traces
The trip to Nuutajärvi and Forssa was inspiring and surprising. I fall in love so easily with materials, situations and exchanges. I had visited the village before, but my new lens and peers changed this familiar place. Some small things there had changed too.
I was thinking of labor on this excursion as connected to hands, people, time and effort. Now with some distance, I see these images as connected to my idea of the craftsman and the inherent respect and admiration I have for the artifacts, tools and signs of work done well, repeatedly, with practice and skill. But these three images point out an important distinction for me. The glass blower's glove, the numbered log moved and reconstructed, and the glory hole cover, these objects are all necessary tools, they express the utility of protecting, labelling, and covering. By understanding the process in which they lended their function, they gain value in an imagined, maybe romanticized, narrative of work and labor. Are these signs of "labor of love"? Can crafted artifacts ever possess the same beauty of the inherent, genuine patina evident in tools used? So continues my internal dialogue and struggle over making objects.
The most surprising events of the trip were these shared moments of song between classmates.
Lotfi started humming the deepest tone he could in the sauna.
Carlos and Aliisa joined in singing favorite pop tunes.
Nearly the whole class shared their mothers' favorite songs.
I have only experienced one other time of recent when people have so eagerly and acceptingly shared music with each other. From both experiences, an invisible bond has been made between those people joining, sharing, supporting, listening. What does music do in combination with work? Does it relax and motivate? Working folk songs are common traditions of passing time and bonding with a community. What or who would my work songs be for?
Could song also reveal traces of some kind of work narrative, like these tools?
Can music be a tool?