I can see the promise of fall from where I sit in the Sky chair on the front porch sipping a ginormous iced coffee (the ice is also coffee so it will not dilute--serendipity, not design). The morning is cool and sweet, and--like the promise of spring in Chicago in April--not to last. It will be hot again this summer, but for now, it's beautiful.
I have come up for air but briefly before being consumed by the book again. But I do not lament the coming plunge back into the deep. It may be taking more time than I ever thought possible to write, but it is also incredible. I cannot believe the joy and renewal I am finding in the techniques and projects. Even when I am exhausted (as I always am on Monday after staying up very late on Sunday to finish the weekly pages and send them to my editor) I dream both the creativity and science of glass so energetically and vividly that it is hard to stay asleep.
It's funny how when I look back on first dabbling in the alchemy that is kiln-forming glass I didn't really care about the how and the why; I just wanted what came at the end. But now when I look at a technique from a different discipline that I want to adapt to glass, I find myself wanting to know all about it--the history, the science of how and why it works, and how it is being used (or not) today. Only a tenth of that background will make it into the book, but that doesn't stop me from being Tom Petty: I Need To Know. (Side note: It's been so long since I've posted here that I forgot for a minute how to add a link to text... Brain full).
In spite of the book, or probably, becaue of it, I managed to do a piece yesterday to submit to the Niche Awards. It still needs a lot of coldworking... Actually it probably doesn't need much coldworking at all, but I need to (and am, indeed, looking forward to) coldwork it so coldworking it will get.
Enough of a break: There are lists to make and a few pesky life and studio tasks to get out of the way before I can submerge into the depths again for a few hours (days). Bliss.