I think I must be deep into New Artist Syndrome. I love making art. I love going out into the desert to collect my wood. I cannot help but see how each stick fits into a piece I envision as I pick it up, drop it into my sack. I spend time unpacking each bag I collect, sorting wood into potential uses.
These can become my batons. Perfect to smooth into a piece of wood ready to clutch in a hand. Maybe the crystal will go here in this curve.
Other pieces go into my collage box. They have character, texture. One shapes into the curve of a cheekbone, ready for a primitive minimal face on barn wood. The complicated spiral of cliff rose root will be a focal point.
"With all the beauty surrounding me here above the Verde Valley, how could I not create more beauty?"