Shrine
Through a small hole in the sky, feathers and leaves squeeze through and are
pleased to find Shrine
waiting for them on the other side.
Now they begin, Leaves, Feathers and Shrine looking for precious wire. All
wire, rusty and shiny, is collected from street corners and sidewalks; a
constant vigil of wire collecting.
The wire is then bent and twisted into a wire house, a safe place for human
beings to dream.
A very large building constructed of wire with walls made of bottles and cement
and walls made of bricks and rocks with paintings of black birds with black
tears crying black oceans.
Always new life….searching, finding, gathering… old thrown away discards…
the un-loved turning a-new into Holy Relic Beauties. Re-birth.
Open eyes… again and again… constant flowing creation from paint, trash,
wire, cardboard, glass, cement, wood- everything falling in love, fingers
spitting, eyes laughing, over and over the journey of making to your hearts
content.
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