Loolies!

My new sculpture series

There’s a sound I remember from my babyhood.
Looie, looie, looie.

My mom would sing it to me as I drifted off to sleep, a lullaby. It was warm and cozy inside that sound. Looie, looie, looie… There was no cradle rocking or mockingbird just loolie, loolie, loolie. And I didn’t have to do anything to be there. I didn’t have to be better, or brighter, or easier. I mean, I was a baby, so I guess I didn’t have to do anything but be. I was held like I’m a bird in a hand that’s better than two in a bush.

I hear it sometimes, Loolie, looie loolie. It comes to me when I need it. Looie, looie, looie.

I’ve been making these figures out of wire and plaster and paper and crystals and pearls and stone clay and some hold book pages from my art book. These are my Loolies. They’re uneven, listening, remembering. They sit on the shelf, long legs hanging, or they hang on a wall and watch over everything. My friend Teresa says they remind her of Gargoyles. I’ve decided they’re good luck.

They’re a family. Cousins. Some are first cousins, some are second cousins twice removed.

See them clearly, along with their titles here.

We have the Night Loolies. While you sleep, they double-check that all the doors are locked.
We have the Day Loolies. They’ll send you telepathic positive messages throughout the day.
And we have Pop Loolies. They create a beautiful urge in you to play hopscotch and climb a tree. WEEEEEE!

They title themselves:
Don’t Worry, It’s Just my Inner Glow, I Need a Dog,
Thinking About Leonard Cohen, Not Today, Mirror…

I love being an artist, writer, actor… I love dreaming the dream and then watching it unfold. I love my Loolies! I dreamt them up! (Or maybe they’re dreaming me.)

I feel a closeness to people (not just sculptures). I’m forever curious and I want to know, really know people. As my guru, Maude from Harold and Maude says, People are my people. But somewhere along the way…there came a shift. Something drifted, and I’m standing outside of it, trying to understand when it changed, when I changed. I can feel my mind wanting to go back through it all. Replay, reorganize, make sense of it. When did people get so complicated? Or is it me? I mean, I am a people too so…

I’ve decided to get all Stoic up in here with less explaining. Less reaching, less grasping the caboose of a runaway train. More staying with what’s here. More noticing who shows up. More letting things be as they are. More creating.

I can make my own warm and cozy space. A space where nothing has shifted.
A space where I don’t have to follow anything that’s drifting away.
A space that holds me solid, like I’m a bird in a hand that’s better than two in a bush.

I’m often asked… how do I stay grounded, sane(ish) and happy.

I answer…

I make.

Looie, looie, looie.

If you’re a curator or gallery and something here clicks, I’d love to connect.