Glaze-Time

It has been a long time . . . .

Flotsam, Not Jetsam

Wizard Locks

12/8/15
Two years ago, but still relevant.
A favorite profile pic.
I look my age, and that's not always easy to accept.

You'll find out, my young friends.
MD

Lindholm's "Wizard of the Pigeons"

Megan Lindholm's 1984 novel Wizard of the Pigeons is a novel that combines street grit and magical realism, urban fantasy and PTSD, with all the respect, wonder, and empathy in the world.

Hooves of Clay

Pegasus?  Wet clay play.

Wizards / Charms

Wizard Charms: sculpture mix; trans-brown, green, and denim glazing, layered.

Face Time: Wet Clay

Practice session. 

Reprise: Wizardry For The Tree

Radagast the Brown: ornament; unglazed clay.

Sofia's Gallery: Wizards, Mermaid, and Reindeer

Sofia's upturned hull, slightly grubby-- 

ornaments: wizards (from my hands)

and mermaid (via CL).

3-Legged, Half-Antlered Reindeer.  Still flies.

Reprise: Fergus

Fergus: stoneware; brown glazing, layered; copper wire.
      --a Talking Head, as it were, in the Celtic tradition.

Therapy: Clay / Hands / Soul

I allowed myself an hour or so in the studio today.

Gemini, Sleeping

Gemini, Sleeping--A Mask: sculpture mix; denim, transparent brown, and clear glazing, layered.

Looking For Earthsea

There's the portal up ahead.  I just have to get there.

(Where's Le Guin's Sparrowhawk when you need him?)

"The story of the book is essentially a voyage, a pattern in the form of a long spiral.  I began to see the places where the young wizard would go.  Eventually I drew a map.  Now that I knew where everything was, now was the time for cartography.  Of course a great deal of it only appeared above water, as it were, in drawing the map."

--Ursula Le Guin, writing about the evolving, unfolding, organic genesis and composition of her masterpiece The Wizard of Earthsea in her essay "Dreams Must Explain Themselves," a worthy read in its own right.

Thank you, Ursula Le Guin, for sparking so many spiral journeys of the imagination. 

Sleep-Talker: Wet Clay

Merlin in the Tree:  sculpture mix, still wet.

I'll probably change the name of the mask by the time I finish forming, firing, and glazing the piece.  I often do.  And, sometimes, I don't really know the piece's name, the art's essence, until I've taken it from the studio and sat with it for a while, or placed it in a tidepool or the shorebreak.  Often, the piece is a vessel for moods and conceits that are forming and evolving along with the work itself.

That's a talking mask, for sure, but then I'm a bit of a talker too.

Sea Troll or Wizard?