Thursday, June 27, 2013

Woes of a Part-Time Ceramic Picture Taker


There are days when auras are feeling purplish.
when a camera is just standoffish
and the lights (or lamps, they say) are a little bit dim.
Let's just say
 the tripod was feeling down,
the battery low,
the remote far away in its own little world
both diffusers out of their depth.
This was how it went
 on and on,
without a clue
from her above
time clicking and clucking away
At the last photo shoot.

(the sculpture is titled:  Hidden Fauna with Flora Spinning)

Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Clay wishes and a found key

 "I've got the key to my castle in the air, but whether I can unlock the door remains to be seen.” 

  from Louisa May Alcott's Little Women

We finally got the official keys to the our castle. And I finished up 12 pieces to go to an invitational next week.  My attention was divided between building the passive solar house and creating work for this invitational.  Things kept happening.  Schedules not kept.  Bits and pieces everywhere.  Clay drying out.  Glazes drying out.  Ideas drying out.  There is something about consistency.  If I work daily, with consistency, just work, things happen, a small spark grows. For some time it was all I could do to throw some kindling on the embers.  I kept hearing White Rabbit in the Disney film:
 "I'm late! I'm late! For a very important date! 
No time to say hello, goodbye! 
I'm late! I'm late! I'm late!"

Sentinel's Soliloquy

But it all settled down and things got done.
not late...just in time 
And the embers still glow.
Now for a big piece of heartwood.......

Monday, June 10, 2013

Top of the Morning Ears

 Ears too tall to fit in kiln!
  Built up first
then cut at leatherhard
at an angle

Looks very pensive without ears

ears hat?
after first firing
This fauna isn't done yet.  I need to do some washes on it and fire it again. That should do it.  I will then attach the ears permanently using a bonding product and fill in any gaps. It will look like an ear cap.

Monday, June 3, 2013

Sneaker Waves and Ghost Trees



It seems the ocean has washed away my words.  
Caught by a sneaker wave.
Still and silent,
I have spent early mornings
watching the abalone divers.
Rubbery and squeaky in their black suits
as they measure their catch
pried from
their ocean rock home.
Harbor seals appear as if ghosts
 in the summer fog
reminding me
to dip my hands in tide pools,
chase hermit crabs and sculpins
and softly rub the backs
of starfishes.
 Ghost Tree

clay has called me back
so much has happened in my little studio
in between the ocean 
the golden foothills
fauna and flora
just wait 

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