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Showing posts with label #studio. Show all posts
Showing posts with label #studio. Show all posts

Sunday, August 1, 2021

Nathaniel's Private E-Journal - August 2005 : "Beginning A New Chapter..."

 


Summer in West Virginia hasn't changed all that much in a hundred and fifty years and tonight is no exception.  It hit the upper 80's which in and of itself isn't so bad, but the humidity makes it feel much worse.  Brian and his family are out of town, so I spent part of the evening with Jack, the town's physician, and his family.  They know my secret and have kept it to themselves for the past one hundred and twenty years.  It was nice spending time with his mother and grandmother.  As much as time has passed I still see them both as little girls who I used to take up into the evening sky on a warm summer night.  

But only when the sky was clear.  Tonight there are clouds overhead so I can't even enjoy the stars.  I'd have spent the rest of the evening with Jack and his family, but they were hosting a party with others from out of town and I didn't want some of our conversations overheard, so I left early and headed to The Crypt.

One of the nice things about having a private club that's located in the basement level of an old building is that it doesn't get too hot down there and I'm not the only one who knows this fact.  Even before I turned down the alley and reached the stairs that led down into my club, I could hear the music playing, accompanied by laughter and cheering.  

 


Upon opening the door I find the room is full bodies gyrating to the latest hit tunes my new disc jockey is playing.  He goes by the name of Scar-Man due to on old wound that runs from his forehead and across his face.  Thank God I got to him in time, otherwise it could've been a lot worse.  I've offered to help him get it fixed but he always refuses.  "I need to remember where I've been... so I don't forget where I'm goin'," he always tells me, so I leave it at that.

He spots me from across the room and gives me a questioning look.  Some nights I like to make a grand entrance, other times I don't.  Tonight is one of the latter.  Instead I find myself in a reflective mood and give a little shake to my head.  He nods and keeps the party going.

I quietly make my way through the crowd in my own unique way.  I pass between bodies that only a fly could navigate without anyone noticing.  Soon I've reached a dark quiet corner of the room where I can observe without being noticed.  There is a table here and I settle in and let my eyes roam.  Oddly enough they fall upon one of the old vaudeville posters I have lining my wall.  My mind begins thinking about how things were back in the 1910's and the 1920's.  Without realizing it, my eyes swing back to the crowd on the dance floor and I see something wondrous.  My eyes are clearly seeing the young people moving back and forth, flirting, and kissing and having a wonderful time.  Yet in the same moment in my mind I'm seeing another image super-imposed over them.  I see uniforms from bygone eras.  One moment I see the Union blue, then the brown ones we wore back in World War I, in another instant I'm seeing the dresses become flapper style, while the young men are decked out in the old Zoot suits.


The styles continue to change, yet the emotions and feelings are still the same as I watch the figures both before me and in my memories.  Something stirs within me as I stare.  Soon I leave my little corner of the club and head upstairs.  Normally, I'd take the actual stairs themselves, but tonight I take my 'mist' form and head upwards until I reach the door that leads to my art studio and slip through the open transom above it.

Once inside my artistic sanctuary I solidify and stare around at my surroundings.  Canvasses, both finished and still under way, line the floor and walls.  

  


I soon find myself studying each one intently.  My mind begins to think back to when I created each one and the story that led to their creation.  But more than just the stories return, so do the emotions that inspired the imagery.  Before long I find myself exploring where those stories and feelings began which culminated in these artworks.  I've often heard people say, "I wonder what the story is behind this art piece..."   Well, I know each and every story behind my works.  Some of them are simple, others could fill page upon page of a number of books.  

"And I'm the only one who still knows most of them..." I murmur to myself as new thoughts enter my mind.  "Do I dare..." I whisper to the silence that surrounds me.

TO BE CONTINUED...



Friday, October 2, 2020

The Artist - August 2009 Part IX

 I/we made our way over to the plastic covered figure and carefully unwrapped it. Somewhere behind us Brian took in a deep breath, followed by the words, "Oh my God... it's... it's going to be one of your best pieces."

I felt/heard Nathan share the same sentiments inside our shared head. "Agreed."


"But there's still so much to do,"
I told them both, glancing over at the wall next to the sculpture. There was a bulletin board with several photos of my grandfather, at least one of them in uniform. The rest were a couple of him even younger, as well as several of him later in life. I had gathered them to try and help me capture the spark of determination in his eye, the set of his jaw, as well as the... the spirit of the man who would come out of not just one but two great wars. I wanted to capture the man he was and would become all in one shot.

But now I hesitated and looked down at my/our hands. I knew they could work the clay, but would they have 'my' touch?

"Of course they will," Nathan assured me. "This is where I take a backseat. You're in charge. Just think of your grandfather and go for it."

As soon as I heard those words in my head, I saw my grandfather in my mind as clear as day. Clearer than I'd ever been able to remember him. Honestly, I could see every detail in his face that I wanted to capture and just knew what needed to be done. 

What happened over the next twelve hours will remain with me forever. Never had the clay felt so soothing and yielding to my touch. It and I were in harmony like never before. Had Brian not fallen asleep, letting out the occasional snore, I would never have realized how much time was passing. Nathan and I only paused briefly to allow him to take over and drink what our body needed, before going back to work. 

Every now and again, I'd start to wonder if he wasn't helping guide my hands, but I knew better. I could sense his wonder at what his hands were helping create under my direction.  Finally, we took step back and into Brian who had been fast asleep on the couch nearby. I'd it in the studio from day one, knowing there'd be times when I would need to stay overnight from time to time. I admit it, when I get going I don't like to let up some days.

"What the... huh?" Brian muttered then his eyes fell on the sculpt. "Oh my God! It's... it's perfect!" he breathed.

"You're telling me," Nathan murmured out of our shared mouth. I could actually feel his sense of awe which only added to my delight in this moment. I'd succeeded! But there was still more work to be done.

Walking over to the shelves I pulled out a long thin wire with wooden handles tied to each end. Then I headed back over to the piece and started stretching the wire from the head of the piece down to its base. 

"Um... what are we doing?" Nathan asked aloud. I realized this was for Brian's sake, as he was looking as puzzled as Nathan was feeling.

"This," I replied and pulled on the handles of the wire, which slowly sank into the clay, neatly severing the sculpture into two sections. 


"OH MY GOD! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" Nathan cried, making us take a step back. But I quickly took over and brought us back just in time to catch the back half of the piece before it fell onto the table. 

Before I could explain, Brian cut in saying, "Oh... that's so you can remove the armature inside the statue."

Inside our head, I heard Nathan spluttering, "The who... what... where? Wait, this was supposed to happen?"

Patiently, I explained, "You don't get two feet of clay to stay upright all on it's own. Take a closer look. See, there's metal rod attached to the base that runs inside the entire sculpt."

"Okay, yeah I see that," Nathan responded, still sounding a bit shocked.

"Well, that has to come out before I put the piece in the kiln for one thing. For another, I have to start hollowing out the entire piece."

"Hollowing it out?" Nathan repeated, this time aloud for Brian's benefit.

"That's right, like this," I gently held the one half that had come off the main piece into one hand, while I grabbed a tool from nearby in the other. From there I proceeded to scrape out some of the interior of the piece I was holding. 


Remembering to speak out loud, I continued, "Now, I'm going to remove just enough clay so that the remaining shell is just under an inch thick all around. Then I'm going to do the same to the other half that's still on the armature. This it to keep it from cracking when it goes into the kiln. I'm also going to poke a bunch of 1/2 in deep holes to also prevent cracking."

Naturally, I did as I promised, allowing both Nathan and Brian to see what I meant. Then I did the same to the other half. When both were nicely hollowed out and pricked, I began scouring the edges of both halves where the wire had cut them, and then brushed the edges with a water. "Since this is a water-based clay, this will allow me to put them back together," I explained.

"But what about the seams where the two halves meet?" came Nathan's voice out of our mouth.

"I was wondering the same thing," added Brian, who had been watching the entire process intently.

"I'll add more clay and smooth it all out, and then rework it into the rest of the design," I told them. 

An hour later, the piece was whole again, without the slightest hint that it had been cleaved in two. 

"So now you put it in the kiln?" Nathan asked out loud.

"Yes, but we're going to use a low heat to dry it out. The process is called 'candling'. Then once the clay is really good and dry, we'll start the firing schedule," I replied.

"The what?" Nathan asked out loud again.

I winced inwardly. Obviously, neither of them had any clue how long this was going to take. Plus, I was starting to get worried about my physical form back at the hospital. The three of us really needed to talk things out before anything else could happen.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Sunday, September 6, 2020

The Artist - August 2009 Part VIII

Jack gave me a light sedative to allow my body to rest, while Brian drove me and Nathan to my studio. I have to admit, it was still taking me some getting used to being inside someone else's head/body. But, I convinced Nathan not to close me out of feeling what his body was experiencing as we drove. After all, once we were in the studio, I knew where everything was that I would need and the more familiar I was with how his body worked, the better. 

Luckily, he was a very good sport, albeit and smartass one. "And what if I need to use the facilities?" he asked me mentally, at one point. "I don't want to hear any giggling or running commentaries inside my skull."

"Put on a blindfold," I told him.

"Okay, but don't blame me if I miss the target," he shot back.

"Try leaving the seat down and sitting, it's worked for women for years," was my reply.

For a moment there was silence, followed by, "Okay, that makes sense. In fact it makes a lot of sense. Oh my God, I finally get it. These bad boys are hard to aim to begin with. Hell, who came up with the idea that guys had to relieve themselves standing up in the first place?"

Thank God I got him thinking about something else, otherwise I think that train of thought would have turned into a running monologue with me as the only member of the audience. 

Finally, we reached the studio and Brian let us out. "Can I take it from here?" I asked Nathan.

He/we nodded. 

I'd had the good sense to remember we'd need the keys to the studio, before we left my hospital room. Reaching into the right pocket, I found myself feeling envious of how roomy men's pants pockets felt. Because fashion declared women had to look curvy and sexy in pants, our pockets were so tight, we were lucky to fit a single playing card into one. I quietly swore to myself to try getting some pants from the men's department next time I went clothes shopping. 

"Make sure you get a shirt and tie while your at it. And a hat, you'd look really cute in an outfit like that. You could make it your 'artist' look," commented Nathan somewhere in the background. 

"Hey, don't I get some privacy in here?" I shot back

"Sorry," Nathan apologized and then explained, "While it is big and roomy in here, kind of like Dr. Who's TARDIS, I could arrange an area for you to have privacy. But when you're also controlling my body, I kind of have to be around. This body has reflexes and abilities you might not be able to react to without some help."  

That made me curious. "How do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, shortly after I was 'altered' I thought about wanting to get a bird's eye view of a situation and next thing I knew, my arms were flattening and turning into giant wings and..."

I cut him off. "OKAY got it. I definitely want you around!" 

Without further ado, I inserted the key into the door of the studio and opened it. Immediately, a rush of familiar smells greeted us. A wave of emotions swept over me as we entered. Everything was exactly the way I'd left it.


I felt tears filling my eyes. Until Nathan had made his strange proposal, I'd had no idea when or if I'd ever be back here.  For a deep dark part of me had wondered if I'd never be able to bring myself to return, for fear my damaged hands would never be able to create beautiful things as they had before. But here I was, with a set of hands that could mold even the most stubborn of clay. And while they weren't necessarily mine, they were exactly what I needed right now.

I looked down at them and felt a tear of joy falling from my face. It landed on one of those wonderful hands, and I screamed. The drop wasn't a tear, it was BLOOD!

"Sorry, my bad, I should've warned you," came Nathan's hurried thoughts. Inside his mind I felt a strong pair of arms hugging me reassuringly. "I didn't realize you'd get so worked up coming back here, otherwise I would've warned you whenever I cry my tears come out that way."

"You cry blood?" 

"Yeah, that kind of came with the Sangui-Sapio. A lot of people find it kind of disconcerting, so I try not to make a habit of crying in front of others," he explained. 

Looking around I found that I was no longer seeing through his eyes. Instead, we were surrounded by whiteness with the occasional fleeting image passing by. Even more importantly, I had my own body. So did Nathan and he was holding me close. I looked at my hands and saw they were normal. Immediately, I tried my mouth and found it was working too. 

"Where are we? Are we still inside you?" I asked, pulling back slightly.


Nathan nodded. "We're inside my mind. And yes, those images that you see are glimpses into my memories. I was hoping not to have to bring you here, but considering the circumstances, I thought this might the best place for us to talk face to face. I really should've prepared you better for dealing with my 'unique' physiognomy. I'm sorry."

"No worries," I replied without looking at him. Instead, I was studying some of the images flashing in and out of existence. I caught glimpses of celebrities from long ago, as well as a few from modern day. And places, so many places. Some were familiar while others were like something out of a prehistoric documentary or a science fiction movie. I was also picking up more than a few emotions attached to these glimpses, and more than a few were very tender and strong. 

Finally I pulled my attention back to Nathan. Those were his memories and I had no right to intrude upon them, not after he had been doing so much for me. Luckily, he didn't seem to mind. In fact, he seemed to be glad. "You don't get to share a lot of these with anyone else, do you?" I asked after a moment.

He shook his head. "Not really. You're one of the very few who I've ever let in this deep."

"Can you see inside me, in this place?"

"Only if I really wanted to, but that would be intrusive and unfair to you. So I choose not to," he replied.

I began to feel like and insect compared to him. "You have so much power..." I began.

"Please don't make me out to be something more than human," he cut in. "I have all the faults and desires of anyone else. I just had a good upbringing and made a lot of mistakes over the decades, that I've learned from. And I prefer not repeating any that might cause someone distress or harm."

I smiled at him. "I was going to say, and yet you do your best to just be a good man."

"It takes a bit of effort some days," he admitted. Then he asked, "Do you still want to move ahead with the plan? I mean, I'll understand if all this has been too much for you to take in."

I shook my head. "No, I want to finish what we've set out to do. I've seen a bit into you. Now let me share some of myself with you. I want you to experience what my work means to my and why it makes me feel the way it does."

He smiled back at me. "I'd like that, thank you."

A moment later, I was seeing through his eyes once more. Brian was holding out a handkerchief, with a worried look on his face.

"Are you, all right?" he asked anxiously. 

"We're fine," I answered, in my own voice, which surprised the heck out of both me and Brian. I mentally thanked Nathan, who responded in kind saying, "I thought this might be easier for Brian so he'd know who he was talking to."

"Good," Brian coughed, obviously adjusting to this new development. "You both had be worried for a second there."

So only a few seconds had passed while Nathan and I were alone together. Again I marveled at his odd existence. But now wasn't the time to think about it. He had allowed me to share his body and I wanted to share my gifts in return.

Glancing over to a far corner of the room, we spotted a tall figure covered in plastic. I smiled, it was time to get to work.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Thursday, March 26, 2020

The Artist - August 2009 Part III

Of course the accident happened shortly after that and I wound up in the hospital. And as you know I received dozens of visitors who constantly reassured me that everything would be all right. Such words and sentiments were always welcome and helped make the day pass more easily. 


But night-time was another matter. Everything would be quiet, aside from the staff making their rounds. Occasionally one would wake me up to draw blood or give me my medications, but for the most part I was on my own with only my thoughts for company. That's when dealing with my situation became much harder.  

That's when all those little fears we keep hidden away come out to plague us. And believe me I had a lot of them which kept me company for hour after hour. Most of them involved not being able to use my hands to sculpt. I won't tell you how many times I wound up crying myself to sleep, but it happened a lot. I tried to keep quiet about it (which should have been easy with my mouth wired shut), but one person found out.

I woke one morning to someone gently dabbing the sides of my eyes with handkerchief. It was Brian. Dr. Jack Tyler, my physician and our mutual friend, had allowed him in before visiting hours had officially begun. Jack had noticed the tear soaked tissues before and had tried to draw me. I would've have loved to have told him what was wrong, but first and foremost he was my doctor. A doctor in frequent demand so we kept getting interrupted. After a while I just stopped trying.

Luckily, Jack is someone who doesn't give up easily, especially when you're his patient as well as his friend. So he'd gone out of his way to get Brian here to make sure they found out what was troubling me. By this time I was able to make some sounds, but understanding me was not easy. Yet somehow we managed. 
 
As it turned out, both of them suspected I was worried about my works in progress back at the studio. With this in mind, Brian had gone to check on things for me. He even took photos on his phone and shared them with me.  


While I was relieved to see everything was still untouched, a part of me felt guilty at the same time. Seeing my kiln just sitting there waiting to be filled, or my tools just hanging on their hooks, they it all looked so lonely. Then I saw the piece of my grandfather, still wrapped in the plastic just as I'd left it. That's when the tears began to flow. 

It took Jack and Brian some time, but they managed to understand to get the full story out of me.

The date of the exhibition, which was still going to happen, was also my mother's birthday that she shared with her father. It would have been his 108th. I had secretly been planning to have his sculpture to be the centerpiece of the show, as well as a gift to both my mom and his memory.

Once they understood, Brian exchanged a look with Jack who nodded. Then he turned back to me and said, "Don't worry, it's going to be all right. Just trust me."

In spite of the fact that I had absolutely no idea what they had planned, something about Brian's tone was extremely reassuring.  After that, they talked about their families and kept me amused for another half an hour. By then I was feeling tired again and managed to drift off without the help of medication for a change.

The rest of the day passed as all the others had, medications, smoothie meals, and television. There were a couple of more visitors, but it's what the night brought that I really want to talk about. Or rather, who it brought.

I'd been listening to an audiobook with my eyes closed, so I never heard my visitors arrive. It wasn't until Brian gently tapped my shoulder that I realized anyone had come. Looking up I saw him and Jack smiling down at me. Then from behind them Nathan popped his head out and waved at me. 

Unable to help myself, I shuddered. 

TO BE CONTINUED...

Sunday, March 1, 2020

The Artist - August 2009 Part II

The piece in question was a full-bodied statue of my mom's father who had passed away the year before at the age of 107. And believe me the man had led an impressive life having served not only in WWI but also WWII. Now some of you who know me might be thinking 'Wait, I know you're like only 29. So just how old was he when your mom was born?' Well my mom was from his second marriage in 1948. My grandmother was younger than him and gave birth to my mom seven years later. 

Now, getting back to the sculpture, when I say full-bodied I don't mean it was man-sized. It was only  between 18" and 24" inches in height. I had thought about doing a bust, but she had always been proud of the fact that he had served in both world wars. But it was his service in World War I that she had always impressed her the most. Seeing photos of him in his uniform back then, so young and full of hope and purpose, had really made her see him in a different light. 


I know he saw a lot back in the Great War, as they originally called it, but what always impressed me the most about him was the fact that he enlisted again when the Second World War began. He once told us that part of the reason he did was because he knew a lot of young men who weren't prepared for what they might face. He himself had barely been sixteen when he'd enlisted, lying about his age to be accepted at the recruiting office. And as I said, he saw a lot. He was wounded more than once too and was involved in some of the more famous and fiercest battles including the Hundred Day Offensive. 

Looking back, I think that may have actually been the real reason why I chose to put him in his first uniform. Seeing photos of that fresh-faced innocent who would face horrors time and again, and still be willing to help others face new ones, really helped me understand the man I knew and loved.

Anyway, having a specific image in mind I got work in my studio and began the project. 


I was well into the sculpt, having already gotten the shape and pose just right, when a prominent gallery wanted to showcase my work. The timing could not have been better. The date set for the opening would be just perfect to unveil my grandfather's likeness before my mother, our friends, and so many others. Needless to say I went back to the piece with even more enthusiasm. I was calling upon every technique I could think of get everything just right and it was paying off.

Hour by hour, I could see my grandfather's spirit taking shape in the piece. I was so pleased that I didn't care if I never made anything as close to perfect as it. But there was still a lot to do when I left my studio that afternoon. As much as I wanted to keep working, I had to get downtown and meet with a gallery owner (not the one who was going to hold the exhibition). I remember putting the plastic over my work in progress to keep it moist, silently promising I'd be back soon. Only I wasn't.


In fact it would be weeks, and merely days before the exhibit, before I'd step foot inside that studio again... at least physically.

TO BE CONTINUED...