---------------------------------
Discovered
Karen looked out her window, shocked to see the world had turned white and grey. George, her husband, had mentioned a storm system was coming in and he might be late home, but he was late so often she hadn't paid much attention.She shuffled her slippered feet, mulling over the inch of powdery fluff. The slippers did have hard plastic soles, but the tops were knit and she didn't think they would survive the trip to the mailbox. Most likely it was junk mail anyway, she told herself. Or a bill or two. She wondered if they might keep until Spring.
Karen grabbed her cup of coffee and headed downstairs to the basement. A quick check on the washer showed it was still turning, so she ignored the laundry room in favor of her studio. Flicking on all the lights, Karen crossed the tile floor to her latest sculpture. She stared at it a long moment, still a misshapen hunk of wood roughly the length of her 10-speed bicycle and as thick as her hand. Originally she thought she would carve a mural into it, but as she looked at the knots and the waves in the grain, the wood began to speak to her.
An illusion, then, of depth. A frame as attached to the piece as it's picture. Pieces that curved out and away, not just on ... She wouldn't title it yet, though a name already tickled the edge of thoughts immersed in the image of what this wood could be.
Karen had put her coffee down long ago, her pencil marks scattered over the raw wood. She refused to take her eyes from the design, desperate to get it started before this first rush of vision, of discovery left. She grabbed blindly for a chisel, discarded the first and then the second until the right size came to hand. The hammer as well - and it could begin.
Carrie, I love this! An artist writing about an artist! I don't know if this was intentional, but just as you were inspired to craft this story from a photo, so was Karen inspired to craft a sculpture from the wood. Karen's strike of creative discovery and desire to bring her vision to life reminds me of writing...
ReplyDeleteAlso, I love the transition from real life (slippers, coffee, washing machine) into the escape of art. There's something very intellectually stimulating about it.
Good job, Carrie!
Thanks so much, Leanne. :) I love that about artists - how we can take from the real world, then step clear of it in order to work. It's the best part about writing, and I'm sure other arts as well.
DeleteYou can tell a bit about what's on my mind by the direction I take these prompt pieces. This week I'm trying to pin down some inspiration, and to make some more inspiration from scratch.