In Writing Mood
yes, it is me this time
How did your summoning go?
Did anyone visit you?
In hindsight, maybe we should’ve talked a bit more about protection—you know, some sort of dimensional etiquette. Just because someone wants to come through doesn’t mean they should. We wouldn’t open our front doors to just anyone in this world—so why drop manners when it comes to our quantum friends?
There. I said it.
Quantum friends. I cringe a little while writing that. Because it was me who was reading a book called: Quantum Bullshit. But I love imagining my creatures curled up in a tiny other-dimension, woven into the quantum field. Always present. Always near. That feels kind of exciting. That feels like they are present all the time. Wait, that’s a thought I dont’t really like though.
Did anyone of you listen to the podcast “The Telepathy Tapes”? I don’t want to discuss its quality or credibility. But I do want to talk about what it would mean to have a telepathic child around you, that is in your mind ALL THE TIME. Like you can’t think or see anything without your child knowing it. I wouldn’t want that. Would anyone want that?
Ok, dialing back on the crazy thoughts a bit.
Part of why I’m sending this new letter is because in the last one, the main image was a worm poem screenshot from a book—and I forgot to change it before hitting send. So now it's stuck there, front and center, forever. So here we are. Fresh letter. No worms.
You know I’m not big on classic “news” in this newsletter. It’s more intuitive updates. Glimpses into the studio, the creatures, and my current obsessions.
Right now, there are a few things brewing—puppets, objects, maybe an installation in the mountains. I’ll share more when they’re ready to be seen.
Also:
I’ve been working with a material that’s new to me—Worbla. A thermoplastic. You heat it, you shape it. It’s great for cold hands like mine. It wraps around the original clay sculpt like skin melting over bone.
It’s light, strong, and a total game-changer for puppet heads.
And yesterday I went to a massage and the woman was surprised when I undressed because, she said, I looked like a boy when I came in. This was my outfit yesterday.
Also:
I’m trying to grow basil again. Countless plants have already died at my hands. I’ve watched enough helpful Instagram and TikTok videos to qualify for a degree in basilology. Still, here we are. Fresh attempt. Fingers crossed.
I will probably regret sending out this Letter. But the worm poem screenshot needs to go.
Until next time!
Claudia
I think basil WANTS to die after a short while. always happens to me as well. there is something suicidal even in the word basil - okay, just the "l" at the end, but still. suicidal basil - it only lives as long as it eaten up at a faster rate than new leaves grow. which makes it die as well, but if you don't eat it up it will equally die.
okay. no youtube, no instructions, just my experiences with basil and thoughts about it.