prosperity

 

2009 Prosperity doll, in progress.

ring a bell

An angel comes ever so gently, nudging the air beside me. Are you ready, are you ready? And the only answer is Yes, I am ready to dance again, and sing my song. Ready to teach through my hands. To mark places up ahead, where it's safe to take your creative spirit right to the edge, and

JUMP

Bring freedom to those you meet. Do not tangle them. Don't let them tangle you. The smallest warmth is a moment of joy. Treasure this.

Angels rejoice when we notice them.

light

 

The truth of dreams and visions comes through like light peeking out from under a doorway. It is good to heed these things.

So it is that each day I must find more light, and become lighter myself.
Sometimes it's necessary to slough off the opinions of others, and see them as just that... opinions. I won't be lessened by these things. Little by little, I let go of my attachment to approval. Hard for anyone, I suppose... but hand in hand goes the attachment to disapproval, and I don't need anyone's stinkin' disapproval! I will not be lessened. Such is my lesson, :~).

I work on the creative a bit more every day. Adding pieces to a figurative sculpture, or starting one anew, making small decorative items or jewelry, reading, writing, rearranging my environment, taking mind pictures until I get my digital camera... of course I'll continue taking mind pictures even then.

Photography is among the most "present" of the visual arts. It requires that the vision be seen before it is created. Sometimes the photographer has time. The sun, quite appropriately, will often be the indicator of just how much time she has, or how much time she needs... before the shadows are just right, when she clicks the shutter.

It's necessary to look at everything with new eyes. The subtle changes in the sun everyday, and the spot where it sets, the clouds that join it... and then there are rain drenched streets at midnight... the trails of a truck's tail lights, when the truck is already gone, the reflection of lamplights and neon signs. The light is everything.

peace

The Winter Solsitce has passed, and I could feel the year turning. Light lingers a second longer in the sky, and the earth hardens.

I have decided to let my light linger a bit longer each day, too.

Thank you to all who come visit here. I am honored to share some time with you.

A Merry Christmas to all.

cats, heart, trees, and shadows

 

 

 

 

espresso should be shared

espresso at midnight
alone, it is an indulgent gift
the silk of sambuca kissing
my tongue
the edge of lemon
zesting me

worth the time

some crafting

Since I'm unable to post pics right now, I scanned some of the work I've been doing.

Top of the polymer clay covered Altoid tin (done with translucent chrysanthamum cane).




The bottom of the tin, but you can only see it's feet... And some hearts made from the cane scraps.




A few of the switchplates I've been covering.




Also, I wanted to give my old Shy Troll a place in my blog, so here he is, with his story:

Shy Troll was born on the longest day, in the Land of Faraway,

During the Year of the 5th Turning.

He has traveled widely through the darkest waterways of the world.

Today, Shy Troll resides beneath Black Bridge, beside

The currents of The Sarasvati River.

Gazing beyond the night,

Shy Troll rests against the rocks, until he continues on his walk.





********
12" tall. He is sculpted from the finest polymer clays. The body armature is constructed of wire, wood, and polyester cotton batting. A small gourd was used for his head armature. The eyes are hand painted polymer clay.

He wears a buffalo hide cape, and has buffalo hair, which was applied by hand. His clothes are beige chamois and brown cowhide leather.

change in the weather

It has been a strange couple of days... a feeling in the air; the density rising and falling, freezing and thawing. The sky says snow, but not just yet... a cluster of rain storms, even thunderstorms expected throughout the day tomorrow.

Yesterday was the 17th anniversary of my father's death. Anniversary is a silly word for a death day. 28 years since John Lennon's death on the same day. A day that has been remembered for a long time.

It's a melancholy time.

I eat pastina, and contemplate my life.

I think about times of my life. The good moments stand out like gems; hard like diamonds that can sustain their shape and clarity throughout the ages. Dark times sink into the earth, and are recomposed into something less ominous.

In my life I have had two great loves, separated by time and distances of thousands of miles and many years. Estranged now, from both of them, I reflect upon what the Brujo said to me....
Que hicieron con sus manos es deshacerse de sus pies ... What you put together with your hands you take apart with your feet. It was about me leaving... gathering things and people into my life, and eventually leaving... sometimes emotionally, and oftimes physically. Sometimes, I have just stood still, and pushed.

But, you see, I wasn't always like that. I'm not like that today. The day after tomorrow is a whole 'nother story. ;-)

************************
Today I made translucent chrysanthemum canes, and covered a tin with them. It looks nice, just needs sanding, buffing, and a glaze.

I came across several items I want to use for my another art doll. An old turtle shell, a small moth shaped card, from my friend, Two Crows, when we were still connected, crystals, for sure...which will probably replace arms/legs These things are precious to me, but sometimes another life calls. Perhaps they will become part of an art doll that someone else will treasure for its parts, and as a whole. I need some representation of fire, because I believe it is an Elements doll, overall.

This doll must stand on her own.. that is a thread I'd like to work with. It is figurative, of course, but it is quite literal, too... I want to construct if so it stands without need of support.

roadside gems

I like to collect gems on the side of the road, and off the river's edge. Beach glass, and turtle bone... Pieces of stone, and grasses. Memories from the mountains, tree beard from a forest of pines

Here in the city, I have the sky, being six stories up, and I have the tops of trees, beyond the rooftops. The river is there, just beyond the trees; like a highway of water, the ships come from docks in Manhattan, and piers in Brooklyn. Rusty and reddish barges, and the Queens of the ocean, so tall I can see their stacks moving by, lit up like a celebration, heading towards the nearby international waters. They drift under the bridge's highest point, glittering away on the curve of the earth.

brothers and sisters

I was in a grocery store with my sister one day. Two fairly young kids, probably brothers, were minding the counter... maybe 10 and 14. Me and sis are talking and laughing, and being our exchangable selves, when we hear the question we hear, without fail, every time we are out together... Sisters?
And without missing a beat, we both say "No, we're brothers." (which we've never said before). The young one looked troubled, so we assured him Yes, sisters! He studied our faces.... "who's bigger?" he asked. How cute I thought... not older, but bigger, just like a kid thinks. :-) He looked shocked to hear that my sister was the bigger one, and six years older. He stared at my hair, as if he didn't understand. I said "Grey hair doesn't always mean you're older." And it seemed as if the kid took it all in, and learned something that day. He also got a little briefing on the art of hair dying, as my sister noted her gray roots and said "See... we're the same."

It was a darling encounter. "Who's bigger?"


******

Today I finished covering (with clay) the rest of the switch plates... so I have a dozen done. They came out pretty nice. Will try to get some pics of them before putting them in the boutique.

calypso & reconnections

(sunday night)

I begin to dress the bed spring with square slices of a scrap clay cane, and suddenly it starts dancing Calypso. The canes don't do it justice, though, but I like the form. I may remove these canes and start anew with newer, brighter, perhaps textured, clay. I can see it swirling with ruffles of gold/bronze/copper. Or maybe translucent clays colored with fiesta inks! Hmmm, different ideas rolling around my brain now. If I jump on the bed, maybe I can rattle off another spring!

Speaking of broken bed springs...
An old lover found me on the internet. I considered an email or two, now and then, but of course I am getting regular "instant messages" from him now. I think persistance is part of the male genetic make-up. In this particular case, I can live without it!

The rain, too, is persistant today.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

(monday/tonight)

There must be something in the air. Tonight I get a surprise call from a dear old internet friend that I met nearly twelve years ago. A young man, who is in many ways my little spirit brother. A dreamer and a seeker, he reminds me of my truest self. A welcome reconnection.

I have started to redress the bed spring with new clay enhanced with texture, and pearl-ex finishes in various shades of gold and bronze and copper.

the rusted bed spring

I am itchy to create something.

I go to the rusted bed spring, thinking surely there is something in this swirling steel that will transform itself into a sculpture. I've already worked on this piece with incense sticks woven in and out the curves... then, seeing the fragility of that, I took off the incense, and studied it bare again. In part, it is a mermaid swirling up in the way mermaids swirl. In part, it is a dragon, or a child's toy. Of course, it is a rusted bed spring, and may well look its best beneath a little mattress. It may just remain a spring... the unfathomable piece that must bounce me in other directions.

I may soon get the sewing machine from my sister, since neither her nor my mom want it. It needs repair, but once that's done, it'll be mine to try my hand on again. I can't remember the last time I used that machine. My hands will remember how to thread the bobbin, I'm sure.

I used to make a few things... skirts and blazers, I remember. A dress here and there. I would like to try my hand at making raggy frocks for trolls, and dainty outfits for a fairy.... an old fashioned long coat for Santa, and curly toed boots for the elves. Of course, Fabri-Tac may be easier!

Here are 3 pendants I made one morning, not too long ago. Sort of an faux aged bone (or at least it's supposed to be) with etchings. Someone likened the look to bacillus and cocci under a microscope, and I have to agree with that. The round black one has slices of a poinsettia cane (millefiori) on it. Thanks to claychicks, at etsy, for the canes.

before dawn

I wake up at 5am, after four and half hours sleep, which is not so bad for me. I don't remember dreaming, though it may have been a dream that woke me.

In this dark hour of morning, I wish there was someone to talk to. Someone to share coffee with... Someone to share this hour between the long night, and the day.
I'm in no hurry for the sun to rise, as I sit here in this in-between time, when there are no worries lingering from the daylight hours.

The streets are quiet. The wind is blowing; the temperture, frigid at 24°. Winter comes early, as if this is Canada.

I like to read about the weather affecting my online friends... at least 90% of them living in Canada, from Nova Scotia to Vancouver, and many places in between.

Forty years ago it was a place where young men would flee, in order to avoid the draft. I remember hearing that they would never be able to return to America once they did that. It seemed to be such a drastic thing at the time. Not so any more. Maybe it is just age that makes it seem less important. Maybe it's the apathy left over from eight years of the Bush administration, and more war, albeit without a draft.

The coffee gets cold so fast. I drink it black with lemon zest, having running out of milk and sugar.

The morning sky is still dark.

magnificent dullness

When I start writing, the critic sits on my shoulder, correcting my grammar, and whispering about how uncreative I'm being. In the workshop I took with Emily Hanlon, she called the critic, the Ick... and icky it is! She also spoke of the Muse, which can conquer that Ick any ol' day.

This is just a blog, though, and like a journal, it is where the everyday gets dumped out, and I'd like the critic can suffocate beneath that dump.

I started this blog, in part, because I want to speak of the creative, and how it resides within the mundane. To quote myself, it is a "magnificent dullness".

Learning to read the sky, on an ordinary day, is a most extraordinary thing to do.

a propensity for madness

I remember my father impersonating his crazy grandmother; the one with one eye. He's in super 8 film reels, donned in mommy's faux fur coat with the real mink collar. On his head a velvet hat of mine.. a fancy riding cap, from Easter. He picks up Susie, our cat, and you can read his lips, looking into the camera ... "atsa my cat."

I don't whether she was mad or what, but family history, as it is, leans strongly towards the likeliness. People speak in circles and make light of such skeletons, until one day all the skeletons come out and walk among the living.

In my youngest years I remember seeing my uncle with cotton in his ears and nose one day. At the age of 4 or 5, this seemed perfectly clever. Later that night, between my parents, in bed, though I knew my parents might not like the idea so much, I quietly ripped off pieces of my dad's racing form, and pushed the pieces in my nose. I didn't have any cotton. My mother, in her motherly way, knew I was being far too quiet. After that, it was all tweezers and "sit still" as my mother undertook the delicate task of getting paper out of of young nose. Till this day she still says "You really stuck it up there!"

Sometimes my uncle was scary, and my father (one of the sanest people I've ever known) would tell us to stay back, and he'd go off to rescue whatever madness was swirling round my uncle's mind at that time. Was he even here, I wondered... and was this a different man? He was never scary enough to stop loving, and as I child I knew him at a soul level, as he knew me. We had wonderful conversations when he was lucid. He had a most magnificent mind.

("Turn off your mind, relax and float downstream
This is not dying
This is not dying ")*

And the generations made a line... albeit, zigzagged.

One relative has those eyes... looking too far inside of people, like she wants to climb inside there, too. A close talker, who you want to keep at arms length.So many skeletons dancing in those eyes.
These were the more psychotic of the family line. More mundane maladies and addictions would follow... alcohol, gambling, food, depression, anxiety.... Addiction of one's dis-ease.

("please don't wake me,
no don't shake me
leave me where I am
I'm only sleeping")*


*john lennon

sunday afternoon

It's a beautiful day. The sky is filled with myriad clouds, with the sun shining through every now and then. The wind is strong, and its sound muffles some of the traffic below.

It's Sunday, and a good day for coffee, and making things with clay. Today it will be Christmas decorations. Little angels, and little Christmas carolers. I also have a nice poinsettia polymer clay millifiori cane which a I may use on a black background to make some pendants.

(this is not) haiku

rain falls steady

upon the window sill

the cat seems to be dreaming

*******

because I listened

and stopped a moment

earth stood on edge and opened

can't win for losin'

It's another very damp Autumn here in the city. Just like the past couple of years.
Today is gray, with a dampness that goes right to the bones. Temps are supposed to be above normal (it's already 56°), but with all the rain and dampness, those temps don't count for much.

I woke from a tumble of dreams. Tumbled me right out of bed, they did. They've all flitted away now. I think there were school desks, but that's all I can remember.

There's a craft sale at South Beach Hospital next week, so me and my friend made a couple of things last night. Covered some small picture frames with clay. They turned out pretty cute, except that the plastic backing on them curled and melted while curing in the oven. It didn't seem like the kind of plastic that would melt... it's usually the clear plastics that are trouble to work with. Oh well... we have 4 frames without the inner lining that will hold the backing. What a bust.

Also... since that card reader I bought was defective, the company sent another one. This one was compatible with the operating system, and had a working power light, so I don't think anything is wrong with it at all. It just doesn't read my card. I give up.

Must find something to do today that doesn't get botched up in the process.

Last week I made an art doll for the Icon Doll Challenge that I'm part of with an online group. I'm happy with the doll, but I'm not supposed to write about it or post it on my blog until after the challenge is over, which won't be till next year. I have pictures of it, too!

Well, I'm finished with my first cup of coffee today. I'll go peruse a few online forums, and then get started with my day, whatever that may be.

that's the insomnia talkin'

I hold hard to dreams. It's only after reaching them, that I'm not sure what to do.
The problem with dreams coming true, is that, in reality, they are shaped so differently. .. less ethereal, more brick and mortar, flesh and blood.

something comes true
naked in all its expression
its realness less appealing

But sometimes

something comes true
naked in all its expression
and the dream is so insignificant
in the light of one real moment

This is just me, remembering dreams come true. :)

thursday afternoon (conversations w/a friend)

It all goes back to now
the winding road of A to B
and back again
we travel the maze
to get to the labyrinth

smooth curves of your
mother self
taking off the many veils that
hid your light

shift in power

The next president of the United States is Barack Obama.

change

Went to bed around 3:30 am, and woke at 5:30. Not exactly a good night's sleep. Aches and pains this morning, and I do believe it is colder in the apartment than it is outside. This doesn't help my often creaking limbs. That my knees can produce sounds similar to Rice Krispies in milk is not so unusual, really. They've crackled for many years.... now they complete the melody with an occassional snap! and pop! I've got rhythm.

It looks like another gray day today. Autumn is having a hard time presenting itself. A few crisp days would sure be nice. There are few trees that have changed color down this way. I wondered if being so close to saltwater had some impact on the lack of change... but that would discount all the years when there was brilliant color.

Maybe the sun will peek out today, but for now the view from my window is monochrome, in shades of gray.

Quite an eventful election day today.

To be continued.

November

I just want to say hello to November. Today the weather felt as balmy as a summer's night. Something tells me it will snow before the month is out, though. Of course, it's just like me to wish for snow.

3 am

Here it is, the 3 am hour, and I am awake. This is not an occurrence of insomnia, but a choice I make, sometimes. So much of the city is sleeping, but there are those of us who thrive on these small chunks of time.... somewhere between nightfall and daybreak, smack in the middle, where there is a space so solitary, and alive. Just as people have a "power spot" or a "happy place" that they go to physically or mentally... I have a power time, and for me it is around 3 am. It has a lot to do with the way things quiet down, and a tangible stillness that encompasses the hour. Of course, as I write this, a car whooshes by, and my skin anticipates the subway train shiver that finds its way to the 6th floor. Here it comes now... just a stop or 2 away, and I can hear it.

Those things, singled out, and not bunched with the business of the day, are suddenly lovely in their individuality.

I know this quieting down even in the country, where, at first, there seems to be quiet even in the daytime.... But that's the mistaken city sensibility. After a short while I understand the sounds of the day and night, no matter where I am.

Up in the mountains it's a cradle of quiet at this time. A highway in the distance may sing out the sweet whistle of an passing 18-wheeler catching the road before dawn. There are the stars humming above. This is something you rarely, if ever, hear in the city, no matter the time. When stars blanket above you, there is a vibration, far different from traffic and trains... far different from the thousands of electric light waves wending their way down and through Manhattan, and deep into the outer boroughs. Starlight is pure, there in the cradle of a mountain... and if you are still enough, at this hour, you can hear and feel the shimmer.

It's a good time to write about these quiet moments. ... And here comes the train.

doll collage

on scan board (click pic to view larger)

sound

Sound is so different, depending on the sun, and how it traverses the sky. The summer sun is high and loud and sharper than crystal. The days grow shorter, and the sun drifts to the south, until I can no longer see the sunset from here. Sound gets muffled, strewn beneath the dry shuffle of leaves scraping against the pavement. By winter, the world will quiet, and you'll nearly hear the snow, flying with the wind.

rest in peace

My sister's dog, Sandy, had to go to The Rainbow Bridge today.  May he rest in peace.  He was such a good dog, and a good friend.  We will always miss him, and someday we'll all cross that bridge together.  {{{{Sandy}}}}

reading the sky

late october

quiet comes with the longer night
not gentle like the snowy winter's eve
this quiet comes with longing
clear as the dark blue sky
on the first frosted night

childhood days

I had a special cigar box.... well, many special cigar boxes, but come the Fall one was always lined in cotton (the kind that comes rolled in blue tissue paper); maybe a small piece of fabric, too. Walking to school, or maybe walking the dog, I'd come upon the leaves and small rocks; an acorn, a yellow bead from someone's bracelet. Unattached to tree or boulder or the wrist of a girl... cold, and even lonely.At home I'd tuck them on a cotton bed, and cover them with cloth.

photographs and memories

Getting film is the only thing to do, and maybe why things happen the way they do.  My best camera is a film camera, a Nikon FM2... fully manual, which is the beauty of it.  It takes what I like to call "real" pictures.  I haven't had the pleasure of knowing what a digital SLR is like, and frankly, I'd be thrilled to own a Nikon DSLR.  

Anyway, the point is photographs.... and the little point & shoot can only show so much.  It's not bad for taking random shots of stuff I've making, but if I'm out and shooting, I want to make more than snapshots.  

Its been a long long time since I've lived with a camera slung over my shoulder.  It was a way of life up until maybe 15 years ago.  Not long after my father died, I started letting go of a lot things that were really important to me.  December will be 17 years.  He got to see photographs I developed and printed myself... that was cool.

But I digress...

Film... yes, gotta get some.

dog day afternoon

I was at my sister's all day, as she thought it might be time to put the dog down, and needed moral support. As it turns out, she didn't do it. It's a very hard decision and a huge responsibility to know when it is really the right time.

I have to go to my mom's place early tomorrow. There's a new aide filling in for someone, and I have to make sure she knows how to transfer my mom... if not, I'll be there the whole day.

Both today and tomorrow I had planned to finish up making some stuff for a sale out in Staten Island on thurday, but that's a bust now.

Lo and behold, the card reader came in the mail. As far as I can tell it just doesn't work. May as well have been lost in the mail after all.

So, what am I doing with this blog where I wanted to show pics of stuff I'm doing as I'm doing it? Geez. I could get some film, but I can't afford to go that route... film, developing, getting a cd made... It all ends up costing more than I can afford, and it certainly isn't a swift method either.

I'm bummed.

sky

I want to shoot October skies. The summer sky is wonderful, yes.... But oh, the sky in October!

The card reader hasn't come in the mail. I don't seem to have a lot of luck with mail deliveries. Lost? Stolen? Beats me... stuff doesn't get to me, that's all I know. I hope I'm wrong on this one, but its been a couple of weeks now.

feggedaboudit!

Spent the day at mom's and brought along clay, as if I ever get around to doing anything like that when I'm there. Turns out I forgot the egg gourds, which I needed to even start the piece.

So it goes sometimes.

first ladies

The first lady (from around 1999-2000) I made sits behind me on a piece of chapparel. Her head is as big as her boobs, and there's a raw freedom in her disproportion and fingernail markings. A swift creation, taking no more than an hour, she looks right at you, in anticipation of the Ladies who will follow.

The second lady, my Muse.

I was about to take a writing workshop with Emily Hanlon.  Things to bring included something to represent the internal critic, and something to represent the muse.  For my Muse I chose this lady (the one in background).... the same rough qualities of the first, she concentrates her gaze upon her hands and her crystal.  I sit her beside me now, so that I remember what means to have new eyes, unphased by imperfection.... indeed, embracing it, and letting in the real freedom of the creative.

the malady of the quotidian

Some days are distinctly more real, coming in like a shock of turmoil, or joy. Six of one.

But...

The creative heart rises above the quotidian veil, and transmutes it.

Even when life calls; be it grocery shopping, or despair, the creative keeps an eye out. That scene with all the congested traffic, growling beneath scattered trees, near and far, fading from green, waving in yellow, drifting dry and swift and oaken brown beneath the walkers and the wheels. Ultimately, nature incases us. Count your blessing and treat her well.

There has been tons of land digging going on around here. I don't know if it's the electric company or what, but they are constantly blocking off cross-streets and corners. Inside the barriers lines are deep holes in the ground; hard hats down there doing who knows what.

There's all kinds of stuff laying around, though.... pieces of mesh and wire, and what was it I saw today?...... a metal spring of sorts; heavy, thick. Reminded me of the steel spring I'm planning to work with at home.

There's a lot of ideas in the scattering of junk. Whether it is tangible junk of metal and glass and clay and pigments, or everyday junk, or junk in your closet junk in your mind junk in your relationship junk in ...JUNK; junk in your huge collection of rationalizations and excuses and but he said she said I did you didn't... JUNK.... Even the touchy feely infactuation surrender to love, has junk... lots of old rose colored glasses ...JUNK

And what is the creatives job? the creatives purpose? To transmute the quotidian. And in doing that, comes the transformation of your own life... made to wake you up, in gifted intervals, to what it's like to give your junk away, to let it go to a higher cause.... Make something, sing something, dance it away. For a moment you know what being alive is like, where you are centered; right exactly where you are.

I have lived a long enough life now, to have collected a heapin' load a junk, inner and outter. Enough to create new worlds. The creative creates new worlds.

This is just me, myth maker, rambling.

the dog, the moon, and mercury

When I woke up yesterday, I had good intentions for a productive day, and it certainly didn't turn out that way. The morning seemed much sweeter than the rest of the day. I had ideas rolling around in my head, and was eager to start some new projects. It's best to start immediately when you have that feeling, otherwise who knows what will drag you into inertia. For me, it was the news of my sister's old dog, Sandy, who has been doing very poorly over the past couple of weeks. Yesterday, after much testing, we found out that he has an aggressive cancer in his body, and he doesn't have much time left. He is 13, and has been the very best of companions for my sister, and vice versa. Now she has to make the decision of exactly when to put him down. She doesn't want him to live with any pain, of course, and I think the decision will have to be sooner than later. The vet gave him maybe two months to live. Poor Sandy. He lived a really good and loving life, though, and my sister can be thankful that she gave that to him. She will miss him forever, though. Its been true love from the start.

On other notes, today is the day that Mercury finally goes direct again. It has been retrograde for I don't know how long now, but it certainly hasn't been a time for new ventures or smooth communications. Things should start looking up in that aspect. Yesterday Hunter's Moon, coinciding with today's direct Mercury, may be just the shake up that is needed.

I really thought the photo card reader would arrive in the mail yesterday, but no luck on that. Today I need to go to my mom's... So it will probably come when I'm not here, and I'll come home to one of those little yellow slips on the door, telling me it's at the post office. Well, we'll see.

It's a bit chilly this morning, but it's going to warm up to the 70's today.

Both cats are here in the living room with me. Morrison, here a little over 3 weeks now, is finally starting to feel a bit at home. It's nice to see.

There's no coffee in the house (God help me!), otherwise I'd have been off making it before coming here. I'll go make a cup of tea now, though.

Hunter's Moon

I woke at 5am to the light of the moon shining in my bedroom. It's a full Hunter's moon today, and as glorious as ever, lighting the sky before dawn.

My 2 currents dolls are taking the backseat today, as my creative juices are wanting to flow in another direction. It's good to have half a dozen things going at the same time, I figure. That way, there's always something to pick up when the attention span starts waning on one particular piece.

I expect my photo card reader to arrive in the mail today. Found myself waiting for it yesterday, until I realized it was Columbus day, and there was no mail delivery.

I took a couple of pictures of the gourds that I'll be working on next, and will edit this post to include that as soon as I can get the pics up. They are miniature gourds, and some are the shape and size of a chicken egg. Let's see where they take me. I may try a bit of pyrography on them, but I'm not so versed in that, really. I'll probably cover the egg gourds completely (with clay), and use them as an armature shape for some Ladies of Abundance, which I haven't made since I first started claying 8 or 9 years ago.

The sky is lightening up now, and it looks to be a very gray overcast day, so far. I don't much mind that.

pics soon, I hope

The smart media slot on my computer doesn't work anymore, and I don't have a cable for this little camera that someone gave to me, so I've been unable to post any pics. I ordered an external slot (fits many different types of media cards), and hopefully it will arrive today. I should've started taking pics of the dolls when I first began, but I didn't know I'd be getting the piece necessary to transfer them to my computer. Oh well, I will start now.

threads and gems

The doll is progressing nicely. I don't know what her name is yet. I've painted her whole body, and wrapped her arms in embroidery floss. Today, her "hands" were incrusted with lots of semi-precious gems (little flakes of various gemstones). She is really gaining power.

I had a head sculpted for another doll, but not yet cured, the piece kept losing the head, getting dry and falling off. So, I cut the face off of that head, and I'm using it on this healing spirit doll.... I used gold pearl-ex to enhance the face. I think I want to hang things from her arms... not sure what, though. Beads? Charms of some sort?

dolls at dawn

Today I'm up early; not so unusual. I started working on my doll again. She's a wild art doll, and one of my first real diversions away from all polymer clay. I've been working on her bit by bit, trying to get an idea of who she is, and what she needs to portray her self. She appears to be a healing doll, and the one I made before her seemed to be a healing doll, as well. Both are very different. The first, smaller one, is primarily black and gold (on a filled muslin body form w/paint, beads, polymer clay face). The one I'm working on now is copper and blue and gold and pink and lavender and purple and red ... well you get the picture; a much more diverse play of color. The various beads down her center are a mix of representations... chakra, tan tien, energy centers. She is very light and very female in nature. She is fun and healing.

There is always a long way to go with any art form. A never-ending process of learning. If I'm not seeing something with new eyes each time I look at it, then I'm not seeing it at all.

There are faces, and faux stones, and sculpted bodies curing in the oven.

October Sky

There is a harmony in an October sky. Blue and white dance in rhythm at the end of the night. It is the twilight sky, lingering before the darkness of winter.