Eight years ago, I sold my home, started traveling, living like a bird. Fell in love with words like alight, perch, and nest all over again. I’ve watched landscapes come and go, living arrangements shift with seasons, continents, and projects. Like so many other sojourners, I left behind well-worn daily rhythms and brought an inner, more fluid sense of home with me, along with a tiny cache of familiar things in a pack on wheels.
|Framing the Lumencot amid winter rains.|
I’ve come to tiny building from a more transient experience than many. Rather than scaling down from something larger and feeling a great letting-go, I’ve taken something on. When I first considered the quality of space I’d want to make and spend time in, it was immediately clear that the form should be—and feel—light, radiant. I wanted the interplay of structure and sculpture to evoke a sense of grounded wellbeing. What I really wanted was a nest: refuge on the cusp of freedom.
|Sky House series: Home Beyond Seeking|
This tiny-space medium is for me a culmination of years of intensive practice in sculpting, building, natural finishes, color, furniture making and lighting. Working with an exposed framework and translucent surface material was so natural to my creative process, it took a couple of months of building to realize that it had germinated in the fertile ground of the birdcage-inspired Sky House series.
|Natural oil glazing on wall panels with Opal polycarbonate upper panels.|
It’s been a joy to see the various phases of my creative explorations integrating, feeding into the visioning and making. I see it as a work-in sculpture left purposefully unresolved: everything is accessible, available for modification as needs and modes inevitably shift.