All In Your Hands

When I picture my mom's hands, I see them rolling out dough. I see them patting a sugar cut-out onto her palm to loosen it. Tap tap. It falls gently into her hands, then she places it effortlessly onto a sheet. With my grandma's, they are squeezing a pastry bag, turning out a delicate rose. She knows just where to place it as she eyes the cake.

There is a strong tradition of baking and decorating in my family. My grandmother sold wedding and birthday cakes for most of her life. My mother just retired her Christmas Oven business, having baked over 500 dozen cookies every December for nearly 50 years. Every holiday and event in my life included beautiful cakes and themed cookies.

I spent countless hours with my mother in the kitchen, helping her with the constant baking projects. For more elaborate decorating, I headed over to my grandmother's house. I loved to watch her write on her cakes with such disciplined cursive. I aspired to become a great decorator just like her.

I carry on these traditions. I continue to bake and decorate, using all the knowledge and skill passed onto me. I have inherited many of their supplies and have put them to good use. And the next generation of family pastry chefs are eagerly being trained as well.

But as I turn pots in my studio, I also see how those same skills being tapped there. My hands roll, pinch and prod with that practiced amount of pressure. My tendency to add ornamentation to each piece draws from the traditions of pastry work. I envision the scalloped edges of my grandmother's cakes as I spin the banding wheel and apply my brush. I imagine the care that my mother gave each detail. I am grateful for all the hours in their kitchens. The art made by their hands will not be forgotten.

The Perfect Form

There is an obvious correlation that exists in my life, but I only just now became cognizant of it. I spend over ten hours every week at a Korean dojang, and have for over six years. I have also been working on a potter’s wheel for eighteen. My efforts in each discipline are not as separate as I had assumed.

In the martial arts there is something referred to as ‘forms’. They are a series of postures strung together in order to condition your body. There are five elements to consider while doing the forms that engage your whole self: hands, feet, eyes, stances, and mind. By concentrating on these principles, one continuously strives to improve and ultimately perfect his/her forms.

Initially I trained my body to become aware of it’s place in space. It is a surprisingly difficult and mechanical endeavor. Looking into a mirror revealed many uninformed components that needed improvement. My shoulders were tight, my neck unaligned, and my back swayed uncomfortably. I sought the right balance between too large and too underscored of a movement. Then, wanting it to flow harmoniously, I had to learn economy of movement.

At a pottery workshop I attended last week, Warren Mackenzie spoke of the right balance for a pot; knowing when to stop working while not short-changing your time spent on it. He said a piece needs a strong starting point and a strong finish, and that attention to each transition is key to making a pleasing form.

The similarities in word choice with that of my martial art training caught my attention. It dawned on me that the form of a hand-thrown pot follows the same logic as a martial art form. I am aware of a pot's placement in space by seeing the profile of the pot, the negative space between a handle and the body, the overall composition. I look at my pots from the side, from above, below and sometimes by a cross-section. The shape must be informed and intentional.

There is a movement to pots. They spiral up from the bottom. This movement can be loose or tight. It can be under-worked or over-worked. It can flow like a river or be dammed up by unrefined fingers. The body of a pot is perfect when the kicking feet are slow and controlled, the hands given it are fast and precise, and the mind working on it is calm and focused. Only then can the pot shine brightly.

A perfect form should communicate the mood and awareness its maker. It should be alive with each step that was taken to create it. The principles taught and understood by the masters of each discipline transcend their art forms. They have seeped subconsiously into my actions, one benefitting the other and making each stronger. Sometimes the most conspicuous is the hardest to see.

Minnesota Potters Share Their Fire

I was given an extraordinary gift on Wednesday. I spent the entire day alongside phenomenal talent. I am fortunate to be one of the lucky recipients of the MN State Arts Board grant bestowed on Anoka-Ramsey Community College to put together the incredible sharing the fire art series. The series highlights some of the greatest Minnesota potters working today.

demonstration pots by Warren & Guillermo

The first part of this series was a workshop hosting master potters Warren Mackenzie and Guillermo Cuellar. They worked side by side, sharing their stories and work with us. Their demonstrations included all sorts of affected pieces that radiated with unique beauty. Guillermo showed the group his method for making square bowls, oval ones, his style of handles and why, and some decorating techniques. Warren expounded on the importance of feet on his pots, the infinite possibilities of form, and his trademark fluting, faceting, and paddling.

Master Potters Mackenzie & Cuellar

What struck me as most beautiful was their charm and honesty. They tirelessly answered our many questions. Each provided insight into their philosophies and evolution of thought. It was a true honor to be in that room.

Warren’s philosophy has always been about bringing this art form to everyone. It is about making them affordable and having the process better understood. He spent much of his life teaching and demonstrating what it takes to make a fine pot with efficiency. Much of the enthusiasm for hand-thrown pots in Minnesota today can be attributed to his efforts.

We all, whether potters or not, can learn from these gentlemen. Their wisdom about simplicity, community, and art for everyone can be extended to many walks of life. I recommend finding their studios and seeking out their brilliant work. Thank you Minnesota State Arts Board and Mark Lambert for making this art series possible!

What's up on Etsy?

As the world becomes more inter-connected, selling artwork online has become commonplace. There are loads of creative people busting the seams of their minds, finding all the avenues the web can offer them. I sell my pottery on Etsy, a website set up for handmade arts. I find it to be not only a great place to find unique treasures for yourself or someone you care about, but also as a source of inspiration.

There are treasury lists that are themed up by color, idea, or even shape. The photographs of the items themselves add another level of artistry. Even the names given the treasury lists are well thought out. Etsy users create circles of friends or of sellers they admire. Each item listed can be tagged as a favorite and displayed on your own page. There are blogs being written and posted - (even about my work!) Custom orders can be requested and conversations are encouraged. The general feeling on Etsy is inclusive and supportive. Come see for yourself what is going on. 

My Wabi Sabi Cups

Wabi Sabi is a concept that I have understood without having had a name for it. Now I do. The Japanese, with their quest for simplicity, integrity, and asperity have a term that describes how I feel about material goods. I want them to be both beautiful and fulfill a need. I enjoy them more deeply when they have a story to tell. I want them to radiate with the spirit of the craftsmen who formed them.

In pottery, it is the throwing lines or the slight irregularity of its form that gives the holder a connection to the creating process. The simple truth that nothing in life is truly perfect or permanent is something to relate and ponder as you drink your tea in a hand-thrown cup.

I see Wabi Sabi in the barbed wire fence, where I visualize the hand twisting of each spike. I see it in the lathed leg of the chair, where I detect an inconsistency with the pressure applied with the chisel. I see Wabi Sabi in the accidental paint stroke on the shed’s window, brushed haphazardly as its trim was re-painted. I can connect easily to the human involved in each of these objects.

I see the transient nature of these things too: the rust, the chips, the wear. These are elements that are often thought of as defects, detracting from an object’s beauty. But the idea of Wabi Sabi is that these natural, inevitable occurrences instead enrich it. The object has become a visual example of life’s impermanence.

When I make a pot, I know it is not perfect. It is not meant to be. I hope others can experience the Wabi Sabi nature of my work and see the value in it.

Custom Orders

Another wonderful weekend spent hanging out in Lowertown St. Paul!

In addition to selling my pots at the Art Crawl, (and meeting a continuous flow of great people), I returned to my studio with a scattering of special requests. Do I make dinner plate sets? Yes. Can I make a bunch of tea cups in the twilight blue glaze? Yes. Will I personalize a set of mugs with specific designs for a wedding gift? Yes. There are countless ways to individualize a piece of pottery. All one has to do is ask. The more information I have on a specific shape, glaze or motif that grabs a person, the more sure I am the piece will be enjoyed. And that is what it is about.

Your pottery should fit nicely in your hand. It should hold your ideal amount of beverage or food. The overall shape and color should make you smile. The design elements should speak to you. I can not have every option already made, but crafting it is simply a matter of time. There is a deep pleasure in holding your very own customized pot. It is something worth pondering.

I have a kiln full of some of these orders. They will have to be glazed and then fired again. As long as each step goes as planned, I will have satisfied the requests. Then, onto others. It brings me joy to throw pots, and especially these, knowing the hands they will be placed into are anticipating these very pieces.

Fired Up for The Art Crawl

Only three more days until this year's St. Paul Art Crawl! Judging from the excellent weather forecast, I expect to see an unprecedented turnout of folks milling around Lowertown this year. 

The perfect weekend awaits with the brightly majestic leaves along the riverfront being reflected in the water, the earlier evenings displaying a full moon in the making, and a wide range of artists sharing their treasures around every corner. 

I know I am looking forward to the festivities. There is an energy at the Art Crawl that fires me right up. 

My friends in the Lowertown Loft Artist Cooperative (#4 on the map) have graciously accepted my presence in their studio again. Come find me on the top floor, Studio 505, and see what else there is to explore on the way up. 

The crawl goes from Friday to Sunday. It is a free event and is a great way to spend the day with the whole family. Inspire your children or get that spark back yourself. There is a whole world of ideas waiting to be considered. 

Sacred Vessels

It was not the pots I ever imagined crafting when I first decided to make pottery my path, but apparently it is par for my course. Even when starting out as an apprentice, I was commisioned to sculpt a pot for a woman who planned to use it for her own ashes.

This summer I found myself making two sacred vessels for members of my family. It was a painful experience to sit with my thoughts while maintaining focus with my hands. There was a sense of action though, of being able to do something tangible to help deal with the sorrow. It felt satisfying to have a purpose.

With the first, I wanted to convey my desire to wrap my arms around the pot. I wanted to have my love and need to protect become part of the piece. I sculpted my hands on the vessel. Throughout the throwing process, I couldn't help but feel that all of my efforts in learning this skill were for this one moment. I had a gift to offer.

The second vessel was harder. I wanted it to be perfect. That pressure caused me to tighten up, and so I needed to sit at the wheel all morning before I had one I was comfortable using. I wanted to add a touch of nature to this one; give it personality. I tried many ideas out in my mind, but people are complex and conveying who they are with one motif becomes an impossible challenge. In the end, I encircled the pot with a pumpkin vine. This one I glazed to give complexity to the pattern and more visual depth. Nothing is perfect, but I did the best I could with what I have. I hope that is enough.

Garden & Art Tour

I had a very hot weekend. The weather never let up. It fluctuated between a steamy 92 degrees with 85% humidity during the day to severe thunderstorms with pouring rain at night. Oh, the joy and excitement of outdoor activities in Wisconsin and Minnesota!

But also hot because I met all kinds of interesting and fun people. The customers were all gardeners with a mutual love of flowers. We oohed and aahed together over the dwarf hollyhocks, the papaya coneflowers, and the swirling colors of the lily buds. The extent of amazing flowers at Humble Acres is hugely impressive, and it soothed my spirit as I wandered through the many greenhouses there.

It was the company and talent of the other art vendors there, though, that made the weekend most special. Some original and colorful lawn art and metal work was displayed, awesome henna tattoos, oil paintings of beautiful gardens, well-designed recycled-cloth bags, and even piles of freshly-expelled worm castings for sale. What more could I ask for? I made some great trades, new friends, and came home with a deeper appreciation of henna (and a flower on my foot), wooden boxes, a metal bird, and some finely sewn, gorgeous bags.

This is what summer is all about.

Get Your Hands on It.

I have been trying to come up with a way to describe what I do in one catchy line. I need to make a sign to use at festivals. The next one is in two days. I'm wrestling with such slogans as "Hand-Thrown & Wheel-Kicked" and "Traditional, Functional, Tactile." I want to relay two important messages. One, that my pots are an attempt toward both fine craftsmanship and fine art. Secondly, that they are meant to be enjoyed by using them, by feeling them in your grip.

Great craftsmen of any medium have gifts and skills to seriously envy. It takes a steady hand and a strong mind to build and create. It takes patience, time and love to become adept. Art is the creative energy that drives the craft. It is when you make the craft your own; add ideas from the inside and work outside of what confines you. Great artists have creativity and vision. It takes courage to put yourself in your work. The best pots have incorporated both craft and art. Pottery, like any other art form, can be a vision without sufficient skill or a well-crafted work without exploration. My ambition is to pay respects to each.

The other message I want to convey is how important the tactile nature is of pottery. Many art forms' focus is on the visual. Touching it can even damage the piece. Clay works have evolved right alongside humans' development. Playing with clay alongside the river is as timeless as we are. There is a sense of being at home when hand-thrown pottery is in your hands.

I will think more about how to say all of this in one short sentence. I have been invited to be part of the Happy Gardener's Tour in the St. Croix River Valley this Friday, Saturday and Sunday. I will be set up at Humble Acres Perennials and Grasses in Hudson, Wisconsin. I hope to be there with a bright, new banner flying and expressive words that will successfully "Get Your Hands on It."

Marketfest 2011

Tomorrow evening will find me and my pots set up at Marketfest in downtown White Bear Lake. For those who haven't been, Marketfest happens every Thursday evening during the sunniest six weeks of the summer. There is an impressive amount of great food (even a farmer's market), fine art and swinging music. It is a FREE event and includes activities that keep kids happily entertained. For directions or more information, go to their website: http://www.marketfest.org

I will be sharing a booth with Bella Skye Jewels. MaryJane makes beautifully hand-crafted jewelry with bright gemstones and the finest metals. Many of her items are also for sale on Etsy: http://www.etsy.com/shop/BellaSkyeJewels

I'll have some hot-out-of-the-kiln pieces there that I have been working to finish for this market. There will be mugs, bowls, plates, and luminaries enough for everyone. See what I've been making in my studio and stay for the fun. 

The Golden Moments

the climb

Turning forty brought great joy. I was showered with love and was reminded of my lucky lot in life. And to top it off, my husband bought me an incredible macro lens for my camera. The detail it can catch blows me away. While first looking, I wasn't able to see this little ant's colored stripes as he so quickly climbed. It was only with my new lens that I could detect such fine detail. Stopping the action allows my eyes to linger and soak it up.

a family portrait

I look forward to carving some of these newly captured images onto clay. When I carve, I see even more deeply into the moment. I am able to relive it and in doing so, experience it fuller.

Turning forty also brought pain. I have been confronted with a spring filled with family deaths and dying; the opposite of what I anticipate spring bringing. I have been finding solace in being outdoors, breathing in the fresh air, and taking pictures of the miracles as they emerge. Enjoying the beauty of the moment is what I am focusing on.

confrontations

How utterly transitory life is in all its glory makes me want to stop it. I know if I don't take advantage of that golden moment, it passes without delay. The wild plum scent is already gone. The goslings have already grown large.

I have been presented with this truth more than ever before in my life. I will have to learn to live without people I love dearly. I use my camera to remind me of the intensity with which I love. Viewing an old photograph brings back the nuances of that time in a flash. I am grateful for those memories and having played my part in them.

(I am involved in a flickr photo group that sets a weekly challenge for a photograph. These three are part of that project. To see the rest of my photos in this series, use this link: Project 52)

Terra Sigillata

I have been experimenting with how I finish off my pots. I've been adjusting my firing temperatures and settings. I have tried out new decorating techniques and designs. I have mixed up new glazes, some engobes, and a terra sigillata recipe.

This piece is my favorite so far. I used a slip known as terra sigillata. The names means "sealed earth" and has been used to seal, or cover, wares since ancient times. It completely transformed the twilight blue glaze I have. (The luminary below is an example of the results I have had previously from the same glaze, without the base coat of terra sig.) The richness and variation of blues and browns that gather around the pot are all thanks to this new slip I am using.

I employed a brand new tool on this pot too. I applied wax resist using an underglaze applicator instead of a brush. The wax gums up on the brushes, making them hard to use. This applicator creates smooth, bold lines. I framed the fruit with wax before applying the colored glazes. This technique has two benefits. First, it allows the color of the terra sig to remain visible, which gives the design more definition. It also keeps the glazes where I want them, not allowing them to blend with each other.

I plan to work more with a terra sig base and see what else I can make happen. I like the warmth and depth it gives, the sheen and shimmer. The highlight, so to speak, of my week.

Art Pin for the Cubs

A troop of boys came over to my studio recently to learn a little about pottery-making. The Cub Scouts have pins to earn in various fields, one being in the Arts. After a explanation of the craft and a quick demonstration, each took a turn on my kick wheel. They learned above all, I think, that some things are harder than they initially may appear. Knowing the first time on the wheel does not a good pot make, I also had them build a small sculpture they would be able to keep. Their hands have been shaping various materials, like play-dough and sand, for years already, so the skills needed for this task have developed to a higher degree. They pinched, scored, molded and fine-tuned such beautiful pieces, that they were gleaming with satisfaction by the end of the afternoon. I let their sculptures dry and later loaded them into the kiln to be fired. These boys will be able to display their pieces with pride. They ardently earned their Cub Scout Art Pin. It was a successful day.

A Brush with Greatness

I was given a great opportunity last week. I met with Front Avenue Pottery's master potter, Mary Jo Schmith. She had offered me her time to help me in my process, so I gladly took her up on it. Her wealth of knowledge is tremendous, her pots expertly crafted, and she is friendly and fun to boot.

I headed to her studio with a box of my pots for her to critique. I listened and observed, soaking up all that she was willing to offer. She recommended some tools and demonstrated her approach to decorating. She was patient and kind to me, clarifying the barrage of questions I directed at her. I came home with notes and notes of solid advice and a wish list for my own studio.

Next stop, Continental Clay for some new toys. The most exciting purchase I made was a new Shimpo banding wheel. It will make waxing and decorating go much more smoothly. It's hard to believe I've survived without one all this time. I picked up some new brushes too and more glaze supplies. I feel energized and inspired to try some different techniques. 

This week, I threw some test tiles and whipped up a few experimental glazes. I've been sketching various designs and brush strokes out on paper. Hereupon I'll be firing up the kiln, testing out these ideas on bisqueware, and adding more color to my journey.

Photo Weeks: Seven, Eight & Nine

contemplating beyond

Week seven's theme was "Up Close". It was one of those rare sunny and warm winter days, when you are actually drawn outdoors. The snow was melting and our cats were finding dry patches to sit in. (My kids were not and were dripping with dirty wetness.) The cats were cuter. There is a noble nature to this lady. Some call it indignant. Either way, she patiently allowed me to stick my camera up within two feet of her face without batting a whisker.

diamonds & rust

Week eight's theme was to "pick song lyrics and come up with a picture to represent them". It just so happened that I was in Madison visiting my best friend, the rock star Betty Montana. Singly my wildly off-key voice's heart out along with her amazing one, we sat remembering all our favorite song lyrics from college. We formed a circle around the wood stove with our husbands, a couple of friends and several guitars. We encompassed the beat of the seventies. Rather aptly, I daresay, I chose this picture with these lyrics: "hearing a voice I'd known, a couple of light years ago. . . "

lurking

It is week nine this week and the theme is "something you should get rid of." I have been getting rid of most of those somethings for months now as I've worked to improve the studio. But there are weak spots in my ability to donate everything. And besides, paint is a pain to dispose of properly. Which is why I have neatly stacked, three deep mind you, pails and pails lurking beneath the basement stairs. I should get rid of these, but I probably won't. After all, won't they come in handy one of these days?

Maintaining

I've given the old kick-start to my studio this week! It fired up slow and reluctantly though, reminding me of my beloved Honda XR75, back in the day. I sat at the wheel, threw a lump of clay on the wheel head, and gave it a whirl. In no time, my kicking leg started aching and I wondered how it was possible to be so out of shape. That didn't seem fair since I work out almost every day. Then I thought way back to the original construction of this kick wheel. My dad and I built it together. I had a vague memory of his instruction to grease the fittings every year or so to keep the bearings from drying out. That was in 1994. Maintenance jobs are mundane. But, also apparently necessary. So, I found the grease gun out in the garage and lubed up the first one. Easy enough. But, how to get to the other fitting? I discovered that if you lie upside down under the inside of the frame, you can get catch a glimpse of the second Zerk fitting. And, if you reach into the 3" gap underneath the brick wheel, holding onto the tube of the gun, and with the other hand the gun itself, you may be able to grease it up. But, you may very well need a third hand to pump the trigger, in which case it could be possible that you'll have to use your head. Yes, indeed, you just might. Oh, the lessons to be learned and the resources that need to be tapped to maintain my sanity.  Ironic, isn't it?

The wheel was now humming. But, there was a little bit of unfurling to be done after being away from the wheel since last December. It was hard for me to listen to the rotation of the wheel and bring the pot up gently, guiding it with my fingers. I could feel the tension in my shoulders and the unevenness of my rhythm. The first pots ended up too thick and got chucked into the recycling bucket. I decided to throw some cylinders, the most basic of forms.  Finally, my breath slowed down. We were both centered, and it felt great.

Then I contemplated some designs for the pots. They submissively sat, waiting for the possibilities. I could cover them with a variety of glazes, etch out a form maybe, an image, or even a pattern. I could sculpt onto the pot and add dimension. I looked through my photographs from last summer. In a Minnesota February, that kind of beauty seems impossible to have happened in my backyard. I shaped my ideas onto the clay. I am so happy to be back on the saddle.

Week Six Theme: In the Shadows

five o'clock shadow

I have been scouring my world for good shadows this week. And, hoping to find something lurking in one. The most colorful shadows come out just before sunset. The footprints in the snow come alive with blue and pink depth. Inside the house, the low sun projects images on the wall with a golden hue.

last bite of the sun

The first effort at catching the shadows on the wall was pitiful. I snapped one shot of the fruit bowl's projected silhouette, and the sun's intensity suddenly vanished. The window of opportunity was gone. But now I had an idea that could steep, like a good tea. The image was too flat. It needed layers. More shadows. Then it dawned (eveninged?) on me that I could place something "in the shadows" myself! I am generally passive when it comes to photography. I don't know who told me that it's cheating to alter what you discover naturally in order to make a better picture. There is something superior to me about a site left untouched, though, perfect just the way I found it. But nothing was going to conveniently get in the shadows for me at exactly the right moment. So the next time the sun was playing it's lighting game on the walls, I grabbed my camera, a few pieces of fruit, and manipulated the situation for my benefit. If you are staging the shot, I guessed there's simply no limit. I could try to fool the eye by mixing up the order of the fruit. The fruit on the island could be placed in a different arrangement than the pieces set on the counter top. A complete visual conundrum! Well, I expect no one's socks are going to be knocked off by my shadow puzzle, but at least there's dimension to the piece. And, something in the shadows. Goal accomplished.

Week Five Theme: Sporty!

Sporty Suzy

I had to mock the word just a little. Because, for me, the word "sporty" is an attribute people are usually trying to put on. It brings to my mind such images as a woman applying lipstick in the rear view of her red convertible, a tan blazer slung nonchalantly over a smiling man's shoulder, or a snow bunny putting on her lip balm mid-way down the slopes. Models. Sporty models. Someone very deliberately trying to look natural in his or her active and hip lifestyle. Also, the word feels somehow dated, and for me, that means The Seventies. And "Suzy Chapstick" is as sporty as they came back then. This photograph is to be a tribute to her, albeit a bit tongue 'n cheek. I am thankful to my friend who posed for this shot. She is genuinely active and hip and moreover gifted with an appreciable sense of humor.

Week Four Theme: Silence

eternal silence

Because I rarely wander into cemeteries other than for funerals, graveyards are not on my daily radar. As I contemplated my choices for this week's picture, it took me days to realize the obvious; nothing is more silent than death. And the cemetery that means the most to me is this one. I grew up in the small town of Little Canada, so I recognize most of the names on the stones: Fleischacker, Belland, Ducharme, Gagne, and Huot, my own. Seeing those four letters chiseled into the granite speaks to me of my inevitable future. My grandparents are buried here. My cousins, my friend's parents, and many faces once familiar are now buried in this cemetery. I was the only one there on the morning of this picture. I was surrounded by a beautiful and reverent silence. The snow and solitude made it serene. The crisp air jolted my senses, and I felt brightly alive. Glad to have taken the time for this visit.

Week Three Theme: The Light Fantastic

sun-sations

When blue meets up with orange, that is my idea of visual perfection. I was glad to have my camera as we walked along the Santa Monica Pier and watched the sky become every minute more wildly radiant. Being the best weather in weeks, we were not alone there. I decided to mask the public-ness of this scene the best I could. The glaring lights on the beach are obscured by the palm tree, the parking lot by the fence, and the park benches by the darkness of the foreground. I also needed to time my shots in between the constant stream of passers-by. So even though this is not quite the reality of that bustling moment, it is how I prefer to remember it.

through the looking glass

This next photo is the reflection I caught a few evenings later, as we cruised home along The Strand in Manhattan Beach. The smallest and most humble of the mansions that line the strip cost a mere seven million. With sunsets and views like this, I can understand why. I used the wall of the bike path to stabilize my camera and aimed toward the house. I had my brother and sister-in-law pause and turn their gaze to the side. I was thinking of the black construction paper cut-out hanging in our house growing up of my dad's profile, as a young boy. It always amazed me how easy it was to identify him with the one simple line. Maybe this is more about shape and shadow for me than "the light fantastic," but the sun's last big breath is what drew me to the glass wall of this house in the first place. And anyway, we can't have shadow without light.

Week Two Theme: Topsy-Turvy

an in-school suspension

Honestly, I had to look it up. I wasn't sure if it meant tippy or chaotic or exactly how it was defined, and I certainly didn't want to misinterpret the challenge. Literally, it means "upside down". So I started imagining everything with its bottom up. My kids. My kitchen. Myself, hanging from the balcony desperately grasping onto the camera. Then, this scene. I was thinking of this room I saw in an amusement park when I was young where the entire workings of the house were on the ceiling (which was a wooden floor) to give the illusion that you yourself were on the ceiling. (Where WAS that anyway??) So, I hauled this chair up the stairs and grabbed two large, metal clamps. I set up the tripod and arranged the scene. I took a few terrible pictures.  The chair just wasn't turned the way it should be. One little adjustment, I thought, forgetting how precariously the legs were balanced on the slippery plastic clamp ends. The chair came crashing down on me and eventually the desks and everything on them. I can tell you that trying to catch two six-foot clamps and a falling rocking chair that is much heavier and more awkward than you might first imagine is not gracefully (or quietly) done. But stopping mid-project, even when sensible, is not how I operate.  I re-clamped. Then I tiptoed over to the window, lie down on the floor and shot my photo challenge for the week.

seasonal affects, in disorder

One is never enough. I like to see what else I can do with the theme. I worked this other idea for a few days, trying out various locations and propping agents (my son, a small apple tree, the iced-over snow itself . . .) This shot won out because it is the most hectic-looking, which worked with the theme. (Topsy-turvy also means "in a state of confusion.") I wanted the corner of my yard to look like a forest. Don't we all? What is actually there is a few small pine trees and shrubs with your choice of backdrop: a chain-link fence with a "Beware of Dog" sign, a helter-skelter tree house with home-owner yard clutter, or, my favorite, the conspicuous interstate. I really had to work the angles. I was glad the falling snow helped softened the fence line. The other problem I had was that, with snow on the ground, trying to "leave no trace" is ridiculous, yet what I wanted.  That this spruce simply grew for years, topsy-turvy, in this dense and natural forest unnoticed and without any aid. So, take it for what it is and is not, but maybe could be.