Attraction (copper heart)

July 18, 2013 by camryn forrest

At the Cherry Creek Arts Festival earlier this month, a small child asked me “what is your favorite snow globe here today?” And the surprising answer was: Attraction.

Well, it was surprising to me at least, because I thought I’d love my tiny airships, the Jules Verne-like “Under the Sea” submarine and octopus, the visual puns, such as “Too Big for his Bridges.”

But Attraction had the sweetest, most perfect sense of longing, of the undeniable pull in a new direction. The curving copper wire reminds me of tall grass and winds on the Kansas prairie, bending everything towards one point.

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The strange saga of the Warrior Rhino snow globe

May 17, 2013 by camryn forrest

It was a simple idea at the time. I wanted, I planned, to make a snow globe sculpture called “Invisible Carousel.” I sketched it out to perfection. Frollicking giraffes and unicorns, a pig and a buffalo, all parading in a whimsical circle.

A sweet little idea, with a variety of small metal animals, each perched atop an unseen clear support, at different heights, so when viewed inside the snow globe, it would appear to be a carousel with no mechanical support. The invisible carousel. Charming. Dripping with charm.

I collected the animals I needed and began to work.

Until the Rhino.

Oh, the Rhino! Barely the size of my thumbnail, he exuded a fierce personality, completely unsuited for the sweet endless ride of a carousel. “I want adventure!” he proclaimed. “I have battles yet to fight, and honor to defend.” He refused to sit politely on a carousel post, protesting that he was too old to be ridden by a child, no matter how imaginary. He seemed to cock his rhino horn in my direction, looking as threatening as his 19 or so millimeters would allow.

How does one deny the will of the angry Rhino? Using the tiniest tools, I crafted a tiny harness of leather straps and chains, and fitted the Rhino carefully. Next, I outfitted a grand airship for him, battle-worn, but complete with bazookas and other weaponry. I hung ammo belts and tiny knife sheaths off his harness, and put torpedoes at his disposal on each side.

Go forth and fight your battles, Warrior Rhino. The carousel can ride another day.

The Warrior Rhino flies at dawn.

Re-Run — Or, “have you seen this one before?”

May 14, 2013 by camryn forrest

Repurposing, refabricating, refurbishing and … Re-Run.

This charming little vintage television did not want to be hidden away; it wanted to run out and tell its story again.

“I have NOT outlived my usefulness,” it huffed and puffed. “I can show you Mr. Rogers, Walter Cronkite and Captain Kangaroo and Mighty Mouse! The Twilight Zone, Sherry Lewis and Lambchop, Romper Room and Lawrence Welk! I Love Lucy! Andy and Opie and Aunt Bee. Fireball XL5. A black and white viewing of Wizard of Oz, which does NOT turn into color when the door opens on Dorothy’s house. Follow the gray-brick road, I say!”

Shake “Re-Run” and you will get a sparkle-fall of shimmering dusty static over the adolescent-awkward robot legs. And on the base, an authentic vintage TV dial, dating back nearly 50 years. Watch any of 12 channels, kids, there’s always something interesting on.

Work in Progress (Heart) snow globe

April 29, 2013 by camryn forrest

“It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; What is essential is invisible to the eye.”

– The Little Prince, by Antoine de Saint Exupéry

“The Heart wants what it wants – or else it does not care.”

– Emily Dickinson

The workings of the heart remain a mystery. It dips and swims with swirling emotion, it aches for what it cannot have, and grieves for what is lost. The heart dreams of better days. The heart is selfish, and can be self-less. We want for ourselves, and wish even more for those we love.

Unseen by all but those who know us best, the heart carries scars and patches from battles, the repairs, the mending, the work-arounds. It is resilient.

The mythical source of love, emotion, kindness and desire, the heart is always a work in progress.

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The Promise: glittering gold waterglobe

April 9, 2013 by camryn forrest

Sometimes I find odd little items and put them in snow globes to make a tiny scene, and sometimes I want to sculpt something specific I’ve imagined. I was working on shaping a small hand, reaching upward, and could not get the index and middle finger to stay the way I wanted. Finally, exasperated, I put the clay piece down.

Allright. I didn’t “put it down” — I sort of tossed it toward the foil covered table where I was working.

And in one of those moments of serendipity, the fingers crossed themselves. Crossed fingers were unexpected, and not the emotion I was going for, but there they were, waiting in suspense. Do you remember when you kept a secret by saying, “Cross my heart and hope to die?” Or, when you crossed your fingers behind your back and it meant you weren’t really telling the truth, or the whole truth? Or perhaps, you waited for news and closed your eyes and crossed your fingers, wishing it would be good. Please, please, please!

I love when my artwork is a mystery to me. It’s not calculated; it leads its own life of ambiguity. The hand said nothing. Is this a promise to be kept, or a promise made with questionable intentions?

A few weeks prior, I had found a tiny pair of hammered metal earrings in the shape of hearts. I pulled one apart and placed it in the gentle, eager hand, and folded the ring finger to hold it in place. Now the meaning was clearer: Cross my heart. The Promise.

Promise - custom snow globe, Camryn Forrest Designs 2013

The Promise. One of a Kind snow globe with sculpted hand, re-purposed antique jewelry and shimmering gold dust in liquid.

The Blue Heart (or “Let It Be”) Snow Globe

April 2, 2013 by camryn forrest

I’m fascinated with iconic images which hold tight in my imagination. With tiny solid objects that evoke mysterious emotions. This snowless water globe was one of those that I found appealing because of its ambivalence, its ability to be interpreted in so many ways.

Two reaching copper hands, one blue heart hovering mid-air. It was simple, but powerful in a way I could not name.

Were the hands reaching out to catch a falling heart? Was the elusive heart flying out of reach? Is the heart coming or going? Are the hands ready to comfort, or acknowledging the heart’s new freedom? It called to me, “redemption, hope, caring, freedom, strength.” But I wasn’t certain what this globe was saying.

So I called on an army of experts, (my dear friends) and showed them the initial sculpture and wondered which of the many themes captured the dilemma of this fragile blue glass heart. I got quite a few opinions (“Call it Grace, or Love, or Trust,” … and one statement, loud and clear.

“The snow globe should be called “Let It Be” and it is mine,” I heard firmly. Of course, I couldn’t argue against the voice of such conviction.

So “Let It Be” became the name of this handmade snow globe (with shimmering silver dust instead of snow, because you know: I never use snow.) And so it is. Let It Be.