felting

hey,

so just as i finish tweaking my frame, with the thought of what i might use as a skin just beginning to eek into my brain, doesn't the owner who rents me my studio tell me about the abandoned bale of industrial felt in the parking lot. It's been there for a year. No one wants it, and boy wouldn't it be great if someone could make use of it.

The felt has illustrated what I feel are the basic issues surrounding serendipity. I mean if an opportunity comes along that may not be within your aesthetic parameters, but will work, will change the nature of your structure in a host of interesting ways, and will allow you to claim without fudging that your entire sculpture has been made from reclaimed, salvaged, and abandoned materials, you have to jump at it, no? The presence of the felt is almost cosmic, revealing itself only at the moment I was ready to receive it, and literally presenting itself no more than 50 yards from my studio door. I think the only answer is, 'the monotheatrum must be made from felt, because the heavens decree it'.

The felt has been mostly a joy to use. It's heavy enough to add strength to the pieces, holds its shape pretty well, is easy to cut and apply, gets dirty just by looking at it, and acquires strange dents for no reason. Most importantly, it's translucent, so i will be able to light the structure from the inside.

Tomorrow, the felted skeleton will be assembled on site at the Art Gallery of Hamilton. It will be the first time the monotheatrum will be functional. Ho-yay!