History Part One, or My Love of Scissors

The question was asked "How do you do it?" and "What inspires you?"

To answer the first I should explain a few things.

First scissors.

I love scissors, the way they look and the power they contain.

Such a simple tool(though not a simple machine) that enables the bearer to permanently alter the Universe.

Seems a bit melodramatic doesn't it?

Think about it though.

What scissors cut can never be the same again. Mended, re purposed perhaps but the very fabric of reality has changed-forever.

I had many paradigm moments in my early childhood. Realizing the power of scissors and through their use a bit of the nature of the universe and the laws of physics when I was four or so is still a vivid memory. I am not embellishing. A whole new way of thinking was opened up to me and I can't even begin to relate the many ways in which I consciously explored ideas of cause and effect, irrevocability, responsible use of power, and of course, the wonders of creativity.

Let's not forget the sounds of scissoring. I love the sounds produced as my scissors pass through paper and fabric. It is the sound of possibilities to me. If you concentrate you can feel the textures through the blades and almost sense the molecules of your material separate as you are cutting and your scissors break the laws of attraction.

We are talking serious power here people.

Scissors and their use have changed the world-not just my young life.

In an effort to keep me from destroying the house in my experiments my (step)mom provided me with material from her scrap bag and I cut with abandon. I would start with a largish piece of material and see how many times I could cut it in half-lessons on infinity there because I knew, I just knew that I could cut it to the point that I wouldn't be able to see what was left and my inability to see the tiny pieces were all that prevented me from cutting it even smaller.

I cut endless chains of paper dolls and hundreds perhaps thousands of snowflakes in my quest to find out how much of something I could take away without destroying it's integrity.

I still love my scissors. I have several pairs-do you know why scissors are a pair? Well, even if you do I can't see you nod your head so I will tell you. Scissors are a compound machine consisting of two levers-sharpened to wedges-whose fulcrum acts as the pivot point. So scissors are a pair of levers. Tah Dah! Isn't that fun? Still not sure about the pair of jeans though-I think it might be because way back when your pants actually consisted of two separate leggings that kind of crossed over each other and tied to your belt. Ladies just went commando under their skirts. Whoa, I digress.

Back to my scissors. And yes, all the scissors here are mine and I make them available to those who can tell me how they intend to use them and when I can expect them back. I don't censor their use beyond what my (step)mom did-making sure it's not the drapes or perhaps the doggies ear or a power cord in the sites of the tool user. I can think of many occasions with B where we sat down and just cut paper for ever to hear the sounds and see the little bits of change falling from our fingers.

My special scissors, the scissors I use in my art, are different. I don't think they have been touched by anyone but me since I bought them. In some strange alchemical way they have become an extension of self as I use them and so they have become too precious to be casually used by another.

And so ends Part One.