Eye Spy

 As some of you know, I messed up my left eye a number of years ago. No need to go into the grim details here but let this serve as a reminder to always wear eye protection when doing almost anything. My eye looks pretty normal, but what I see when I look out of it is anything but normal. (*1) And no, nothing is going to make it okay again as my cornea was sewn back together and I have copious scar tissue through which to view the world. But it's alright: I've gotten used to it!

Anyway, my regular eye doctor had noticed in the past couple of regular eye exam visits that it was noticeably blurrier. She recommended a laser procedure as a secondary cataract had formed behind my eye. I put it off last year as COVID prevented me from wanting to do a lot of things. But this year, after my exam,I decided to go for it.

Last Friday I had an experience that felt pretty sci-fi. I know that this laser technology has been the medical standard for quite some time now, but I don't undergo procedures often so it was novel. The cornea doctor is very relaxed about this procedure as she's doing it hundreds of times a year but I was a bit unnerved by the odd red light and strange clicking noises and her space-age helmet. It certainly didn't hurt while undergoing the procedure as my eye was numbed and it only took a couple of minutes. Afterward, on the way home, it felt (briefly) like someone had rubbed my eye with sandpaper and then put salt in it. That sensation passed quickly. Although my first application of the steroidal eye drops reinforced the salt-in-wound feeling. It was fine after that...

So two days after the procedure I can report no pain (good), no discomfort in applying the eye drops (also good) but I do have a few big black honking  floaters. You know how floaters are usually translucent and wiggly? There are two of these black spots that look like flies have come into view. I want to swat them! This is supposed to resolve soon... kind of annoying but normal. Other than that, I think that color seems to be a bit brighter but I'm not sure I'm "seeing" any less fogginess. I guess I'll have to wait a few days to really know what's up!(*2)

(*1) If you want to sort of approximate what I see out of my left eye, take a small piece of plastic or plexiglass and sand it. When you hold it up to your eye and close the other eye; it will be weird and foggy. You will still "see" but it will not be clear, distinct or articulate. It is like everything has been "generalized". Yes, you see the book shelf or the computer screen or the dog, but it will be as forms with no specific details. 

(*2) I reiterate: no, I will never see totally normally. Medical science cannot do that. I think the best my doctors and I hope for is less cloudiness. Too early to tell!

 

Stairway to Heaven

After that last posting, I was ready for a change of pace and attitude! So here's a project with a positive outcome: a brand new stone and mosaic step for my studio. And yes, those are my feet at the bottom of the picture.
Bob had said for quite a while that he had stones picked out with which to construct an official step for my studio. I have been making due with a simple wooden step that was functional but not especially pretty. And instead of one large stone that would have been hard to move up from the stream area and put into place, Bob suggested three large stones with cement and mosaic in between. A great idea!
Bob did his usual magic leveling and arranging the stones and then he helped mix up the cement. I had the fun part of selecting the plates from our vast collection of smashable crockery (cheerfully provided by my place of employment as many dishes come in already cracked, chipped or otherwise defective). I first toyed with the idea of using a slew of green plates, then red plates and finally circled around to choosing blue plates as it references the blue walkway we made through the Blue Garden. It was the right choice as the perfect plates volunteered themselves and I happily bashed away.
It was fun playing with mosaic again; we hadn't done that since the walkway project. I know that making the terrace behind the house was a big inspiration to making the step. And what an important step it is! It leads into (and out of) my studio. There is that inevitable metaphor of crossing a threshold from one reality to another.
Here's a slightly further back view:

Isn't that nice the way the stones and the tile integrate? Plus it's so much larger that Robin and I have a bigger landing pad when we depart on our morning walk. (I don't remember exactly why we always exit through my studio, but we do... ). Bob correctly decided that the shape and color of the mosaic looked like an eye. I showed him a preliminary sketch I did- of an eyeball! I had wanted that as a sort of subtle suggestion, nothing really literal or obvious. Just a suggestion of the internal seeing that goes on when in the studio...

An Eye for An I

I am generally leery of employing my art work for "therapeutic" ends. I've had therapist in the past who advised me to work issues out by making interpretive drawings and the like. Somehow, this never seemed comfortable or "natural" to me; it often felt forced or sort of hokey. It is therefore ironic that I am contemplating making some pieces about my eye...

Maybe it's because it's not even metaphoric. It's actual and literal that my eye (the primary organ by which I make art!) was damaged. That a part of the "Mighty Three" (hand/ eye/ brain) was directly involved is  profound. If I had lost hearing in one ear, it would be tragic as I love music, but it would have been no where as terrible as this eye involvement. Still, I sort of roll my eyes (yes, it stilll rolls even if I don't see so well) and wonder what on earth I'll accomplish by making a million pictures of eyeballs.
And, of course, I return to the fact that I really don't care ultimately what I or anyone else thinks. Making art is entirely motivated by the urge to, well, make art. Therefore, whether it commences as a form of therapy or an exercise in seeing, it really is about simply doing it and being committed to that act. It doesn't matter where art starts. It's where it goes that gets interesting. Sometimes, I think too much about making art. I'm happier and "more productive" (whatever that means!) when humming away in my studio, despite the results.