Dreams and Disaster. It's Saturday.

The week zipped by. I got a painful sore-throat thing that's been making the rounds in this house and elsewhere, I've heard. It hasn't been completely debilitating, but came with dreams that were weird even for me. Aubrey had the unusual dreams too. Though her brain is furnished in a style uniquely hers, it seems to contain a number of my hand-me-downs--we share some distinct similarities. So maybe it's that. Still, these particular dreams did seem symptomatic. oddness.

A bit of new work got done anyway (much to my surprise), some of the art is possibly weird-dream-sore-throat-thing inspired.

Today it's all-day disaster B-movies on the Science Fiction Channel.

I am loathe to say "SyFy." I've come to think of it as the "Cruel Ghost of the Science Fiction Chanel" Chanel or just "72." I'm still not feeling that great, so we're having a mostly quiet day. After milk and cookies, we'll get under blankets on the sofa and watch disaster movies Mystery Science Theater style. No popcorn and drinks though, as five- and seven-year-olds are prone to spit takes at funnies.

This group doesn't go out as much as it used to. Just like many people, we're learning to create entertainment at home. Sometimes it works out great! It's not easy to compete with IMAX. But we're learning. Little thanks to Chanel 72.

Now to sit on a sofa full of kids and find the funny in the disaster.

You can't have one without the other. Poppets taught me this.

They really did.

g'night

It rained and rained and rained for days.

Everything got very wet. The kids put on bags to play.




The rain ended today and left snow on the mountains all around us.








I took some Photographs

of the

Poppet Painting Process.

I thought you might like them, even though I combined some of the steps





































































































Today, new work and new music.


Hope your weekend is going well.

Saturday's Practical Matters

Today is quite deliciously dreary. Aubrey and Orion have gone to attend a broadcast of "Carmen" at a local theater. I've just lit a fire in the hearth and am preparing (having coffee) to get back to the very mundane task of resetting the studio for the next wave of work.

Not a lot to think on here. In fact, I try to clear my mind during this sort of task. I'm listening to Loreena McKennitt. That, and my recent re-read of Marion Zimmer Bradley's The Mists of Avalon have me in a mood that is close to reverence. After all, there is something spiritual about quietly attending to practical matters.

There is also something spritual about cherishing the things we own. In keeping, I ask you to look about you and find some dusty, unappreciated thing and remake it. (spouses, friends and pets are not included, please) Either make it look different, or clean it up and find a new use for it, perhaps in a different room. Or do both.
I 've chosen this ratty old basket hanging on my kitchen wall, unused for---a long time. I'll attempt to give it a purpose and new look.
I invite you to join me and send your 'before' and 'after' photos so I can share them here. Send photos and tell us about them to aubrey@poppetplanet.com.













Now to share some studio snapshots from the week and get on with the day. I wish you a most excellent Saturday.




I

Weekend Recharge

This weekend was for the 'difficult' work. We've talked about this sort of work before and how it differs from 'hard' work. Hard work is casting and detail sanding twenty Poppets, or cleaning the studio. Difficult work is calculating exactly how to mold a complex original, or how to extract a metaphor hidden in bits and pieces within in a series of works.

Fair enough, the difficult work is sometimes done while wearing a bikini, floating on clear water in warm sun with a cold drink.

I never said the desert didn't have it's good points.

---That doesn't make the work any less difficult.

I came to understand that thinking was part of my job some time ago. And stopped trying to accomplish said thinking while doing other things.

Though sometimes the difficult questions nag, and beg for attention at the most inappropriate moments imaginable. Oh yes.

So, Friday and some of Saturday were spent on the cognitive, the narrative, and the putting ideas into some sort of order.

It was very successful, largely due to the fact that I was able to give it my full attention.

So Saturday afternoon was for cleansing the mental palette. Spencer and I took off to visit local nurseries. We found ourselves at this one---my favorite--tucked into a niche in the mountains. We had a great afternoon wandering among these beautiful living creatures. We tasted tangerines and exotic lemons from the citrus. Our favorite creature was not for sale. Not at all. It was this fragrant eucalyptus, with un-bark soft as skin and even wrinkled at the joints.
We found that a row of double- walled copper pots made a really cool tone drum.

Later, I took photos of this sleepy little Poppet and had an enjoyable phone chat with the Neil.


Now it's Sunday, and it was all day gardening and cleaning, with the occasional stop for music and dinner outdoors.

Tomorrow is a studio day, but not a day to get up at any particular time. So now for a bit of spiced rum, a sit by the fireplace outside under the desert stars, with our mystery cat watching from a safe distance.

Winter in the desert. Reset. Renew. Silly humans!


g'night

Tuesday morning

Over the weekend pegboard and bins helped me organize the painting room to create space for a kid -friendly corner. I softened the look of the pegboard by rag-painting with shades of sky and clouds.

And kids showed up, as they tend to.

Zoya helps by tearing paper for papier mache.




Poppets watch over all.

I use colored tissue for layers. I've learned that many thin layers create a much stronger foundation than fewer thick layers.

In addition, using up the scrap Poppet Planet wrapping paper in colored layers helps me keep up with how many layers I've applied. Generally, I alternate mixed colors with black.

Another helpful trick is to make the first layer a very bright pink, and the next several layers blac when wiring is involved. That way, as I sand and finish the work, I have a bright pink WARNING that wires are nearby.

I figured this out after accidently cutting through wiring twice. Arrrrgh. In your artist's paper mache, pink means danger.

I ended the work day with a cup of steaming chai tea (thank you MimiKo!) and a spectacular sunset.

As I sat, Mystery Kitty peered at me from a discreet distance, not moving closer, but not ready to spring away either.

Now it's Tuesday morning. It's chilly and I'm more in the mood to curl up by the fire with a warm book than to go into the studio and work. But alas, it's my job to show up and make art.

So off I go.

Hope your day is good. Or at least interesting.

addendum:

An ad for 'booty pop panties' just appeared on TV.

I'm so disgusted. It makes me want to throw up my hands and quit. Will Poppets one day decide humans are too stupid to watch over?

Is that up to me?

Dunno. In the meantime, I'm going to work. At least now I'm awake.

Ten in Twenty Ten?

Is it New Year's Eve? Indeed, it is.


I wonder if you've missed me as I've missed you. Possibly you did.



The last weeks have been for cocooning, resting, thinking, working. For listening and watching and snuggling with family. For reading and making notes and thinking some more.


For putting stuff in, so that I can bring stuff out.



It's about eleven now. The kids vowed to be up until midnight. We'll see. The chiminea is glowing outside, making a circle of warmth where tales can be told and marshmallows toasted. Like many other families, we're spending our New Year's Eve at home this year.


There is always opportunity for parties.

A few weeks ago, we decided to put out an array of bird feeders. We were rewarded in just a few days with an interesting variety of bird visitors. We were surprised when another guest appeared, apparently drawn in by the raucous bird activity.

A cat, feral and wary, sitting on our fence mostly hidden amongst the greenery, but occasionally creeping out for a closer look. And who at first would bolt at the sound of the door opening, but who now will stay put when I come outside to sit only a few feet away.


Our Mystery is thin, and so far eats every bite of any treat we leave. We tend to leave something every day. I'll not pursue, but will remain consistent, and watch and see if a relationship develops.


Indeed our eyes have met and held. Possibilities exist for more communication.


We will see.


What did I learn this year?

To wait and see what happens. That things rarely happen the way we imagine they will.

For Christmas, Aubrey gave me a copy of "Under the Dome" by Stephen King. Now I know different, but early on, when I began reading Stephen's work, I expected horror. Well sure, I got some. But what I really got was humanity. It's the humanity of his work that held me. And still does.

Ok. I like the scary too. What can I say?




This past year was a healing year for me. I struggled through most of it, finally beginning to see some light in November. I don't really need to tell you this---if you're reading this post then mostly likely you were there with me.

What I do want to say is thank you. Thank you for your insights and humor and outstanding Poppets On Tour photos. Thank you for giving homes to so many Poppets (even the unruly ones) and for glimpses into your work and your lives and your unique and surprising ideas.

Now we enter 2010. Twenty-ten. Wow. We'll all start by looking back and inside. Then looking forward and out. Then we'll see what happens. Are we 'under the dome?' Not literally but figuratively. We are all on this planet and, at least for now, it is self contained, much like a tank of sea monkeys. No help is available from outside. It's sink or swim, up to those of us who live here (will we reach 10 billion?) on the fragile surface of this tiny ball spinning fast through the cold and black and utterly unknown.

Hmm. I like the 'we' part.

I wish you every good thing for the coming year. I'm very honored to be travelling through space and time with you, through whatever will come.

Much love,

your artist

In which Ravyn hijacks the blog, for good reason!

i just wanted to steal Lisa's blog today to wish her a very very HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

i miss you!

Especially now, see?

Winter is settling in here in the desert.
Word has apparently spread about our backyard feeders, so that during certain parts of the day, we are Bird Central. The hummingbirds don't seem to be bothered. They have their own tree and feeder and they zip around the other birds like planes 'buzzing the tower.' We've had several days of much-needed rain. Now the mountains are dressed in winter finery.
This is the view from our back door.

I took the camera in the car with me to get photos of the snow and got this shot of Orion when I dropped him off as school.

I see him every day. Why should I be surprised when I look at the picture and see how much he's grown? But I am. When I started this blog, he was quite the tot.


And a bit of new work: "Mini's Wagon" (collab. with Benton Warren)

and "In the Land of Shadows."


I'm working, but taking time to rest and enjoy winter.
In the car, I heard the soundtrack for "Moon." I was unfamiliar with the movie. Don't know how I missed it, but...cool!

Now I truly want to see the movie and will be ordering the soundtrack for myself. Yay!

Have you seen it? If so, tell me about it.




Now for hot chocolate and some reading or television.


New work on Ebay!

Part the Four: Knowledge of all kinds is valuable. If you're new to this blog, welcome. Here's my disclaimer, repeated just for you: I was asked by WFS attendees to make my lecture available in print somewhere. I told them I'd put it here. This is sort of an abridged version, as you know I tend to take small side trips in all directions when I'm on a topic. But the gist of it is intact. It's a lot of material, so I decided to divide it into the segments, as in the program. and
Everything said from here on is based on observation and not research (unless otherwise stated.) I’m not advising. I'm no expert. You go on and do whatever the hell you want to do. You’re going to anyway. Or possibly you ‘re way ahead of me. Possibly you already know everything I have to say. In that case, bask in the affirmation and enjoy the pretty pictures. That’s what they’re here for. In December I’ll have been a professional artist for 20 years. I’m a self-taught artist. If someone asked me to sum up what the experience has taught me (and occasionally people do), I’d say something like the following:


I'm fully capable of skinning a catfish. (It required two sets of pliers, a knife, and a bit of tenacity.) I can also crochet a beautiful and delicate doily from fine cotton thread.

Now, it's not likely I'll ever use these skills, but I like having them, and they don't take up much room in my brain. In fact, they probably sit quite comfortably with all sorts of other stuff I'm not likely to use, like how to extract chromosomes from a few milliliters of blood and how to play Liszt's Rhapsody No. 2--though I don't play it as well as Bugs Bunny.

I'm a fierce autodidact. I tend to collect this sort of stuff. It's not a terrible hobby. I had to work harder at it when I was a kid. No internet. I had to actually go to the library. My dad always drove me on Saturdays. He didn't go inside. He'd sit outside and smoke cigarettes and wait for me.

But he took me because it mattered to me. That it mattered to me made it matter to him. He was a good dad.

Now I have the internet. I don't have the brain speed I had at 15, but self-teaching keeps it in fairly good shape. It hasn't made me better at finding my reading glasses. That's a different set of skills, one which I seem to lack, despite efforts made.

Anyway.

Knowledge. Stuff we learn. Stuff we might ignore because it falls under our 'need to know' radar. It's good stuff.

My formal education is scientific.
My real jobs were in laboratories, clean rooms, morgues.
Aside from a drawing class in college, I'm a self-taught artist.
I learn a lot from reading textbooks and manuals.
I learn a lot from reading fiction.
I learn a lot by watching.
I learn more by watching differently.
I learn a lot by quietly thinking about things I see.
I learn a lot by trial and error.
I learn a lot by completely fucking things up.

All the stuff we learn goes into our 'soup.' Some of it floats right on top, in plain view. Skills we use regularly. Some of it is without substance. It's flavor, an interpretation of lessons past learned, the essence of information--the stock.

What did I tell you? You can't go wrong with a soup metaphor. It's all in there.

I make custom- fitted mold boxes from which I make molds of originals. I make them from Lego blocks. There's no waste, nothing to throw out. I just take them apart when I'm done. When I know the size I need, I can outline it, and Orion can build the boxes for me.

(Now he has another weird application for his collection.)

I learned to make these mold boxes by watching a documentary on paleontology on the Discovery Channel.

I learned an awful lot about construction and cathedrals from Ken Follet's Pillars of the Earth.

Once, at a cocktail party, a man said this to me, "I never read fiction---you can't learn anything from it."
What a gul-a-bull! What a maroon! You couldn't have paid me enough to sleep with that idiot, I don't care how much his suit cost.

The list of what I've learned from fiction is at least as long as the list of what I've learned from every other source.

School is crap. The model of school is archaic and the curriculum is rudimentary. School mostly teaches kids to walk in line and to follow a schedule very much like that of modern prisons.
It's of paramount importance to teach kids how to research. How to find what they're looking for, and to teach them a love of reading of books of any form---print or electronic.

Orion, at seven, knows how to use Google. It's not much, but it's a start.


By definition, a good education is to know everything about your chosen subject, and a little bit about everything else.

I don't know everything about art, but I know everything there is to know (so far) about my own art, and the craft required to produce it. I'm still working on the little bits about everything else. As always and as everyone else, I will always hope my best work is ahead of me. I'll always look forward to new discoveries. I intend to continue to read and geek out to the science channel at every opportunity.

Learn. Read. Your time won't be wasted. I've been surprised so many times when some obscure bit has solved a contemporary problem. The stuff is in there. It's part of your Soup. Make it rich and it will sustain you.

As always, I welcome and enjoy your comments and discussion. Thank you.

---your artist


Our Winter sale is going on right now on Etsy and Ebay. We'll be adding new art all week.

Part 3 and Art Behind the Scenes

Poppets in Studio



Hope you had a great Thanksgiving.

To reiterate, my disclaimer (in case you missed it the first time.):

I was asked by attendees to make my lecture available in print somewhere. I told them I'd put it here. This is sort of an abridged version, as you know I tend to take small side trips in all directions when I'm on a topic. But the gist of it is intact. It's a lot of material, so I decided to divide it into the segments, as in the program.

and

Everything said from here on is based on observation and not research (unless otherwise stated.) I’m not advising. I'm no expert. You go on and do whatever the hell you want to do. You’re going to anyway. Or possibly you ‘re way ahead of me. Possibly you already know everything I have to say. In that case, bask in the affirmation and enjoy the pretty pictures. That’s what they’re here for.
In December I’ll have been a professional artist for 20 years. I’m a self-taught artist. If someone asked me to sum up what the experience has taught me (and occasionally people do), I’d say something like the following:


Part the Third

Lists Are a Form of Procrastination


Back to that advice thing, for a moment. Ray Bradbury told me (did I mention that I'm one lucky human?) that a general direction is much better than a plan. Plans rarely work out.
Keep working, he said, and just watch and see what happens.


Events rarely happen as we imagine they will. Planning can be a form of procrastination. Here's one way---writing something down on a list releases us from responsibility. We no longer have to remember it, we can put it out of mind, we can dismiss it.

True enough, there are applications for lists. A daily to do list can be helpful, notes are fine and good. A reminder to call someone or email or look something up is helpful. Margin notes are good. References.

But there's a limit. Only you can know if you've crossed it. A good clue is that you're spending more time sorting through your lists as doing the tasks on them.

Another is to tally up what you've done for the day/week/month. If you've spent more time writing, rewriting, sorting and such, than hands-on work, something is off.

What has worked for me is to set aside a time for working on lists. Fifteen minutes at the end of the day, fifteen minutes at the beginning of the next.

Life is messy and unpredictable. Shit happens.

No one expects the Spanish Inquisition.

I made lots of lists and plans. I set specific goals for myself. Too specific. It works infinitely better for me to have a long-term direction and small bits of tasks per day. Otherwise, I can get lost in the planning and time flies by.

The time will go by anyway.

I didn't plan to make Poppets. They sort of happened on their own. It was a conspiracy, sort of, created by Poppets and their collectors. In the course of a year, I was no longer an artist in my garage studio, working quietly away with music and coffee. I became the owner of a small mail order business.

And all that goes with.

I found that I was spending very little of my everyday making art. Running a business requires a lot of time and energy for administration. So I hired people for that. This made things different, not necessarily easier, because it made the company bigger.

I had lots more lists. Notebooks.

I found myself resenting the business. It started quietly. There's this expression---if you boil a frog slowly enough, it won't realize it's been cooked.
The frog thing is a myth, but a good metaphor. It applies to a lot of things---health, deteriorating relationships---things get gradually worse until we accept the worse as 'normal.' Not realizing that they're out of hand until we're in the soup.

Hmmm. Soup. I was in some for sure.

My apron had been my uniform for years. Old jeans, t-shirt or baggy sweater, apron, coffee cup. I found myself not putting it on anymore. I no longer identified myself with the artist.

I no longer identified myself as the Visionary. I felt like a fraud. I didn't see Poppets as art.

I was wrong. I'd become so caught up in the plans that I lost my direction. I was no longer living in the present. I was investing all my time and energy into a future that might or might not arrive.

Silly fucking human!

It wasn't the Poppets fault. They hadn't changed. I had.

Then my personal life exploded. Whoosh! Time flies when your hair's on fire. Didn't see that coming.

Still reeling, the recession kicked in. Shit! Didn't see that coming either! So much for plans.

I watched fellow artists and other studios bite the dust. Scary. Things got really lean for us. We began to look like the crew of the Nebuchadnezzar. We learned to live on a lot less.

We learned to appreciate what we had.

Poppets watched.

I got lots of notes and emails from collectors who said they loved my work as always, but couldn't buy. I watched more of my friends---gifted artists---selling Tupperware and their book collections.

So much for plans.

But things could be much worse. We had Poppets. Collectors could still afford Poppets.

So I turned Poppets into little pieces of art. I changed how I saw them. Or they did.

I put heart and soul into them. Everybody wins. Collectors still get the satisfaction of art. I still make enough money to eat.

We learned that Poppets took care of us. We made lots of adjustments.

Now, we spend a lot less than we used to. We don't waste and we take little for granted.

I don't know how this will all play out. It's not over yet.

I do know I'm grateful for the direction. I'm grateful for Poppets, and I wear my apron every day.

Things will change. You can count on that. I hope to retain the economy I've learned. I hope to help teach you to be flexible. You don't need as much as you think.

Don't mind me. Listen to Ray Bradbury---do your best and watch and see what happens. It's a ride.

--Open for discussion. Would love to hear what you think.


Here are some behind the scenes photos this week:


I like the work of Steve Archer (book) It seems to work well with mine.