studio calls to me, boxes of magic magic magic.  luckily i have 10 studio days all in a row coming right up.

i imagine my studio in Making Mode, all separated into parts, two chairs and two tables pushed aside, leaving the large main area free for making… it’s the WORK, the work sneaks in here to say what’s next: I have to reconfigure my studio, no longer need living room in there, put couch in front area of COURSE, turn deepest cell into Seeing area, pull furniture off making floor, regain my BODACIOUS making space, with metalworking benches for the tiny magic metals, the silver and copper, and how with a pinhead of solder I make a whole arena of light, and i think what must be possible for Universe with its cache of conductive metal. But let’s say the metal has to be bigger, then I’m set up to braze. Everything drives the Making.  which is in service to the Seeing.  The studio returns oh kay.  great idea.  sounds like a lot of work, but yes.  everything else is ready for that work to commence.

the work makes itself known, and its first need from me is space.  work substantiates in relationship to the space.  how can the space and the work move back and forth, where is the light called, what is the unshown of the space, what does the space keep mostly for itself, its nudity, and then, how do the people see what is revealed, what is the path and what are the indicators?  how to make the space(s) accommodating, readable, approachable, inhabitable, and traversible. and worth being in. people have to be invited to take every step.  the needs of the mind must be fulfilled: parameters, and the signs must be readable.  even Mystery has to be framed in order to stand out from the Infinite Unknown.

i need light meters to find out for myself basic questions i would be embarrassed to ask my beautiful scientist friends, like, what effect does reflection have on light intensity. and of course we have immediately to seek perfect reflection, since the characteristics of the reflecting material knock protons askew and change the reflected light into something more like itself.  I would not be embarrassed to ask admired scientists whether perfect reflection is possible.  I would be embarrassed to ask them if light intensity decreases in the state-i-have-made-up-of perfect reflection.  i have to be careful with my questioning, a chess of not looking dumb that I only sometimes win.

The sun reflecting off a piece of polished metal in the writing throws a bright triangle of light upwards.  i catch it midair on my hand, nothing but warmth and wonder.   i understand from the moment that i will reflect light upwards in the alley installation.  maybe even with concave mirrors, can I treat the light like a stream of water, increasing its velocity with constriction, which is focus, which is the Russian word for magic.

the work has to begin in space, huge now, like an outsized carp in a fancy restaurant fish tank, it has gained moxie, it isn’t shy.  first things first, it shows me, coaxes me like I’m exploring something else, teaching, or painting, when I am shown a manta, a wave, All One,

i listen for the ringing, so easily obscured by the clamber of the fancy and the wow.  how to listen for the ringing, that’s another meditation, another lecture, and the format comes together all stacked and clickable, expressed like a wiki.  the work doesn’t care, it must have everything.