Reflecting on Self (and Selfies)

This wasn't a selfie, but a driver's license.  A current conversation with a friend:

One old driver's license, I showed it to a very good friend and said, "Look at this. I look dead in the photo."

Old Friend said, "It takes ten years off you."

I said, "Ten years off dead--what's that?"

OF smiled, wryly.


(OF always keeps me down to earth.)

Moya Cannon's Sheep: Trust and Manipulation

Here are two poems by Moya Cannon that I just found and do admire:


SHEEP AT NIGHT IN THE INAGH VALLEY

For Leo and Clare

Maybe the dry margins draw them,
or grass, sprouting among limestone chippings --
they are here, as always,
on the edge of the tarmac
on a bend.

They shelter under the clumped rushes --
white bundles in the night --
their eyes are low green stars,
caught in the trawl of my car's headlights.

Occasionally one hirples across the road
but, usually, they stay put
and gaze at the slowed-down car.

I envy them their crazy trust.


WEANING

He carried a lamb
up over the bog to the hill,
took sugar from his pocket and let it lick.

The clean tongue searched the crevices of his hand,
then he set it down to graze.

It would never stray from that hill,
tethered by a dream of sweet grass.

--by MOYA CANNON


Respectfully borrowed from
Carrying the Songs
Carcanet Press Ltd
Manchester, UK
2007

Salt Glance

Silverstone clay;
Reitz's Green glazing.

Fresh From the Kiln: Mermaid and Wave

Mermaid, Swimming and Wave:
silverstone clay; cobalt carbonate oxide.

Low Low Low

Low-tide Van Damme State Beach:

I found a car key in that sand while walking, and then the owner found me while I was trying to figure out where to leave the key . . . .
I've never seen the water so low.

Sunlight and Surge

Quick Dip

Well, that was really more than one breath.

Excursion: Road, Water, Road

Mendocino Paddling

Can You See The Seal?

This wily fellow followed me as I kayaked, keeping behind me even though I kept shifting directions, spinning the boat, and then paddling--I thought--away.  Then, when I entered the water, I couldn't spot the harbor seal near me underwater, but when I would rise for breath, twice he made great splashes a few feet behind me, startling me each time.  After about 15 minutes, I decided that I should perhaps swim somewhere else.

Face: Fresh from the Kiln

Silverstone clay;
Reitz's Green glazing, lightly applied.

He lacks a name as yet . . . .

Mask on a Mollusk: Musings

Friend:  'Splain, please.

Me:      I don't know if I can.  

I like putting my clay--pottery and sculpture--out in nature, especially water--and taking photos, aiming to capture something evocative or expressive.  Sometimes I have very specific artistic goals; sometimes I'm goofing or experimenting.  The results have ranged from the silly to the sublime--as you can see if you examine the many such shots I've included in this blog--and sometimes I've wanted the silly or the sublime, depending on mood and interest.  My main approach is intuitive.

("The Door" or "The Drowned Man" series are among the most successful postings, I think.)

Art involves expression and exploration, and these pieces allow me to experiment.  My recent "Frog-Man II" captures loss and longing, I'd argue, in the juxtaposition of the situation I placed my sculpture in, that natural setting ten feet beneath the surface, with the specific features and expression I'd sculpted into that particular clay-face, that specific clay-head.

I think about displacement.  Artist Jay Trinidad wrote to me about how art works:

"Art works by displacing.  I think displacement is an essential element.  It needs to pitch you out of your own experience."

JT works more ethically, more in the veins of social justice and sheer beauty, than I do, but one element of my work would have to be displacement, surprising you with the clay, the worked clay, in the natural settings.  Perhaps that surprise catches you -- makes your footing just a bit uneven, makes you laugh at the absurdity or boneheadedness of what I do --catches you enough to slip inside, to spur or spark a reaction or a recognition in the face of oddity or silliness or some deeper emotion.  Sometimes, my pieces are illustrative, meant to tell a story, sure, but also to highlight the natural environment, and my clay contribution would subside in terms of attention.  Other times, I am seeking an emotional recognition.  Many of my pieces are sad, I think, for grief is one of the deepest feelings I know.  Others are enhanced, made better, by the watery environment.  A bowl in a stream is just clay in water, but it is also, perhaps, an offering to beauty, to the muses.  A mask on a mollusk is a slightly different offering.

And there are nine muses, each with a different temper and temperment.

I try to please each and every one of them.

Visage:
Silverstone clay;
Oribe & Abalone glazes;
leather cord--
and assorted kelp forest denizens.