the work of the artist.

The real work of the artist is not the making of works of art, but of building community. That differs in no way from the real work of of humanity. Some fail to discover their real work. It is easy to be distracted or to be left unhinged... to have not formed the bonds that weave one into the threads of community life.

These days folks move around a lot. They may have been injured, in the way that so many are. Poor parenting, bullies in school, poverty of resources or of spirit. So folks move around looking for something that's better, only to find what's inescapable. If you seek community, you must take part in the building of it. A person would be unlikely to stumble upon it ready made. You must weave yourself in.

In the Ozarks there was a kind of material woven by early settlers, called linsey-woolsey. The warp was linen, giving strength, and the woof was wool, giving warmth, and to be woven into the fabric of community requires time, and effort to find one's place among the threads.

There is a relationship between the use of the hands and the building of community. The hands connect us with each other through the making of things, but also in the expression of care and concern. Small acts, more than anything we might say, are the powerful force that binds us into forms larger than ourselves.

I have a day full of classes.

Make, fix and create...