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Saturday January 14th 2012, 6:26 pmRising up from rooted glass, and stones of russets, striped grays, blues and spotted browns. The watery bed, like a tiny lake. The top rocky edge of the surface partly wet and parched at the same time. Little spindly curling vines tuck and roll between the rounded smooth layers of stone, dipping well below the water’s edge, extending to the very bottom of the tall and oval shaped glass. Packed neatly, like hundreds of little hugging unmoving worms.. Arising from this stable edifice are 12 long weaving sinewy stalks in perfect union. Six dart back and forth that way, six others this way, forming a majestic lattice that seems to defy nature, tempered gently into shape. All bound at their meeting points by fine bands of twisted gold. Its as if this organic living thing has agreed to be controlled, it seems to relish the unnatural structure, becoming something artful, something to be admired. It has lush greens broken only by the finest of little tan ridges every few inches or so, they encircle the circumference of each validation of life. Causing my eyes to follow the paths of the stalks upward, vaguely reminding me of ladders. I visually climb to it’s heights, where the very tops, standing strong and prideful, are giant spear-tip shaped appendages. They are flat, but slightly curved with subtle ripples along each edge, unfolding outward gloriously, like a chorus demanding attention. It adds comfort to this room full of hard edges and scattered tools.
The Bamboo Plant That Lives In My Studio
January 14th 2012
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