I found a beautiful set of nesting cookie cutters in a small antique store. It sat around in my shop for months… perhaps longer. There was something about the way it reminded me of a flower or of a kind of celestial star system that made it so precious. I waited until I had the perfect setting for it. I did have a little box and thought all it needed was a detail, a counterpoint of sorts, to break up the form. Adding a couple of old drawer pulls would finish this work. It was supposed to complete the piece and yet, somehow I found myself waiting. And waiting. Somehow it didn’t feel complete.

When I think about the creative process I realize that I am following a path that has no direction, no signposts, and no guide. The only way to know that I have found my destination is when I arrive. In time this destination may be satisfying and at other times, I realize that the destination was only a rest stop. That I needed to push on.

A piece of a decorative gas lamp part lived in my studio for years. Delicate, a bit bent and certainly unloved, was another one of those purchases that said that perhaps I was mistaken to have acquired it (not unlike the huge steer horn cutter that still sits in a corner of my shop).

Attaching the lamp part to the cookie cutter suddenly breathed a new life into this sleeping Foundling. I had arrived at my destination. It suddenly felt complete. It was now a Foundling. The wait was just part of the process. I am very pleased with this little work. Now if only I could come up with a better name.

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