I did a wash of black underglaze on the back overskirt, and wiped it off the high spots.
The skellie design is after the work of José Guadalupe Posada (1852-1913).
I chose this particular image because it represented the thrill of the chase, whatever that means in the context of a bride or bridal activity.
I also worked on this piece. I have a changed what I'm going to do with her, but only just a bit.
I started the head, which will remain a separate piece, mounted on a piece that fits into the neck.
The head is huge. It's difficult to judge scale from this picture, but I will say that the head is resting in a large serving bowl. It probably weighs four pounds and after awhile, my arms grew tired from holding it up while I worked on it. (I couldn't set it down without flattening the bottom.)
Depending on how dry it is tomorrow, I'll add eyes, carve in the teeth, and affix it to the part that will insert into the neck. (I'll probably do that last of all since the fit is going to be a pain in the ass and I don't know exactly how I want the head to sit. Will it be tilted forward or back? Leaning to one side or another? Who knows?)
In addition to studio time, Dave and I had lunch with my mother, brother, and aunt. We went to one of our favorite Chinese places and ordered way too much food. It was so much that the waitress tried to stop us before we had finished ordering, saying, "It's enough, I think." Guess again! We had their house tofu, green beans with black bean sauce, spicy garlic broccoli, beef with oyster sauce, cashew chicken, sweet and sour chicken, and sugar and vinegar ribs. We also had egg rolls, soup, and some strange meat pie for appetizers.
We rolled out of there, of course.
But sadly, I came home and had to down a handful of antihistamines because I started to break out in hives. I don't know if it was something I ate or if it was due to stress. It's been a long time since I had hives, so I'm assuming it was food related, although I don't know that for sure. There's so much blooming around Judi's place that it could be that. There was also some strange mold growing on the clay I was using today (not uncommon).
We closed up shop and Dave took Crunch out for his nightly walk. (Normally we go together, but the antihistamines were making me feel like a zombie, so I stayed behind.) We watched an episode of Flight of the Conchords (OnDemand is a wonder) and then part of an episode of Chopped Canada. (I despise the host of the American version of that show, so I don't watch it, but the Canadian version is alright. Much less manufactured drama.)
It's been cloudy all day and there was some threat of rain (yesterday we had rain and hail). It even snowed in part of the mountains, which, thank you, global warming, I guess. I like this weather, so long as there are not too many days of it in a row.
It's the last day of poetry month. I guess we should go with something short and sweet to round it out. How about something by Frank O'Hara?
ANIMALS
Have you forgotten what we were like then
when we were still first rate
and the day came fat with an apple in its mouth
it's no use worrying about Time
but we did have a few tricks up our sleeves
and turned some sharp corners
the whole pasture looked like our meal
we didn't need speedometers
we could manage cocktails out of ice and water
I wouldn't want to be faster
or greener than now if you were with me O you
were the best of all my days
[1950]
2 comments:
I am amazed that you are still able to work on that beauty after all this time.
That poem reminds me of one of my favorites from pre-teen years:
Reflections on a Gift of Watermelon Pickle Received from a Friend Called Felicity
During that summer
When unicorns were still possible;
When the purpose of knees
Was to be skinned;
When shiny horse chestnuts
(Hollowed out
Fitted with straws
Crammed with tobacco
Stolen from butts
In family ashtrays)
Were puffed in green lizard silence
While straddling thick branches
Far above and away
From the softening effects
Of civilization;
During that summer--
Which may never have been at all;
But which has become more real
Than the one that was--
Watermelons ruled.
Thick imperial slices
Melting frigidly on sun-parched tongues
Dribbling from chins;
Leaving the best part,
The black bullet seeds,
To be spit out in rapid fire
Against the wall
Against the wind
Against each other;
And when the ammunition was spent,
There was always another bite:
It was a summer of limitless bites,
Of hungers quickly felt
And quickly forgotten
With the next careless gorging.
The bites are fewer now.
Each one is savored lingeringly,
Swallowed reluctantly.
But in a jar put up by Felicity,
The summer which maybe never was
Has been captured and preserved.
And when we unscrew the lid
And slice off a piece
And let it linger on our tongue:
Unicorns become possible again.
John Tobias
That's a wonderful poem!
Ah! There's still so much work to do on that piece. So I need to work faster. (And here I sit watching reruns of Law & Order!)
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