty there. This was to
be the new Scrap Exchange Design Center. And through this glass, I beheld a
chrystaline workspace, abuzz with several angelic women that I know, sitting
around tables busily working on stuff. One of these closest to the door was the magical Reclaimed Materials Artist Bryant Holsenbeck. Hmmm, so fair and gay all of
these workers seemed inside of this aquarium of green, and so curious was I what
Bryant was up too, that I popped my head, to inquire. She explained that she,
and her assistant Iris, were making a flock of birds to soar from the vaulted
ceilings of the Scrap Exchange. She just wanted, she explained, to give the place a little bit
of her Bryant ‘bling’!
Well,
Bryant being the deft enlister of destitute resources, both (inanimate and human) that she
is…, I soon found myelf perched at the top of a very tall ladder, hanging
Bryant’s mobile from a grey beam, and sending her flock, (and this drab celing)
aflight! I didn’t at all mind being used in this way. It was great to be a hand in
this good production, and furthermore, I had been receiving so much help from
my Mother the past couple days with plantings and signage, that it felt good to
make myself useful to another Artist’s project.
In fact, once we had Bryant squared away, I found myself in a
somewhat different mindframe…(such it seems is the magic of Bryant) And an idea struck me upside the head. I inquired,
at the front desk. "could I perchance borrow this room for a crafts project?"
And the answer, my friends, as a resounding "YES!!!"
And so it was that I signed in, and then took a shopping
cart for a little spin around the marbled concrete floors of the Scrap
Exchange. You see, on my epic journey for stuffing, I had come upon some
bulging, bursting bags of burlap. And some of these I piled into my cart, as
well as few other morsels and tendrils..
Then, like a ravenous cook fresh from the hen house, I
entered the ‘kitchen’, and began laying these out on the table for the
operation that was to ensue...
Knowing that my time was limited, and the ticker was ticking, I was orderly and systematic in my procedures.
I first finished my work of the day, and completed my
dragon’s eyes, stuffing them full to the brim, giving them a nice full feel.
Once I had these finished and polished up, I set them aside, and moved on to
the next operation.
This project was to create some badly needed paneling for my
booth, to both disguise my little check-out station, and create a backdrop for
my tire sculptures. As I had noted (during a photoshoot) that the texture and
earthy tones of burlap nicely accent the smooth and rugged black rubber of the
tires, I though that this burlap would make an excellent backdrop.
I had some carboard squares already cut to size, that I had
brought.
What I had not brought, and very much needed for this
operation, was a hot glue gun.
And this tool, I can report, was provided in ABUNDANCE by
the Design Center.
I could have wallpapered a whole house with all of that hot
glue.
One thing that was really nice about working there, on site
of the scrap exchange, was that all of my materials were readily available
there. When I needed to find another scrap of burlap, say, with a certain print
or texture on it, all I had to do was dash out the door, to the mines of scrap
waiting outside.
Should I have needed a wire, to fasten something with, it
could readily be found, in its own special spot. A categorized bounty; your
very own gem mine; a supply closet the
size of a football stadium, what more could you ask for?
One other thing that I noticed right when I ducked back into
the room, was that the Design Center is mercifully, gourgeously temperature
controlled. And as someone who has been swimming through their own sweat in my studio, scraps of different projects sticking to me as I work, this cool,
clean, fresh air provided a very refreshing space for me to work in indeed. A
complimentary pitcher of cold water (or coffee in winter) further enhanced this refreshingly comfortable feeling.
Which brings me to one final aspect of the Design Center
which I really enjoyed.
And that is that it was an empty and neutral space, free of
the clutter of my own personal baggage, half finished projects etc, that haunt
such spaces as my studio, or the house I grew up in. None of that was here.
Just an empty work table, some handy tools, a sturdy chair.
This was HEAVEN!
And this was salvation.
That afternoon, I had staggered though the doors of the
Scrap Exchange a somewhat broken man. Feelings of failure hung
about my ankles like shackles.
Yet as I walked back out of that door, the returned bounce
in my step spoke volumes of my sense of renewal, and accomplishment. I returned
to the battle fields, with renewed vigor, and sense of purpose.
Looking back, I realize that that day, perhaps I was like
some kind of lost Crusader, stumbling through the jungle, dizzy with dysentery, coming abruptly upon a grotto in the wood- the Scrap Exchange, my shrine, my church, my salvation.
