Every year we have a Spring and after almost seventy of them, I feel that I may have become a little complacent about what to expect. It’s my favourite time of year for its new greens, buds and blossoms, cold nights, chilly mornings, warm afternoons and the promise of rebirth.
This year our Spring feels different. Although we are preparing the soil the same as every other Spring and getting ready to sow our veggie seeds, there is an element of doubt as to what will shoot. The blossoms are promising on the almond tree and I am hoping to see the first asparagus spearing through the mulch any minute, but so far this year has been unpredictable enough to torpedo my faith in even the most reliable of my expectations.
While I have been able to continue with my work in the studio without much interruption, I have not had the same access to the furnaces and have had to reimagine my place as a maker.
The work that has come from this period may seem like another small step in the continuing evolution of my “shoots” and “fruits” series but it has come from a very different period of time and a very different place.
My work has always responded very directly to time and place. Often to travel, studio experiences in different cultures with old and new friends in the world of glass. Sometimes to opportunities that have focused on looking at my materials and process in new ways. This year we have been encouraged to stay put and isolate without the influences outside our small bubble. To be more self-sufficient and to rely on our own ingenuity and imagination.
Some of these new pieces refer more directly to the shapes and colours of fruits that we know. Some of them are less recognizable. Maybe from the future or another place. Maybe from trees or plants that we don’t yet know that hold the promise of something new and exciting. Or frightening.