Inspiration comes from anyplace.
A new friend invited me to attend a bead show with her a month or so ago, and I went, mainly because I’d never been before. We wandered aisles and admired antique and vintage beads, carved beads, melted beads, beads from other countries, beads that were brightly colored, and those as dull as river pebbles.
But as we wandered, I found myself clutching new little bags from this booth, and that one next, glittering little pockets of ideas that were taking shape. A shape or color would catch my eye, and I would buy just a handful, or a single bead, here and there.
One particular type of bead I’d never seen before. Tiny squares with a metallic finish, suggesting tarnish and rust and rich with patinas. Touches of raspberry and aqua and blue against bronze and pewter tones. So lovely, I wanted to rub handfuls together and hear sound they’d make.
I bought them of course, and when I got home, I wove the double-holed beads into a partial wall like tiny flat bricks, intentionally missing a piece here and there. The wall, just two inches tall, took on the look of rubble, or the last piece standing after some ominous disaster. But even missing pieces, even tattered and torn, the shapes and subtle color emanated beauty. The piece is a metaphor and a sculpture, not a true-to-life miniature scene.
The snow globe was completed with a rich and sooty dust, and a beaded detail on the wood base.
Seeking Closure: one of a kind snow globe sculpture with metallic beads, liquid and iridescent dust.