Transparently seductive
March 28, 2009
The art director shook her head.”These aren’t glassy enough.”
I’d brought photos of some of the most wonderful “kilnformed” glass art in the world to illustrate her brochure on glassmaking. “These could be stone or paper or ceramic,” she said, “We need glass that looks like glass.”
Which–with a few notable exceptions–is exactly the opposite of what kilnformers do in the fine art space these days. There are many artistic reasons for it. [Read more]
The show at Guardino’s
March 27, 2009
That's Heather Soderberg's marvelous portrait on the right, waiting to be cast in bronze
OK, so I’ve now had a full-fledged panic attack. Everyone should have one at least once; it brings a different perspective to the subject at hand.
But the show reception went pretty well. At least, it was still packed more than an hour after it was supposed to close and Donna, Guardino gallery’s owner, finally started turning off the lights to get people to leave.
For me, the highlight of the show were the lovely folk who did indeed turn out to see the show and me (and provide moral, or maybe morale, support). Thanks to Bob, Roxy, Kat, Donna, Ed, Sunny, Mom, Suzi and Robyn for finding great words of encouragement. We added substantially to the crowds, and everything was great and much appreciated.
The show’s up…
March 26, 2009
…and now I’m fighting fifth hour panic, that moment when you realize that you have a long, long way to go but it’s too late to grab your pitiful little bits and go home.
I got my work to Guardino Gallery yesterday, stuck around to help hang/haul/lug/place the rest of the show, stick placards where things go and just generally make myself useful. (I wrote about it yesterday) I also got a heaping helping of inferiority complex: The stuff in this show is GOOD. [Read more]
Yarg (and come to the show…)
March 25, 2009
You can take the girl out of the newsroom, but you can’t take the newsroom out of the girl, it seems. No matter how many days/weeks/months/years I know in advance, I don’t zoom into high gear until it’s down to the wire deadline time.
And so I’ve got four pieces due at the gallery by 11am this morning, and I will just exactly make it…with three.
Quick commercial break: I’ve got three pieces in the Guardino Gallery on Alberta Street, for their Pacific Northwest Sculptors show. Lots of great stuff in it, including far more illustrious artists, so it’s worth a look. Reception tomorrow night. Here’s an invitation–please come and support my morals if you’re in the area and have nothing else to do.
One sad note: The image on the invitation is the fourth sculpture, the one that WON’T be in the show (sigh). She suffered an unfortunate accident–I dropped the drill on her while making a totally unnecessary but typical me-with-too-much-time-on-my-hands adjustment–and is now in no fit state to be seen or sold. Stay tuned to see her arise from the ashes in a rather different style; I’m kinda excited about where I’m going with her but she’ll take awhile. In the meantime, here’s her before picture (she’s about 8 inches deep, maybe 14×16):
Hmmmm. I’ve been told by about a bluejillion people that I shouldn’t talk about this stuff in public. I’m either (1) giving away my studio process secrets or (2) showing just a tad too much of my own creative process, including the flubs, which should be kept dark and mysterious.
I pretty much ignore the first. I’m not really inventing anything new (and whenever I think I have it turns out the ancient Mesopotamians or somebody got there first) so I can’t claim this stuff as “my” process anyway. And I’ve noticed a curious phenomenon when people ask how I do this stuff, anyway: When I tell them all the steps, they generally say “you’re crazy,” and walk away shaking their heads.
Maybe they’re secretly plotting to steal my methods…but I doubt it.
The second, now that’s more valid. Like the cat who slides across a polished kitchen floor and crashes into the refrigerator, I should probably get up, brush myself off calmly and say, “I meant to do that.” I should never show the interior bumblings and fumblings I go through to deliver my art, right? I should have awakened in the night with the precise vision shining in my head, made exactly that and smugly tell awe-inspired patrons that my muse spoke.*
Maybe. For me, though, the actual creative process is far more interesting. You bumble into something good, then you figure out how to make it great, and incorporate it into your work. That’s what makes it fun.
How boring to pop little artworks out of your head exactly as planned, one after the other, without giving them (or physics) a say in their own creation! We have assembly lines for that kind of thing.
Making art is very different (for me, at least). And so for the time being, I’ll go on journaling the journey–and the flubs–as well as the end result. If it helps somebody else, great. But mostly, this is for me.
And now I’ve wasted a whole 20 minutes typing this up, the deadline is ever nearer and I haven’t even taken a shower. –sigh–
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*and it does happen that way sometimes, except for the part about the awe-inspired patrons
iPhone, bathtubs and blogging
March 24, 2009
However useful Gigi-the-iPhone may be, she has some limitations. For one thing, she’s not really a great companion in the bath (although I’ve been surprised at the quality of pictures she takes, even there–left).
Gigi and water don’t mix. In fact, the first thing that the Apple tech did when I brought Gigi in was to open her case and check to see if water had gotten in.
Apparently every iPhone comes with a wet indicator, some kind of reactive paper that changes color permanently if it gets wet. If it does, the tech said, “it voids your warranty and we can’t fix it.” [Read more]
Bee, loved
March 22, 2009
The bee guy told me they’ve solved the problem of the vanishing bees.
“It’s not pesticides or cell phone towers or any of that stuff they guessed,” he assured me, “It’s Israeli Acute Virus. The bees are literally starving to death.”
Beeguy is passionate about his bees and his honey. He and his lady bring jars and jars of the stuff to the Portland Farmers Market to taste–buckwheat, white clover, cherry, even coffee–and they’ll sell you a bottle of whatever’s in stock for $8. (I recommend the wild blackberry, which tastes like a good light honey but finishes like blackberry jam.) [Read more]
Ouiski baugh
March 21, 2009
Nothing like holding a whisky tasting in a glass gallery.
The folks at Bullseye Gallery are brave souls, holding their Northlands Glass School benefit–a Glenfiddich whisky tasting–on both floors of the gallery. As far as I could tell nothing was broken, although I did hear a couple of clangs.
Lovely time, lovely company, got a second look at some really nice pieces and met some new folk who were lots of fun. (And whatever was in that little tiny square of paper-thin bread with a bunch of stuff on it? Not the smoked salmon, the other one. THAT was really tasty!)
And you know? I’m continually astonished that Gigi-the-iPhone gets such nice shots in very low light. Hmmm.
MoCC holds a town meeting
March 18, 2009
Left to right, Chairman Kathy Abraham, Regional Arts Council exec director Eloise Damrosch, collector Doug Macy, metalsmith Greg Wilbur, artist/former boardmember Jeri Grimm
MoCC, for those of you not into (or interested in) Portland arts, is the Museum of Contemporary Craft. Portland OGG chapter president Bob Heath and I attended the first in a series of town meetings they’re holding, and I gotta say I walked out more bewildered than satisfied. But I promised to give a meeting report, so here ’tis:
All sound, no sale: iPod Shuffle
March 17, 2009
Just played around with the new iPod Shuffle, and I gotta say, I don’t get it.
Maybe it’s just my fuddyduddyness talking, but in an age when we can cram more and more information into personal mobile devices, why would I want one that takes me back to the dark ages?
Bete-Lukas (Ethiopian)
March 16, 2009
- Restaurant website
- Location: SE Portland (Division & 50th)
- Price to stuff two people at dinner: $36
The guy behind me on Division St. was honking and carrying on so, you’d have thought I’d sideswiped his kitten but I swear I didn’t do anything. Then I stopped at the light and he got out of his car, ran up and poked his head in my window. “Your left taillight is out, ma’am. I thought you’d want to know.”
Only in Portland, I mused, as I trudged up the stairs to meet Robyn at Bete-Lukas. Shortly after I forgot all about it, because when you’re at Bete-Lukas, you don’t want to waste time on inconsequentials like nuclear war or a nice fellow driver: You just wanna eat.