crash

Don't you love watching the neighborhood kids growing up? One day they're learning to ride a bike and the next they're driving the family car. Just the other day, Rick looked out the window and said, "Hey, we have a car crash out front." We both ran out to see if everyone was OK. They were, but the car wasn't, and neither was the tree it hit. Silly kid had come rippin' around the corner, lost control, spun out, and hit the tree. Poor guy, I bet he'll spend his summer vacation working to have it fixed. His mom came down the street screaming her head off. Something like, "Why? Why? Why?" I have a feeling he didn't have his license yet, and another feeling she didn't have insurance. Too bad. It was a nice car, probably worth more than her house. And apparently it had great sentimental value too, because her boss, a famous local artist, had left it to her in his will. These folks aren't close friends of ours, just neighbors we recognize from up the street. So while they continued the yelling, we ducked out of the situation and went back inside.

A while later they'd managed to move the car, but somehow forgot all the little car-bits that had fallen in our yard. I went out to clean up, and couldn't help but notice how pretty all that broken glass was, glittering under the Taos sun. So I picked it all up, brought it to the studio, and proceeded to melt it. The way I see it, fire is the ultimate purifier. So any bad juju in that glass was burned right out of it. I took part of an artist's car and turned it into art. Kind of a warm and friendly full-circle sort of thing. And then I was so excited about making beads out of garbage, I went through the recycle bin and started smashing up bottles with a hammer. I think I'm on a roll here. People are always asking me where my inspirations come from. I tell them, "everywhere", but I don't think they really believe me. Well, hey, you can believe it now folks. Even a car crash can inspire a nice bit of art.