The Black Hole

A while back, I mentioned the Black Hole in my studio (as opposed to the one on my desk), and promised to tell you about it another time. Now that the mad rush to finish for the New Age Looping show is past, I'm catching up on things that seemed a wee bit too overwhelming then.

It's embarrassing to admit that what made it feel overwhelming was my old friend Science Fear (first cousin to Math Anxiety). I labeled that bin a long time ago, and it's not like lots of people see the stuff in my studio. As I wrote that post, I got to wondering: Do I even know what a black hole is?

For the record, here's how Wikipedia defines the term:

According to the general theory of relativity, a black hole is a region of space from which nothing, including light, can escape.

I didn't understand most of the rest of the page.

So let me clear things up. There is an actual black hole on my desk, from which nothing can escape. But that little plastic tub in my studio must be something else. Because things do, in fact, get outta there.

That's where I tuck bits and bobs of fabric and trim that are too precious to throw away but too small to keep track of. I actually know most of what's stuffed in there, although occasionally when the lid pops off I find something I had forgotten. There's no easy way to find anything in that bin. If I want something, I have to dump the whole thing out on the table and start hunting.

More often, I use the contents of that bin as a catalyst in a creativity exercise I'm posting at my other blog, Compost And Creativity. It's my version of a cosmos ready for a big bang.