Over the last four years I have had the privilege to live onboard my sailing catamaran, ‘Manx’ and have sailed the waters off the East Coast of the US and the Bahamas. In my travels, I found it difficult-to-impossible to carve even small pieces. The boat moves in place as well as from place to place. There were few moments chore free to set aside for artistic pursuits of any kind. So, I shielded myself from inspiration, from the wild, gnawing yearning, which could overwhelm my joy of the moment. But sometimes I am caught unaware. Sometimes, when I least expect it, I get caught by an image so compelling that it takes my breath away. The faces of humanity have always had that kind of effect, so I make a habit of drawing and even return to watercolor and acrylic to assuage the need to “get it down.”
So, here is the story of one such situation and how the time between inspiration and finished work was used so that I could hold on to the vision, keep my sanity, and maybe even experience joy.
I had been traveling through the land of spring flowers, flowers that were familiar and unfamiliar. I was sailing up the Intracoastal Waterway along the eastern seaboard; a series of rivers, lakes, bays, and canals that go from Norfolk, VA to the tip of Florida. This was all new territory to me, as I had lived my entire life in the Puget Sound area. In a sailboat you are allowed the time to really see the land you are traveling through. At each port-of-call there are new things to see and experience, new scents to take in.
But sometimes it is the familiar in an unusual environment that will bring it all into focus and touch that part of you that releases your creative energy. Moments like these have become familiar to me now, but then, time was short, and knowing that it might be months until I could start working in stone, it was necessary to harness the energy when it came, so that it would be available at a future time. In this case it was a simple dogwood bloom in an old Beaufort, SC home that caused me to re-evaluate what I thought I knew about that flower. I got out my camera and took a series of photos. Later, during a quiet moment off watch, I did several drawings from memory. I was thinking of a piece of semitransparent white alabaster that I had started carving several years before and had been unable to finish. Why I should remember that stone, of the many I had left behind, I could not say, but I made a note of it in my drawing journal. Then I was back to work and off on the next leg of my journey.
When we got home, for the summer that year, I made my way to the studio that I had shared with Jim Paget and Terry Slaton, signing on again. I had my drawing supplies and paintings so that I could use them as reference for future work. Setting up again, after a long absence, takes time, and locating where I left things is always worth several of my studio days. Eventually I found the stones that I had thought to use and lay them out ready to start on the next day of studio time. I usually have several works in progress so that I can optimize the use of tools and energy.
I was going to a family art camp in eastern Washington put on by the Okanogan County Arts Commission, having been introduced to it by Ward Lynch many years ago. I find it very stimulating to be around artists of other disciplines. The white stone, photos and drawings were brought out, but as so often happens, the vision and the reality were not the same. Finding it more important to begin than to try to figure out all the reasons why, out came the hand tools and off I went.
It felt so good to be in the woods, surrounded by excited and inspired friends, with a whole week to do what ever I chose. Inspiration turned to perspiration and I was happy with the possibilities. It would be different than first envisioned but that was all to the good. I made a small maquette out of plastiline clay to help me keep track of my intended direction. I do not use the model, not as the last word in the design, but as a map to a possible goal.
And then it happened, that moment of inattention. I heard the sound before I saw the results. The wonderful overhanging leaf, that was to be the backing of the bloom with its white-leaved fringe, and that I was so proud of, was gone!
Devastated, I wrapped the whole thing up and set it aside, sure that it could be epoxyed together, but not having the supplies to do it there. Moving on to other things, I decided it would be a good project for Camp Brotherhood.
Well, with all the help that is available at Camp B, it was only a matter of time until a solution was found. Very often the right solution is not the one we want, or hope for. In the end, the leaf became smaller, but more in scale and better for the finished sculpture. As so often happens, the piece became both more and less than I had hoped.
As it sits in the window now, it is satisfying to see that I could harness my creativity and bring about a sculpture that expresses that moment when the warm and scented air of South Carolina inspired me.
Patty has returned to the Northwest and is busy setting up her new home-based studio in Kent, WA. She is looking forward to once again becoming actively involved in NWSSA. She can be reached at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.
