Friday, July 11, 2008

Anti-gravity

Have you ever had a dream or vision you felt to be so impossible, or at least so unlikely, that you put it aside and indignantly named it "Someday?" You get used to the thump of the longing and eventually you loose consciousness of it. It blends in with your own heartbeat and you can't hear it anymore. 

I just feel so obscenely lucky that so many of my hopes have been realized recently. I'm standing on the other side of a door that was suddenly unlocked and I'm in shock. This is a view I haven't seen in awhile, looking back across the threshold of what felt like an enormous risk, so forgive me if I have to stand here until I can believe that it's real! 

For instance,
-I just moved back to a city I suspect I'll never tire of exploring
-I just bought my dream computer (I've been without since the move, which is why I haven't been posting) which means I will be able to do even more with my art
-I get paid to support young artists in a fairly unlimited capacity while I take classes towards my MFA for free
-I watched the fireworks exploding over the very site that independence was actually declared from
-The video I posted here... a spontaneous concert on a porch down the street. By nightfall there were more musicians crammed up there than there were of us audience members who stopped and listened, as I did, on my way home!



So I guess it goes to show... there are times when the wings you've gotten accustomed to seeing sitting quietly up on the shelf reveal their capacity for flight. Occasionally, the laws of physics don't apply. Occasionally, gravity let's up.

Friday, May 9, 2008



So I chose the name "Red Clay Wings" for a couple reasons, mostly because I love paradoxes. And I'm definitely partial to any that concern dirt and sky, ground and flight, the physical and non-physical.

I was also drawn to this name because it speaks about the malfunction of purpose. Wings are made to push down on air, allowing their owners to see from a removed place, freeing them from the bounds of their own weight. Most days, it feels like my wings are the weight. And they are crumbly and broken like red clay earth.