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.

Three Lions

I've been moved to work with these three lion's head drawer pulls. I've had them for absolutely years and the inspiration finally bubbled to the surface so they could come to fruition.
The first one I did was sold o a friend with good taste the morning I finished it. He bought it for his wife to wear to the White House  for her mother's acceptance of a National Medal Of Technology and Innovation Award. I got to meet her and her family in December, fascinating and wonderful people. So something I made was in the room with the President and a bunch of super smart people!

Then I made one with gorgeous vintage rhinestones hanging from his jaws. "Ice grill", if you will. It was love at first sight for my sister, so I gave it to her for her 40th birthday present. It looks so stunning on her. Something about the lion holding something between its teeth makes me think of "strength". This piece is both strong and fancy like her, thusly it was meant to be.

Today I went further into the realm of layering and draping, I like things drippping with texture and movement. I also altered the .22 and .38 shells, making them a little shorter, until the dimensions started to make that"click" sensation in my brain. Making things is all about playing with different elements until everything is as it should be. I design mostly as I go and loathe compositional sketches and maquettes, once you get that energy started on something just go with it. No need to waste it on too much planning.
Have "Courage":

It is 8" long with a 4.5" drop from the lion's head, ending in chains and more shells that make the most delightful tinkling sound as you move. I am a sucker for super tactile things, and things with an audible quality. This one is beautiful from every angle and a treasure to the touch.
I think wearing art does impart a sense of courage. Keep little pieces of art on your body and see if it doesn't make you feel special.

Southern Hospitality

I like to fly by the seat of my pants, do as The Spirit moves me. I had myself a delightful little diversion today that only comes to those who are loosely scheduled at best. 

A couple years ago, my sister & I met The Most Interesting Woman In Charlotte shopping in our favorite thrift store. The three of us stood outside under the unflattering parking lot lights for at least thirty minutes chewing the fat about our works of art, nature and dumpster diving.

We discovered that low these many years, she had a little shop where she made her one of a kind floral arrangements and lived, not 2 miles from where we grew up. Small world indeed! Through the magic of social networking, we have kept in touch and today she suggested I come by her house in Mint Hill and pick up a bunch of silver casserole stands, having remembered that I use them in my jewelry making. Now, it is a Monday and I had planned to go work at the studio, but since I needed to clean up around the house and recover a bit more...I thought, why the Hell not?

I should mention that I am not the most likely visitor you may ever meet; usually I like to be the hostess and my friends come to me. But I come from generations of  "callers", my Granny, my Popaw and my Dad all are the type to drop by friends' places, unannounced for a friendly visit. I've always admired that spontaneous quality and although I may not come by it naturally, it is a quality I wish to cultivate. So off I went!

I am what you might call a "talker" and Paula is too, so I knew it might be a while but having the whole day to do as I please I setted in for a long tour of her grand estate. It was her mother's house and sadly, she passed earlier this year and Paula is doing her best at clearing out. She told me she would be having a tag sale real soon and had lots to get rid of. I asked her what's the difference between a tag sale and a yard sale and she said "It's more expensive" with a sly grin. And boy, what a fine tag sale it will be! She has got wares like you've never seen. It's about like walking through one of the buildings at Scott's Antique Market in Atlanta, just more finery than one can take in all at once.
I was overwhelmed with all the layers of gorgeous things and only had the presence of mind to get just a scarce few shots.
Here is one of her arrangements. I wish I had made a better effort at capturing all the detail. She builds a moss base and painstakingly glues in individual fungi and lichen, many of which she names herself and many of which she knows the Latin name for. She collects and dries her own insects and adds at least one in to everything she makes. This orchid piece includes a cicada, naturally hangin' around on one of the leaves.

 She has a very cute 1950s trailer at the beach-that I can guarantee you is the fanciest one on the NC coast. She went down there with a friend to board it up for the gathering hurricane Irene and while she was at it-just had to go on ahead and rebuild the subfloor and lay out her own herringbone floor. She showed me pictures on her computer, it was all just gorgeous, and sturdy; it weathered the hurricane just fine.  She will go down after a hurricane and take laundry baskets on the beach to collect nature's bounty, she has more horseshoe crabs and every kind of shell and starfish and manner of seaweed than one can shake a stick at. This one here was probably a good 10" long!

 Also like me, she has a weakness for sparkly things. She showed me one walk in closet packed full of intricately hand beaded formal wear, with the familiar thrift store tags still stapled on. Her idea was, maybe she could rent them out to the drag queens, except "they're too big for 'em". The vintage stuff is mostly in smaller sizes. But for $2 to $12 each, they could not be passed up! I told her "If I had come in here when I was a little girl I would have thought I'd died and gone to Heaven!" Actually, I may have said something with more cussing. Paula cusses like a sailor which is one more endearing thing to love about her.

 She'd told me before I got there to just come on in through the garage and find her, and I walked in right in mid disaster! Her plumbing was overflowing and she was shop vac-ing the water off the floors and an exotic bird was greeting the sound of this stranger's voice with an expertly enunciated "Hello" or some such thing to which she would holler "Shut UP!" and when that didn't work "Shut the fuck up!", I couldn't have felt more at home amidst the chaos. She has birds and cats and 55 gallon aquariums and bones and shells and antique Persian rugs and Art deco objets d'art and Mucha prints and vintage millinery all about.
She is talented at upholstery, carpentry, construction, prop making, drawing, painting, gardening, cussing, dumpster diving, animal husbandry, nursing, decorating and God knows what all I'm leaving out. Truly a Jane of all trades and master of many.
Here is a pen & ink she did some time ago.  

 Her mother was a great admirer of the art nuveau artistAlphonse Mucha and my own personal favorite, the art deco artist Erte. She had collected stacks of framed prints of both their work as well as some fine textiles. After she had given me the silver, she then insisted on giving me two Mucha books and a great big gorgeous framed Mucha print, truly an embarasment of riches!

I was probably there for about three hours, not even enough time to scratch the surface. She regaled me with tales of her work, snippets of her childhood in old Charlotte, trials and tribulations of caring for her mother through the end of her life, all while walking me through her mother's grand "fuckin' French Chateau" family compound. All I could think was well, I'm gonna have to become an amateur documentary film maker to capture this National Treasure!  A Southern woman who's skills, charm and generosity of spirit are rivaled only by her uniqueness: she is truly one of a kind.
So...who wants to join me on a project?

Four Months In

An update on the hip. Four months ago I had a total hip replacement. Hip surgeries are notoriously easy and most people are all healed up inside 6-7 weeks. I was on that damned cane for over 3 months! Really cramped my style, to say of all the pain.

I did my best at entertaining myself and keeping ahold of my patience the past weeks and months. Better time of year for healing I guess.

Today I returned to my favorite cemetery for a long overdue walk. And my how things have changed! Well, really the only surprise was this bounty of cedar roses! Aren't they gorgeous? They are the seed pods of those beautiful Japanese looking evergreens. I tried to look them up for the proper name, but to no avail.

I used to go here daily and I look forward to putting in some real time here again. Last year I spent all spring here, in lieu of my beloved rail road tracks, which I still miss powerfully. Still, not a bad trade. I gotta get my nature fix somewhere in the city, and RR tracks are notoriously difficult to walk on. Of course I rather enjoyed the challenge, but seems like a cruel thing to put my hip through, after all that damned healing up.
So it's back to the cemetery for me, to put many miles on my fancy new hardware!

Time Capsule

Oh law, I opened up the time capsule last night. Been draggin' this little foot locker around with me everywhere since I was a teenager. I haven't dared open it in over a decade, for fear of all that nostalgia. Last night I felt a powerful compulsion and I couldn't resist. The Devil made me do it.

Four photo albums and two packs of Philmont mail and pictures. I didn't dare read the letters, the pictures were enough.
Here's me my last summer at Philmont, 1998. In order to ride out with the cowboys, I was made to use the saddle. That summer was actually the first time I learned how to abide a Western saddle. I'm a saddle hater, but it is a necessary tool  for any working cowboy. These boys took me out to mend fences, and test my horse sense. We went out at a full gallop for several miles non stop. I passed.

I befriended them, such a cute bunch of horse boys. I got to ride out with them on many an evening. Let me tell you, the majesty of hauling ass on the open New Mexico range was not lost on me. What an experience!

The boy in the middle here was a 17 yr. old cowboy named Nate something. Sometimes I made them all bunny eggs for breakfast and they loved them! When asked how they got their name I explained it was because they are soft and fluffy, like a bunny. Nate was so enthusiastic about them, he literally hopped up & down in place in the kitchen one morning in his excitement pronouncing "They're soft and fluffy like a bunny!" as he did so. Too cute. He also told me he liked art class, and he made roses out of clay, forming each petal individually. He gave them "to a girl I liked" at school. I can not imagine any girl resisting his charms!

I didn't dare read all the letters, I can always do that later. I did sort of skim through a pile and was tickled pink to find several correspondences from my dear sweet Dana Dee! It pleases me to know that our friendship is the same as it ever was, and she is the same one of a kind hilarious National treasure she's always been.

1996, first trip to Grand Canyon with my sister. If you haven't gone, make it happen, the sooner the better.

1995, my first year at Philmont. All geared up to go hiking out of tent city at base camp. Good times!

This is me and my bf Nadine Fernandez, a friend I met that first summer who got me through awful homesickness and took me home with her on days off to nearby Wagon Mound NM. She was one of those people I just took a powerful shine to and we adored each other, becoming fast friends and practically inseparable all summer. She was a really amazing spirit and to my southeastern eyes an exotic beauty. I'm still looking for her and I hope she is doing well and living a happy life.

This concludes a brief skimming of my Philmont days. I wouldn't trade those 3 summers for all the tea in China.

Winter

 In wintertime I like to go inward and be cozy. I plot and gather for coming works, and hone my powers of observation.

 I go back to favorite old talismans and refresh my admiration and inspiration.
I enjoy every slim chance at a wintry mix. I like my winters to be wintery. I love cloudy days, overcast skies, rain, sleet, snow, fog, whatever I can get.
Come to think of it I do have a fever and the only cure is more snow! I remember when I was little, on Emory Lane. The snow turned our Charlottey yet serviceable woods in the back yard into an almost C.S. Lewis-y blanketed wonderland.
We had a black cat named Midnight and we'd walk around those woods, with all the trees black in the snow and strung with thick vines (Gods, I think it was poison ivy!) singing out "Miiiiiidnight!", looking for his signature kitty prints in the snow, wanting to bring him in from the cold. Little girls tracking a tiny black panther in the snow. Pure magic.

That is just the kind of image I want to draw from in my upcoming works. I just hog up all the things that are beautiful and pleasing to me. Store all that up this winter arrange it in my mind and bring it into the world in the coming months.
Wintertime has its own unique kind of beautiful stillness. I will slow down and take it all in.