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. ;-)

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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.