Creating a Winter Sprite

Yesterday morning, Linda & I went to an art experience directed by Madeline Rugh. I am not familiar with Ms. Rugh’s work, but Linda describes her as one of central Oklahoma’s pre-eminent artists.

The event was held at Ginko Tree Studios, which is located a few miles east of Lake Thunderbird on Alemeda Street in Norman, OK. The studio is a rich & colorful space whose vivid interior reflects the owner. It is surrounded by well-tended gardens, and is blessed by a tree-line at its southern end.

As I recall, this event was billed as an art experience, rather than as a workshop. A workshop may have focused more on technique; this event focused on listening, observation, and honoring.

Madeline began the morning by explaining that the nine participants (seven women, two men) would be hunter/gathers, like our ancestors. We would gather "a stick, and maybe a stone." But, rather than seeking certain sticks or particular types of stones, we would go forth meditating on the question "What am I harvesting?"

As we walked quietly meditating on this question, we were instructed to be very aware of the "between places" — such as where the tree line meets the sky. We were also asked to leave something of ourselves in honor of the thing we were taking — for example, a word of silent thanks, or something more personal, like saliva.

I walked a mown path which ended at a gravel road. At the very end of that path, on my right side, was an oak tree. There were a few low-lying limbs with dying twigs on their ends; these seemed to have possibilities for the project. Yet, I was uncertain about breaking the twigs off the tree — it seemed "purer" somehow, to collect something which had naturally fallen off. Still, I walked through shin-high grass to get a closer look at the branches in question. As I was walking, I happened to notice a stick in a "Y" formation which was already on the ground.

I looked at it for a moment. It almost seemed too big — yet it seemed to be recommending itself. I breathed over it for a few minutes, then finally accepted it.

Not far from this tree, at the south-west corner of the mown path and the gravel road, was a concrete slab. And on that slab was a small red stone. At first, the stone seemed too small to be proportional with the stick I had selected. I even walked away from it — but finally I accepted it, as well.

When we returned to the studio, there were a number of materials available with which to decorate the stick: chenille, scrap fabric, beads, faux jewels, and so on. A technique for attaching the stone head with pipe cleaners had previously been described. As a part of this process, I discovered the joys of the hot glue gun.

The final part of the process was to write a poem from the point of view of the sprite we had created. Using my work as an example, Madeline said, “I am green-armed / I am reaching”, and so on. I suspect she used my work as an example simply because it was in proximity to where she was standing at the time.

After we had written poems about our own work, we were told to trade "dolls" and do the same poetic exercise with someone else's creation. By chance, Linda & I exchanged winter sprites. As you shall see, I was a little more verbose about my work than Linda's.