Void of Life

This carving was completed last month but I didn't get a decent photograph until this weekend. It's depicting a dead ptarmigan and was created for an online exhibit to open shortly.

It measures just over 3 inches in length and is carved from boxwood, with a light scumbling of paint made from animal glue and gofun. I had a tought time with the finish on this one- I really liked the bare wood, especially in a soft light where the volume of the body and the feathers showed to an advantage. A recent trip to New York and an exhibit at the Japan Society changed my mind. There were several basketry pieces coated in rough mixtures of gofun, ash, sumi and clay. The tactility and coarseness attracted me and I left thinking I'd like to explore more in this vein. At any rate, after three trial coatings and subsequent strippings, I settled on this wash of paint that was dabbled on.

It gives a nice soft effect- absorbing light and adding a satifying feel in the hand. The paint forms a sort of crust on the high points of the carving and suggests fleeting life inside.

Belt Hook

I finished this piece recently. It's in the shape of a Chinese belt hook- an accessory used in ancient times to fasten one's belt or cloak. The stud on the base would fit into a hole or slit in the belt, and the curved hook part would latch to the other side. They were made out of bronze, iron or stone; typically jade. They run the spectrum from ornately gilt and inlaid pieces, to ones that seem to be purely functional. Wanting to develop a narrative with this piece, I chose a cat-like beast on one end with rabbit or hare on the other. It measures 3 1/4 in. (8 cm) long and is carved from mountain mahogany, with a light wash of verdigris pigment to suggest some age and patina.

Modern-day Inro?

I came across this case at a store recently, made by the design company Umbra. They call it a Bungee Micro, but I think it looks suspiciously like an inro, like this one from the Boston Museum of Fine Arts:

There's a small elastic cord than runs up internal cord channels and joins at the top of the case. The upper portion lifts as a lid and then fits back into place with the retention of the cord. There aren't stacking compartments in this one (hey, it's under 6 bucks) but it will fit money and a set of keys. The neck cord is also the perfect thickness to fit into the himotoshi of a netsuke, for suspension from your belt. There are business card holders and mp3 player cases in the Bungee line too.

End of the Season

Autumn might be still on the calendar, but Winter brought a chilly 6 degrees F this morning. The picture above was taken a few weeks back when there were still plenty of plump, sweet persimmons in the trees. The few that remain now look like neglected Christmas ornaments on a twiggy bough.

I haven't posted anything since July- not because I haven't been working and creating things, but I just haven't been happy with the quality of the photographs. The more I think about it, it seems like these days with ease of photo sharing online, the picture has almost become the surrogate for the object shown. Artists are finding new ways of marketing themselves. Dealers and collectors are able to discover new works, giving them a taste before arranging to see the actual items and purchasing.

My carvings are appreciated by those who purchase them, but without a successful photo there's a trap I fall in to thinking the item hasn't be legitimatized.

A photograph can never capture the reality of the piece, especially an intimate carving, yet it's the standard by which artworks are often judged these days. There are exquisite works of art from the past and present which will never appear online. Don't forget we see with our fingers and noses as much as our eyes. Get out there and see some work in person. Give it a caress and a sniff.

Stay tuned... I've got three works in the final stages right now and a friend with a camera dropping by. We'll try to capture something.

Something Utilitarian

This past June I visited Japan for two weeks and had a fruitful time studying aspects of design and craft as I encountered them- especially those little things that crop up in everyday life. At a meal one night with friends, we were served a dish of soft tofu curds garnished with shaved dried tuna and sea salt in a small cedar bucket, with a wooden spoon as a serving utensil. For some reason, the design and purpose of the spoon stuck with me. Up 'til that time I had never carved a spoon so I thought I'd give it a try with a piece of dense cherry from my stock.

In no time at all, I began thinking about the qualities that make a good spoon- I type them here in a rough way as they came to me:

The shape of the bowl relates to the intended foodstuff it will carry- will it be a liquid and therefore more ladle-like shapes needed? A solid, but loose or granular food needs a square front edge to dig in; something drier but clumping (mashed potatoes?) can be transferred with a shallower bowl.

The angle of the bowl in relation to the stem, and in turn how it relates to the angle with which it's held.
The graceful curve in elevation starting with a tight turn for the bowl, and slowly arcing to a taper at the end of the stem.

How the stem fits in one's hand at the points of the fingers' grip and where it rests in the fleshy part between thumb and forefinger.

The center of gravity and the relationship between the mass of the bowl and that of the stem.

The finish of the carving- rough hewn to provide a satisfying grip, or polished to compliment the elegance of a meal?

The transition between the bowl and stem needs to be considered- abrupt, or tapering?

How will the bowl feel in one's mouth, if it's to be a personal spoon?

I'll end the brainstorming there, but the point is, even the simplest of tools can require an exercise in forethought and design.

The Past Revisited

Several years ago I was working in an archaeology lab at a university in England and acquired a piece of deer antler that had been recovered from a peat bog in Scotland. Excavation suggested it was many hundreds of years old. In the timespan, it had developed a beautiful chocolate brown coloration- perhaps from the tannins and minerals present. It was a precious material and I didn't want to do too much to it to ruin or distract from its beauty. A simple vine of ivy seemed an appropriate solution.

The piece existed this way for a year or two without attracting much interest and I started revisiting the subject. Clive Hallam, an accomplished carver of small scale (the carvings, not the man!), kindly suggested that I was approaching the material too delicately- causing me to hold back. I wanted to convey the age of the material through the subject matter and thought that the ivy (suggesting age) needed a counterbalance. The material's origin in Scotland gave me the answer. The pale area you can see to the lower right needed attention. I settled on creating a suggestion of an ivy vine growing on a decayed structure of wattle and daub- an early building method of woven branches covered in mud and straw (perhaps some muck, to boot!) finished with a finer coating of mud. This construction method was used when the antler was initially given its burial and seems appropriate. Some of the ivy leaves were revised with wood inlay and highlights of dew or freshness added with silver. Himotoshi are lined with ebony.

Two horses: same color

I thought with this modest post I'd give links to two websites of artists and craftspeople working with the same color: Blue. More specifically, they are dyeing with the chemical compound Indigotin.
Indigotin is found chiefly in two plants: Woad (Isatis tinctoria) and Indigo (Indigofera tinctoria)- the second part of both plant names tips us off to their use. Indigo apparently has thirty times more blue potential in it than woad, which explains in part why it has never exactly gone out of use.
Woad however, was the dye used mostly in Europe until cheap exports of Indigo from India (via England) ruined the local business. This wasn't entirely a bad thing though- there are writings from the time expressing the effect woad had on the land- it robs soil of much of its nutrition, creating a wasteland in its wake and requiring fresh soil every ten years or so to keep the plants viable. Currently, it is naturalized in the US and very much a nuisance weed in certain areas.

Back to the artisans though:
The first, Bleu de Lectoure is a business run by a couple in France creating all sorts of products using woad as the coloring agent. Pastels, house paints and clothing are just some of their creations.

The second, is the work of Rowland Ricketts and his wife Chinami: They've farmed and processed indigo in the past and use it in their fiber art presently. Their work expresses beauty and lightness in a very contemporary style.

Either way, I'm sure you'll agree that in skilled hands these plants contribute something wonderful.