Banshee is wearing a shroud, or my idea of one. As you can see from the back, walking would be difficult. I wanted to imply some other, less familiar, mode of locomotion...
She's an 8 inch figure in Kato Polyclay, dressed in washi paper. Hair combing is something Banshees (when they are not wailing, I assume):
She awaits a leopard.
My take on a little Yuki Onna, snow spirit:
She's a miniature in Kato polymer clay, with silk and mohair.
(Click on the image to visit the Auction)
My oh my, I must re-invent my photo area. In Providence, I had a little sun porch, perfect for the purpose; but alas, no more. My Cousin Mab's decorative paper is helping me out here, but I must remake the Faery Garden. But first, to refine Eros' drape.
Several small beings are pending... so, something really new soon! My apologies for sorely neglecting my blog,
faithful Friends. Thank you for continuing to visit. My goal is to spend some real time here, regularly, but I am still in the midst of storm, as it were. But we shall prevail, and see wonders yet!
'Bast' by Lou
An old Selkie. Rather, an old picture of a young Selkie -- done perhaps ten years ago. Ink, watercolor pencil, with unorthodox (even uncouth) use of watercolor. Arches Hot Press paper, off a block, Caran D'Ache watercolor pencils, which are great if you favor drawing over painting, but desire colour.
I aim to do some more Selkies, in two and three dimensions.
Just a quick image...
A figure in Japanese air-dry clays and copper mesh.
And, a poem just posted in a Comment -- Thank you, Lisa!
Caminante no hay camino
se hace caminos al andar!
Traveler there is no path
Paths are made by walking!
I’ve loaded an eclectic bunch of images into a photo album at left, under “Study in Hope and Clay.” They’re part of a project that must remain mysterious for the moment. This one, Orpheus, touches one of my favorite themes-- the journey to the underworld and back. Such tales have always felt familiar; we brave the internal abyss, in hope of bringing back some mystery otherwise never manifested. Love this poem:
If each day falls
inside each night,
there exists a well
where clarity is imprisoned.
We need to sit on the edge
of the well of darkness
and fish for fallen light
~ Pablo Neruda