Posted by: Xhyra Graf | 14 July 2007

Maelstrom in Glass

Maelstrom in Glass Originally uploaded by Xhyra Graf. Something satisfying about this piece. Probably has something to do with my desire to make big a** sculpture. Like SteelPalmSteel Palm

Important, though of course, I’m not doing rocket science here [or even, in my dreams, approaching the great work done by people that really do digital work] with the virtual blue people in the place where most people go to have cyber sex and go to bars to “meet people”.  [Not too different from rl.]  Still one does not need rockets to do science.

The Maelstrom in Glass began as one of my first prim trials. I wanted a unique shape for a lamp to put beside the bed in the loft.

Night shot-Studio LoftNight Shot-Studio Loft.

I just liked the look of it. So it was saved in my inventory to go back to later. Kind of like I keep rl crap around now which eventually gets used for something — Bingo chips, tiny pins, sand, etc. for the Bricolage stuff and nonsense.

It’s interesting how this mirrors my regular process. Interesting only in that I sometimes find this surprising. I still work in bursts, then return to it a little at a time, making small almost imperceptible changes every once in a while, until I’m satisfied. Second Life extends the interaction in way not possible, like the ability to be inside… or to be able to place it on top of totem poles made of the same material — after the fact

Inside the Glass Sphere

If this were real life glass, I would have ended up with shards in my eye. I’m a brute. It’s why I work with steel…

Then comes all the possibilities – different light, different angles. I’m particularly happy with this:

Night View

Anyway, important because after the psychic purging done by interacting with the 21st Century Drow and the Kiltie with guns, I was able to work. Maelstrom’s process touched those moments which make this process and the things I do worthwhile — where there is a birth of something new in an experience so familiar. When chaos and order are the same. Entrenched in a mode of operation older than dirt, something interacts with your mind and highlights a new facet of what is…the moment [that specious present] I work to repeat again and again; so I can understand it. Where does the old end, the new begin? How is it turned over in the mind and kept [virtually] real in order to come to fruition?

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