No, it didn’t take all day to pack the art. It took 2 hours with Rhonda’s help. There it is, in the box, with a towel on top to hold it in place and a note to remember the slats of wood that suspend the piece.
It feels like I’ve stepped through a passageway, like in Narnia or Harry Potter’s train station, where one minute you’re in one world, and the next moment, another. It’s was so gradual that the art took over the room (the one that I spend the most time in), that I hadn’t noticed how it had transformed the space. Suddenly, without the art, it’s so light, so bare. I “stepped back through”.
Do I want to go re-enter it? Yes. I want it to be there always. Selfishly. But, now I’m in the “real world” again and … in the summer, the windows open and the art would blow all over, get tangled. It’s impractical in the warmer seasons. So, no, I don’t need a permanent installation.
But inside my head, the next “other reality” is gestating. Not a 30 foot wall piece. But always with the hand-dyed silk.
As we were packing up the piece, Rhonda was looking closely at the colors of the individual squares – something she hadn’t noticed when seen on such a large scale. Intimate pieces can showcase that. Hmmmm…..