I take comfort in the fact that there are two human moments that seem to be doled out equally and democratically within the human condition—and that there is no satisfying ultimate explanation for either. One is coincidence, the other is déja vu. It doesn’t matter if you’re Queen Elizabeth, one of the thirty-three miners rescued in Chile, a South Korean housewife or a migrant herder in Zimbabwe—in the span of 365 days you will pretty much have two déja vus as well as one coincidence that makes you stop and say, “Wow, that was a coincidence.”
The thing about coincidence is that when you imagine the umpteen trillions of coincidences that can happen at any given moment, the fact is, that in practice, coincidences almost never do occur. Coincidences are actually so rare that when they do occur they are, in fact memorable. This suggests to me that the universe is designed to ward off coincidence whenever possible—the universe hates coincidence—I don’t know why—it just seems to be true. So when a coincidence happens, that coincidence had to work awfully hard to escape the system. There’s a message there. What is it? Look. Look harder. Mathematicians perhaps have a theorem for this, and if they do, it might, by default be a theorem for something larger than what they think it is.
What’s both eerie and interesting to me about déja vus is that they occur almost like metronomes throughout our lives, about one every six months, a poetic timekeeping device that, at the very least, reminds us we are alive. I can safely assume that my thirteen year old niece, Stephen Hawking and someone working in a Beijing luggage-making factory each experience two déja vus a year. Not one. Not three. Two.
The underlying biodynamics of déja vus is probably ascribable to some sort of tingling neurons in a certain part of the brain, yet this doesn’t tell us why they exist. They seem to me to be a signal from larger point of view that wants to remind us that our lives are distinct, that they have meaning, and that they occur throughout a span of time. We are important, and what makes us valuable to the universe is our sentience and our curse and blessing of perpetual self-awareness.
This is a really spontaneous piece that I am quite fond of..
I was talking to a friend of mine over coffee about “making” and how some times pieces can take months to make sense and become real or the complete opossite.
I’ve lost plenty of hours of sleep thinking if what I did had any sense at all and then working to see how I could make it clearer. In all truth I believe in being honest and making from your gut and heart, the only thing I am certain of is of the comunion between your subconcient and hands.
All my questions are not answered yet and maybe there is no answer to them at all..but I live for the explosive beautiful moments of making, concentration, losing track of time, of truly not thinking at all and just moving your hands,when there is that rush to finish and then holding a finished piece, your idea in a tangible form for the first time.
As for this piece, she simply invites you to look closer.
Robert Ebendorf is known internationally for his use of unusual materials such as found objects, industrial products, and paper in his work, and his willingness to share his techniques and ideas with students.
He is credited with helping to shape the craft movement since the 1960’s.
I recently found a transcript of an interview with Robert Ebendorf on 2004 for the American Art, Smithsonian Institution it is a very inspiring read, to understand his thoughts, you can find it here.
You can see more of his work over here
“Finally I am coming to the conclusion that my highest ambition is to be what I already am. That I will never fulfill my obligation to surpass myself unless I first accept myself, and if I accept myself fully in the right way, I will already have surpassed myself”.
Every so often I tend to go into raging “cleaning” spurs.. only in my house, in my workshop is the opposite not a thing it’s ever tossed only moved to make room for more materials..
I have a wooden box where I keep my old notebooks, inside there are bits of papers with a phrase or sometimes just a name, always with the hopeful plan to not forget and to have time to research more on that person.
I have finished quite a few notebooks, I am a fan of pen on paper and I write in a sort of violent non linear matter. I open the notebook,write what I must and then start on another paper with no particular order.. so going back to older notebooks it is just a peek into chaos.
Through 2016 I have to start a year long project, to begin, my gut tells me to pick up the pile of papers and arrange, this way arranging my own mind, what I need to know next hides in the pile.. just waiting to be found.
I decided through the next few months to share with you part of what is written on my notebooks, characters and works that inspire me.
It is hard to share sometimes, hence my lack of blogging, but in forcing myself to re-discover my own notes, I believe it will help to keep everything in one place and who knows, it might be interesting for someone else as well..