Through practice, we grant ourselves the perspective to recognize an object's status- its power, and activation. The wisdom of times past would suggest that this mostly an exercise in patience, and focus. It is not so much that there is an inherent energy contained in a material, or that we are supposed to divine it- rather, that through labor, there may eventually be some acknowledgment between us, and it. The gift of conscience and the generosity of materiality are the constituents, openness and commitment the convection.
Lights gift is manifest through refraction. In its play, it sings. To touch the surfaces over which it plies is to chase a tune, to write its transient music. Our voice becomes the conduit, humming repeated incantations along the pursuit of modeling, or reducing, material to form. Our labor must carry that ephemeral song over the contours of our intended subject so that the reciprocal gaze can hear. What may elevate an object is its transcription becoming a sounding chamber, where sight makes sound. When one is touched by an animist specter, taunted by devils, or gripped by angels in thrall of petty thing under glass or on the street, it is because it whistles its tune.