Art Propelled: March 2013

The hands of fiber artist, Maria Hwang Levy by photographer Eric Swansen. See more of Eric's beautiful photographs here.

seeds
encased
until the time is ripe
for new life
new thoughts
new ideas

Maria Hwang Levy. See Maria's amazing work at her website here

"These vessels are receptacles for my thoughts, memories and feelings." - Maria Hwang Levy

Bronwyn Berman. See website here.

"The pod form is deeply 'known', an encapsulation of life to come, a concentration or distillation of all that is complex in nature, containing seeds of new life, of the promise of transformation to new form." - Bronwyn Berman

Geopods by Bronwyn Berman. See website here

"I love the look and texture of the woven form, weaving is women's work, and the forms are female in their nature, seed pods are givers of life, and the pods have a torso kind of quality . " - Bronwyn Berman

Ceramic pod forms by Debra Fleury. See more at Debra's blog here.

Debra Fleury. See more here

Seed Pod Rattles by Demetria Chappo. See blog here

Marisa Molin (cocoon of twigs, screws, zipper ties and copper wire) See website here and Face Book page here

Donna Anderson. See website here

Pat Hickman. See website here

Susanne Klemm coats natural objects in a fine layer of polyolefin or epoxy. See more here

Susanne Klemme. See more here

Scott Cardamatis & Joseph Saad. See more here

Magdalena Abakanowicz. Website here

I couldn't resist this image doing the rounds on Pinterest. I 've not managed to find the artist.

Erik Gonzales. See more of Eric's work at the Costello Childs Gallery website here

I suppose we all have a place in our hearts, perhaps from childhood or another life time that makes the heart ache when you think about it. A place that has a strong pull but is sometimes too painful to think about because you know you can't go back. I learned to love nature in such a place. When I feel a connection to all the things that live and grow in the countryside I also feel a connection to the farm I grew up on.

Erik Gonzales. See more here

I find this poem by Pablo Neruda particularly moving.

Lost in the forest, I broke off a dark twig
and lifted its whisper to my thirsty lips:
maybe it was the voice of the rain crying,
a cracked bell, or a torn heart.

Something from far off: it seemed
deep and secret to me, hidden by the earth,
a shout muffled by huge autumns,
by the moist half-opened darkness of leaves.

Wakening from the dreaming forest there, the hazel-sprig
sang under my tongue, its drifting fragrance
climbed up through my conscious mind

as if suddenly the roots I had left behind
cried out to me, the land I had lost with my childhood --
and I stopped, wounded by the wandering scent.
- Pablo Neruda