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Waiting Rocks

When I was a kid, I loved the book Sylvester and the Magic Pebble by William Stieg. In the story, Sylvester is a donkey who is always searching for pebbles. One day, he finds a magic pebble. Holding this magic pebble, he is suddenly startled by a lion and wishes he were a rock. But while turning into the rock, he loses hold of the magic pebble. Sylvester is then stuck as a rock.

 As time passed, as a rock, he becomes lonely and sad, missing his parents. He waits and waits and finally his parents came picnicking and sit set up lunch on the rock that is Sylvester. His parents find the magic pebble and place it on him. Sylvester wishes to be himself again and he is finally reunited with his parents.

 Reading this book when I was young, I loved that Sylvester’s parents found him. As a kid I felt like I wanted my parents to find me. I lost my parents twice in my life, once due to divorce and the other time due to death. I’ve noticed that there's a part of me that is still waiting for them to find me, and this waiting has made me feel stuck, like Sylvester, trying to find my way out.

 These clay objects are an attempt to capture the sense of restlessness of waiting and to explore a pushing on the walls, a pushing on that which has held me and yet has also confined me. Within the waiting rocks, there are bowls which I see as expansiveness, like the ocean or sky, and as potential for change/shifting/moving both inward and outward.