Kelp, Foam, and Fog

Happy paddling.

Sub-Tidal

Or, Sub-Tidal and Off-Kilter.

I was free diving from a kayak, and I'd forgotten to stow my wetbelt on the kayak that morning.  Since I was only wearing a worn 5/4 surfing wetsuit and a squid lid, despite the rather cold Mendocino waters, I figured I could kick hard enough to explore and take some shots.  And I did, quite happily, though occasionally the surge would conspire or coincide with that lack of weightedness to pull me away just a little too soon, and so some off-focus aspects above.

Let's go free diving!

Rough Drafts For Laughs

Wailing mermaid: rough draft / clay play.

Let's Go Kayaking!

Study Pal

Alice Jones: "Knots of Possibility"

PAINTING

He'd go down to the basement
wearing his dark blue work shirt,
to the corner of the windowless,
cinder-block room where he had
his canvas propped, and somehow,
after years of being tangled up
in knots of possibility, after
days of talk, after wrestling 
with the angel of Not-painting,
he squeezed a wildly orange
Vermont landscape out of those
bright oily tubes, smeared it,
all its red-leafed, golden blur,
onto the rectangle of cloth
and gesso that had been waiting,
like me, for his stroking hand.

--Alice Jones

from her The Knot,
published by Alice James Books,
Cambridge, MA: 1992.

The Shy Octopus, Again.

Perhaps, not so shy after all.

(Sculpture mix and a lot of glazes.)

Brass Hooks, Sidelong Looks

Aegir: sculpture mix; blue, green,and white glazes;
copper wire; fishhooks.
20-minute exercise with model.
(I overglazed, actually, but later I realized that I like the gloppy, soggy, flowing look with this piece.)

Postscript:

Reprise/New shots of an old piece.  I like the angles.

Neil Young: "When I Write A Song"

"When I write a song, it starts with a feeling.  I can hear something in my head or feel it in my heart.  It may be that I just picked up the guitar and mindlessly started playing.  That's the way a lot of songs begin.  When you do that, you are not thinking.  Thinking is the worst thing for writing a song.  So you just start playing and something new comes out.  Where does it come from?  Who cares?  Just keep it and go with it.  That's what I do.  I never judge it.  I believe it.  It came as a gift when I picked up my musical instrument and it came through me playing with the instrument.  The chords and melody just appeared.  Now is not the time for interrogation or analysis.  Now is the time to get to know the song, not change it before you even know it.  It is like a wild animal, a living thing.  Be careful not to scare it away.  That's my method, or one of my methods, at least."

--Neil Young,

from page 158 of Waging Heavy Peace: A Hippie Dream,
A Plume Book, New York: 2012.

Njord Rising

Njord: stoneware; floating blue and transparent brown glazing.

Trunk Visions

Dougie MacLean: "Ready For The Storm"

READY FOR THE STORM

The waves crash in and the tide pulls out

It's an angry sea but there is no doubt 

That the lighthouse will keep shining out to warn the lonely sailor

And the lightning strikes and the wind cuts cold through the sailor's bones, to the sailor's soul

Till there's nothing left that he can hold except the rolling ocean

CHORUS

But I am ready for the storm, yes sir, ready

I am ready for the storm, I'm ready for the storm

Oh give me mercy for my dreams

Cause every confrontation seems

To tell me what it really means to be this lonely sailor

But when the sky begins to clear and the sun it melts away my fear

I'll cry a silent weary tear for those that need to love me

CHORUS

The distance it is no real friend

And time will take its time

And you will find that in the end it brings you me, the lonely sailor

And when you take me by your side you love me warm, you love me and

I should have realized I had no reason to be frightened

CHORUS

--Dougie Maclean

A favorite song, like so many of the great Scotsman's creations.

Four Anchors: sculpture mix; jade glazing.

Jack Spicer: Of Fools, Goddesses, Heroes, Oceans, Love, and Memory

ANY FOOL CAN GET INTO AN OCEAN

Any fool can get into an ocean   
But it takes a Goddess   
To get out of one.
What’s true of oceans is true, of course,
Of labyrinths and poems. When you start swimming   
Through riptide of rhythms and the metaphor’s seaweed
You need to be a good swimmer or a born Goddess
To get back out of them
Look at the sea otters bobbing wildly
Out in the middle of the poem
They look so eager and peaceful playing out there where the
    water hardly moves
You might get out through all the waves and rocks
Into the middle of the poem to touch them
But when you’ve tried the blessed water long
Enough to want to start backward
That’s when the fun starts
Unless you’re a poet or an otter or something supernatural
You’ll drown, dear. You’ll drown
Any Greek can get you into a labyrinth
But it takes a hero to get out of one
What’s true of labyrinths is true of course
Of love and memory. When you start remembering.

--Jack Spicer

(Thanks, JP, for the suggestion.)

A Few Fish

Portrait of the Artist as an Old Dogfish

Felt good though.

Self-Portrait #52:
Kealakekua Bay, Big Island, Hawaii.
8/4/13.

Sea-Charms

What Fish Is This?

White-spotted pufferfish, actually.

Identification courtesy of Jeff Peterson.

In the photos for pufferfish in the two Hawaiian fish books I had looked at, the specific striations and coloration did not seem as clear as they did in person and in this photo, particularly.  An online search found photos that matched more obviously.

Moby, Ubiquitous

Another Moby: 
sculpture mix, unglazed.

Tool Kit

Manini Beach, Big Island, Hawaii.