Nearing forty, I can't help but think I should be nip-tucking instead of tuck-pointing. But, there it is. I am learning more than I ever wanted to know about lime mortar and pointing tools. A job I thought would take a matter of a few days, (when will I ever learn?), has turned into quite the intensive project. All my clay ventures are on hold, buried beneath efflorescence and grimy trowels. Interestingly, there is a resemblance to the texture of the mortar with that of clay. As I apply a skim coat to the walls, I am using some of the same sculpting techniques I use on stoneware pieces.
I have fantasies of making the walls a sculpture in their own right. Some Mayan god with large hooped earrings maybe. Create the kind of room I saw at a woman's home in the Baja. Or a gigantic sea green luna moth fluttering near a campfire. But, for now, they are purely functional and insanely ugly. And I can't paint them at all until the mortar cures. Six months of gray and white. Such cold colors. And I can't build the shelves either until all the work is complete. Patience is not something anyone has ever praised me for having. I will work on that too. Just add it to the list.
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| lines of light |
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| a frosty sunrise |
In the meantime, I've started another photography project with some flickr friends. It's a weekly assignment that works within the confines of themes. The first week is "fire and ice." I have been seeing the world through this idea and attempting to capture my interpretation of this theme. I have been using the sun as the "fire" and well, ice is simply everywhere these days. I will post these pictures here in lieu of clay pieces until I am back in the throes, or more aptly, "in the throws".
Nearing forty, I can't help but think I should be nip-tucking instead of tuck-pointing. But, there it is. I am learning more than I ever wanted to know about lime mortar and pointing tools. A job I thought would take a matter of a few days, (when will I ever learn?), has turned into quite the intensive project. All my clay ventures are on hold, buried beneath efflorescence and grimy trowels. Interestingly, there is a resemblance to the texture of the mortar with that of clay. As I apply a skim coat to the walls, I am using some of the same sculpting techniques I use on stoneware pieces. 
I have fantasies of making the walls a sculpture in their own right. Some Mayan god with large hooped earrings maybe. Create the kind of room I saw at a woman's home in the Baja. Or a gigantic sea green luna moth fluttering near a campfire. But, for now, they are purely functional and insanely ugly. And I can't paint them at all until the mortar cures. Six months of gray and white. Such cold colors. And I can't build the shelves either until all the work is complete. Patience is not something anyone has ever praised me for having. I will work on that too. Just add it to the list.
