paper cutting glass: Can you spot 10?

paper cutting glass: Can you spot 10?: Flying Back to Bujumbura:  When the original blue sky began bubbling, it was time to redo the work.  The ruined pale blue tag board was repl...

Can you spot 10?

Flying Back to Bujumbura:  When the original blue sky began bubbling, it was time to redo the work.  The ruined pale blue tag board was replaced, but then a number of alterations naturally began to evolve.  See how many you can spot in the completed work.

 Flying to Bujumbura I

(12" x 18")

Flying to Bujumbura II

(14" x 22")

Flying into Fate: the Flow of Migration in 3 Paper Sculptures

     The beauty of the movement of humans and animals are governed by natural, sociological or emotional needs.   The three following works are all thematically related by the theme of migration.  

"Chasing Rabbits in the Southern Sky" 10/9/2014

 The size is 12 1/2 Square, using handmade paper, rice paper and acrylic canvas paper.

     

"Flying to Bujumbura"  (May 2014)

 In April I began with another symmetrical face, which I spray-painted black, using a canvass paper.  The painted image beneath the original became the basis of this work. 

Listening to ethnic music of Africa and Kronos Quartet's Pieces of Africa, the elements

began to take shape.

(Burundi is the native home of a friend in college, who told me how much he longed for the fragrant, lush beauty of his childhood homeland.)  The size is 12 x 18, made of tag-board, canvass paper, National Geographic map, paint.  

     

"Black Molly Goes to School, circa 1963-64"

       In my junior year in high school, schools were integrated for the first time, with one black girl joining each class (although blacks composed 1/3 of the population).  This work was made, honoring Carolyn Greer, the young miss who,  with kindness and a brave heart, faced our class, fed on a diet of Jim Crow, and was the first black student to graduate from North Caroline High School, in Denton, Maryland, in 1965.

  It is titled, with a bit of a fishy pun, Black Molly Goes to School, circa 1963-64, subtitled Integration gives America Wings of Freedom.  Size is 12" x 20" using a variety of paper stock and blue masking tape.

Cascade: Earth Wind & Fire

       This began with an experiment, using a broken storm window.  When removing an old pane, the panel cracked into three distinct pieces.  In order to practice some cuts for an upcoming commission, I thought that this would be the perfect chance to envision the new window.  It mutated from clear glass to this work. I envisioned it as a cascade, inspired by Diana's Bath and other mountainside waterfalls in the White and Green Mountains of New England. Conway.  When my first view saw it, he immediately said, "Earth, Wind, & Fire", and so it shall be.

  It was originally an idea to use as a interior storm window for my bedroom, the window where the photograph above was taken.  The size is 30" x 26", which fits snuggly into the window.  The bedroom window faces North so direct sunlight would never illuminate it.  This morning the sunlight brilliantly fills the land, as if to cheer on the last day of summer.  So downstairs we took the window, to the porch, to be photographed in the bright rays of the beloved source of all life, as we know it. Here is a view looking to the East, with foliage far behind it, and sunlight full, but not direct.

   We have decided to leave it there, until it goes on public display (in a gallery near you?) so we may enjoy it each morning.  The rivulets of clear glass reflect the alternating light and seasonal change, as summer green turns to radiant reds and oranges of autumn, eventually to the solid white of winter.  The colored glass also produces a provocative shadow, on the somber grey floor.  

Evolution On the Table

Two New Windows taking Shape:
Redesigning a broken old storm window into a new pattern . . . (30 x 26)

Working on sketches for a Lotus Meditation Window

Also got my kiln back in working order after some frightening results of rapidly overheated glass.  The heat so intense that the kiln wash was burned off, the glass crackled, then sealed onto/into the shelf.  Another piece ballooned forming a central bubble  which was cellophane thin, its delicate lines of glass paint turned into fat flattened worms.  Many thanks to Chuck for finding the problem (other than me).

Mountains Views

      Since moving here, on the banks of the Moose River, in the Connecticut River Valley, with the Green Mountains to the West, and the White Mountains to the East,  I fam discovering a unique landscape, as enchanting and mysterious as Tolkien's Middle Earth.  The mountains may not have the superlative beauty of the Rockies, but oh, do they have  a personality that rivals all the areas I've lived in before. They dance with color and the light, as the the weather and seasons change.  You would swear, sometimes, that they alter their shape, yet like a friend, always familiar and fascinating, commanding, continually filling your eyes and heart with true awe.

   Over the years I've acquired pieces of glass just for the sheer beauty, often seeing a landscape or a form in them, as I await the 'inner voice' to use them in a window. In some of these scraps I have seen mountainscapes.  Three little 10 x 12 cuts, that I've had for several years coalesced in my mind, and the following work was cut assembled, foiled and soldered into shape. This is before adding the dark patina.  Size is 13 3/4" x 25 1/2". 

     Here is the completed piece, "A Window on the Mountains" hanging in the "Paper and Painting Room" portion of my studio.

        One of the joys of Stained Glass is the daily patterns of colored light cast by the installed window.  The morning sun, of the work, and of nature, seems to rejoice in the flamboyant yellow of the begonia, to greet you as you enter my home.

Holy Wars: Apocalypse in Gaza

    Western Civilization has begotten a heritage of icons imbeded in the beliefs of our ancestors, which many still hold today as truth.  One belief is that the God, of Jews, Christians and Muslims alike would one day destroy the evil and establish righteousness across the face of the earth, under a Messiah. Historical evidence displays that the greatest perpetration of executing the will of this dissatisfied, judgmental Deity is by humankind.  The persistence of an apocalyptic end to us all haunts our cultural inheritance.  Over a period of years I worked on the following work, guided by Medieval Manuscripts, and stories from the minds and mouths of Evangelicals of all persuasions.  Theologically based heinous acts, blatant as 9/11, ethnic and tribal wars and of civic reactionary murders continue to wrack destruction on our world, even while children play and, as good, average, productive people try to enjoy and embrace this delicate, wonderful life.

Panel 1:  The Angel of the Lord (Jehovah, Allah, Jesus/God) sounds the Trumpet

Panel 2:  At Play in the Fields of the Lord

Panel 3:  The Wrath of God

Panel 4:  From Dust Were Ye Made and to Dust Ye Shall Return

The Work as and "Illuminated Panel" (36" x 42")

The Message is simple.  We are tired of holy wars, of Gods fighting Gods and humans killing humans.  Kindness, a sense of wonder, and Hope are divine acts, and the most human. 

The Child and the Deep Blue Sea

     I just devoured a delicious little book titled Around the World in 100 Years, by Jean Fritz.  It is written for students of middle school in a language given the realistic patina of a youthful eye, unlike the more hallowed and glamorized version that we where tutored with in my youth.  In Ms. Fritz's version, with beguiling, and slyly humorous, illustrations by Anthony Bacon Venti, we see the explorers as human beings, exceptional ones, yes, in context with their unveiling of the new world(s), but not glorified so that their arrogance is disguised as virtue, for the sake of religion or other idealism.  The little book, quickly read, refreshed the sense of wonder and adventure that is so alluring . . . casting off to sea into the unknown.
  It brought back the feeling that I was trying to capture when I did "The World When I Was 5", which was gifted to Union-Sanborn Elementary School, Northfield, NH, for the 50th Birthday of Suzan Gannett, Principal in honor of all the children who "set sail" towards a life of adventure from our beloved school.  It is approximately 16" Circular, with glass attachments.

In the mid-90's I was asked to mend a broken window, with a few missing panels . . .

It was an antique British Window for a Dining room, in a home in Somersworth, NH . . .

Then, the lovely lady asked me to do a transom leading from the kitchen to the Dining room:

And, yes, the restoration of some panels for the kitchen . . .

Then, there was the small bathroom, next to the kitchen, which would look so nice with a transom and some window treatments, so could I design and make some there, too?

And, why not a window from the Dining Room, over the arch leading to the front porch?

Then, finally, the new sunroom at the rear of the house, how about a design for it?

The Prince Who Got taken away by the Spring Salmon (1995)

"Each species of salmon has its own chief and village beneath the sea. Each year their chief, a bear on land, greets them, as they come to spawn, then after the ritual birth rites, returns to the watery homeland, a fish once again."  This work was inspired by a Tsimshian "Button Blanket" which I saw in an exhibit of Native art from the area surrounding the Bering Sea, both North America and Asia,  called Crossroads of the Continents, in 1989.  Every time I see a photo of this work, I find myself charmed by it, and a smile, like the one on the bear, shines on my face and in my heart.  It has found a new home, returning to the area of its spawning grounds,  in the owners vacation cabin in Idaho.  

Volcano, AIDS, and a Princely Bear, from the early '90's

Pinatubo, 1991-92.  This work, approximately 12 x 18, created from geodes and earthy tones of translucent and transparent glass,was inspired by the cataclysmic eruption of Mount Pinatubo, in the Philippines in 1991.  At that time the AIDS/HIV epidemic was at it's height, with so many afflicted by this violent, virulent disease, including my nephew, to whom this work was given. 

Violet in July, 1992.  This circular window, donated to the Seacoast AIDS Auction, shortly after it was completed, to raise money for needy victims. It is approximately 16" in circumference. Completed during our national holiday, it blend the patriotic colors of the flag into Violet.  It is also meant to reference the laudatory celebration of birth by Stevie Wonder's song for MLKJr, from his album, Hotter than July, to affirm the worth of all human beings.

Neither work was exhibited publicly.

Art mirrors life, a story with illustrations: Ramone at the Clinic

Ramone at the Clinic

             Last Tuesday Chuck had an appointment at the VA Hospital in White River Junction.  It was at the Podiatry Clinic, on the 3^rd floor, adjacent to the Hearing Clinic, both recently and handsomely remodeled in warm earth colors.  We arose in the elevator, immediately opening to the bustling welcoming desks, where a white-haired gentleman, leaning over the desk, cupping his ear, was responding to the nurse who was inquiring if he were here for the Hearing clinic, with a resounding, “What?”

            Chuck signed in and we moved to the crowded waiting room, where most seats were taken.  A few patients in wheelchairs, with attendants, loitered in the middle of the room, adding to the confusion of employees and patrons.  We managed to get seats, and I selected an old New Yorker to read (this clinic always has interesting reading material, including local newspapers, as well as Veteran-related periodicals).  The population was, as always, an interesting variety of Vets from the whole history of contemporary military activity, from the few WWII survivors, Korea, Vietnam, and other Asian conflicts, as well as the more recent Middle Eastern actions. 

Chuck was soon called, met with amiable greetings from his Foot Specialist, an attractive Asian-American, who took him off with her towards quarters in the hall lined with physicians’ offices.

 There were many folks, alone or with partners.  In one corner sat a well-dressed gay couple, diligently reading, as were many of the people, of all sizes and ages, in the waiting room, many reading books that had been brought from home.

Into the melee came Ramone, a slight, skinny man, in baggy white shorts and a sleeveless white tee-shirt, his hair disheveled, his eyes large, looking about, as if to find his bearings.  In a small, but clear, rusty-voice he muttered, “Why do I always get the young guy who doesn’t know anything?”  He stared about, with no apparent interest in the humanity seated and surrounding him.  He seemed to slump momentarily, then, looking towards the doctor’s hall, said to himself, “I can’t stand this anymore!”, and disappeared, determinedly heading down the corridor of offices, lost from my view.

I went back to reading, amused at the outburst of this man, a twin to my Ramone.  A young bi-racial couple came in, and had to sit separately, she taking a seat across the room from her husband, as he pushed their baby in a stroller, a stark contrast to the pale octogenarian in a wheelchair, to which the child, with beautiful curly-hair and soft bronze coloring, was briefly paired. The wife, watching her mate and child, smiled as he took the tyke from the stroller, to feed him on his lap.  The look of adoration on her face was a serene balm in the crowded room.  I relaxed and returned to reading.

Chuck came out shortly, a big binding around his right big toe, cartoon-like, in his sandaled feet.  His doctor had performed a little surgery on an ingrown toenail.   Then he headed to the desk to make his next appointment.

Waiting behind him I was drawn to the attention as the door to the large elevator, capable of taking hospital beds plus a half a dozen adults opened.  In it was one solitary person, the one I had dubbed Ramone.  He looked up, his hand griping the side railing, eyes wide with a streak of panic. With exasperation in his voice, he slowly, quietly, said, “I can’t get out of here.”

Silently, the doors closed.

.

3 July 2014

2 from June

Two Paper-cuttings from June 2014

Uncle Finbarr weaves tales of Fish and the Sea, June 2014. (Handmade rag paper, acrylic paper, enamel on construction paper  10" x 16")

Imogene's Father, June 2014, (Acrylic paper, Rag cloth, acrylic & enamel on construction board 12" x 17")

"The Assumption of Aslan", Tryptic, cut paper, paint, 33 1/2" x 22 1/2". 27 June 2014

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