It’s an amazing thing to see the texture of people in the things they make and this happens because the way their character is woven into their being and this character is expressed in textures that come from the way they work with the tools they use.
Men and women texture their work with effort and meaning. They work chisels and saws into wood to effect certain cuts, unknown results happen at first and then they predict what will happen before they even pick up the chisel. It’s a gradual process of textured change that transforms lumps of wood into shaped and textured work. Squareness becomes shape and surfaces smoothed have undulation imperceptible to the eye but available to touch. Sometimes this is reversed and visible texture impresses the eye. The brain rests upon these undulating, rhythmic impulses and richness modulates between the textures produced by the others around them in ways they never knew existed and may not know now that they exist.
Some people seem to lack confidence and this indeed is texture too.This of course textures the work in different ways that are perceptible to me but not necessarily to others. I look consciously for texture as the work of the day progresses into this ever changing tapestry of texturality.
But I like these textures of innocence that remind me of children and childhood. Something captures the imagined things and they are enveloped in a sphere of discovery, escaping for brief moments, encounters if you will, to become what they imagined once to be impossible. Whereas children often project themselves into unreality, adults find reality more fascinating and this comes with maturity that defies disappointment. Here, in textured reality is meaningful work and workmanship that therefore brings boundaries that define our work to a point and it’s an important point whereby we, they, discover the importance of defined boundaries and rather than defy them and reject them they now welcome them.
Precision is texture and so too inaccuracy. These two conditions reflect the texture of personality sometimes and sometimes they reflect momentary lapses of working three-dimensionally as the eye cannot see beyond the corner and consciousness is lost to this element.
Just as blue jeans are part of North American texture, and even the Americas as a whole, so too the impression of a craftsman on his wood and in his work. The violin played by the maestro changes to textures impressed by his skilled play into every ounce of the wood he plays through vibrating strings that resonate and the wood fibre reorients itself to perform with the skill.
Creativity workshops are now considered activity breaks and it’s through these that the texture I speak of somehow seems to seamlessly transform people and their lives into creative, textured people working with their own hands. Creativity itself becomes their own personal texture which they energise by a synergy few people can experience and in a world rapidly progressing to a non-crafting industry,separated from skilled handwork, emerges a texture of creativity compelled by an innate desire to become an artisan.