Friday, May 11, 2007

CASTING THE MASTERS...

The new designs, of which I've shown the waxes in recent posts, have been cast in sterling silver to become the masters from which I will make the vulcanized rubber production molds. It is always such a relief to see that translation securely made... many disasters can befall this process.



Ordinarily the foundry would saw off the conical buttons from the sprue, that connecting rod, which was the channel that allowed the molten metal to flow into the "waste-mold", made by pouring plaster around the wax inside a cylindrical stainless steel flask. That flask is put into a kiln to melt out the wax, thus effectively destroying my carving! The work, however, is temporarily retained as a negative cavity inside the plaster. There is only one opportunity to replace it with metal... hence the term 'lost wax casting"...

When the process fails I am required to start all over again on a new wax!



The buttons in this position demonstrate how their weight helps push metal into all the details & furnish a reservoir while the metal shrinks during cooling. Being the last to solidify, that mass takes the stress & distortion inherent in the changing states from liquid to solid. They will be replaced later with smooth buttons for the molding process...




As we look into the interiors of the bells, anticipating the sounds they might make when relieved of all the extra weight in the buttons & sprues, we can enjoy the show of fiery visuals involved in the moments of the actual casting process. These photos show James, proprietor of OutCast & Company, during a pour for a vacuum cast. [We also use a centrifuge for some castings.]

After bringing the metal to melting temperature inside the blast furnace, one sees him taking the flask out of the oven with tongs & placing it on the vacuum table . The crucible is then lifted out to pour fiery metal into the cavity of the plaster mold flask while the vacuum draws the air out ahead of its passage to prevent loss of detail & encouraging a dense casting.





THE MOMENT OF TRUTH!


All looks good, but one never knows until the flask is broken open to reveal the result. A period of glowing meditation &/or nervous anticipation is required while the last of the flame keeps the button molten until the interior metal has safely solidified...



I leave you with the knowlege that the process was successful since you saw the masters at the top of this post. Next I will polish the masters & make the molds, hopefully taking time to make photographs to continue sharing these technical aspects of my work.

Being a Double Leo explains my joy in such fire!

Thursday, April 19, 2007

DESIGNING REPORT...



Like this explosion of grass in the garden I celebrate finishing what must sufice for the season's new design train.

THREE NEW BELL DESIGNS: SEA HORSE; SUFI-SURF; CLOUD PALACE

Making hundreds of photographs, I continue to learn how the camera communicates with the computer images I hope show how I see these waxes which might or might not survive the next trial by foundry fire... there is always that chance. My memory launches into the archiave of stories which one day will prove my age in some version of Hephaestian myth, but I do understand & appreciate that all my work thus far rests its reliable birth from this gestation into mastery toward gently evolved production.

Many elusive stages toward reality... flipping from postitive to negative as plaster molds accrue around my waxes to resist the melting of all my work, holding in shadow form the nuance to be translate the heft of liquid silver gelling quick to crystaline metal hard what the wax had been.

Still, I invite you to look again into the small surficial depths of this ephemeral state where I play to work...

The SEA HORSE Bell design has been shown in several previous states in recent postings. Here then are that wax's formal portraits.



This shot shows a clearer viewpoint under harder light...



Today I reluctantly dissasembled these bells for the last time to attach the sprues which are necessary for casting. Sprues are the wax wires which will provide channels for the molton metal. The SEA HORSE Bell's very flexible clapper is a complexity of three jointed parts, which are sprued together in a trident for effeciency. This will be an expensive bell for such nicities.

I look forward to seeing this bell in production... organic surfaces like this can be problematic in finishing--easily losing subtle detail & becoming "mushy". Still... I know an original problem with this idea was the critter's inherant rigidity. This becomes a consumate dance...



Now they are packed in foam inside a metal tin, ready for the trip to the foundry tomorrow.



I begin to experience some sort of "post partum" blues, as I watch myself pushing them away into our next stages. "My children" will be back with more need of attentions as I polish them out to be ready for the molding process... after casting...

Casting, very like chickens, is not something one can count on before...

What the language of lost wax casting describes is that the wax model, encased in a plaster mold is melted out... lost... in order to provide space for one moment of truth at precise temperatures, designed with gently efficient flow to accommodate such a thrust of molten metal to replace it, cooling to translate my wax form into security.

Certainly a birth of sorts.

I will be on edge until I see that transformation. There are many stories about the vicissitudes of casting in my history. There is little play in this field without coming to some acceptance toward something zen. I have experienced many personal failures in this process during the years I was doing my own casting. In a process so complex as this one can ultimately only accept whatever the outcome.

One dances prayers for grace.

Stephen will play courier for these & will pick up an order of finished bronze bells, completing my stock for the upcoming Open Studio weekends May 5, 6, 12, 13.

Grazie Mon Chere...

Thursday, April 12, 2007

MOODS INTO LIQUID CONCRETION...

From inside almost two weeks' deep solitude I bring forward these waxes gestating both longingly & more hurried...



While taking a walk down the road elegantly sexy eqisedum seduce my camera's eye ...



This is one result of the fire of the beach house in the neighborhood last summer... It is a "scorch-print" made through the vines on the siding of the out-house nearby.



I introduce my great nephew Dylan...
Look into his soul, please.

Sunday, March 25, 2007

Sodden Equinox...



While the blossoms tell the season, our skies have continued full of more rain than is good for our geography. We take what bright we can find in the few sun breaks we are blessed. I realize I have posted shots of our blooming views at this season last year. I won't repeat...

I am at last finding some productive time at the wax desk. A new design is the blossoming I will feature in this here & now. It explores an idea first explored as the ninth limited edition named the DERVISH bell which has returned with more essense in experience since Stephen returned from traveling in Turkey last fall & my having met Sufi dancing with our friend Jamshed at Breitenbush. Another friend has also begun massaging the idea by sharing a white porcelain figurine of the gracefully swirling skirt of a classical dancer. It has seduced me even as I have explored a less pure form of the notion, opening it & allowing it to splash a bit... hence the working title of SUFI-SURF.

This project has had that satisfying "snap" I love... the feeling something in the idea has a life & vitality all its own. I love to ride such impulsive inspirations!

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

CIRCLING WITH FAERIES...


Back this morning in the nest of our home I am basking in rare sunshine & the memories of what must be something like my 20th time circling with the Northwest Radical Faeries at Breitenbush Hot Springs, deep in the woods of central Oregon's mountains, where we have gathered for the last 25 years.

This is a spiritual gathering of mostly gay men who feel called & re-called to the mission of creating & re-creating magical space for healing themselves & the planet... a far flung ambition, no doubt about it!

Harry Hay holds a position of honor as one of those who made the call for the First Spiritual Gathering of Radical Faeries in 1979 which now has become an international collective of rather anarchical groups who continually reinvent ourselves. We are a rare example of what is actually the very [pre]historic process of coalescing humans to consciousness around deep seated need to advance what it means to be human.

Too much groundwork would be necessary to bring you fully into appreciation & understanding... even we do not know quite who we are most of the time! But I want to attempt that impossibility by narrowing my focus to what might be considered our basic sacrament, which we call Heart Circle.

I illustrate sharing photos of an experiment I began several years ago, which now suggests itself as an ongoing personal practice: a book, which I first saw some four years ago in a Florentine paper shop, but passed it by as impractical for my journaling. Stephen presented it to me nonetheless some days later, in Rome, on my birthday. It is gorgeously handmade, rich paper bound with a leather spine & marbled paper covered boards.

Half moon shaped, it is a crescent which becomes fully round when opened... which shape is why I was first both attracted to it but then observed it being impractical for my squarish calligraphics. Still, he knows well how to feed my heart...

Heart's song happily often creates askance while dancing antithetical to practicality. I do love the book so I've dedicated it to drawing rather than writing, however rare it is I have time in quality to sit with such importantly playful work. Much needed education has come through while I approached this project of drawing a skin of graphite over/onto the soft ribs of such heavily laid cold pressed rag paper. Much pencil pressure will easily cause the surface to crush, introducing even stronger texture... to this I must be student.

The laying onto tone over careful tone, more shading than crosshatching... chiaroscuro become meditation.

Such drawings become lengthy studies... significant investments of time... I've managed to fill only 8 or 9 pages so far, or paired pages, since I am making these drawings to fill that full circularity. Still, it has sat most of a year between some efforts.

While I'd brought it to Heart Circle before, at this gathering it began to find new strength in meaning to me. I stopped being concerned it might be disrespectful in the larger context as I considered that it is not unusual to see faes knitting or doing hand sewing. I come to see circles within circles as I continue my exploration with this format. The aspect of mandala... which Sanskrit makes disc obvious.

Circling is primordial human activity... "Wherever two or more of you are gathered..." reclaims a sacrament far older than that quotational fragment. Ancient peoples formed eons of family & tribe on this model. Holding circle creates & describes community at it's most basic level. Curiously, we have mostly lost the form because more hierarchical natures have long prevailed to construct our ignorance for their power.

There is nothing of top down in a circle. There is only a totality wrapped in endless continuum. There is center... that which holds. There is oneself... there is then all one's others held in requisite communion... & love.

Faeries find organization in that consensual choice. We are not democratic. The larger portion cannot rule simply by size. All must be worked with so that the whole is healthy as possible. This can be immense struggle & very subtle work... within each self communing with all others. If those who say such wishes truly want to "save the family", I suspect something like this will be seen as one actually functional as well as logical way... which the father model seemingly cannot accomplish.

Faeries might take anything "organizational" with that sense of constructive skepticism, of askance, at whim. Any rule invites being met with creative breaking, just to prove the larger rule of historically evolutionary anarchy. ALL will ALWAYS break down, change... evolve... by atrophy, or recreation.

So one of the most important parts of every Faerie Gathering... or "Faeries' Gathering" as one friend, with more particularity to this point, calls them... is the Heart Circle, traditionally held in the morning at our Breitenbush gatherings. We sit together in the North Wing, the largest meeting space in the old traditionally timbered lodge, making ourselves comfortable & cozy on cushions with back-jacks to lean on. The circle breathes to expand & accommodate as more arrive... others leave at whim. This is no obligation. Some never attend, some of us are habitues, appreciating the energetics in this pulse.

At Breitenbush we might average some 30+ in number, gathering close enough to touch, perhaps holding hands in more, often snuggling or inviting newcomers to nestle into laps rather than to disturb the present & palpable connection... we try not to disturb attention while someone is speaking.

There are numerous variations on procedure. Some traditions pass a talisman, perhaps a "talking stick" to define the concentration toward the sharing, going around the circle to include everyone. In our gatherings, we allow those wishing to speak to take the center, putting no onus on those who might choose to remain quiet until such moment as they are ready.

We have long used a shawl as our usual talisman. Such a bit of "drag" seems to suit our sense of style. The one most currently used was made by a fae who created a richly patterned & subtly spangled triangle which is sturdy enough to stand up to being draped & dragged, played with in nervousness, tugged on & tossed while faeries speak with all the potential emotions, as well as to support a burgeoning collection of additional adornments accumulating to represent all the various gatherings at which it has been used. This shawl has traveled around the country & several times to Europe since its appearance five or six years ago. The Faeries meet regularly in half a dozen sanctuaries around the country. There are Eurofaeries & a new gathering developing in SE Asia as well.

There is also an "ancient" crocheted shawl which is now so weighted by years of feathers, bits of jewelry & patches & has become so frail, in spite of numerous repairs, that we do not actively use it. It has become curiously "hallowed" by so much energy... it has seen so many years of tears in joy or pain, so much stress of emotive anger & love, of holding the weight of processing such myriad matters of collective heart.

We gay, queer, two-spirited, bi & trans-gendering people have long been outcast, especially in patriarchal societies. We hold a powerful collective pain... we hold an equally powerful, but necessarily more subtle strength to survive. Prejudice again & again proves its ultimate weakness & insecurity although never without a struggle from those challenged. Much of the work done in Heart Circle has to do with healing the resultant wounds.

We are invited to speak from our heart & to bring such deeper energies to play by avoiding the foibles & the games of the mind. Courts & Senates abound... "logic" is how we've come to many of the difficulties in this world which we would now attempt to dissolve with the subtleties of love.

We tell our stories inside these circles. We witness our sister-brothers in the joys & travails of their lives. We choose names for the beings we more truly are... or wish to become. We rant. We grieve our losses in the deaths & other passages of family & friends. We ask for support. We bare our souls.

One tradition, although this, as everything else in our unstructured way, is only one option, is to bare our bodies as we speak, bringing our nakedness to be seen in that symbolic honesty, because our culture has made such a poor bargain with true beauty & with sex. This must be considered when the media show only certain, very limiting, body types as acceptable. Before you recoil at this notion you must be honest with yourself about the images with which you are constantly bombarded inside your television or magazines. Does your body meet those "standards"? Is it possible you might prefer to be able to stand bare, finding approval from your peers?... How might it feel actually receiving open appreciation for your size, color, shape & weight? Do your clothes & cosmetics in truth help you compensate for the supposed deficiencies our commercial culture constructs to put us all mostly down? Could we all reach through the sales gimmicks & find some actual confidence in our truth instead?

Faeries feel that pain with all who are marginalized. Further, as gay men we easily contain our own version of that culture which puts so many of us down by impossible standards of gym bunny beauty, which is a curious form of white male privilege known as internalized homophobia. Being overachievers to begin with, simply to survive, in our frustration we take the societal norms to new heights & are often cruel to each other in order to find something feeling temporarily like a step up.

Faeries work to change this cycle... & it is complicated work indeed! It takes this strong structure of the circle... this geometry without corners where which one might stuff one's shit or try hiding with pain. As we face ourselves & look into the mirror of other eyes, we likely first see our own fear. As we share that fear openly we more easily resolve into softening acceptance & appreciation. Without so much need to react by threatening back... we may rather begin finding strength to love more, if not all possible selves. Coming into that welcoming love we may begin more easily to see beauty in all its forms.

Nakedness is belittled by accusations of sexual "impropriety" when it really is more truthful than to accept such from some god of easily manipulated words selling a slavish lack of true logic... if any god created the infinite universe, why would he put only a few narrow-thinking white men in charge? That concept genuinely seems a comic sort of "logic"!

Circles were useful process long before churches. We continue to prove for ourselves in these circles the truth of that. This would seem more genuinely to be "that old time religion". Still, faeries would not wish to be limited as a religion... we are more about spirit than can fit inside such limited definition.

So I brought my round book to the faerie heart circles of this gathering & attempted to honor that spirit in my particular way. In the third day's circle I sat with a new blank set of pages, an open invitation for the mandalic process. The point of my mechanical pencil naturally arrived first at the center. While I rarely speak in circle I can speak here in my own manner. The hearts coming bodily to the center that morning were often telling of feeling off kilter or of searching to find direction & focus. That resonated with the laid lines of these particular pieces of paper, which were going at slightly "clashing" angles.

My book's round pages are cut on many angles & mostly are folded into the folios differently one half page to the other. This requires me to consider how these subtle furrows will ultimately affect my drawing, which will only bring them more & more strongly into visual play under the darker tonalities. I began to draw that skew as honoring something indeterminate... describing a hand for a clock out of time, perhaps... or the pointer of a compass searching between polarities. I felt more the book's calling... Its quiet turning as I crosshatched in innumerable angles allows, requires, mirrors & celebrates the circles within, the circles beyond. Wheels within discs within processes of quiet noise & meditation.

I've 90 or so more pages... seeming a life's work... which gratefully feels less daunting than before. I now rather look forward to the promising permutations possible in such a concentrated evolution. I am invited to find new circles in working play!

Monday, February 05, 2007

WINTER WAXING...

Finally! I am celebrating the creative depths which this season traditionally holds for me.

Even as I can predict a bit of reticence, & often irregular rhythms, I always worry... until I find myself in that gripping drive which plays-out in late nights of wax carving & concentrated research as I come to grips with ideas wrestling back... fantasy in dialogue with reality, something rather Montessori, if you will.

First, perhaps, some repetition of impulses toward a notion for a bell begins to tickle, whether during the highs of the holiday sales season, or waiting for that sag time after New Years.

I do have a full backlog of such notions both from others' suggestions, & from my own notions. Some have become perennial problems, like that of a HUMMINGBIRD Bell, which ephemeral action eludes my imagination to capture its hyper-movement in static wax & metal.

Yet the idea of a SEAHORSE Bell has caught my interest recently, between the aquariums in Florida last winter & in Mystic, CN last month, with a similar problematic pique to my imagination... I suspect this rather stiff, narrow form might easily result in pinched resonance. The larger wax is a first study in which I confronted sseveral such problems & I have now designed a 3 piece flexible clapper... making a "flick" of action to improve the strike.






I believe the bell will ultimately project a good voice, but one never knows for certain until the non-resonant wax is cast & assembled in metal...

Wednesday, January 31, 2007

Glitteringly Dark Times Mark Passage...


This promises to grow long, so for those who might never get there, here is...

THE LONG STORY SHORT:
Holiday studio biz, power deprivation & travel have kept me busy the last couple months. Excessive & successive weather extremes both earlier & lately, astride one bugger of a severe cold I caught in New York... have recently kept me lower & closer to home. I'm loving the recent shift toward more light & the resulting new growth pushing up promise toward better times!

A mid-December windstorm blew over thousands of trees which knocked out power for millions of people all over our region. We lost ours quite early that first evening when a neighbor's tree fell, taking out our immediately local lines' connection several hours before the main storm which at one point a fried transformer completely "unplugged" Vashon Island's "extension cord" from the mainland.

We watched that night from our early dark while the city across the water projected an erie show of unseasonable fireworks: transformers arced, often in reciprocal pairs, illuminating distance inside our more local wind roar... far lights flicker... not always to return... gradually whole sections of the usually lighted horizon went as dark as we were.

An Island techie created a different sort of moving picture of the patterns as our power came back on:

http://www.oceanatlas.com/Storm/storm_movie.mov

One can locate Soundcliff at the upper ["north east" quadrant] of the two points between the northern tip, where the dock to West Seattle is & the big "knee" [ "southeastern" position...] Seattle is outside the northeast corner.

We got power eight days later... two hours before we left for the airport. Meantime we took many lessons about resilience & dependence & creativity:

Fortunately I had done most of my biz during the Open Studio weekends just before... I was ready for a break.

Thus the first few days of candlelight seemed romantic... but, before long there evolved rather a full time job just to keep warm & to manage around the lack of usual systems.

We ate well, if a bit inconveniently, from the food store hung out in the cold up on the upper deck. The new gas range was a boon & a blessing, even if it did not arrive in time for Thanksgiving. We could heat water & I recalled conversations with an Indian friend about bathing with some fraction of a bucket of water. On day four we finally needed to dance with the freezer... Melting berries Stephen had picked for making ebelskivers got made instead into quick jam. Pizza dough, beginning to rise, was given away to an unexpected client... except for the one we baked on the gas grill, which experiment worked rather well!

We evolved toward appreciation for the ambient soundtrack inside our quiet... although at times that contained generators & chain-saws. I could only ignore the studio projects & bookkeeping I'd planned to finish out my season... all down here in the Hold is electric. No email for me... but Stephen was spending a good deal of better time at the wi-fi coffee shop in town managing to stay mostly productive. I got to play at the basics of survival in that mode.

Dancing frustration with the indeterminate, the waiting continued eroding me... We knew, however, that we would have some prior intelligence announced by the noise accompanying utility trucks & crews... it was they we came to anticipate!

We had packed for our holiday travel in the dark, taken one last spitz bath & thus we could almost celebrate, when the power came back on, just two hours before we left...

The snowmen were all collapsing in Minnesota's half-hearted attempt toward a White Christmas. We celebrated fulsomely none the less.

By the time we were in Mystic, Connecticut for the wedding we could easily forego daytime topcoats. We enjoyed the corners of this quaint hometown of the bride mostly in sunshine. The archetypal tall white portico columns of the church perched at the top of Main Street, above Mystic Pizza & N.L.Shaw & Company, where the bells have held court for ten years. I was happy to be able to visit the shop for the first time & to meet Nancy & her staff.

The wedding did little to encourage us much to change our generally queer opinions of that institution, but it was in most other ways a good party. It was for that we were here. We'd met Ryan & Caitlin in India. This groom is that groom's brother. We looked to enjoy a reunion of the group who had played together in Bangalore two years ago around Derek & Angina's ceremony. East meeting West again... sans saree... sigh.

Read here The Indian Wedding Travelogue I wrote then, if you like:

Multiply extended generations meeting to witness children marry...

While we may often be told we cannot, we are not so disappointed... we mostly wonder what all the ceremonial fuss is really about. Still, we have been to several doosies of weddings this year. 'Celebrating friends... 'meeting wild varieties of family all over the place. Katy Jo & Steve joined after twenty years together. Charlie & Eric made lively new ceremony rooted in their home with a family diaspora to easily match the Indian version.

The most particular to me was the wedding of Chistina to O'Hara, who I carried on a hike, in a snuggly, to the top of Sedona's Vortex Hill almost thirty years ago, she is daughter of DU days friend Mary Tudor. While I did not attend in person I was there in bellsong...

Tribes marrying tribes... there has always been this weaving basketry of human interaction, this vital communication over & under -- splicing between our potential political barriers -- basketry cementing to hold many useful stuffs.

Stephen & I had four full days together in New York City for celebrating our New Year... we visited the new MOMA before getting tickets to a new Broadway musical, Spring Awakening, poignant for the message that century by century the human story vibrates radically with too little growth in perception toward preparation at essential depth.

Walking through upper Times Square after our matinee we saw the beginning hoards checking into police barricades corralling the crowds later seen on TV. We invite instead quite civilized impromptu drinks with Stephen's long time friend Gilbert Parker, who has long lived on the Upper East Side. Then we continued collecting ambles through the city, looking at the windows along Fifth Avenue & later finding a good Thai dinner before checking in on the opening of a coffee house in the Village, before getting back to Brooklyn just in time to toast the actual moment with our hosts at their neighbor friends.

Next day John & Howie had planned a party... impressive both for a buffet of food & something similar of New Yorkers. The afternoon's conversations were gifts in further travel: quickly taking me deep into parts of the city's culture I would never otherwise see. Later we trundle our well wheeled bags onto the subway & out at the West Village, going with our next host. He & Stephen have known each other since they were kids. After going see the film The History Boys, Covolo is ready to stay in. He gives us keys. Stephen & I are hungry for the streets...

We feast walking together... ranging history & haunts with his stories. We found a good dinner as well at a place in the Meatpacking district, which he'd known when he lived part time in the City years ago. We finally can continue finding the easily traveling us.

Six of us met the next day for the matinee of Magic Flute at the Metropolitan Opera. It is a stunning production, shortened & translated into rather lively vernacular English, it is an experiment designed toward exploring broader outreach via video media. The translucent geometric sets worked well as the struts could strike lightning around balletic tumbling then dissolve into scenes supporting plot density.The singers were wonderful, while also dancing & sometimes nearly tumbling. I delighted in the passages of kite-like puppetry. The style morphed eclectic mixtures of Chinese with Incan.

Fiorello's fed us afterward in fine style. Our round table chat in the middle of such delicious chaos was its own classic tale. The three of us then kicked it on up by having very expensive drinks at the Gramercy Park Hotel, exotically refurbished... these are the treats of adventure such trips to the city are all about...

Later, we had an invitation to visit another friend from my DU days: Taylor Eskew has lived in & around the city since shortly after college & we have kept touch variously over the years, with the predictable lapses, one of which this visit would end nicely over a glass of the wine she & her partner, Jack, are stocking for their wedding later this year.

Weddings... again, ever & again...

Our last afternoon I got finally to meet another old friend of Stephen's, about whom stories abound, when he joined us to visit the Rubin Museum. I loved learning directly from Mo Hanan that I like him too. We had a fine time exploring this new gem of intimate space which seems to hug it's young collection of Himalayan Art. I especially loved that they provided nice big magnifying lenses to enable the likes of me really to get into the details of ink or paint or stitchery & carvings in wood or stone or metal. Time in museums is a particular kind of social sharing...

We arrived back to home at a Soundcliff still discombobulated by 8 days in survival mode... While Whit had taken good care, the house he sat for us had been dumped on him immediately after our days without electricity... it was not tidy & organized, nor could he be expected to be able put it to rights. We gradually tackled the piles & curious collections of clutter. I went back to work doing inventory. He soon left for a Journalism That Matters conference in Memphis & I began a wax study for a Sea-horse Bell the evening the snow began...

Glittering difficulties settle like this so rarely. Usually I can brag about collecting some salad even in this season from these beds...





Tuesday, December 12, 2006

REMEMBERING SUMMER...

Late in the summer months I made a small collection of photographs of animals in the garden.

I do so savor the frog song that I tracked it once to take this peek into the Passifloria climbing the forward corner of the studio level of the house.


We sing our passion rather more reflectively
in this approaching winter solstice...




I never did get any spiders in the webs I used to teach myself better the subtleties of focus...



But I was blessed to watch one of those proverbially determined ants... in a teacup. Make of all that what you will.



However... my voyeur's prize was to discover this couple of slugs, seriously frolicking right out in the open... near that same PASSIFLORIA corner... hmm...



I ponder the issue of all that fecundity
in this season as I slip in the cold &
slide in the wet... working
to celebrate
complexities in the deep turnings
of this seasonal procession.

Monday, December 11, 2006

ANNIVERSARY...

One year ago I began my adventure with this blog... with Second Thoughts. By now I have passed through third thoughts & dozens more versions of such thinking, with the result that I am generally satisfied... even if my pace is rather more stately than even I intended with the sugestion of "Periodic Musings"... I do wish to increase my frequency... just to more regularly do the practice of writing while developing more technical skill at posting images.

I like this image, made by a friend last Saturday. Peter Serko caught me in inside the glow of Kip's [Kevin Perry] painting called Cypress Dancing with which I love living in the studio...


One week ago I wrote a bit of a story after my first weekend of our Vashon Island's Holiday Open Studio Tour which I've decided to post after all. This is the photograph I used for the brochure we publish. There is a web site as well... http://vashonislandartstudiotour.com/


I am sitting in a pool of stories from this weekend's Open Studio...

These are times of particularly intense resolution... Months of planning & work involving cash chunks of investment. All ultimately proving belief even as I resisted... I can relax once again into & atop the energie of the bells.

Out from the snow cold & gloom of the early days of our week, we woke to a glorious Saturday... a mellow mist giving way to crisp sun bright punctuated by a regatta of lively colored sails gliding through toward our clear view of the mountain... Folk came out in droves... giddy with a dose of such clemency.

One couple with a camera asked if they could go up, above the fencing bamboo, onto our deck in order to make better shots of the sight, so I grabbed my camera & joined the opportunity, even as it was a bit the tail end of the parade. Next day I heard a woman shopper in the studio tell that she had been in one of those boats & that this is an annual event. as I remember from previous years & now will anticipate such visuals as part of the traditional program... sales & sails...











I get to take a particular reading on the Island's pulsing right here in the Hold through my studio's filter during these weekends when the bells take leading roles in an opera of private proportions while dancing a jingle/jangle inside the flood of all sorts of folk. It was confusing enough with 10 or 12 people ringing along the sample line to become occasionally necessary to invite them to take their potential choices of bells outside to find a spot quiet enough to compare.

Stories come 'round through the shared history which the bells have been busily interweaving all these years. I am now promised a good one from a long time client who was here giving her two young sons the opportunity to pick their own bells for their Christmas gifts. She says it requires a time we can sit over a cup of tea together. I'll look forward! Another involved a bell remarkably found when its loss would have been devastating. Of course the story sometimes involves poignant loss being replaced. There is the notion I try to share even as I learn it, that the bells are about their own business, in their often mysterious ways... just as they came into ours. I appreciate how the bells dance as parts of people's emotional lives.

The range in these tales must include the client who bought a collection of bells for the collars of her [five?] dogs! She explains that she has done it for years enough now to treasure several as reminders after the pet has gone, evoking a soundtrack to her memories.

Often enough I make some quick friends through the bells during these days of intensity in opening my working space. I've long come to trust the bells' integrity & thus can allow myself to believe there is no draw for any but that matching their finer energies in response. That has 'most always proved the case, I certainly prefer to work my business with that mindset than to try to "protect" myself with any illusion of the possibility of that. Much of the value with which I work is as transitory as bell tinkle. So it was with much curiosity that I discovered a missing bell.

Ordinarily, such a disappearance might go unnoticed until some rather future search or inventory, but we had a gay friend to whom we wanted to show the PETER Bell later in the afternoon. Both Stephen & I could remember seeing it in on the display earlier in the day. Upon completion of a third searching pass over the display I had to admit it had been lifted. While I've long understood this occasionally to happen, I rarely have been so present to the timing of such occurrence.

I have long protected myself by stating that if someone wants a bell so badly as to steal it, I can quite easily release it with the assurance that the bells are good teachers for those who need such lessons. I did not concern myself so much with the loss.. Still, I wondered the who.

That particular bell... an ever-so-mildly erotic rendition of male pudenda which can sorta pass as a polar bear... I sometimes wonder whether or not to retain it in the openly displayed line. Occasionally it will be dropped with a grimace, but mostly it meets with smiles & amusement. There is now & again the tinkling pun... I was thus particularly curious who... of all the folk with whom I had so recently interacted... was needy for that bell?

I would not believe it could be the young man with pretty eyes under a tight crown of hat knit to his brow, who seemed to see with such intensity while looking so intently as he did at my work... to whom I was drawn to explain as he left that I felt particularly complimented by a generosity of his attention. I might have wished he liked that design... but no.

Or was it one of those several who'd left with seeming abruptness? We pondered even as we know that folk might simply have discovered they weren't really interested in bells. Or that they'd need to leave just then in order to catch the ferry... ample possible explanations... but then...WHO?


We have for several years gone to the Vashon Island Chorale's Holiday Concert, which concures with one of the Open Studio's Sunday evenings, & which venue is Saint John Vianney, not so far away. The concerts become a useful anodyne to the day's immersion in studio commerce. There were few parking spots so I got out near the church to go ahead to purchase our tickets & find seats.

Along the way I greeted a young, attractive, stylish & vivacious client who'd bought a bell that afternoon... she helped at the door as I unexpectedly took possession of an elderly woman in a wheelchair whose driver had needed to double-park in order to deliver her. I offered to help get her in & to situate her as closely as possible because she was "hard of hearing" while he did with the car... & thus was involved with also buying her ticket... Three, three, Blessed Be!

But... I pulled her back up a few rows, away from the tympani, when I realized to much bass booming might mar her aural enjoyment on what must have been a rare occasion out...

This concert typically offers a bit of sweet calming after the bustling energy of the sale. The quality of the music is reliably quite fine. This year presented John Rutter's Mass of the Children, with a section of enthusiastic youngsters along with a more than capable couple of soloists who have moved from New York & the Metropolitan Opera to raise their family here.

During the intermission between that performance & the program's finish with some half dozen arrangements of rare new songs & traditional carols, the bell client came to join me unexpectedly on the empty seat next over. She explained that she had something for me & reaching into her pocket withdrew a bell on a plumb colored cord. It was not the bell she'd purchased that afternoon.

"I've have had a problem recently with kleptomania," she whispered...

"I like dick & balls too".

I received the bell & held it in hand during the apology of her confession about needing help. A few seconds passed, before folding the potent bauble back into her hand, I put my arm around her shoulder. I believe I made some words about the bells being good teachers while I pondered deeper acknowledgment of my fascination & secret satisfaction to have, so immediately, such an unexpected answer to my curiosity, all inside the close confines of this sanctuary's congregation.

I cannot & will not ignore a certain resonance with the phallic display we saw in the "Secret Rooms" of the Archaeological Museum in Naples, collected centuries ago by a Cardinal of the same Roman Church. I well appreciate the rarity these days of such votive objects.

Would that it were only so simple... I would gladly gift the lonely world frequently ringing satisfaction!

Even if it works only once in awhile, I can grin.


While I raised this glass at a wedding last May, I share this year's favorite image of me in a toast to this anniversry. I may be slow, but I'm hooked...

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

Autumnal Viewpoints Through Colorful Boxes...


I've gloried in our recent "Indian Summer"... even these too-short sunny days held unexpected joy! This view out a window over the studio's sink caught my camera's eye for the vibration between the trim color & that of the asters blooming beyond.

I've worked some of this great time outdoors in a different vein from my usual studio work... 'obsessing for the last several weeks on a project which has had a long gestation & yet still required much deep concentration of mind & physical wrangling to bring into fruition.

It is a lighted wooden box containing two double shafted polishing motors, one mounted above the other, with a vacuum system to collect their dust. My theory is that the four grits of silicon brush wheels which we use to do much of the finishing on the bell castings would be thus organized so as to allow the process to become almost yoga-like, taking each piece through the sequence, from coarse to fine, without interruption, while reaching gently into the four quadrants of this configuration. Able to go immediately back & forth, bringing up the surface in a more real time way than how we have often worked this part of production: bringing multiple pieces up to each stage before proceeding to the next... & thus handling each piece multiple times.

Another finisher who works with the bells has designed a system mounting those four wheels on a horizontal axis, accomplishing much the same thing, but requiring one to move or stretch along a fair amount of dedicated bench space. My design saves that precious space in my studio & hopefully will do it more ergonomically.

At this stage it was finished enough I could begin painting it with a primer coat... nice enough color... industrial, although a bit lavender, but I'd dreamed something else...


My father was quite a do-it-yourself type so I grew up with a fair amount of observational capability with basic tools. I built my own, sometimes rather complicated canvas stretchers for paintings while I was in college, I've done much decorating & remodeling on numerous homes & studios over the years. Each of my many studios [& I can count at least 15...] has required creative construction at various scales, from moving walls to building cabinets. I've worked in spaces so generous as to become ball rooms & I have lived & worked in as little as 600 square feet. Each studio became by definition a very physical expression of how I lived & worked... who I was at the time.

Most of these working spaces acquired an identifying name & looking at the list I realize there is so much of my story in them... UP WILLOW was my longest situated studio, for a dozen mostly happy years under a big weeping willow tree which named the street in West Sedona, & The AERIE overlooked my last grand view of those Red Rocks. The BOTHY was barn-like on a rural property called Avalon in Sonoma County. The CABINET & The MEWS were both quite contrastingly urban in the Fischer Studio Building, downtown Seattle. Now I call my Island studio The HOLD, for being anchored in the foundations of our home, which Stephen has named Soundcliff as both a description & a prayer.

Over these decades I've evolved-by-testing my basic collection of sturdily eclectic & somewhat modular furniture which allows me to fit what's necessary & familiar to 'most any new space. I have developed a certain capable adroitness suiting my languorous peregrination. I have proved & improved my systems along the way. Each studio has needed to suit how I was working during its period: the smallest was only a wax design space for when I first moved to Seattle... having the foundry nearby for all the other processes. The current one wishes to be able to tackle most varieties of creative & production work except casting. It anticipates the possibility of doing more teaching as well as to facilitate work I've long dreamed, but postponed. Of late I have had to accept that each studio just might be the last... yet, I still anticipate designing a portable studio system, so I can work any place in the world as we travel!

"It never takes too long to do it right the second time," I remember Uncle Vernon, Poppa's twin brother saying. While I was growing up on the farm his shop always seemed so enticingly organized. My father always worked with a bit more of daring do. I found myself needing to use both forms during this recent project. Having only minimal tools for such construction I cobbled my design carefully in each moment of progression, holding the dream in my mind even as I spent days doing by hand-fitting what a more capable shop might have accomplished in hours... IF I could have legibly drawn it all up as a finished plan well ahead of time!

My method toward doing it right the first time required a certain dialogue between the actual parts: my wooden pieces against the polishing motors, like Montessori Blocks assisting to wrap my brain around designing an acceptable form holding all the guts of function inside that final skin of unexpected color.


Beside the spinning wheels & their control switches I needed to mount lighting & there was much which needed attention as to flow... that yogic flow of potential process... & air flow as well... collecting the dust residual to any polishing process.



I thus spent another hunk of time noodling with PVC pipe & fittings in the space backside to facilitate connection into a vacuum system. This piece is a very physical enclosure for much more which is quite ephemeral. It became thus a piece of sculpture along the way. I am only now, at the end, able to begin testing my theory with this as a tool. I've needed to make adjustments, adding a baffle to better control the fair breeze created by the wheels themselves, which is almost livelier than the vacuum!

So I have added new color & form -- plus some weight! -- to that furniture collection. While its construction may not have been exactly efficient, I believe its functioning will reward me! I'm pleased with myself & am ready to test it... I have some bells to polish!



After one last detail showing how the box hugs the motor, I timidly share some beginnings to learn how to manually focus in my camera. All this first year I have been using the automatiic focus mode because there were simply too many other things to learn & to practice! But the spider webs this season are big glorious constructions all through the house, studio & garden. While in certain light they have caught my eye, most times instead they catch my entire face as I walk blythefully ignorant of their presense until I'm wearing remnants of their distruction!

But the auto focus mode does not see their micro threads either, of course, so my desire to capture them requires me to accept a long invitation to practice manually focusing on them.

While I still find a good deal of frustration trying to look through a pixilated viewfinder I have begun to be able to grab some shots which would elude & frustrate me even more before this experimentation.


Further lessons will be necessary as to flash lighting & this is a curious shot of the recent full moon rising above our palm tree beyond blousey garden beds. Note the bell hanging from the bean trellis...


'Ding!