To reach another realm of thought is… hurtful. Painful. Delightful. Cathartic.

This is a continuation of several previous posts, the first being here, and the second being here.

“Where’s the digger?”

“You always seem to land on you feet.”

“This is why you don’t have an artist take notes.”

“You have the biggest ego of anyone I’ve known.”

“Right now your mouth looks like a clenched butthole.”

“It’s like the prodigal sun has returned.”

“I haven’t had much cause to open that gate.”

…that’s all for today, though.

…this morning I suddenly recalled a long forgotten memory.

It was a box. Utterly unremarkable.

I was six years old, and there was nothing about it that struck me as particularly interesting, besides a small hole on one side that all the other kids were taking turns looking through.

My cousin had made it for some school project or another, and I didn’t know what to expect inside of it.

At last, I looked inside.

A single ray of light shone through the gloom, thick with traces of dust… and in the center: cowboys, standing in darkness. Some had lassos, others had their thumbs tucked in vests and pockets, and there were a few cattle standing about.

Everything glittered.

The memory of it’s beauty brings a tear to my eye.

I had never seen light used in such a way.

It glittered.

I had not expected to be impressed.

But this was my first lesson on the power and majesty of light to illuminate, empower and enhance creations.

I remember trying to duplicate the work, to make something that approximated the same… mood, or feeling. But I failed.

Light is tough to work with. It’s tough to manipulate. I’ve sculpted with ceramic clays, with polymer clays, with oil-based clays, and with digital software of all kinds: 3DS Max, Maya, XSI, Moi3d, AutoCAD, Blender, Mudbox, and a couple dozen others through the years. Lighting is always… always a fickle beast to tame.

But when you get it just right…

And I meant just right…

It’s more than just beautiful. It makes memories.