Say Hello to My Little Friend.

I'll have a new post coming any minute about stalking the ebony with a chainsaw, but I wanted to share something with you first.

One of the nice things about being so involved and visible in the art/craft/design community, is that I get to rub all up against people I have a deep respect for. Well, intellectually speaking, anyway. I only rub up against a few of them literally. And even then, only when I'm sure I have bail money.

Besides just general inspiration, which of course is a nice perk, I also get to have deep stoner-caliber conversations about what we do, and the way we feel about it. While they often happen while drinking together, they also come via email, telephone - hell, my friend Sylvie always jots down a deep thought or two on the back of her latest post card.

Anyway, earlier this year I met another really talented and inspiring designer/artist named Lindsey Adelman. We did a show together in March, and along with another friend, we basically spent the weekend bullshitting together about anything and everything. We all got on famously - she's one of us, no doubt.

Besides being an all around cool woman, Lindsey's work is pretty intense - she's got her hands in all kinds of bags. She has a line of lighting that's beautiful and elegant (I really like the sketches, too!), but then she's got some cool clothing she designs, and these really intense drawings that start out as art, but also double as patterns for wallcoverings and textiles.

Now about these drawings. When Lindsey first told me about them, I didn't know her yet, and I thought she might be a bit nutty (of course, now I know her, so I know she's a bit nutty). She makes these drawings with hair. Yeah, human hair.

I know. I thought the same thing.

But check it out.

That's just insane. And insane is really, really wonderful.

Anyway, you should go look at her sight, and click around on all the links. She's a busy girl, our Lindsey.

All that said, that isn't what I came to share with you. I sent Lindsey a link to this site a while ago, and she sent me an email about it the other day.

And it was beautiful. It was weird and graceful and so poetically complete, it stunned me - I was without words to reply. Well, temporarily, anyway - you know me better than that!

I talked Lindsey into letting me share it with you. And if you are an artist, or in any way involved in doing something you love, and the last line of this letter doesn't touch its fingertip directly on your heart - I don't know what the hell to tell you. I really don't.

So here's Lindsey's letter. I'll see you in a day or two, we'll get back to the ebony.

Scott,

You got me thinking a bit more about process.

[you seem like someone who is not afraid to go on about something, and not afraid to read someone else's psychobabble.]

Process is so subtle and so nuanced; it is interesting that not until very recently have I let my imagination run as big as it used to, and naturally wants to be.

I would limit what I saw in my head -- too logical about the familiar bitter realities of bringing something into the world. Creative 'team' members, materials search, vendors to do production, calculating wholesale, shipping, getting so bored, being upset that there's no time to be creative anymore, etc. - I realize now that only in the very recent past have I allowed my thoughts/images/ideas get big again. I think this is mainly due to that fact that after 12 years of being in the lighting design business, I finally have a handle on the prototyping and, more importantly, production process: mainly due to the team of people I now work with to manufacture.

It is so interesting that I looked to art-making for so many years as it was the ONLY way I could have an easy, calm experience getting the idea from my head into the tangible world without it getting messed up.

Now, I feel like I can dream so big, and I sometimes sketch without looking at the page so I don't completely squash the idea in my head.

It is just so much easier now, and more enjoyable, and I feel like I can take my time and enjoy the process of paying attention and looking at details of what I do; a process that for years made me want to throw up or run.

That said, like all creative people, the best piece will always be the one that's not done yet.

It's just so weird though, how as one ripens, one becomes easier on oneself; it's like, yes, "there is room for improvement" - there always will be: it is the material world!

And all you have is the process. And paying attention to every aspect of it is, for me, absolutely liberating.

There is nothing to escape.

- Lindsey

Nothing to escape, indeed. Goddamn. On top of all that the ebony is bringing back to me, being reminded of that one little thing feels so damned good.