it wants to be hacked at, with a piece of metal bent like a bow, the sharp edges wrapped in a piece of an old skirt.
I have resolved the question I have been wrestling with in relation to the ethics of rendering the molds unusable as molds. there are more than enough paint-your-own ceramic bowls resting on shelves all over the world. the loss of the bowls this particular mold might have made is balanced by the joy I am taking in making the mold into something I haven't yet decided, driven by impulses I don't stop to question as long as the chips of plaster are falling, are flying.
so I've decided this year to call myself a sculptor. and I have dreams of summer days, plaster I've mixed and molded myself, and handmade tools with handles of bamboo, or wood gleaned from the beach. of faces dug in the damp, firm sand along the river, and plaster mixed with riverwater poured in, and whatever messes might result from that.
and then the faces, left to weather.
Friday, February 13, 2009
the plaster isn't content to be scratched at anymore.
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4 comments:
you are a creator in the finest sense of the word!
seems to me you are being "molded", therefore the molds continue to do their work, in a much broader sense. and the idea of plaster on the beach is excellent. you should read an article on sandcasting and everything will come full circle. ho knew all this time you were readying to work with plaster??? pretty awesome...
that should've been "who", not "ho". i am still more defective in typing, one finger less you know, apparently the "w" finger...
I must say, pauline, that creating involves a fair bit of destruction some days. the poor plaster I was sawing and hacking at today looks like, well. I have no idea what it looks like. I'm not trying to make it look like anything, and most of what I do I undo, or not undo I suppose as I don't put the bits back on, but just keep chipping away, removing the last layer, trying to get to something. (perhaps only a big pile of dust.)
mark, I laughed at the "ho" part, wondering if there was some sort of psychic-sage out there who knew my future. I still have twinges of guilt about ruining the molds, but then I get involved in messing around with them and I forget about that and just give in to the intense and unreasoning need to keep going. I'll read about sandcasting. but first I'll go try it without knowing anything. (that's at least half the fun.)
the word verification is venustst. so I'll call today's mold venus. I had to name five of them on an application form for a show, so I picked the first five names that came into my head. which seems to suit the pieces well enough, if you're not too fussy about that sort of thing. (and I'm not.)
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