"umasi table"

stainless steel, southern yellow pine

12" x 12" x 20"h

2006

designed by wells mason

april 16

it's a sunday morning, and I'm trying to get some work done in my studio.  it's a rough time, because I'm overloaded at work, and I'm running behind on just about every project.  and my newborn son has been in intensive care for 2-1/2 weeks, but now he's finally home, and that was fun for all of us.  I'm sitting on the front step of my studio, the sun is shining, and the breeze is strong, because it's springtime in texas  (for about a week), and I'm trying to recharge, so that I can get started

and then I notice that I'm surrounded by termites.  I look around, and they're all over the place.  literally thousands of termites, parading through my studio, from the back to the front, out the door, and then, when they reach the step where I'm sitting, they spread their wings and fly away.  some are crawling up my pant leg, others are launching themselves off my shoulder.  I've got water penetration at the rear of the building, with some rotten wood that needs to be removed  (by somebody, sometime), but nothing that can't be fixed.  so I'm not too worried about it, because I know termites swarm this time of year, and soon they'll be gone. just like the turtles that make their journey down the beach and into the water, the termites are making their journey through my studio and out the front door. they're determined.  they're relentless.  and then, they're gone.

I look over, and there's a butterfly on the concrete.  more of a moth than a butterfly.  but beautiful and complicated anyway.  and that moth can't fly. because it's wings are bent in half, both of them, instead of being straight, born that way, I guess.  the moth is flapping and flapping, but can't take off.  there's nothing I can do to help it.  but watch.  and wonder.

it's all very surreal.  I'm tired.  and I'm kinda preoccupied with other things right now.  but there's a powerful message here, and I don't know what it is, just yet . . .