Ghosts

My very first best friend ever grew up in this house. I first spent the night here at age 5. I went up to Brandon at the beginning of Kindergarten and asked "Do you want to be my best friend?" and we were thick as thieves after that!
Mine was the first family to live in our little house, it was all new in the 70s. But this one was my first real taste of historic architecture and it made a huge and lasting impression on me.

It is now at the end of its long decagenarian life. It had two stories and seven fireplaces, high ceilings, single pane windows, beveled mirrors, glass door knobs, Victorian shingles, ten inch wide pine planks, and a vibe and smell all its own. It was scary at night yet comforting all the same. The floors creaked, it had the aura of multiple cats all about it and was chocked full of beautiful antique things that also left me with a lifelong appreciation of them.

I was about this age when I first came here:

 I made a pilgrimage to the house recently and walked all around, where we used to play in the dark sandy soil and thick cedars, in the shade and in the sun, racing her pony and her Arabian all around their circular driveway. Also my first taste of living with horses in your own backyard; lifelong impression number 3.

I am working on going with the flow, resistance is pain and this hollowed ground is a magical happy place. I feel lucky to have had the chance to go say goodbye to the old stomping grounds. I will hold it like a  historic landmark in my hear, intact forever.
I had a dream about the old house across the street from my own family home, years and years after it was torn down, years and years after I had last been inside. It was a powerful, lucid dream in which I was physically walking, eyes shut, through the psychic blueprint of the Walker's house, every single detail faithfully rendered by my mind and I knew if I opened my eyes it would vanish.
I know this one will live on in the brain of Dusti, but I wouldn't mind going for a few more pictures while it is still in this world. It's startlingly beautiful in it's dilapidated state.
That ground will always remain haunted by it, this house is its own ghost.

Mississippi pilgrimage Part I

I am a lifelong Mississippi visitor. The trip has been a family pilgrimage all my life. This time was to surprise my Mimi with Mom & Cassie for her 87th birthday!
This is "The Boob & The Butt Peach" in Gaffney S.C. as my sister & I named it when we little. A cool landmark and giant sculpture of a peach, it looks like a big butt from the interstate and has what looked like a boob near the bottom to our juvenile minds. We have passed on a sense of anticipation and reverence for The Peach to my sister's kids. When you see it on the way down, it's the first Mississippi roadtrip landmark; good times are inevitable once you set your eye on this monument!
Seeing it on the way back home, you know you have nearly made it and you will soon be back home, it's a happy close to the end of a long journey.

We were all prepared for the 600 miles of fun armed with snacks and sandwiches with our names:

Cassie felt like a queen with the entire backseat to herself, a rare luxury. She is a spectacular traveling companion; initiating car games, asking questions, taking pictures for me when she sits in the front, talking about what all she's looking forward to once we get there and "just tryin' to keep the conversation goin'" in general. Rest assured, she will keep the party goin'.

As we rolled up into Mississippi, it was just before dark and gorgeous. You always roll down your window once you cross the Mississippi state line no matter how hot or cold it may be. Nothin' like that first blast of Mississippi air!

We got into Laurel a little after dark.

My Mimi lives in the renovated home of my great grandparents in the country. My Aunt Suzi and her family live there and Mimi just had her suite built onto it about a year ago. Suzie had planned a surprise "88th" birthday party for her...actually it was her 87th! She's still a spring chicken. Apparently, she's never had a birthday party in all 87 years! Suzie invited us to come for the long weekend but Mimi didn't know. The guise was, Suzie was throwing a baby shower for a friend-on Mimi's birthday. My Mom told Mimi on the phone "Suzie does so much for you, but I just think it is tacky to throw a baby shower on your birthday!" Really rubbing it in.
We walked into the house while Mom was on the phone with her, and as Mimi heard her voice on the phone and in her house at the same time, she thought "Well I don't know what button I mashed on this phone to make it sound like this!"
Cassie was so excited to be executing the surprise!

We walked into Mim's kitchen and surprised her, she was nearly speechless, and Cassie can mimic her reaction perfectly. It was a huge success!

I wrote in my journal, the old fashioned way, every night so I wouldn't lose a thing in my leaky memory.
We sat up and visited and recounted all the hilarious things that occurred on the drive down.
Mississippi Part I, complete!

Sianara February!

It only just ocured to me this morning that February is almost over, tomorrow is the 28th!
Where I ask you, the-Hell-does-the-time-go? I have a big show coming up in April to build for, and it will be upon me faster than a jackrabbit on a hot date.
I am so spoiled and lucky to make my own schedule and answer to no man, it's a necessary luxury for me; one of the perks of having MS. I can do a whole lot in bursts, stress slows me down, exhaustion comes on without warning and the only thing I can count on is everyday being different.
So I make hay while the sun shines!

I am building three trumeaus, my goal being to use as much recycled material as possible. I am loathe to have to actually go out and purchase materials like a commoner. Every good artist should be able to conjure up what they need with their own resourcefulness, not from Home Depot.
Taking a break in the studio, I stumble upon the spoils of RR hiking from long ago. I got it bad for those rail tracks. I moved away from my favorite ones about a year ago, I used to walk there every day and not only was it a beautiful naturey escape from the city but also a cornucopia of material riches! Beautiful things, deer bones, iron in various forms, bountiful lumps of coal, and bless all those poor reptiles, sunning themselves on the hot rails. In summertime I'd sometimes get three terrapins in a week, fresh snakes, all tragic sunbathing accidents but at least they didn't go to waste.

I have had a good February. I love the changing seasons, and spring is so exciting!
Of course I wait til the end of winter to buy new jeans. By the way, I'm never buying anything other than Levi's again. I feel so fancy!

And speaking of feeling fancy, I got my nose re-pierced this week. It's been five long months, that time failed to "fly by." I'd gotten it pierced for my 34th birthday but lost it last September during my hip surgery. Monday was the first day my hip felt significantly improved, it's hard to tell because the healing is so slow, but on this particular day I was zipping right along! Normally I am a fast walker, not a dorky speed walker, but I don't ass around, I get where I'm going quick. All this hip hoopla has really slowed me down. I hate that. But I'll take any little improvements I can get. I'll take 'em and sashay this bionic hip right into the piercing parlor and celebrate with a little nostril bedazzling.

Good bye February, I'll always remember the Cabin Fever show, the slight movement improvement, making new friends and buying new jeans and nose jewelry!

Cure For Cabin Fever II

Days of bein' holed up, still getting the studio together, rearranging, working, crashing.

A last minute final touch, the scroll making. As part of our Rasputin inspired event we decided to serve "cyanide tea" with cakes, his last meal. I used a small collection of tiny glass vials as vessels for handwritten fortune scrolls, cutting the paper long enough so it would stick out of the top for easy retrieval.

 I inscribed ten different predictions or proverbs on each and stuck the vials in cake squares, like birthday candles.

And served them in coffee filters on a silver tray for studio visitors. They were adorable! And the homemade chocolate cake Brandi baked was delish! I don't know that each and every one was appreciated as I had intended, but I know one was. A friend's little girl told her Daddy "I want to take it with me to Momma's house", proving her appreciation. If the fortune scrolls only reached one little girl, it was worth it!

Up in the gallery Thorin, a fellow Clearwater artist did a cool instalation in the fancy old elevator cage. It was mirrored on four sides with a ghost lit up on the floor and extension cords repeating infinitely in the surrounding reflections.
It was so inviting, just being there with a big gaping open door, looking all exciting and interesting and I invited myself and Vanessa to stick our heads right in for full effect! We attempted some pictures and "ooh'd and aah'd" and just as we were retreating-BAM! A blow to the cranium! The ghost nailed me in the head with a piece of plywood, it seems a certain sister had left the door open, it was not intended for you to stick your head in, guillotine style. Fortunately my skull is built like an interior combat helmet and I was unperturbed and unharmed.

Friends came by, wine was imbibed, scrolls were unfurled, merriment was made. Another longtime friend Sally slings fire, poi like balls of flames on two chains that she slings around vigorously in a decidedly groovy fashion. She performed for us right in our own building! It was the fanciest. All while we sat around our fancily rearranged parlor area and I did not take the first picture! I normally take pictures almost compulsively, but sometimes you just have to be, just exist in the now and enjoy being fully present for the moment, and that's what I did.
It was great.
Here's to many more!

Cabin Fever I

Cabin Fever is the name of our studio event this Friday, the 22nd.
The last little bit has been getting ready for this, and I've had a wintertime cold type thing for days.
I went in today to wrap up one of the projects, a planchette for the custom OUIJA board. Very fun stuff.

At the bandsaw today, tragedy struck; the power coupler for my Shopsmith plum busted! The nerve. Not to worry, I can replace it for about $30, but damn, thanks timing.

At some point during the nose to the grindstone I took a break to just be sick and enjoy the snow! One could not ask for better layin' around weather.

We also take breaks while shuffling to and fro for gyppy WHATABURGER soft serve for everybody. Cassie is quick on her feet, dashing in and out and divvying up cones to all. She's make a great carhop!

Back to the studio with a carload of kids and a belly full of chocolate and vanilla swirl.
Bran & I worked together on the mirror. She is fast at knockin' out a tracing and I love the tedium toiling of painting the etching acid onto the glass. What a quality OUIJA board, it will be the finest in all the land!

Back among the civilized to spend the night in Charlotte and rest up for the home stretch starting tomorrow!

Irons in Fires

I am exhausted in that particular way you are after of day of creative production.
I've got a short time until our "Cabin Fever" open studios and after party coming up on February 22. I am finishing up several necklaces. This piece already has suitors lined up, lots of interest already.

Brandi and I got a lot done on this piece for an installation in the gallery elevator. Here as we were setting up for projection. You'll have to wait and see what it is...

So hard to keep WIPS under wraps before a show...definitely requires a cold one or two. I am so damn fancy I put my beer or chandelier crystals in the cooler. These were found in a dumpster, when I asked Bran why the Hell anybody would throw away a treasure chest full of crystals she replied "'Cause all they know how to do is purchase".

Well Gods bless 'em, that's my valued customer. Purchase my wares!

Valentine's Day

A few things about Love today.
No matter your current relationship status, remember:
You were someone's first love.

You are someone's pride and joy. You are a spark in a long line of family tradition, you are the light of someone's life.

From birth, you are a miraculous gift who changed lives for the better, forever. You are the center of someone's universe.

You are someone's peamite, sugar plum or pumpkin seed.

You were a first best friend, a sibling, aunt, father, partner or hero.

There are people who would walk over hot coals for you in a heartbeat. You are the object of someone's undying affection. You are someone's muse. You are the unobtainable heart's desire to some poor soul. You are the person many people depend on and love, admire, respect and desire.

Not everyone else except you, you are. So any time you might find yourself suffering from poor-ol'-me syndrome, you think about that.
There's more love for you than all the tea in China.

Today I was farm bound.

It was my very favorite kind of weather, cold, misty, foggy, moody.

The drive out there is a one hour, 35 mile meditation, a tradition dating back to about age 5. Once you turn off Hi. 601 it is country the whole way out. And while a lot has changed, it still offers gorgeous views as far as the eye can see. I soak up all the familiar landmarks, like my own personal historic markers.

Driving out there alone, on a day so easy on the eyes, listening to favorite music, I don't speed. I am in no rush for the ride to be over, my minds wanders to all kinds of enjoyable places. And it is like a ride, there are steep hills and curves, and somehow the drive guides your mind to wandering.

I headed back home just at dark. The very last sliver of light in the west is a little wisp over the horizon. Even in the dark, it is a beautiful drive.

I took my sweet time, coming back to boring old Charlotte which I am awfully non-nostalgic about for my hometown. It's as if traveling between the city and the Farm requires an hour adjustment period, so you don't get the bends, like a built in decompression chamber.
So I crank the heat up, roll the windows down, and listening to the early spring tree frogs chirp in the cold, another kind of meditation, another kind of ride.
Preparing to leave wonderland and head back to the land of traffic lights, discarded cigarette buts and pharmacy chains.
And it's still magic.

Livin' The Dream

More stuff organizing, it is something that is never ending. It's Zen-like to me and a great way to get a little inspiration, pilfering through the stock.
This little dollface has been staring up at me with eyeless sockets for a couple of years now, it's time to get her together. I cut a mask shape off the head of thrift store doll to use in necklaces. I love faces and using them in jewelry. 

I have filed and sanded and shaped the plastic to fit perfectly in this gorgeous gold bezel, looks very "Catholicy" to me. I haven't yet started on all the rest of what this piece will be, but I know this face belongs in that bezel. The epoxy is setting right now...I can hardly contain my excitement!

Wish I had gotten a picture before I left of all my epoxied assemblages that will be set up and ready to go upon my return. The anticipation of coming into the shop after glue is set and clamps can come off furniture and epoxied metal is ready to be worked is absolutely intoxicating!

I have 4 or 5 things setting in 6 hour cure epoxy that I wanted to do last night before bed so I could get right back on them this morning but when I hit a wall, I hit a wall and I am done. I am always sad to wrap things up at the end of the night and start my long, nearly neurotic, necessary  bedtime ritual.
One last longing look at my workbench before bed!

I had a fairly productive day and as per usual once I got into my zone things were falling into place, in that natural, nearly effortless way that is so pleasurable. Didn't even bust my first saw blade until about 10:30!

My sister and I often discuss our process. The more I make art, the more interesting I find each person's particular process and experience of flow. I find that when I sit down to work and am uninspired I can simply engage in any type of "grunt work" relating to what I'm working on and get some things done while I await inspiration to creep in. I might organize my stash and tools, or start rough cutting some metal, or lengths of silver fretwork for cuffs. Brandi who makes paper mache sculpture, often creating hollow spheres around inflated balls, so she will just make a bunch of hollow forms when her creative gumption is lacking. Then at least you are being productive and usually by the very act of dipping your toe in those creative waters, sooner or later you get swept away in the current.
Then next thing I know I'm covered in a thin layer of dust and aching all over.
By the way have I mentioned lately how much I love our new studio? It is a constant ongoing process of getting this place together, but rest assured that I am going to go ahead and throw some fanciness together amidst the chaos. Finally, surroundings befitting of my to die for art deco buffet and mirror with gorgeous lamps casting a warm glow on top. In my last house-which I adored-I had a really gyppy dining room where this vignette went and took up an entire wall, it was just so cramped, but in this gorgeous old brick carriage house, it finally has room to breathe.

I am a make-do-with-what-you've-got-when-you've-got-it girl from way back, but it is so wonderful to finally have the space to create and conjure, work, live, breathe.
I feel like an absolutely spoiled queen and I'm afraid from now on I will accept nothing less than a combined working and living space.
It's not too bad having entirely attainable dreams.

Blood and Spirit

My Grandaddy Wilbur Pearson was so gifted, talented and hardworking, in the way we uphold that Greatest Generation. This is a cameo of my mother he carved in wood from an old apple crate. I grew up with this image burned into my brain and as children often do, I loved to hear the telling of its origin over and over.

This was how it looked from my little kid perspective. You can really see the the depth of the bas relief. I've seen the photograph he worked from, I believe it was of her at my aunt's wedding. I love her hairdo and the little cluster of flowers in the back.
What I came away from after my hours upon hours of studying this was A) a burning desire to carve wood, B) a high standard of woodworking and artistry to live up to and C) my mother was the fairest woman in all the land whose classic beauty inspired men to carve her likeness, like a Greek Goddess.

When I visited "The Grandparent Pearsons" as me and my sister called them at their home in Columbus Mississippi, I got to seriously study and covet this fine example of his skill. It's a replica of Napoleon's coach, probably about a foot long and perfect in every tiny, meticulous detail. Grandaddy was long enamored with all things French, he spoke a few phrases that he used at every occasion although he never got to go there. He started a lifelong tradition in my immediate family of pronouncing butter "buttoire" even though that is incorrect and "the table" "la tab-le", which is correct, as in "Put the buttoire on le tab-le".
 I was not allowed to touch the little coach, a fair enough rule for such a work of art, but I'll admit to tip toeing in the living room when all the grownups were taking their daily naps  and very carefully, silently opening the little door to sneak a peek of the interior, it was upholstered in that lovely Frenchy blue velvet and if memory serves, there was button tucking. To die for! Yes, it was beyond frowned upon, but I was a careful child and I never damaged it. My Grandmother Pearson always said "do as The Spirit moves you", and it moved me to soak up as much detail of this little work of art as my mind could hold.

Each time I carve, I summon his blood in my veins, generations of woodworkers and craftsmen. I'm lucky to have his influence as well as that of my Grandmother Pearson's father, my great grandaddy Hicks whose craftsmanship and love of trains also lives on through me.
When carving, I feel close to my ancestors, drawing power of their spirit through my hands guiding my chisels and gouges to take away all the surrounding material to free my creation hiding within the wood.
Here is a Rococo medallion with Laurel sprays and Louie flourishes I did for one of my favorite trumeaus.

I swear, I can feel my ancestors' spirit over my shoulder when I am in that creative zone. Maybe that's half the draw? And although I didn't have children of my own I know my spirit will live on through my nieces and nephew, and their children and on and on through the magic of common ancestry.
I hope to leave enough art behind me to serve as talisman for them to connect with their ancestors as I have, but the blood and The Spirit alone will be enough.