“Why I AM Rustic”
....and so this thought just travels an un-raveling course through my mind now, as i am bent into the natural flow of all this landscape that surrounds me, as i am walking out the feelings that society has grafted into my core, yes those un-natural callings of urges that say and tell me to play the game their way and then these same ones tell me that if i hold true to their way, then in the end i shall not be forgotten but yes , “you also will inherit a prize when all is done”….
—-i am the twisted bent in the crutch of your branch, just as this bark that so hangs around my neck, shall one day soon be stripped and peeled away, so why should i give a moments thought to those days that have passed me by….
—-soon the walkers of many breeds will come, some to be known only by the smells they expel, those others are already gone long before they pass on by, while some few will stop and acknowledge that i am here….
—-my dreams are but the fantasies of laughing idiots bent on creating a wooden stick piece, and so these are the ones who cause me to hide away from peeking braggarts, whose only job is to police the woodscape of woodlots looking for traditional employment, as they create multitudes for those in the valleys of decision having no place to go….
—-i have laughed in your face you burden makers of crowd pleaser’s, since having escaped the fingers of clutching control that you advertised in glossy folders of wanna be enticements, i have given up the things for which you said i should need to be like you, for i am not as you and never was i meant to be one of your slick copyrights….
—-now i can once again see in these forest of woods where twisted and bent is gloriously completed as beautiful, i also remember the day when i realized that i am not the one i thought my-self to be, for it is out here with these ones such as i am that i have seen the expression of art-full being, just as i am now thank-full with these trees of rustic spirits who have welcomed me as one who has returned home….
And so the journey for rustic continues as to asking yourself, what is rustic and where is rustic to be found? Let me also add that if one is afraid to go against the tide of current prevailing wind and not question those who say that, ‘rustic is hot’ and ‘rustic is not’, then one becomes lost within the fissures of an already accepted fact. One must understand that when we give place to myth and fiction, what we are doing in essence, by the right of formation of acceptance, is establishing a belief and then that belief becomes a fact.
What do you do when presented with a statement such as: “If we all did the things we are capable of doing we would literally astound ourselves.”—by Thomas Edison
And so I first learned to question what all those others had labored so hard to put within me and even now I still question even my existence on a daily basis as to where do I fit into this picture before me on a whole. I was at one time a traditional woodworker who was taught to follow the rules of the elite scribes. These are those who passed on to me many rules and little jingles that I could re-play so as to keep my mind on track; “measure three times and cut once”, was one and this was good till the day I became rustic. I now had to question not only the how-will, but also the where-to as I found that measuring was still good, but now I payed respect to ‘character’, ‘knots’ and ‘cracks’. Measuring now becomes more of what is the value of this ones worth and I learned to not be rigid as to the rule of numbers played out on tape, as now I begin to more accurately measure with the sight of eye.
Rustic for me is the thrill of coming back from out in the woods and knowing that all of me has not returned, out there I left a part of me and having no fear I am able to give thanks that that part of me is in a good place. Coming back I am surrounded by all the art-full beings that have come along with me, some talking right from the start and some are waiting to see my silence so they can reveal who they are. This is not the way I was originally taught, as I was one who took the wood and made it be what I wanted the piece to be. So what if the piece of wood didn’t want to be my way, well no problem as I’ll just cut you over to my way of being. Thats what I now call ‘manipulation-of-wood’ into pieces of furniture and then we fit the ‘manipulated-furniture’ into ‘manipulated-homes’ and later on in years to come we wonder why our dreams all went sour!
And even so now I have learned that all that passes my way is not what I used to call for my best. That out there in the forest of woods, where I am surrounded by the trees of living wood, is the understanding that now I have not come to take to make after my image, but that the image is right there in front of me, waiting to give to all who would see, the beauty of rustic ‘wood art’. Rustic ‘wood art’ is not what about what I can create and then call my own, since the all of rustic was there long before I ever arrived on the scene. Those bends and twists are the legs of my benches and sculptures and when they are ready in their own time they reveal themselves to me.
As I go walking in the woods, I have often taken along some friends on some of my wanderings and it never stops amazing me as to how the many just never see what is all around out in the woods. Rustic seeing is not for all and it is not until one can see rustic that one can then be rustic. Rustic is the chaos of the woods in the wholesome wholly charismatic beauty of a kaleidescope of harmony, that is being played out before your eyes and to which you have been given an invitation to participate if you can but just come and stay awhile and learn this silence of golden ‘wood art’!
-- --frank, NH, http://rusticwoodart.tumblr.com/