Ceramics

I've been taking a ceramics class at a local community college for the past 8 weeks or so, and it has been kicking my ass. I incorrectly guessed that wheel throwing would be my forte - I used to enjoy it so much in high school, and was decent at it. But for the first time in a very long time, I got completely whupped by trying to learn a new skill. I sat at the wheel surrounded by sloppy wet clay disasters while slippery red liquid leaked out of my wheel tray and onto my shoe. I felt OLD. This was hard. This was that old dog (re)learning new tricks thing. My back ached, my fingers were cold and numb and hurting from my (somewhat crappy) gritty clay, and I could not get the damn disc of clay centered to save my life.

I still can't get it centered. But I gave it my best, truly, and came out with a couple of decent looking bowls. How did I make things in high school, with literally zero instruction? I just sat down and threw. Now, with a teacher to guide me and even place my hands where they should go, I flop. Maybe there's such a thing as too much instruction. I do want to keep at it though, and learn my own rhythm.

I never thought I'd say it, but hand building was much more fun. I played with organic shapes and made lots of imperfect pieces, which felt so so good. I like the look of lumpy, natural plates and bowls. And at least when you make an imperfect hand-built piece, it doesn't go flying off the wheel or flop over in a state of disgust.

Benny

Saturday I had the utmost pleasure of photographing baby Benny, who is just about 6 months old. Benny made my job far too easy, with nothing but smiles and wide-eyed poses for the camera. The kid's a natural. I'm only about half way through with editing right now, but I couldn't resist sharing some of what I have so far. He's just too cute.




I photographed Benny's beautiful mama Heather back at the beginning of the year when Benny was still-a-cookin' -- it was just SO COOL to go back and finally meet him, all bouncy and healthy and adorable. Thanks for having me back, guys!

Really useful stuff

I love looking through old comic books for terrible ads. I mean, doesn't this appeal to the 13 year-old boy in all of us?

I challenge someone to contact the "Masculiner Co." of E. Orange, New Jersey, to see if you can still order a Deluxe Van Dyke.

Hooray for art!

Just found out today that all three of the paintings I entered have been accepted into the Small Works, Big Presents: The Gift of Art juried show! The show will run from November 18 – Dec 20th at the White River Valley Museum in Auburn, Washington. I’ll be showing all three of my fresh new “Beast” paintings, and they will be for sale to the public as well.

It’s been a loooong time since I’ve shown artwork anywhere. I recently began thinking about getting back into the swing of things and trying to enter shows and contests, and being less uptight about sharing my art. Those awful little voices nag at me all the time, telling me I’m not good enough or it’s already been done, but screw that. You never know unless you try. So I tried, and voila. Confidence restored.

Pinch, shape, burn

Last Saturday we drove down to the White River Valley Museum in Auburn to drop off some artwork I was entering into their juried small works show. It felt strange just to drop off the art and run, so we decided to pay the $2 (love it) admission and explore the tiny museum. For a small community museum, I thought that the WRVM was pretty well done. Lots of great local history (loved the display on hop growers), some sweet dioramas, and a real train caboose you could climb into.

Most intriguing, though, was a temporary exhibit titled "Suffer for Beauty." It featured a small but fascinating array of women's clothing, shoes, lingerie, and hair styling tools throughout the ages. Images of corsets and hobble-skirts (bound near the ankles so women were forced to take teeny, hobbling steps instead of natural strides) were curious, and a little painful to view. At one point, I uttered, "God, we've got it so good." But then I really got to thinking about it, and our current societal obsessions with beautification really aren't that far off.

If you've ever walked into a Sephora or Ulta store, you'll know that there's no shortage of eyelash curlers (those things still make me cringe) and flat-irons to singe your hair straight, hundreds of brushes for every application, walls of perfume, eye-watering chemicals to color the hair, and products galore promising to lift, plump, lengthen, and smooth. Victoria's Secret offers a dizzying array of bras and barely existent underthings (Honestly, I see no point in the thong. Might as well just go commando.), pseudo corsets, and those odd looking bits with elastic and clips to hold up your stockings. All this seems a bit more comfortable and less bone-crunching than a traditional corset from the 1890s, but still awkward-looking items offered up in the pursuit of femininity.

Worse yet, there is plastic surgery. Loads of it. So while I cringe to think of wedging my torso into a whale-bone corset, I cringe further to think of sucking my waist tiny with lipo, pulling my eyes back taut with thread, and sloughing off the surface of my face with chemical peels and lasers. Asian girls might have their feet bound, but many undergo "simple" surgical procedures to alter their eyelids for a more wide-eyed, western look. Breasts can go from B to D in a matter of hours. Roman noses are shaved down. Gaps in teeth are closed. Freckles are faded. And what remains is a new, improved shadow of the self. Beautiful. Sexy. Feminine.

I guess not much has changed. Or maybe, it has changed more than we ever imagined.
Image from the Library of Congress digital images collection

Mirrored

I've got a major thing for ornate gold mirrors. It's a little outside my normal taste, and I'm not sure why I like them, but whatever. It works. I found this one for $3.99 at Goodwill yesterday - my primary source. It was too "new" looking, so I took some brown paint to the edges and fake-antiqued it. Fits right in with the rest of my mirror family now.

Huh. Mirrors. Not a very exciting post, I know. But have pity, I'm short on ideas today. And I've already failed at my blog-a-day goal for November (missed yesterday, along with forgetting to return that dang library book). So something...it had to be something...

Beast: Jethro

Prone to fits of rage and bouts of sadness. Gets frustrated by numbers - prefers words. Hates his name, but can't figure out anything better. Enjoys throwing tomatoes at passersby. Drinks peppermint tea. Reads under the blankets. Hates it when his socks get wet. Likes the crust of cheesecake better than the actual cheesecake.

Beast #3 completes the series for now, but I'm sure I'll make more. Details: Each one is 5"x5" on gallery canvas. All are made with an array of materials: old paper/maps, fabric, ink, acrylic paint, lots and lots of gel medium, and a couple secret ingredients.

There's a piece of me in each and every one of these beastly creatures.

Beast: Thursday

Yearns for a big adventure (involving multiple trains), exotic travel (involving elephants), and faraway lands (involving grassy knolls). Head appears to be attached to body, but upon closer inspection is really rooted in the clouds. Is mostly talk and no action. Plots destiny often. Constantly hungry (for tuna casserole). Has far to go.

Beast: Edmund

Slightly obsessive about spelling, punctuation, and the length of his socks. Prone to fits. Hates bicycles. Dreams of attack lobsters and man-eating plants. Likes hugs, but only once a day (preferably in the evenings). Weaknesses include wine, warm blankets, kittens, and pretty ladies.

This is actually #2 in a series of Beast paintings I'm working on. #1 comes tomorrow. I'm out of order. These little fellas are really too much fun.

Sick Day #2

The start

Being home sick is a good excuse to start a painting. Particularly a painting of a beastly creature.

November

November knocks on my door and brings me a sunny day and a nasty cold. Tonight the sun will set at 4:50 PM, and the hard months in Seattle begin. I don't mind the rain. But it's just. so. dark.

A small victory was won this weekend. In frustration and anger at not having a clean space to work, Dave and I furiously cleared out the spare bedroom and transformed it into something amazingly workable. Now I know where (almost) all of my art supplies are. Now I have a place to sew and paint. And there's a sink right around the corner. I'm embarrassed because this space has always been here, but it was filled with half-empty boxes of books and paperwork from ten years ago that needed to hit the shredder. So we finally got angry and mean and attacked it, and now I can do things like this:

I'm working toward small goals and tackling some artistic demons this winter - these canvases are part of the project. And to help things along, I'm going to try my darndest to participate in NaBloPoMo (can you believe there even is such a thing?) this month, a post a day starting today. If anything, to give my brain a little pre-winter kick start.