FOCUS ON AN ARTIST
An article published in FeltMatters Magazine
THE NATURAL WORLD INSPIRES ME THROUGH ITS SOUNDS , TEXTURES AND FORMS WHICH I CAN FEEL AND TOUCH.
MY WORK IS ALSO INSPIRED BY FEELINGS, THOUGHTS, AND DREAMS AND THEREFORE , WOOL IS VERY MUCH A MAJOR PART OF MY LIFE.
FELTING IS NOT JUST SOMETHING I DO, BUT SOMETHING I LIVE.
My home is in Quebec and every day I walk in the deep Laurentian forest with its lakes and streams. Taking those daily strolls makes me very aware of the constant changes and natural life cycles. When I travel to teach felting workshops, one of my greatest joys is to discover new landscapes with their vegetation, animals, and minerals. These adventures give me great energy and lots of new ideas. I often dream of something deep and colourful which moves and is very mysterious. There are many corners, strange places, and holes, and I feel them on and under my skin.
True creativity does not spring from momentary inspiration. It derives from much experimentation and many mistakes, and doing things over and over again. It comes from dreaming, from the workings of the subconscious from which, occasionally, something materialises. For several years,I have tried to shape, sculpt, fold and cut this warm and woolly material. During the process of felting, it metamorphoses from an array of loose colourful fibres into a strongsturdy textile. Only by dealing with difficulty does creativity come forth. It is from the dance of conflicting emotions that creativity and art are born. Although sculpture is usually perceived as static, I see it more as movement – the movement of wool fibres into felt – and as long as there is movement, there is life.
I love poetry: this poem comes from the Irish poet :
I would like to end my
article with his words.
I am the wind on the sea;
I am the ocean wave;
I am the sound of the billows;
I am the seven-horned stag;
I am the hawk on the cliff;
I am the dewdrop in sunlight;
I am the fairest of flowers;
I am the raging boar;
I am the salmon in the deep pool;
I am the lake on the plain;
I am the meaning of the poem;
I am the point of the spear;
I am the god that makes fire in the head;
Who levels the mountain?
Who speaks the age of the moon?
Who has been where the sun sleeps?
Who, if not I?