Try to follow this THREAD of appreciation (a first blog-posting)

[Thom Courcelle]

This is my first ever blog posting, so—please—I beg of thee, forgive me any foibles or gaffes that may reveal themselves in the prosaic ramblings that follow…

 

Multiple works of artifice have recently found themselves lodged in my mailbox and this post-ing is a celebration of the DIVERSITY of talent that exudes from all corners of the planet—truly!—represented by a small, but ever growing, microcosm of creatives burrowing within the electronic village called IUOMA.  Though the artwork represented is of diverse mediums and a wide range of techniques, Serendipity—as ever—has wriggled her way through the universe and kissed the foreheads of each of those artistic shamans creating a THREAD of relationship.  Huzzah!  (It is slightly possible that the communication and inspiration between and betwixt the citizens of the electronic village could have had something to do with it, but romantic theories of cosmic concurrence feel more precise.)

 

THREAD seems to be the common theme that started this business off—and isn’t it apropos that the Fates with their spinning and weaving and cutting of thread should draw taught the lines on their loom, like a bow, to send arrows to pierce my sensibilities with adoration.

 

Marie Wintzer, shortly after receiving a kind of memoir-ish booklet from me, returned the favor in kind with a book of her own—pregnant with possibility.  The words on the textured-paper cover: “’Will it get better?’ she demanded. We looked at each other,…”  The question is one that is dear in extremis to my heart.  And if anyone is wondering, IT ALWAYS GETS BETTER.  Make no mistake.   The question posed, however, is art in-and-of itself…  “She demanded.”  It is an imperative: “demand.”  And yet, en francais, demander is “to ask.” The last part of that text indicates interaction, communication, however subtle it may be, a burgeoning answer waiting to be revealed: “We looked at each other,…” because of course the best kinds of books are mysteries…

 

Inside the book is lined with rice paper printed with Japanese—I presume—characters, which also are a mystery to me, but undoubtedly hold meaning.  The book contains instructions—in 6 languages—for washing an unknown article, and a square photograph of an otherworldly silver-metallic substance shimmering in dappled shades of blue and purple.  The piece is put together using multiple mediums—an adhesive, metal staples, and THREAD, the last being a connective force between the elements of the book: one sees a tangle on the front cover representing the binding/spine of the book, and inside the photo is attached to the spine as well as the washing instructions label, and the label is pierced by the thread out the back of the book, which connects again to the tangle on the front—a full circle—but a tail of thread also waves-off dreamily into nothingness and ether.  Perhaps it represents a choice: either choose to be a part of the circle of life, or fall off into the unknown.  Will one direction answer the question posed by the book?  Will the Fates have anything to do with it?  What a tangled web they weave… Thank you, Marie, for a treasure.

 

Another piece—received the same day—was also bound by THREAD.  My first work received from Cheryl Penn seemed to be two works of art whiplashed together by means of a sewn [thread] border.  One side being a one-of-a-kind painting on board paper, the drip painting-style—some in high gloss, some in matte, has texture, and the drip blotches could be figures, or—gasp—asemic characters???!!  The other side is a beautiful color photograph that looks like a collage of Cheryl’s work.  I could be wrong, but I might have to side with I’m a Superhero on this one and—do I have the terminology right?—be able to be convinced that it might could possibly be a “visual asemic.”  I suppose I think of that in the best of terms—because I could look at Cheryl’s work and find new meaning in it every time I gazed upon it.  That is the best kind of art.

 

Speaking of visual asemics and I’m a Superhero—I was the lucky recipient of one of that leaping-tall-building-fellow’s colorful works with even an asemic hand-written scribble on the back.  Thank you, friend, and you can be sure I’ll be sending something your way very soon. 

 

As it happens, Superhero’s blogsite address contains the written representation of the musical lowing of the lumbering heifer, by which I mean, “moo moo,” connecting his work to the work of Georgia Grigoriadou who was kind to send me one of her self-designed “Exchange Faces,” re-purposed on a commercial postcard.  Her artwork is so flawless that one cannot tell where the commercial card print ends and her creativity begins!  One could title this particular piece “Girl with the Dragon Tattoo [on her face].  And the THREAD of connection is the bubble exclaiming, “moo,” at the bottom of the card.  Perhaps “MOO” is relevant to me because I grew up in the very rural state of Vermont in New England, where until recent years there actually resided more cows than humans (true!)

 

This factoid brings me to the final piece in my blog THREAD—because you, dear reader, are likely exhausted by my ramblings by this time.  The final piece I will laud here belongs to FarStarr, who I met through a different post exchange site, but who I am so very pleased to find on this one and be able to continue a lovely correspondence.  FarStarr is also from New England—aha, the connecting THREAD!—although I’m not sure she realized I was originally from there, too.  Her latest creation depicts familiar and comforting—to me—coastal scenes: the fishing and lobster boats of New England.  My great-grandmother was a resident of Strawberry Banks in Portsmouth, NH, the only tiny little strip of coastal line in the State of New Hampshire.  She and her family had a clam-shucking cottage industry in the garage (the house faced the water) and when visiting, my little brother and I would receive instructions to walk to the boat dock down the street to buy lobsters for dinner from the lobstermen returning home from their haul.

 

Thanks to one and all whom have sent such amazing art to me.  Though I am not a very tech-savvy person, and don’t have a convenient scanner to be able to regularly post photos, I am grateful for the enthusiasm and heart that so many here put into maintaining worldwide friendships.  It really does my soul good.  Viva la mail arte!

With care... 

 

[Marie Wintzer]

Wonderful blog, Thom! A great read, really. Thank you!

[Thom Courcelle]

Hey--thank you, everyone, for your kind words of encouragement--and of greetings--on this blog poste. I know I can be verbose, so thank you for having read all the way through!  LOL!!

[Nancy Bell Scott]

Thom, you've received some really wonderful and beautiful mail-art!   Congratulations.   I admire all of it; Marie Wintzer's book especially just knocks my socks off.  What a treasure.   Best to you from Maine

[1cgqtuoblpeqc]

i envy your ability to write all those words in a cohesive manner! ;-D

 

great pictures!

i particularly like the one from that leaping guy :O

that's one of my more risque<sp?> pieces.

 

they're all wonderful, the haptic ones look especially intriguing!

one of the things digital will always be lacking.

at least until 3d printers hit the mass markets!!! ;-D

[PIRO]

Thanks Tom, always a pleasure to read all your beautiful soul has to offer.  It's like sharing a poem of life. And, with the visual art also, it's a WOW.

[Lesley Magwood Fraser]

Great blog, and lucky you receiving such great pieces of work too, from some of the more famous IUOMA members!

[cheryl penn]

Congratulations on your first Blog :-) - "no foibles or gaffes have revealed themselves in the prosaic ramblings that followed" - FAB!!! Thanks for posting :-) X