Making Sense of It All

I've always had people around me. I see them in faces in leaves and in folds of curtains. New companions join me even today: faces in the bathroom floor's marbling, and many crowded in my pile of wood scraps. They seem to be involved in whatever they're doing and don't mind me observing them.

Woman with windblown hair

Sometimes I keep a sub-section in my wood scrap pile of pieces that remind me of certain things. Usually casualties from projects that hit a bump somewhere in the creative process and got tossed aside. But even then, when I look through that pile, I see something else yet again.

Bird waiting to fly

For example, this piece (left) started as the head of a woman in the wind. Was she going for a motorcycle ride?
But when I rediscovered her (right), she had turned into a bird.
When giving it a little thought, I wonder if it was some unspoken message. Was I missing the birds this winter? Or was I observing a fairytale: did she wish to become a bird and was waiting for the chance to fly.

Toy Land

I can recall favorite childhood Christmas presents: my cat (an impulse adoption from the church basement where my uncle was the minister), a recumbent-peddled metal hook & ladder fire engine, a large wooden rocking horse called 'Big Red' floating on spring supports, natural maple (?) wood blocks that fit perfectly in its cardboard box, and my cobbler's bench. I never was much for dolls or girly things.

Sensory satisfaction of wood on wood. 

Playing with the wooden blocks and cobbler's bench continue in my assemblage artwork as an adult child. I don't have the originals anymore.
(Here's one like mine, left, sold as a Vintage Playskool Cobbler's Bench.)
However the satisfaction of pounding dowels, or building block sculptures has never left.
Many days remind me of those play times when I'm creating art in the shop.