There are several threads that weave through them all. Rings, of course, but also a ritual, exploratory process that put me in collaboration with the materials and fabrication in a quest to discover (and be surprised by) the eventual form.
As the process evolved they became more complex and dense, varying from complete chaos to ideas of order, from an assembly of iterations of one element to a complex that involved five or six different shapes, and from fourteen elements overall to too many to count.
Each of the final pieces has its grace and strengths; they each exist as individuals and as generations of kin—as dependent on one another as they are each freed from those that came before.
When ten were complete I looked back to the original, the great grandmother of them all, and wondered what it was that I found so singularly compelling about that first.
Besides the pure clarity of being the first, I realized it was also the most simple.
It had the fewest parts, as well as the fewest rules of engagement. These details give it an open, uncomplicated stance I appreciate. Simplicity is its strength. Over the next few weeks the idea for the ultimate Ring Dance, #11, took form.