With hope for a more peaceable kingdom all around, kindness and empathy, compassion and the seeing heart.
A piece inspired by the work of Kay Nielsen, whose illustrations I discovered as a small child. In Premier air dry clay, about 14.5 inches tall:
Another wonderful Russian being. I wanted to present her in the act of melting:
Minus the bone fence it now sports...
~ Pablo Neruda
Kind and most Patient Friends,
Reports of my demise have been at least modestly exaggerated. Here’s a scan of the Sunrise Horseman from Vasilisa the Beautiful (my increasingly tattered dummy thereof) just to let you know I’m still kicking. More anon, but for now:
And in need of hair-gel and better rags:
Not quite dressed yet...
You know how over-zealous sales ladies are apt to burst in on one in those fitting rooms...
Baba Yaga, rampant.
The White Birds
I WOULD that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea:
We tire of the flame of the meteor, before it can pass by and flee;
And the flame of the blue star of twilight, hung low on the rim of the sky,
Has awaked in our hearts, my beloved, a sadness that never may die.
A weariness comes from those dreamers, dew-dabbled, the lily and rose,
Ah, dream not of them, my beloved, the flame of the meteor that goes,
Or the flame of the blue star that lingers hung low in the fall of the dew:
For I would we were changed to white birds on the wandering foam—I and you.
I am haunted by numberless islands, and many a Danaan shore,
Where Time would surely forget us, and Sorrow come near us no more:
Soon far from the rose and the lily, the fret of the flames, would we be,
Were we only white birds, my beloved, buoyed out on the foam of the sea.
~ William Butler Yeats (1865–1939)
The Daughter of Lir, again, with a hand for scale. Tech note: you can see the brass rod extending from her hip -- it fits into a brass tube in her base (partly seen, lower right) and also can hold her steady when inserted in the material of choice (moss, for instance).
Just another detail from my take on 'Vasilisa the Beautiful.'
Into the woods, and the mysterious new year. This is a detail from a sketch for the Russian folktale, "Vasilisa the Beautiful." Vasilisa goes into the wood, to fetch a light from Baba Yaga. Baba Yaga is the famous witch who lives in a hut on chicken legs. This is an image I must pursue...