My favorite things 53

When my Dad was helping win WW2, his official MOS (military occupational specialty) was cartographer.  He never had a chance to find out what that meant in real service, because even before his division made it to Europe, he had been diverted to putting out a newspaper for the troops, but they did issue him a nifty little atlas, the 1943 edition, which he dutifully carried around for his entire length of service.

After the war the atlas soon became quaintly obsolete, all those dozens of newly independent nations still labeled with their colonial names (Belgian Congo, French West Africa, Anglo-Egyptian Sudan, Italian East Africa, Netherlands Indies, French Guiana, British Somaliland).  But the contours of the land were as they had always been.  I appropriated the atlas when I was maybe in fifth grade, when my fascination with maps became important.

I would put a sheet of carbon paper behind the page in the atlas, and trace it with a stylus to make maps for my term papers and book reports.  Raised to never, never, never, never put a mark into a book, I was meticulous about keeping the atlas pristine, although leafing through it today, I find black smudges on one page.

And apparently I decided to ink in the border between East and West Germany, which appears to stop in midstream, because by 1943 Czechoslovakia was just another part of Germany, no border indicated.

I've loved that book for many decades, often taking it down from the shelf just to recapture a bit of the world before I was born.  For instance, how intriguing to find the map of petroleum production with not a single green dot in Saudi Arabia, or the map of automobile production with the huge red circle in the US and the tiniest dot in Japan.  I can easily open any page at random and pfft, an hour has gone by.

Over the years I've probably spent more time with this book than with any other single book in the world.  I own other, more recent atlases, but none of them fill the room with magic when I open them the way this one does.

It's fitting that I'm ending my year of favorite things with a book of maps, because my daily art project for 2018 is going to be maps.  I'll talk more about that in the next week, but for now I'll just close out a very good year (personally, if not for the world at large) with this wonderful thing.  On this New Year's Eve, I know we all hope for wonderful things, at least a few of them, in the year ahead, and I wish many of them for us all.

Ornaments 2017

I wanted to make small ornaments this year, and was happy when I found some little wooden cubes at the craft store, about 3/4 inch on the side, pre-stained in several different colors.  Best of all, there were 72 in the pack, and I have only about 50 people on my ornament list, so I could ruin some without having to make an emergency run to the store for more raw materials.

But what do you expect for 5 cents apiece -- some of the cubes were pretty rough on one or more sides, so I had to apply gesso and sand and then paint over the white gesso, so some ended up two-tone.  That took me a while, because of the drying time -- I'd get a bunch to the next stage but not be able to get back to work till the next day.

Finally the fun part: wire and beads to "wrap up" the little packages.

My favorite things 52

Many years ago my sister bought a present for Dad -- a Christmas bear.  Turn him on, and he taps his toe, strums his guitar and plays Jingle Bells, in a syncopated rock-n-roll rhythm.  Clearly this was the perfect present for the man who had everything.

I don't recall whether there was negotiation, after our parents died, over who got the Christmas bear.  Maybe I pulled rank as the oldest survivor, or maybe nobody else wanted it (although how could that be possible??).  But the bear came home with me, and has been an integral part of our holiday celebrations ever since.  He needed a new battery a couple of years ago, but is otherwise good as new.

Most of the time he takes his position on the bar in the dining room, ready to perform for the assembled guests.

When we first met Isaac, age 3, at a Christmas dinner, the bear was on hand to make him feel welcome.  Isaac needed to be held up to reach the button, but now, of course, he's tall enough to do so without help.  This year it's new baby Vivian who will have to be held up to meet the bear. 

When we do Christmas away from home the bear comes along, so as you read this, our whole family will be listening to Jingle Bells at the beach in South Carolina. 

All of us wish all of you a very good Christmas!

New collages -- finished at last

I wrote a while back about a new direction in collage -- mounting my work on wood painting panels.  I finished a couple in September and put them into the gallery, but because I'm still in the exploratory stage of this series, I played around for a long time before deciding that the rest were finished.  I had a deadline: the holiday sale at Pyro Gallery, in which every artist in the co-op has work hung, and we allow people to take home anything they purchase right away instead of waiting for the end of the show. 

The work had to be hung by Thursday, and as late as Wednesday I was in the studio putting on the last coats of matte medium and installing eye hooks and picture wire.  But on Thursday morning they all made it onto the wall.

What I finally decided was needed to finish off the pieces was a 3-D element, so I rooted around in my various boxes and piles and came up with some keys, bits of computer circuit boards, glasses lenses, plastic doodads, wood cubes and even a huge pencil with a turtle carved into its non-sharpened end.  Affixed them with glue and wire and declared victory.

I know I like using the wood panels as collage supports, and the method of doing several pieces at once, letting one dry while working on another.  I like the maps, old book cuttings and old photos, and the various found objects.  Not sure about the rickrack or the beads.

After the holidays I guess it will be time to go buy another pack of panels and start another series.

Meanwhile, all of these are on display and for sale at Pyro Gallery, at our new location at 1006 East Washington St. in Louisville.  If you're in the neighborhood, please stop by and see our wonderful new home -- and a whole lot of excellent artwork.

My favorite things 51

Over the years we have become less and less inclined to do a lot of Christmas decorating, giving away huge boxes of ornaments to our kids and putting up fewer outdoor things that require climbing on ladders in the cold.  But there are a few doodads that are non-negotiably required.  Such as my angel choir.  (I know it's really an orchestra, not a choir, but for some reason that's what I have always called them and I'm not going to change now.)

When I was about 12 my godmother sent the angels to me.  She didn't ordinarily send gifts but maybe this was special because I was confirmed that year?  Anyway, it was the first Christmas doodad that was mine alone, rather than a family possession, and I always took great care with where and how the angels were set out. 

They never had a regular place, but would be arrayed wherever it seemed best.  Every year they tried out different formations: all in a row, or in a two-by-two procession, or arranged into percussion, brass and string sections.  Here they are performing from atop the Bose radio, so their songs can be broadcast throughout the house.

Over the years the angels have shown some signs of wear.  A few wings have broken off and had to be glued on.  The conductor has lost one arm (fortunately not the one with the baton).  There some paint chips.  But they continue to make beautiful angel music

Disappointment in the museum

We drove over to Evansville IN on Saturday night to attend the opening of the 45th Mid-States Craft Exhibit, a venerable juried show that the Evansville Museum has sponsored for many years.  This show appears every other year, alternating with the Mid-States Art Exhibit (which doesn't accept textiles).

I was pleased to have one of my big flag quilts accepted for this show, and was looking forward to the visit.  Six years ago this week I was planning to attend the opening of the same show, and even receive an award, but found myself in the hospital instead for sudden surgery.  So this was a chance to remove a jinx.

As we walked through the museum, we passed signs:

But when we got to the Mid-States room, and I took out my camera, the guard leaped on it.  No photos.

But this is my piece!

Sorry, no photos.

An onlooker summoned the museum director, who said of course it would be fine for me to take a picture of my own quilt.  She explained that they banned photography because the museum doesn't own any of this work and they didn't know whether it would be OK with the artists to have their work photographed.

This explanation was more mystifying than reassuring.

First off, why do artists enter juried shows?  Presumably because they want their work to be seen, by as many people as possible.  (At least that's why I enter.)  And in this day of social media, having your work posted online has the potential of reaching far more people than just those who come to the museum.  Which is presumably the reason why the museum posts those "Snap it share it" signs.  So presumably artists would be happy to have their work photographed, and with any luck, distributed online.

Second, I don't believe I have ever entered a show where I didn't expect my work to be on display for public consumption (including photos).  Yes, some shows are picky and ban photos, but I've always thought this was (a) wrong-headed and (b) because they want to sell catalogs.  For shows that don't have catalogs, like the Mid-States, I am especially interested, as an artist, in having the show documented as widely as possible.  I know my work is going to be displayed in public, and I expect -- even hope -- that people may want to take photos.

Finally, if in fact there are artists who might have reasons to want their work NOT photographed -- which I have a hard time imagining -- show sponsors can take care of that in an instant by putting a line on the bottom of the entry form.  "I understand by entering this show I give permission for my work to be available for photography by the public."  Many shows have similar disclaimers on entry forms for allowing images to be used for public relations, so why not require that we allow use by public photography?  What's the difference?

Please don't protect me from the public!!!  If I want my work not to be photographed, I can easily deal with that by not entering the show.

I am sorry that I can't give you a review of the show, as I customarily do when I get to visit shows and museums that many of my readers can't.  There were interesting pieces on display in the Mid-States, and I would have liked to share my responses with you.