Birds in progress

Birds hand carved from pink foam with my super sharp wood carving knife on the left. I'm bummed about the photo quality. Not sure what happened.

Foam birds covered with drying Paperclay, with wire rings securely embedded for hanging.  Think of Paperclay as very refined paper mache.

Glittery, girly hand-painted birds for your Christmas tree. In the background is vintage, thrifted cotton seam binding, which I am using to hang the pink birds.  More birds in other colors coming your way soon.

In silver

Here is the ring I designed for our new bishop, on his hand. I carved it in jeweler's wax, and it was cast in silver by a silversmith.

The signet area shows a communion chalice surrounded by the flame of the Holy Spirit. A sword symbolizing the Word of God is wrapped around the band. In this picture you only see the handle of the sword. The three symbols were chosen by the bishop to represent the core of his ministry, and it was my job to pull them together into some kind of design.

I did not want this piece to communicate worldly power or opulence, but there were moments during its making when it was moving in that direction. I tried to keep it from looking like a rich man's ring by giving it an irregular, handmade, time softened look inspired by this ancient ring.

http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Byzantine_-_Signet_Ring_-_Walters_572104_-_View_B.jpg

The crucifix was a scary thing to make. I felt inadequate, unprepared in every way.

The bishop-to-be wanted the piece to communicate not only the suffering and labor of Jesus on the cross, but His victory. My initial ideas for communicating that victory, such as a sunburst radiating from the cross, looked more decorative than specifically symbolic. I feared that I would not be able to come up with anything I felt good about, but one day as I was in my car running errands, pondering and praying for insight, I knew that the cross itself should burst into life like Aaron's rod (Numbers 17:8). My first mental image was of tiny branches budding and blooming all over the cross, but the visual statement was weak and confusing at that scale, so I settled on a simpler design, with a root at the bottom, a stem running the length of the cross, and a few leaves at the top--"a shoot from the stump of Jesse." (Isaiah 11:1)

The hardest work was carving the figure of Jesus. I didn't try to create a harshly realistic image of crucifixion, but a truth-telling symbol that expresses both suffering and love.  I would like to have had a year to study anatomy and crucifixes through the centuries, but instead I took a few weeks to look at a lot of crucifixes and crucifixion paintings online and make a lot of practice pieces in clay. The artistic director of this project was a sculptor with amazing knowledge of anatomy. His input was invaluable.

I don't much like this photograph, partly because I designed this piece to be seen from the front, and the side views or three quarters views are distorted or compressed to make the piece work as jewelry. When I get better pictures I'll update this post. I wish I had taken pictures of the finished wax crucifix, which now sadly is no more, having been melted away in the casting process. We were super busy with a bunch of stuff during that time and missed the chance.

Commissioned work

I had the privilege this summer of designing and carving jeweler's wax models for a silver ring and crucifix for the rector (priest and pastor) of our church who was elected bishop of our diocese (regional group of churches.) It was good to do some wax carving, which I used to do a lot of before Borders went out of business.  (I carved tiny wax sculptures of  things like angels, birds, cats, fairies, etc., which were mass produced in metal and hung on the end of Book Thongs book marks. Borders was Book Thongs' way biggest customer.)

Below are a few pictures of the wax model of the ring in process. The ring has been cast in silver and the green wax no longer exists, because it melts away in the casting process, but I don't want to show the finished piece until the bishop's consecration, which is this weekend. We sadly did not get pictures of  the crucifix in process, but I'll show it in silver some time next week with the ring.

I started with a block of jewelers carving wax. I chose this green wax because although it is hard and brittle and can be more difficult to carve than some other jewelers wax it  makes a beautifully crisp, clean design. It's great for perfectionists!

Then I roughed out a basic signet ring shape. 

I don't know what I'd do without my flex shaft machine. It's kind of like a dentist's drill that I use to carve and file. And yes, I am kind of a perfectionist about what I make, but I am a messy worker, getting wax particles everywhere.

The blank signet area is just about ready to be carved.

The finished wax, pictured against my pencil drawings, is ready to go to the caster. 

Next week, I'll share pictures of the silver pieces and talk about their symbolism and my personal experience in making it.

Super salad

So we make this great salad that the kids call super salad. It's mostly lots of lettuce, arugula, cucumbers, onions, tomatoes--whatever fresh veggies are around. But what makes it super are avocado chunks, crispy-chewy bacon and a homemade olive oil and vinegar dressing with bacon grease added. There are never leftovers.

Here it is in process. Those blue flowers are borage blossoms. They taste like cucumber, but mostly they are there to look pretty.

 

A friend brought her nice camera to our house yesterday and took this picture. She also took pictures of some of my painted ornaments, so I can get them onto my Etsy store.  I'll be posting those soon. But the main reason she came was to take care of our kids so my husband and I could have a date. What fun.

Wedding invitation design

This is a wedding invitation, sans words, that I designed for a friend. I've known her all her life, and she is marrying a wonderful man this fall. I'm very happy for her.

I had planned to combine watercolor and colored pencil in this piece, so I drew it on Arches hot-pressed watercolor paper, but I ended up only using pencil. I had never used this pricey paper for colored pencil before, and I like it more than any other paper I have tried. It just figures I'd love the expensive stuff.

I'm fairly happy with this piece, though of course there are always things I wish I had done better. I think it communicates the feeling of a warm, slightly hazy fall day, a jewel-like day that is extra precious because so few are left before winter.

"Why should your heart not dance?"

I went out to my garden this morning to pick a few tomatoes to put in scrambled eggs. The sun was already hot, so I took a few minutes to water the lettuce. I want to keep it going as long as I can before the heat makes it go to seed. The hay-covered path felt warm and smooth under my bare feet, and the sunlight went right down inside me. The air was sweet with the smell of mint, hay mulch, tomato plants, and that summer-time smell of green things growing fast. The cool water leaking onto my hands felt good, just as the hot sun felt good on the rest of me and in my eyes. My pole beans were a lacy wall of leaf and blossom, the chamomile was tall and crowned with daisy flowers and the borage was spreading blue stars all over. It's always hard for me to leave my garden once I'm there.

Then I had an annoying little thought: what if the economy crashes right down to the ground? This garden wouldn't be enough to feed us. And here I am taking my pleasure. What about all the evil and corruption in high and secret places? What about all the suffering in the world? A warped piece of my conscience acted as if dismal thoughts would bring peace and prosperity, when the opposite is closer to the truth, and I knew that piece of my conscience was wrong.

So I took pleasure again in the water freshening my lettuce, and I thought about Jesus, who said "Don't worry about tomorrow. Each day has enough trouble of its own." Rejecting delight in a sunlit garden because bad things might happen is like going to a feast and not eating because tomorrow you might not have food. Take joy whenever and wherever there is joy. It will make your soul strong and healthy, and you'll be in better condition to face the troubles of today and tomorrow. You'll have more love to share with those who need it.

I also thought about a line from C.S. Lewis' novel, Till We Have Faces. At one point the main character, who has suffered a devastating loss, is returning to the scene of the loss. When her heart is uplifted by unexpected beauty on the way, she feels guilty, duty bound to maintain her grief. Then she hears in her mind the words, "Why should your heart not dance?"

Why not indeed? Why should evil and trouble get to extinguish your joy and pleasure in good things? Why should evil get that too?

  Bees love borage flowers.  An old time name for it was bee bread.

Borage and arugula flowers. The arugula leaves are still tasty in salads even though it has bolted.

 Carrots, mainly. This is the first year I've had any success with carrots. I wish I had planted more. Eggplants are in the background, conspicuously lacking in fruit. Actually, there are teeny little eggplants which just might get ready before frost so we can make ratatouille. Eggplants like a nice warm, long summer. These plants suffered in the many cool days we've had this year.

  Chamomile. I need to harvest those blossoms for tea before they turn to seed.

 Tomato blossoms, Jericho romaine lettuce, and pole beans, looking slightly chewed by Japanese beetles. I love the lettuce. It's a kind that was bred in Israel to be tolerant of heat and dryness, so it lasts a long time into summer, especially when I keep it moist.

 Little baby cucumber with young bush beans, zucchini  and assorted weeds.

Yes, we've got ducks. The idea is that someday they'll lay eggs and maybe even reproduce so we can have home grown, free range duck to eat. So far they just walk around and look cute, and I can't foresee a day when my kids will knowingly eat a duck. I think the real reason we have ducks is because they always look cheerful and have a funny waddle. 

My husband took these pictures for me with his phone. Aren't they nice?

Thoughts about making art

Another post without pictures. My borrowed camera is taking a long trip to Montana with its owner, and what with one thing and another, including carelessness about my chemical sensitivities which led me to an ear infection and fatigue, I haven't pulled it together with my husband to get pictures with his phone of the few ornaments I've done.

But I've been doing some sketching and thinking long thoughts. I've been taking note lately of my fear of drawing, my fear that this time I won't be able to do it, that my art was all just a fluke. I think this fear might be universal, or maybe it's only universal among us fake artists. (Just kidding.) The thing about art that is so scary is that you can't control it into existence, like you can maybe control an orderly kitchen into existence. An artist is pursuing something, collaborating with something, dancing with something that is bigger than himself. An artist is more like a surfer than a typist, more like a tightrope walker than an accountant. The control that an artist can develop is a dynamic, responsive control that enlarges the artist and in no way diminishes the meaning, beauty and holiness that the artist is trying to engage with and express. When I forget this and try to anxiously control an image into existence my art diminishes rather than grows.

So I'm making sure I'm sketching more, especially that I'm sketching things I fear that I will draw badly. I'm sketching badly and moving on to the next sketch. I read in Danny Gregory's blog an encouraging insight: bad drawings are the grandparents of good drawings. I can't give a link, because I don't want to learn how (how's that for truth in advertising?) but you can just Google his name. That's what I do. He's very encouraging.