Good Night, Poppets

...but this is the one I send you to bed with.

Nighty night.

Sweet dreams

Imagine small. Very small.

Last night, there were lightning storms like nothing I've ever seen. The fires are mostly contained. Things could be worse, but it's heartbreaking in its own way to know over 85,000 acres were burned. The smoke and haze in the air cast everything in strange colors, including the flashes. Tonight's skies look ripe for more. More rain would be good.

Gurtie brought me a bat. I think she grows to love me, a little.

g'night

Addiction. Everything has a price.

Wrinkle Cream vs The MiddleEast Crisis (as illustrated with poppets), Part I

If you’re looking for the Luck’s Dancer and Poppet sale page, it’s here: Luck's Dancer

But you're welcomed to stay for the sermon...

I’m getting lots of questions about the Little Red Poppets. I’m fairly certain the following answers them all, so far.

Why poppets and not puppets?

Because lots of people insisted and persisted to call them poppets, even when I insisted and persisted to call them puppets. Ok. I caved. Still, it will help distinguish them from other puppets I make.

What they were:
Originally, the little poppets were pawns in a chess set I worked on several years ago. I decided it was the wrong time to make a chess set, and possibly the wrong universe, so I put the project aside.

I made a few for myself, and kept looking at them and listening. I began to like having them here and there, and took to leaving one or two around when visiting friends, who would call days or weeks or much later when they’d discovered them, more delighted than I would have expected.

Alone, or in little groups here and there, they invaded our spaces at home and in the studio. For me, the little poppet has come to represent that distinct and singular moment of waking. I’ve experienced it and watched it in others, as when children grasp concepts for the first time.

Sometimes this moment is joyful. Sometimes it is crushing. It is its own dichotomy, this little poppet thinking for itself. It’s an old story.

I incorporated the poppets into larger works. Lots of them. You can see several of these on the gallery page. One particular piece, Shift, (for which I must find an image for you) has 843 of the little fellows...

When I put the poppets into settings, as pieces of larger works, they become something else, though they still themselves represent a moment of realization (sometimes it’s a moment of realizing they’re in the soup!)

I find myself using them as a sort of language, stringing rows of them together like some strange alphabet.

Or pieces of a puzzle. This means something to me. Exactly what that is still unfinished and unclear.

But the search…..the search is its own engine. And my favorite playground.

I’m not done yet with poppets. I’m still working on what they are.

What they will be, I don’t know. But my favorite possibilities include many thousands of them, and movement.
At any rate, for the moment, they are mostly about paying attention.


That said, I wonder now if I could’ve said it just as well with the image below.

Wrinkle Cream vs The MiddleEast Crisis,(as illustrated with Poppets), Part 2

Thanks for adopting The Little Red Poppet, for helping me support the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund and especially for wanting to know more.

G'night

Luck's Dancers are Here!

They are here: Luck's Dancer

Ravyn tells me that as of right now the Luck's Dancer Summer Sale is OFFICIALLY BEGUN. She has done an outstanding job.

and...

Famous Little Red Poppets too...



Whew! Your Lisa is quite tired. She will go out and float in the pool and contemplate how lucky she is to be floating in a pool---face up, under stars. Tomorrow will be hot, and very busy.

g'night

Desert Burning

Last night I was going to try to get some photos of the fire. Desert WildfireWe can see it from our neighborhood---the place where we watched fireworks last week. There are fires here every summer. We're not threatened by this one, but Big Bear is.
My thoughts are for the 2500+ firefighters up there, risking their lives to keep it from reaching the forest.

And we watch from here in the bowl of desert, helplessly hoping.


I've been working on a stencil for the boxes the Luck's Dancers will be shipped in. Thought it would be be fun and work well with the SlaughterHouse theme. It is fun. We'll see how well it works. Online, Ben found a device that makes an imprint that looks like the old-fashioned livestock brand.


I was supposed to send "Guardian of Sorrows" out to Roland and Robert last week. He is propped against the wall here in the den, not far from where "El Maestro del Fuego" hangs over the fireplace. Last week, Orion asked me about the two. It's become a ritual, where I tell him the story of the two, each neither good nor evil. One must guard the gate with all his might. The other must enter with all his. A story is developing as we repeat what we know - Orion correcting me if I miss a detail--layers and history deepening and expanding.
So, though I owe them an apology for the delay in shipping, I wouldn't trade anything for creating a story with Orion. I'll pack Guardian up today, and print photos of both so Orion and I can continue our collaboration.

Ben is on his way. I'm sure he'll bring reports of how the fire looks from his end of the desert. We'll get back to making art because, what else can we do?

---later

Our Gardeners Gardener in the sky

This is not our gardener. Our gardener says no amount of money would induce him to climb a palm tree. It's that time of year. There are men (and women!) performing feats like this all over Palm Springs this week.

He cuts away the old stalks. After the ladder, he climbs up with a chain he wraps around the trunk, and spikes on his shoes.

Palm leaves are big, and heavy and very pointy. Do not touch. It was about 113 degrees F when I took this photo.

Variation on a Theme, sort of. Tomorrow will be a different palette.

I like the Dancer at rest too. I'd thought to make some with juggling balls, but the little (juggling?) puppets are just more fun.

detail

Examining the Choice

The last several days were spent painting Luck’s Dancers. Today, red ones. I could do this while watching a movie, or while listening to music---which is much more likely---but still I’d be thinking. I must be, because I don’t notice when the music stops sometimes. I get lost in the painting and lost in thought.

Today I thought about the discipline it takes to paint ten pieces exactly the same.

I’ve decided I don’t have it.

But then, surely I do?! I've had the discipline to repeat microbiology studies following precisely the same protocol---to the FDA approved letter---for exactly ten trials. To write every calculation in tiny grids on waxed papered notebooks that don't allow for mistakes or changes without signatures.
I have had the discipline to learn a Chopin piece, every note in every measure, adding or subtracting nothing. I have had the discipline to sew a quilt from hundreds of socks.

Then it must be a matter of will.

Or, if not that, it’s that I don’t see why ten Luck’s Dancers should be precisely the same. In fact, I believe it’s better if they are not. Just the same in spirit and color and basic design. Otherwise, of course I’m going to take sidesteps---a tiny figure here, an exploration of shading there, mismatched shoes, a teardrop, or a wink.

Do I have the discipline to succeed in the collectables market? I'd say, without hesitation, no.

I see things in the textures of the broken background colors of each of these little Dancers. They beg to be brought to the surface. I pull them up, like bodies from deep water.

There comes a time when an artist realizes she can create anything.
There comes another time, later, when she realizes she can’t create everything.
Choices must be made, priorities set, deadlines met. Long-term projects committed.

Then, there is the small matter of vision.

Some visions must be followed immediately, even at great cost, because otherwise they will disappear. Some visions may be contained in a notebook or shelf and will only ripen with time.

I am of the school that believes the ability to judge between the two comes only with time and experience.
I am of the school that believes that balancing the responsibilities of being an artist and the duty to the artist’s vision is an art in and of itself.
I am of the school that believes that, once in a while, you must follow a wild hare with joyful abandon.

Once in a while.

Now I’m painting Lucks Dancers and thinking, and thinking. Because in one hand I have a long list of things that must be done. In the other, I have an evilly divine idea.

I don’t know what I’ll decide. But I can see it, this idea, peeking out of these figures as I paint, which are different from the ones I made before, and from the ones that I’ll make next time. One thing I’m certain of is that when the last of this bunch is painted, I’ll have my answer.

g'night

Return

Well, I'm back, sort of, after a week of supreme surreal. I will gather myself, plough through mounds of emails and tell you about it, in stages as I understand it.

I feel as though I've awakened from a long sleep under a roof pounded by storm. Exhausted, I fell into oblivion despite the mental clatter and upon waking, find my thoughts washed clean.

Now, for coffee...

Faster than a speeding.......

Ravyn here again. Still no landlines operating in the desert. So.......

Instead of being good and posting, Lisa is being bad and going to see Superman, in IMAX/3D. i forgot to ask her if she could sneak a photo with her camera phone, heh.

And since i haven't been to see my baby recently (bad mommy!), i will leave you with two photos from my trip to Cancun in March. The photo of the beach was taken at night with no flash and no tripod. G and i took lots of photos that way, and some of them turned out rather well. Spooky but good. The other photo is not what you think it is, heh.






nitey night!

Where's Ernestine when we need her?

Ravyn here again, and you can guess what that means............

Yes.

Silence has returned to the desert, in the form of no telephone service. Again. Even Ernestine's unapologetic attitude ("We are the phone company. We are omnipitent." **sic**) would be welcome right about now, heh.

Hopefully our Lisa will be back tomorrow. i will let you know if not. So for tonight, i leave you with a sample of the fireworks we set off at my sister's on the fourth. i love fireworks. i would love to design them. The ones being made now, even the little ground-based ones, are pretty cool. And it was a lot of fun to be *right there* front and center, taking in the colors.......



i'll have more fireworks photos on my blog later tonight.

Nitey everyone!

Cherries, Dancers and Two Bad Wabbits

I was wondering about the origin of the "Life is a bowl of cherries" quote. I looked it up, but didn't find any single entry that rang true. But these were delicious. I liked this image though. The background is part of the kitchen painting I'm working on. I decided that life is like a bowl of cherries only when there's actually a bowl of cherries. Anyway, I figure that if one's situation allows for a bowl of cherries, things can't be too awful.

Things are awful for lots of people.

July 4 approaches and I think of what I might do to celebrate with my family. After last week's Senate voting I thought a nice family flag burning might be fun. But really, I don't want to burn a flag. I just want to appreciate the right to do so, should that expression be called for.

I think I'll try to raise some more money for the CBLDF, possibly with my next sale. It's not a lot, but it's what I can do. Lots of us doing a little will add up.

Here is a preview of the seven different Luck's Dancer designs I'll be putting up on the sale page next week. They're all hand-painted, so each will be a little different, but I'll try to make each mostly like the ones shown here. I haven't decided whether to offer a 'surprise' one yet.

Two Bad Wabbits

Lastly, these two likely belong in the 'don't ask' category. I found them during a thrift store expedition with Ben last year and they just sort of seem to belong in the kitchen. I have a fondness for mean little cute things...