The Dwarf's Workshop
"Let me walk you through." As if a walk through of the place hinted that the center was some sweet artistic haven where people of all arts could come and find their tools completely laid out and polished. As if the job I was inquiring about was some routine position that had been filled by countless part timers that flowed through the building somewhat like the seasons that flow through the years. "Let me walk you through" he said that as if I was already a part of the woodwork. I suppose he was right.
The building lay under the trees, I thought, like a hedge of mushrooms that sprung out from the earth. As ridiculous or poetic as I may sound, I don't refute my statement. You could stumble across the patch itself and make the same conclusion. Easily I could make the allegation that the whole place was constructed out of hindsight, with is separate rooms constructed as some new party decided they wanted to dabble in a little of the metal craft or submit to the drawing gleam of last centuries stone setting.
Just imagine a standard studio meant for, I don't know, pottery: a room full of wheels, another of kilns and adjoining the two, a spacious array of shelves and partitions that sprang out of the building's very foundation. Alright, well maybe its a little bit more complicated than your standard box construction but see this is where I say it begins to look more like a grove of mushrooms. Now it starts off as the ceramics center, or actually Im not quite sure,but regardless, somewhere along the line some brilliant mind, yes there are plenty here, decides that a glass blowing patio would make such a bold statement. There you have it, out of the ground springs up a row of furnaces that spew out awesome molten expressions.
By now everyone wants a part and straight forth from the earth emerges the jems and silver accents, a large tree torturing room, and eventually the anvils and machinery of steelworking. Each roof is connected to another with an assemblage of steel, wood, tin dumpsters, wires and glue and eventually it becomes the Crafts Center with a final touch of a micro coffeeshop and much deserved gallery.
At the end of my walk through I stood there with a defying glare on my face, my fists clenched in my pockets, the stones in my mouth set to grind. If you looked into my eyes you'd have seen them glisten with excitement. I wanted to barricade myself in and take all of life hostage in my hands.
The building lay under the trees, I thought, like a hedge of mushrooms that sprung out from the earth. As ridiculous or poetic as I may sound, I don't refute my statement. You could stumble across the patch itself and make the same conclusion. Easily I could make the allegation that the whole place was constructed out of hindsight, with is separate rooms constructed as some new party decided they wanted to dabble in a little of the metal craft or submit to the drawing gleam of last centuries stone setting.
Just imagine a standard studio meant for, I don't know, pottery: a room full of wheels, another of kilns and adjoining the two, a spacious array of shelves and partitions that sprang out of the building's very foundation. Alright, well maybe its a little bit more complicated than your standard box construction but see this is where I say it begins to look more like a grove of mushrooms. Now it starts off as the ceramics center, or actually Im not quite sure,but regardless, somewhere along the line some brilliant mind, yes there are plenty here, decides that a glass blowing patio would make such a bold statement. There you have it, out of the ground springs up a row of furnaces that spew out awesome molten expressions.
By now everyone wants a part and straight forth from the earth emerges the jems and silver accents, a large tree torturing room, and eventually the anvils and machinery of steelworking. Each roof is connected to another with an assemblage of steel, wood, tin dumpsters, wires and glue and eventually it becomes the Crafts Center with a final touch of a micro coffeeshop and much deserved gallery.
At the end of my walk through I stood there with a defying glare on my face, my fists clenched in my pockets, the stones in my mouth set to grind. If you looked into my eyes you'd have seen them glisten with excitement. I wanted to barricade myself in and take all of life hostage in my hands.
posted by LA at 7:56 PM
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