friday morning

My cat, Little Guy, makes a whimpering cry, not satisfied with being on the table, when he could be in bed. His fault for following me wherever I go.
It's 5am, and crow is the first sound I hear outside. Good morning, Crow. Always good to see (or hear) you.

It's humid this morning, I have the fan on me. I'm drinking tea.

Sometimes I come to this page with little agenda in mind... just a ramble, as I would do in a journal. Makes for a post that can be often mundane, but that is as much a part of me as anything.

I like this quiet time before the outside world really awakens. Of course, I say that and a car goes whizzing by, just to keep me in check.

Having messed up with Burnie the troll, I think I will start a new one soon. A troll is nagging to be made.... Just like a character sometimes nags to be written. There is also an elfen-type creature that wants to be made. The imagination challenges; if only the hands could follow the way I see it. But I do it the way I can. Trolls manifest themselves a bit faster, by virtue of their, well, trolliness. I see them as having their own beauty, but one that is a lot easier to sculpt!
Now, elves, on the other hand, tend to be graceful, lithe, attractive beings.... That's a bit more foreign territory to me.

The sky is lightening. I think it's going to be another grey day with the chance of thunderstorms. That's good; I like a day like that.

*******
In Memoriam:
Oh, dear David Carradine, you will live in my heart forever. What a fine influence you had on me in my young years. You were a good teacher, Grasshopper.

the not-to-be troll

I've been working on a new troll for a while now. Well yesterday I starting curing the head and feet, and Lo! I won't be working on this any longer. I had the oven set at the right temperture (checked with a thermometer, as always), and the piece should not have burnt like this. Other clay I had in the oven, at the same temp and length of time, did not burn... just my translucent flesh colored Super Sculpey, which I really enjoy using for my sculptures. Maybe I have to start covering/tenting the pieces with aluminum foil... but even so, I don't think any amount of foil would've helped this sorry case.
Here are the remnants of a not-to-be troll, who was supposed to be a pale beige.



His poor tootsies are downright crispy!

dances with wolves

In the creation of characters, I sometimes first think of a name, or a purpose.

Like "Agri"... this is a name that came to me once, and it turned out to mean "fire", I believe. I'll have to check that. I had been doing a meditation on my guardian angel, and that's the name that came to me. Her purpose (odd that I should give this angel a feminine persona, when Fire is so male) is to keep watch over me, of course.

Her hair is a molton gold, her eyes are firey blue. She is shaped like a flame, a wisp. She is ephemeral. Perhaps too ephemeral to bring to life.

Sometimes parts of a story nag at you. Could be the story behind a character doll, and then there's a particular type of foot that wants to be made now, with big fat toes, belonging to a pleasant troll who has many friends. I have only made one troll, but in my mind there is a whole lineage following that one, and many others, who have gone beyond the bridges, and are living in forest lands. Few of them steal your gold, though they have been known to do that. Sometimes they just take what you don't need. Anyway... I've seen their feet, and their nose and hands. I've seen what's in their pockets and bags. The wait for my hands to bring them to life... to open their eyes.

It is sort of like shamanism... where one finds their power animal and brings it into one's heart... then gives it life by "dancing the animal".

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.





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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.