How a work gets made is a mystery.

I know some things. I can tell when something is not right, but not always why. I have a kind of synesthesiactic response to the world, like my senses got crossed when I was wired up. Working in three dimensions for me is a balance thing, as if I am dancing in outerspace while trying to find gravity. For sure, in every instance, the object I am trying to give voice to already exists in some realm, just not the visual one.

So to make an object requires experimentation between form and materials. I try something to see how true it is to the unexpressed, and keep making adjustments.

The biggest problem I am currently facing is that I simply do not know how to construct what is asking to be made. Technically, I'm not terribly proficient. My maker skills are rather rudimentary, but I'm learning. They wouldn't let us girls take shop in school, but my father taught me how a house gets put together. The truth is I suspect that methods to make what I seem impelled by may not yet exist, and because I am not clear about the nature of surfaces and qualities in these pieces, the need for experimentation is deep and wide.

They are so many cool materials and processes available, but it is also important to me that work is archival, and well constructed. The process is actually part of the work in a way that can not and must not be abrogated. 

I must find a way to make things  within my capabilities, requiring a patience I do not feel.