these 2 are 4x4" and on deep cradle board.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
buttons
why buttons? Not sure, but here you go. I experimented with layering oil paints and wax, and then hitting with the heat gun. the following are all 6x6" deep canvas board.
Machado Triptych
The Antonio Machado poem: Last Night As I Was Sleeping inspired these pieces:
the adapted poem is as follows:
Last night I dreamt that I had a beehive here inside my heart
and the golden bees were making white combs and sweet honey from my old failures.
Last night I dreamt that a fiery sun was giving light inside my heart.
sun because it gave light and brought tears to my eyes.
The true poem is longer, but these were the parts that I chose to depict in the triptych.
wintering: into the hive
winter is for women momento bottle and honey bottles will be part of the installation.It has been a long time coming! Today I tried to document some of my recent works for this show. It is going to be more installation oriented, as the space lends itself to that. Here is the where the title comes from and some of the ideas for the pieces. Feedback is appreciated!
Wintering
Sylvia Plath
This is the easy time, there is nothing doing.
I have whirled the midwife's extractor,
I have my honey,
Six jars of it,
Six cat's eyes in the wine cellar,
Wintering in a dark without window
At the heart of the house
Next to the last tenant's rancid jam
and the bottles of empty glitters ----
Sir So-and-so's gin.
This is the room I have never been in
This is the room I could never breathe in.
The black bunched in there like a bat,
No light
But the torch and its faint
Chinese yellow on appalling objects ----
Black asininity. Decay.
Possession.
It is they who own me.
Neither cruel nor indifferent,
Only ignorant.
This is the time of hanging on for the bees--the bees
So slow I hardly know them,
Filing like soldiers
To the syrup tin
To make up for the honey I've taken.
Tate and Lyle keeps them going,
The refined snow.
It is Tate and Lyle they live on, instead of flowers.
They take it. The cold sets in.
Now they ball in a mass,
Black
Mind against all that white.
The smile of the snow is white.
It spreads itself out, a mile-long body of Meissen,
Into which, on warm days,
They can only carry their dead.
The bees are all women,
Maids and the long royal lady.
They have got rid of the men,
The blunt, clumsy stumblers, the boors.
Winter is for women ----
The woman, still at her knitting,
At the cradle of Spanish walnut,
Her body a bulb in the cold and too dumb to think.
Will the hive survive, will the gladiolas
Succeed in banking their fires
To enter another year?
What will they taste of, the Christmas roses?
The bees are flying. They taste the spring.
Sylvia Plath
This is the easy time, there is nothing doing.
I have whirled the midwife's extractor,
I have my honey,
Six jars of it,
Six cat's eyes in the wine cellar,
Wintering in a dark without window
At the heart of the house
Next to the last tenant's rancid jam
and the bottles of empty glitters ----
Sir So-and-so's gin.
This is the room I have never been in
This is the room I could never breathe in.
The black bunched in there like a bat,
No light
But the torch and its faint
Chinese yellow on appalling objects ----
Black asininity. Decay.
Possession.
It is they who own me.
Neither cruel nor indifferent,
Only ignorant.
This is the time of hanging on for the bees--the bees
So slow I hardly know them,
Filing like soldiers
To the syrup tin
To make up for the honey I've taken.
Tate and Lyle keeps them going,
The refined snow.
It is Tate and Lyle they live on, instead of flowers.
They take it. The cold sets in.
Now they ball in a mass,
Black
Mind against all that white.
The smile of the snow is white.
It spreads itself out, a mile-long body of Meissen,
Into which, on warm days,
They can only carry their dead.
The bees are all women,
Maids and the long royal lady.
They have got rid of the men,
The blunt, clumsy stumblers, the boors.
Winter is for women ----
The woman, still at her knitting,
At the cradle of Spanish walnut,
Her body a bulb in the cold and too dumb to think.
Will the hive survive, will the gladiolas
Succeed in banking their fires
To enter another year?
What will they taste of, the Christmas roses?
The bees are flying. They taste the spring.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
new developments
Sunday, September 14, 2008
bottling the honey!
here are some attempts at creative bottling of the
Raw and Unprocessed UP Honey!
complete with bee and sacred heart milagros
These are 4 and 8 oz bottles.
ATC's about the bees
I had my students do artist trading cards as a warm-up to the year, so I did some too!... the size or trading cards...
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