KEITH BOND'S QUESTIONNAIRE ABOUT AUCTIONS:
- MY VIEW ON ART AUCTIONS – Response to Keith Bond’s question on FineArtViews
Do you feel that auctions in general are good or bad?
Nothing wrong with them.
- Do you resent that you are giving away the art for next to nothing?
If I want to GIVE the art away, I will make it a gift. If it is a benefit, I will GIVE the piece to the auction…it’s a gift. People are aware that it is a rare thing for me to do it.
- Are you honored to be at the show in the first place?
Pleased to be asked, and I always say so, sincerely. But I don’t usually accept. - Do you believe in the cause?
I only GIVE to the auction if I especially support the cause. (e.g., son’s school; habitat for humanity *see story below) - Does believing in the cause justify getting less for your art?
In my mind, it’s a GIFT. - Are you participating to please someone else (gallery owner, museum curator, friend,
- etc.)?
No, in fact I make clear that I steer away from most auction requests. - Even if the piece sells for less than retail, do you view the buyer as a new life-long collector that you can cultivate and build a relationship with?
Sure. - Do you build that relationship?
If I am able. - Or do you view the buyer as a cheapskate?
Not if I believe in the cause. I view the buyer as lucky--just as I am lucky if I get a good deal at an auction. - Are you grateful for any sale, regardless of how large or small?
I am happy for the customer that my work will be enjoyed, but I want the customer to know that future pieces are at the “regular price.” - Or would you rather not sell anything than sell for less than what you think it is worth?
If it’s a gift, it’s not a sale. - Or do you just deal with it because you are desperate for any sale you can get?
No. - Do you consider participation in the event as good PR or advertising or building brand image?
Sure.
- Or is your art only a “product” (dare I use that word?) that you could sell for more elsewhere?
If it’s a carved “Silk Purse Product”, it’s a product. If it’s a painting, it’s something more than only a product, usually. I am more emotionally attached to it.
CAROLYN HENDERSON'S REPLY TO A COMMENT ON HER LIVELY ART FORUM ARTICLE
I LOVE THIS DESCRIPTION OF WHAT AN ARTIST DOES!
http://faso.com/fineartviews/42974/the-tough-sensitive-artist
Among comments to Carolyn Henderson's article (see this link) in FASO's Fine Art Views, she replies to a reader's question about sensitivity and artists. I quote from her reply, with permission:
"... artists are perceived as being more sensitive because they look at the world around them -- frequently the unseen, abstract elements of it, and by abstract I'm not talking art style, but aspects that can't be touched and handled -- and they put this in a format that others can view and interpret. That takes a high degree of thought, analysis, contemplation, and, for lack of better word, sensitivity. Artists are tuned and attuned to the melodies and harmonies of life and the world around them."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~LOVELY, ISN'T IT? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
PLAY!
Play Collage, watercolor and mixed media, 5x7, copyright SG Holland 2010
Artists Play -- it's the way art gets made.
The image here is a collage made up of torn painting experiments that were a result of playing...playing over a series of days sprinkled through a month or more.
I was doing color work with some fellow artists, using a starkly limited palette of primary colors. After our first session, I couldn't really stop, and continued on with new trials of effects of scratching, blotting, dotting, over painting, adding metallic touches, and even "finding" shapes in the resulting pieces and enhancing them to be recognizable.
Months later, I found these things in my much stuff pile, and decided to tear them, using the torn edges as a color-- inking some of the torn edges black, and then gluing the shapes onto each other.
Later still, I cut the resulting collage into rectangles which now are enjoying a new life , framed but not backed, and displayed as colorful objects which are fun to look at and wonder about. I almost wish I didn't have to glaze these pieces...the texture of the work is fun to touch too. I propped these little things up against a window, and was delighted to find that sunshine illuminating them from behind would bring them into a hugely dramatic state...like stained glass.
Now I am wondering whether little "rice" lights, like the kind they use for train models, could be inserted behind the piece within the frame and attached to a low-profile switch, so the paintings could be turned on in a decor of some sort. They are really charming looking.
A waste of time? Well, seems so, but not so, for an artist.
These flights of fancy stretched my boundaries, and by the time I had torn, over layered, glued and otherwise distressed my careful play works, it was with a great freedom that I moved forward with the cutting and mounting. I was a viewer at my own exhibit, seeing all this stuff as new and strange, sort of like the "mindfulness" concept in yoga practice.
I'll probably not make a practice of manufacturing these, or making a series, even though I like them. They are warmups, and exercises and very possibly the most significant expenditure of time because they shook up my mind-set and made me see new possibilities. The "what if's" ...that's what I call them.
But let the playing continue! Break out and try stuff! It's a very healthy thing for an artist to do!
I was doing color work with some fellow artists, using a starkly limited palette of primary colors. After our first session, I couldn't really stop, and continued on with new trials of effects of scratching, blotting, dotting, over painting, adding metallic touches, and even "finding" shapes in the resulting pieces and enhancing them to be recognizable.
Months later, I found these things in my much stuff pile, and decided to tear them, using the torn edges as a color-- inking some of the torn edges black, and then gluing the shapes onto each other.
Later still, I cut the resulting collage into rectangles which now are enjoying a new life , framed but not backed, and displayed as colorful objects which are fun to look at and wonder about. I almost wish I didn't have to glaze these pieces...the texture of the work is fun to touch too. I propped these little things up against a window, and was delighted to find that sunshine illuminating them from behind would bring them into a hugely dramatic state...like stained glass.
Now I am wondering whether little "rice" lights, like the kind they use for train models, could be inserted behind the piece within the frame and attached to a low-profile switch, so the paintings could be turned on in a decor of some sort. They are really charming looking.
A waste of time? Well, seems so, but not so, for an artist.
These flights of fancy stretched my boundaries, and by the time I had torn, over layered, glued and otherwise distressed my careful play works, it was with a great freedom that I moved forward with the cutting and mounting. I was a viewer at my own exhibit, seeing all this stuff as new and strange, sort of like the "mindfulness" concept in yoga practice.
I'll probably not make a practice of manufacturing these, or making a series, even though I like them. They are warmups, and exercises and very possibly the most significant expenditure of time because they shook up my mind-set and made me see new possibilities. The "what if's" ...that's what I call them.
But let the playing continue! Break out and try stuff! It's a very healthy thing for an artist to do!
FIGURING OUT HOW THINGS WORK
... mea culpa re: the Google Flap
Photograph courtesy of David Hoots, copyright 2012
What I've been up to these weeks on another oldswimmer blog site.
http://oldswimmer.wordpress.com/2012/03/06/ego-addiction-and-the-google-issue/
. “CUSTOMIZE YOUR WORKBENCH”
“CUSTOMIZE YOUR WORKBENCH”
This is what my Woodworker’s “feed” is touting today. It seems to me that a LOT of the Woodworker’s magazine feed has to do with creating workbenches. Could it be that creating workbenches is what appeals more than anything else to woodworkers?
My mom used to say, “your father’s down in the shop fussing with his tools.” This did not mean, when my mother said it, that he was making anything with his tools. It meant that he was arranging his tools into lovingly designed nooks and crannies so that they had a place to BE.
And the workbench was a place for his tool holders to be, including the several vises he had for working with woods and metals, and the long lathe which had adaptors that allowed wood or metal work.
The line-up of files and awls and punches and dies and calipers and shapers and chisels were a wonder to behold. Each had its leather thong “home” and they were arranged somewhat like drill bits, with the tall ones at one end and the short ones at the other.
My mother would bemoan the fact that the man had a shop but never made anything! Well, this is not really true. One thing he made was a long and wonderfully commodious art cabinet for my much stuff as I grew up making paintings in my room. I took that cabinet with me well into my thirties, when I finally had to leave it in Pennsylvania when we moved in a small U-Haul to Washington State.
My Dad knew how wonderful it is to have a space to work on things. I am Unsurprised that my son is his grandfather’s successor in making furniture. My son makes very fine furniture, and his shop is a wonder of order and efficiency. But he actually makes things in it.
One year he created an extended table for his smallish table saw out of half of our ping pong table, which was in the other half of the basement. This was expressly designed so that he could make the art cabinet mentioned above! I think it was still set up when the folks moved to an apartment after they retired. My Dad gave most of his tools to the man who had been gardening for them for years and years. What a treasure trove that guy got. My brother was very angry that he didn’t get the tools my father treasured. But my brother and my father didn’t see eye to eye at that time, so that’s how it happened.
How many of us artists are material lovers? Supply-o-philes? I am. The Daniel Smith catalog gets a good going over even though my studio is always awash in colors and papers and canvases and such. How many paint brushes are standing in jars all around—varnish brushes, and oil brushes, and watercolor brushes, sumi brishes, riggers and liners, pouncers, and wire brushes, and tooth brushes, and anti-static brushes? It is immense, this collection of wonderfulness.
Do I make stuff with it all? Yes, in spates. I cannot, and will not, get rid of these things, even when they are stubby and awful. (I might be able to make a special texture with that one…better save it.)
Like father, like daughter. Except he was orderly. I am more of a junk box type, where things of sort of the same ilk get poked into a certain box, or boxes, if the collection gets too big. I love my tools. Really love them.
I hope I have someone who will be appreciative of the value when I get to where I have to give them away. Maybe I’ll give them to my son—he will not tell me if he tosses the scrubby bristled brush, and I will be happy in myself that it found a sensible person to own it. On the other hand, he might find it useful for some special texture on a piece of furniture some time. He will wish he hadn’t thrown it out.
Old Swimmer.
This is what my Woodworker’s “feed” is touting today. It seems to me that a LOT of the Woodworker’s magazine feed has to do with creating workbenches. Could it be that creating workbenches is what appeals more than anything else to woodworkers?
My mom used to say, “your father’s down in the shop fussing with his tools.” This did not mean, when my mother said it, that he was making anything with his tools. It meant that he was arranging his tools into lovingly designed nooks and crannies so that they had a place to BE.
And the workbench was a place for his tool holders to be, including the several vises he had for working with woods and metals, and the long lathe which had adaptors that allowed wood or metal work.
The line-up of files and awls and punches and dies and calipers and shapers and chisels were a wonder to behold. Each had its leather thong “home” and they were arranged somewhat like drill bits, with the tall ones at one end and the short ones at the other.
My mother would bemoan the fact that the man had a shop but never made anything! Well, this is not really true. One thing he made was a long and wonderfully commodious art cabinet for my much stuff as I grew up making paintings in my room. I took that cabinet with me well into my thirties, when I finally had to leave it in Pennsylvania when we moved in a small U-Haul to Washington State.
My Dad knew how wonderful it is to have a space to work on things. I am Unsurprised that my son is his grandfather’s successor in making furniture. My son makes very fine furniture, and his shop is a wonder of order and efficiency. But he actually makes things in it.
One year he created an extended table for his smallish table saw out of half of our ping pong table, which was in the other half of the basement. This was expressly designed so that he could make the art cabinet mentioned above! I think it was still set up when the folks moved to an apartment after they retired. My Dad gave most of his tools to the man who had been gardening for them for years and years. What a treasure trove that guy got. My brother was very angry that he didn’t get the tools my father treasured. But my brother and my father didn’t see eye to eye at that time, so that’s how it happened.
How many of us artists are material lovers? Supply-o-philes? I am. The Daniel Smith catalog gets a good going over even though my studio is always awash in colors and papers and canvases and such. How many paint brushes are standing in jars all around—varnish brushes, and oil brushes, and watercolor brushes, sumi brishes, riggers and liners, pouncers, and wire brushes, and tooth brushes, and anti-static brushes? It is immense, this collection of wonderfulness.
Do I make stuff with it all? Yes, in spates. I cannot, and will not, get rid of these things, even when they are stubby and awful. (I might be able to make a special texture with that one…better save it.)
Like father, like daughter. Except he was orderly. I am more of a junk box type, where things of sort of the same ilk get poked into a certain box, or boxes, if the collection gets too big. I love my tools. Really love them.
I hope I have someone who will be appreciative of the value when I get to where I have to give them away. Maybe I’ll give them to my son—he will not tell me if he tosses the scrubby bristled brush, and I will be happy in myself that it found a sensible person to own it. On the other hand, he might find it useful for some special texture on a piece of furniture some time. He will wish he hadn’t thrown it out.
Old Swimmer.
Take Me Out To the Ballgame; and include a lot of family, please!
TAKE ME OUT WITH THE CROWD...
The family, as many as could be gathered, came to Riddley and his Grammie's birthday treat...seats at the Mariner's Game. There were people missing-- they were out of town or otherwise indisposed-- and the M's lost by one run-- but we had a good time and a lot of food and peanuts and everything sticky and bad for you was passed around and scarfed up. Rare pictures of Andrew, and of Sharon and Skip here. And a nice buddy of Riddley's too. No one really caught on that I was using the camera as a video except Darci, and it took a bit for the messy mouths guys to turn around and smile. Anyway, it's my family and extended family, and I am glad I was there. Of course I skipped myself on this video. :)
Jan 30 2012 Finally! -- the car is where it should be and I am making plans to use it for getting places! What a concept!
The Thaw...
The overnight rains (three inches, they are telling us) have taken the snow pack down to where I can envision using the car sometime soon! I found that watching the behavior of icicles is a good way to see what's happening. The night before the video below was taken, I watched the daytime icicles form as the temperature dropped and the drips on the ends froze before falling... a slow motion monitor and quite mesmerizing. Now, in the video below you can see that the temperature has risen and the ice is melting-- also fascinating because of the very very narrow streams of water that pour from the icicle tips.
Well..there's not much to do about the weather, other than watch it from inside!
Today I will go re-dig the trenches around the workshop so that the floods of water coming down from the mountains and through this property will skip around my workspace and go on down the grade to the places below (where they are likely doing the same thing. ) There will be torrents for days-- like the spring thaw that happened in April. Rushing streams and mini-rivers push through and if I am not vigilantly clearing the passages, they will get dammed up and make a real lake between the house and the workshop. So I'll be getting on my Wellies and taking a rake and shovel to the mess out there. The temps are in the 40's, thank goodness, and I see a patch of blue sky as I look out this same window. Enjoy!
Well..there's not much to do about the weather, other than watch it from inside!
Today I will go re-dig the trenches around the workshop so that the floods of water coming down from the mountains and through this property will skip around my workspace and go on down the grade to the places below (where they are likely doing the same thing. ) There will be torrents for days-- like the spring thaw that happened in April. Rushing streams and mini-rivers push through and if I am not vigilantly clearing the passages, they will get dammed up and make a real lake between the house and the workshop. So I'll be getting on my Wellies and taking a rake and shovel to the mess out there. The temps are in the 40's, thank goodness, and I see a patch of blue sky as I look out this same window. Enjoy!
```````````````````````````````````````````````````````````
My "wheels" today, January 20, 2011, encased in ice and not to be entered, much less driven. We are walking a careful path down the mountain to the flatter areas where roads are plowed, using walking sticks and trying not to trip on the holes our feet make in the ice crust that sits above about fourteen inches of underlying snow! Very exciting, but dangerous, too, when you hear the big icy clods falling from the trees as the thawing rain weighs them down. Beautiful, but I'll be so glad to be back to normal.
I've taken the snow off of the car each day (except for the "mohawk" that remained after yesterday's efforts) and I shook the shed roof from the inside to dislodge the snow regularly until it was impossible due to the weight. Hope it holds until the thaw! Lots of stuff stored in there, including product!
The scene out the window on Jan 19, 2011--- a good day to stay indoors.
Who visits us in the wilderness? How can we leave? Plans. A Bit of Melancholy...
Not one footprint do you see going from the house's porch step over to the workshop--- that building over there with the snow on the black tarp that is keeping moisture out of the place.
Our first significant winter snow came and put three lovely inches on the top surfaces of our deep forest environment today. We don't get many visitors up here, but the weather comes every day, and how neat is that?
I took way too many pictures, and I have a great collection of wild forest shots without ever leaving this little cabin! I feel so privileged to live in such a place.
There is another side to this story, and that is the understanding that this will be part of the ending of a little epoch that has changed my life. We will be finding a place nearer civilization simply for the need of people nearby for safety's and worry's sake. The kids worry when I get sick, or have difficulties out here in the boonies.
Those trees you see fall down now and then. We had a storm in November that brought down a two-hundred foot Douglas Fir across the foot of the driveway! Another hundred footer (Maple) snapped off in the forest and came crashing across the upper part of the property. It's still there waiting for the winter to dry up so heavy equipment won't make giant moats in the landscaping.
I fell off a ladder recently--it happened so quickly--the ladder just bent (it was old, like me) and broke, and down I went on the apron of that shop you see in the photo. It was me putting up the black stuff -- that was what did it
So now it's January, and other than doing the taxes (hoo boy) I also am recovering from a month plus of having flu, and then to top it off a medical procedure that makes me feel as if I'm getting the flu all over again. This has put an abrupt halt to production of bowls. Well, no one is buying them right now anyway.
Christmas was okay, but not munificent. No one has any money these days.
What have I been doing instead? Thinking and sleeping. As I spend a lot of time in my bed between little spates of writing and eating, I look up through the skylight over my bed and ideas come. Sometimes I wake up and jot them on the back of a sudoku puzzle or a junk mailer. I have a nice little stack of ideas for bowl carvings, and also for shop solutions (but will I have a shop? Uncertainty...it has made me grateful for what I have counted on for these lovely months.
Always a new adventure-- that's what I try to say to my housemate who is, of course, a part of the larger impetus to move...she has her own reasons. We talk about the possibilities-- should she come toward Seattle too? It would do her good. We get along very well. She might find good work closer to the city.
Will my old buddy Jo, who helped me the first year of Silk Purse Products, come along too? And would it end up with my grandson from NM being part of the group? Could we find a nice rural farm with a tool shed or garage for making bowls? That's the question, and we will be finding out the answers eventually. It's exciting...but it makes me melancholic to look at my wonderland here-- yes, with the mess and the firepit full of branches and leaves, waiting for a good fire-day. When I look out of my bedroom window-- any of the three windows and also the skylight, I see unadulterated nature right before my eyes. It's hard to leave. (But it was hard to leave the other place---a huge panorama of the lower Puget Sound with Mt. Rainier standing amongst the mountains to the east. That was hard to leave.)
Our first significant winter snow came and put three lovely inches on the top surfaces of our deep forest environment today. We don't get many visitors up here, but the weather comes every day, and how neat is that?
I took way too many pictures, and I have a great collection of wild forest shots without ever leaving this little cabin! I feel so privileged to live in such a place.
There is another side to this story, and that is the understanding that this will be part of the ending of a little epoch that has changed my life. We will be finding a place nearer civilization simply for the need of people nearby for safety's and worry's sake. The kids worry when I get sick, or have difficulties out here in the boonies.
Those trees you see fall down now and then. We had a storm in November that brought down a two-hundred foot Douglas Fir across the foot of the driveway! Another hundred footer (Maple) snapped off in the forest and came crashing across the upper part of the property. It's still there waiting for the winter to dry up so heavy equipment won't make giant moats in the landscaping.
I fell off a ladder recently--it happened so quickly--the ladder just bent (it was old, like me) and broke, and down I went on the apron of that shop you see in the photo. It was me putting up the black stuff -- that was what did it
So now it's January, and other than doing the taxes (hoo boy) I also am recovering from a month plus of having flu, and then to top it off a medical procedure that makes me feel as if I'm getting the flu all over again. This has put an abrupt halt to production of bowls. Well, no one is buying them right now anyway.
Christmas was okay, but not munificent. No one has any money these days.
What have I been doing instead? Thinking and sleeping. As I spend a lot of time in my bed between little spates of writing and eating, I look up through the skylight over my bed and ideas come. Sometimes I wake up and jot them on the back of a sudoku puzzle or a junk mailer. I have a nice little stack of ideas for bowl carvings, and also for shop solutions (but will I have a shop? Uncertainty...it has made me grateful for what I have counted on for these lovely months.
Always a new adventure-- that's what I try to say to my housemate who is, of course, a part of the larger impetus to move...she has her own reasons. We talk about the possibilities-- should she come toward Seattle too? It would do her good. We get along very well. She might find good work closer to the city.
Will my old buddy Jo, who helped me the first year of Silk Purse Products, come along too? And would it end up with my grandson from NM being part of the group? Could we find a nice rural farm with a tool shed or garage for making bowls? That's the question, and we will be finding out the answers eventually. It's exciting...but it makes me melancholic to look at my wonderland here-- yes, with the mess and the firepit full of branches and leaves, waiting for a good fire-day. When I look out of my bedroom window-- any of the three windows and also the skylight, I see unadulterated nature right before my eyes. It's hard to leave. (But it was hard to leave the other place---a huge panorama of the lower Puget Sound with Mt. Rainier standing amongst the mountains to the east. That was hard to leave.)
The view from the window behind me when I am in bed. The late sun gives a hint of warmth-- the eaves make a good pattern. I'll paint this someday.
THE ETERNAL LEARNING CURVE
Monet and what I am beginning to understand about his vision
Susan Holland underpainting for grasses and water
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Claude_Monet
Claude Monet did his due diligence to learn to see. The link above sends you to a brief overview of his life and also to an image that I will put here (see below). I have been looking and wondering for months now about this small painting (AT LEFT) I started many months ago derived from a photo I took on a walk in the Southern reaches of Puget Sound. Something in me wants it to stay the way it is...I enjoy letting my eye wander and imagine, and I will probably never go further with this painting, but it's not something I feel I could show as finished art.
I think Monet may have had some of those same misgivings, and also delights when his work began to take the famous impressionist turn that brought us his lily pads and blurry landscapes. I love the indiefiniteness of his output very well -- it is almost a different experience each time it's seen, unlike more pictorially definite paintings, which are nice, but stay pretty much the same each time you enjoy them..
My little venture above is certainly no Monet, but there are Monet-like qualities that made me realize much more about his approach. My painting above is very scumbley-- that is, I have stroked over the canvas surface in strokes that are somewhat broken, and I have left a lot of the canvas color showing. It's very spare, and disappointing in a way, since there is not a lot of paint on there. But it's nice.
Look at the painting Monet gives us now, and see if this very small image doesn't take you somewhere that is quite definite, even though its details are very obscure if not invisible. Do you feel the spirit of the artist in the strokes, and do you sense the spirit of the landscape and weather as you let the colors draw your eye around and through the painting. It's magic. I want to capture a tag end somehow of what Monet had learned about expressing these spirits.
Claude Monet did his due diligence to learn to see. The link above sends you to a brief overview of his life and also to an image that I will put here (see below). I have been looking and wondering for months now about this small painting (AT LEFT) I started many months ago derived from a photo I took on a walk in the Southern reaches of Puget Sound. Something in me wants it to stay the way it is...I enjoy letting my eye wander and imagine, and I will probably never go further with this painting, but it's not something I feel I could show as finished art.
I think Monet may have had some of those same misgivings, and also delights when his work began to take the famous impressionist turn that brought us his lily pads and blurry landscapes. I love the indiefiniteness of his output very well -- it is almost a different experience each time it's seen, unlike more pictorially definite paintings, which are nice, but stay pretty much the same each time you enjoy them..
My little venture above is certainly no Monet, but there are Monet-like qualities that made me realize much more about his approach. My painting above is very scumbley-- that is, I have stroked over the canvas surface in strokes that are somewhat broken, and I have left a lot of the canvas color showing. It's very spare, and disappointing in a way, since there is not a lot of paint on there. But it's nice.
Look at the painting Monet gives us now, and see if this very small image doesn't take you somewhere that is quite definite, even though its details are very obscure if not invisible. Do you feel the spirit of the artist in the strokes, and do you sense the spirit of the landscape and weather as you let the colors draw your eye around and through the painting. It's magic. I want to capture a tag end somehow of what Monet had learned about expressing these spirits.
Claude Monet : Vétheuil in the Fog, 1879, Musée Marmottan Monet, Paris.
|
In this image his painting Vétheuil_dans_le_brouillard.jpg we are given the same wispy clues he saw. It is certain that he knew what Veitheuil looked like in clear weather with the sun defining the contours of buildings and setting off the houses and cathedral from each other.
So how do I know that I am looking at a cathedral, not having been to Veitheuil? First glance simply tells me something tall is standing among shorter objects and is reflected in water below the strip of flattish land between me and the buildings. Discovering what it is that I am seeing through Monet's fog is part of the enjoyment of this painting. How did I know there was water...just the colors of the reflections did it. How did I know that was a strip of land for sure? There was no wondering about it...it was not seaweed or fabric, but in another composition it might have been. The color screams OUTDOORS, and the shimmer and blue shadow shapes scream SUNSHINE . The stippled directional brushstrokes breath a definite sense of motion -- rippling--breezes--cloud action--change--- into the whole painting. My eye is excited and then relieved. |
____________________________________________________________________
Come to see the display of some of my work at the Shelton WA Civic Center Building on Cota Street in Shelton!
Four Paintings and Six Bowls are on display at the Shelton Civic Center on Cota Street in Shelton WA. They will be on display until February 2011.
Magenta and Pearls -- A shining pour of color and some carved details make this an eyecatcher. See this at AJ's Fresh Produce in Hoodsport, across from the Post Office on Lk. Cushman Road.
TOOLS, mixed with paint and elbow grease:
I just now realized that this link is, for some reason, empty! I must have deleted something somewhere!
Ah well. This is not unusual in my shop.
IF YOU REALLY WANT TO GO BACK TO THE REAL FIRST PAGE,
KEY IN www.ooothere.com and you will be there.
There is good reason to give you an image of tools, though. My tools are nearly as close to me as my cat! I could never replace my cat, but a good tool, tried and true, is something nearly as difficult to replace. Ask my friend in New Jersey how sad I am about leaving my mat cutter there.
Ah well. This is not unusual in my shop.
IF YOU REALLY WANT TO GO BACK TO THE REAL FIRST PAGE,
KEY IN www.ooothere.com and you will be there.
There is good reason to give you an image of tools, though. My tools are nearly as close to me as my cat! I could never replace my cat, but a good tool, tried and true, is something nearly as difficult to replace. Ask my friend in New Jersey how sad I am about leaving my mat cutter there.
