A Fairy Herald, underway. She's in Premier air-dry clay, with washi paper:
This head is will be for a jointing class Pat Lillich will teach next summer at NIADA's conference, and then for my first effort at a ball jointed doll. I plan to have fun! The head's about 2 1/8" high, in Kato Polyclay. She'll go to resin when she's finished...
Thank you, weibo.com Visitors!! :)
I'm honored to be included in this show!
My take on a Goblin Spider will be joining the festivities:
It was my honor to create this piece for a Navajo family, commissioned by their good friend M.M. It is my best effort at likeness of their Grandmother, who had a wonderful face. She is depicted with twin lambs.
Oh so many beings underway, must take new photos! Meantime, the Horned Fragment with her polyclay barnacled base:
My lover is the silence of time,
from whom is concieved
I am the raging of ashes.
You, who might have been he,
are not here.
~ Lou Rogers
While searching for a couple of poems for my Aunt's memorial, I came upon one my mother wrote. My father had been many years gone when she wrote it. No one ever stepped into his place in her life. Indeed, it summarizes much about her life, and that also of a friend who died by her own hand in 2005. When there is no living human center in a life, there is sometimes in the end a simply a merciful closing of the book. For all those who stand alone in the hollow of the world, peace.
Now at this hour my Aunt's memorial is happening, faraway. I could not be there in person, but thoughts are there. She was my father's twin sister. Though she and he departed many decades apart, in a sense I feel they went hand in hand, for they both chose their deaths, and chose to die in water. A river and a lake, beautiful and loved. He was 35 years old, she was 90. There is a kind of poetic mirroring, these two so close and so far.
Next time I shall die
Bringing forth wings and feathers like angels;
After that, soaring higher than angels-
What you cannot imagine
I shall be that.
Playing with photographing the group -- we need another session, but:
I've been working on these critters in 3-D. I generally keep sketches for 3-D things quite rough, as you see; if I draw them too precisely, I start feeling they're done already, and I'm apt to wander off... Also, to precise a drawing can prevent them from talking back as one works on them. Very important to let them make their demands as they develop! The sketches are apt to happen in coffee shops, on scraps or that perennial aid to design, the paper napkin. Then I scan them and enlarge them to the size I aim to make them, and use them to guide the armature. Above are some abyssal fishy-beings.
Below is an entity I've had in mind for years. Somewhere in one of my moving boxes, she even has a head. But, she's going to get a new one. In 19th century England, the 'Peddler Doll' was a popular thing. She was typically a lady with a tray of wares, often sewing notions. She frequently wore a red cape.
Well, I ain't much on sewing, despite majoring in Costume Design (or maybe because of it), so I want to do the 'Peddler to Hieronymus Bosch and Bruegel the Elder.' She comes along with her offering of wee demons and such, and wears a most unusual cape. Not to mention a living hat:
A fascinating gallery has come to my attention, carrying several favorite centuries and artists. To be seen in Culver City, California, the Century Guild:
She must be constructed in pieces, to fit in the oven for curing. The segments will be well disguised, and in a sense it makes design more interesting: one comes up with things by necessity that end up being virtues, often!
May has become a strange month to me. I'm returning to the surface after a death in my family. As I resume work on these abyssal beings, I think of two who chose to die in water, and in May: my father many and many years ago, and now his twin sister, my aunt. She was friend, ally, artist, listener, vivid mind and believer in things not yet created. She leaves a hollow in the world, she leaves us standing on the shore. May has become a strange month.
More in a while, on the call of deep waters.