Memories: Bullish By Night

Old sculpture:
30-40 minute exercise with model?
Years ago, so I am not sure.
Sculpture mix--and overglazed, but I like how that came out.

My stubborn side, you know?

Old Favorite: Bullish By Nature

Minotaur:
Exercise with live model: 2004?

Sculpture mix; overglazed.
I hadn't meant for the glazing to be quite so thick; there are faint features beneath all that blue and gray glossing, but I like the unintended effect, the blurring and enlarging of the head as well as the downward flow, matching the jut of the chin, the slightly slumping shoulders, and the melancholy mood of the beast-man.

Welcome to the Labyrinth

Happy Autumn!

Clay mask: 2013
Rudi's apples.

Ashes of an Old Poem, Sparks for a New Poem?

Nights, I built fires from the wood
You did not chop.

--MD


This opening sentence has come back to mind recently, and I've been trying to recall the rest of this poem that I'd written in, oh, Winter Quarter 1980 -- in Carl Dennis' 46B: Intro to Poetry Class.  I used to recite the poem to myself as I walked to and from campus, so the memory may be deep and so retrievable.  The setting was a trip down a river, two characters and two canoes, a definite lack of appreciation on the one hand, and a distinct inability to make headway that mattered on the other.  Rocks and rapids, of course, provided the physical obstacles.  I recall a class discussion of the poem, actually, that lasted a good amount of time, which was both alarming and encouraging to me, as my classmates debated the dynamics between the characters.  I was so shy then and speechless; Prof. Dennis assured me afterwards that the lengthy discussion itself, more than the particular comments, was a mark of success in that my poem had held attention.  That was kind.

I can't seem to find the old poem itself, which is only surprising after all these years if you understand just how many manuscripts and notebooks and what-have-you I've kept year after year after year.  Which is part of the problem, no doubt.

I guess I could or should write a new poem.  Maybe I'll pick up from where the memory has left off . . . .

Or, maybe I'll leave that fragment alone.  Let the one image stand.

Autumnal Reprise: Brecca

Autumnal Spirit: Bovine

Mask: Bovine For The Labyrinth --

Sculpture mix; celadon, denim, and transparent brown glazing, layered; copper wire.

 Detail:

I Am Not Stubborn

 Or, I Made This Figure, But I Did Not Model For It.

Something like that, right?

Sure.  Tell me another.