A little backtracking in the writing as I review another earlier note, a description of events concerning what was to become “Transformation.”
I was on the beach looking for appropriate driftwood for a specific project I had in mind. I stopped. I pondered. I had imagined that this particular root ball would become two interconnected paddles. I was not able to completely envision the two paddles, yet I did feel that this was the driftwood piece to take home. In the studio, I began carving what I had imagined being one of the paddle blades. I was uncomfortable with the process. It wasn’t working. I paused, I pondered.
As I looked at the driftwood, I could faintly make out the form of a canoe. I had been studying the form of the Aboriginal canoe for another project, yet this former mental image was not at all the way I was seeing a canoe in this piece of driftwood. There was a canoe forming in the wood, much more dominant than the forming of the two originally conceived paddles. I began carving, bringing out the unusual shape that this canoe was taking. I carved tentatively. During this phase of the carving process I became aware of a dorsal fin of an orca whale protruding from beneath the form of the canoe and from within the main bulk of the driftwood root ball.
To complete the full body of the whale while incorporating this dorsal fin, all within this driftwood piece, it would be necessary to tightly wrap the form of the whale around the underside of the canoe. There did appear to be enough wood available to complete the full body of the whale. I slowly carved the whale. I slowly carved the canoe. The carving on each progressed slowly, as I chose to carve only while feeling comfortable with each part of the process.
As my comfort level decreased, I would scan the driftwood piece for another area that felt more comfortable. Eventually, other figures in the wood piece became, in one manner or another, discernible, recognizable, then comfortable. The whale was sharing its head and body with the body of an otter. The otter was sharing its body with the dolphin. Frog’s leg became lizard’s tongue. Heron morphed with whale. The transitions were beautiful. I would continue or begin carving in the area of comfort. At one point I had seen the rear leg and humped back of a river otter.
There seemed to be enough wood to carve the front paw. I carved, then proceeded to the otter’s head features. The otter was destined to share its head with the whale. I was amazed at that particular transition, that of otter into whale, of whale into otter. Even though I was the sculptor, I was amazed. I continued. I carved other figures. All the while, with visual cues, I was carving other figures within the root ball, listening, carving then listening again. Carefully, in touch with my level of comfort, I listened, I carved. Throughout this process I was becoming aware of a feeling that I was not designing this piece.
There seemed to be enough wood to carve the front paw. I carved, then proceeded to the otter’s head features. The otter was destined to share its head with the whale. I was amazed at that particular transition, that of otter into whale, of whale into otter. Even though I was the sculptor, I was amazed. I continued. I carved other figures. All the while, with visual cues, I was carving other figures within the root ball, listening, carving then listening again. Carefully, in touch with my level of comfort, I listened, I carved. Throughout this process I was becoming aware of a feeling that I was not designing this piece.
I was engaged in a sculpting take-away process. I was removing wood to reveal more of each figure. I carved slowly, unconcerned with the amount of time the process was taking, unconcerned with the selling of the piece, unconcerned with making a living, unconcerned with the meaning of the piece. I just carved away the material that did not feel, or that did not appear to be, part of the piece.