Inspiration can be a mystery, but I don’t always question where it comes from. Sometimes it’s just there, like God and his angels.
Every morning after a mug of coffee I’m off to my art studio. There’s only a tiny trail from the door to the old wooden desk I work on. I’m surrounded by boxes, tubs and stacks of stuff. Found objects, that’s what they are.
I search everywhere for interesting junk to turn into art. Old furniture. Vintage buttons. Typewriter parts. Dolls. Somehow whatever I find talks to me. “I can be a face,” a round piece of tin will say. “I’m a leg,” says a rusty pipe. My big desk has an entire drawer labeled “Wings.”
My angels came from that drawer. One morning I took out some pieces of copper mesh. I glanced around the room. A bent-up license plate caught my eye.
I got out my tin snips, fashioned a torso and put a mesh piece at each side. I chose a brass plate from around an old doorknob for a head. And there he was. Not exactly Saint Michael in a stained-glass window, but an angel nonetheless.
Over the next few weeks I made more. I liked sharing my studio with my art angels, who are inspired by the real angels who are always there.
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