Darkly beautiful, this state of being,
slow writhing, rough grace
eventual emerging.
From here feathers spring,
now take wing. New form
arising from old, bearing
words through silence,
now on the tip of its tongue,
a sound, yet to be uttered,
will find its key.
And beneath this known form, another
continuum of creation.
Movement in the darkness
heralds new growth
with no beginning and no end,
it simply is.

With porcelain elements joined to a length of grapevine, this piece has a feeling of feather and bone, twisted wood and rough bark, birth and decay.  A bit of nature called from my mother’s arbor, where her green thumb grew red flame grapes by the front door, the wood asking to be more.

K. M. Ehrenfeldt, 2007