I used to visit Dorothy Steele’s old shop down by the Ross Island bridge. She now works from her home. She uses plants for texture, pressing the material into her distinctively-colored pieces. Her work is the type you can look at many times, and always see something new. This view is a bit of a tease, and doesn’t truly show the richness of this cup design. I wanted to have at least two of her motifs in the picture, so you get a bit of each.

We already have a Chayo Wilson cup from 2011, but I couldn’t resist bringing home another of her leathery, organic pieces. This feels like a day in the high desert to me.

We have long been enamored of Theresa Smith’s sgraffito work, drawn by her mysterious, woodcut-like crows. It wasn’t a crow that finally sold us, though, but this daisy. It’s still her signature black-and-white, and very representative of her work, but it has a bright liveliness that is a little different. Like so many of the artists this year, Smith is beginning to experiment with transfers using her original sgraffito work. She showed us a piece in the back. While I’m not automatically a fan of transfers in ceramics, I think this direction will be interesting for her.

Kristy taught me to throw a pot. I haven’t thrown in a while, but may get back to it in the future. We have some other pieces of hers, but they are years old, and don’t represent her current work. Her pieces are bright and joyous, almost whimsical. This cup is going to make me smile frequently.

I wish everyone could come over and hold this bowl. It has a tremendous richness of texture and surface, and a sense of immense history. It’s as if he retrieved it from an archeological dig rather than creating it himself. We love everything we brought home, but this one is definitely our preciousssss.

I couldn’t resist nabbing this amazing focal bead from Kathe Nagy. It’s about 1-1/2″ tall, and filled with a swirling world of floatie things. I’m going to make something out of it, and I’m not going to give it away. Nope, mine.

Lambert Script

From the book Dragonology Code-Writing Kit: From the Desk of Dr. Ernest Drake by Dugald A. Steer.

I recently picked up my first copy of Art Doll Quarterly. Nearly every page filled me with inspiration and delight. Below is a gallery of my favorites from the issue, plus a few extras I can’t resist including.

Fayette, by Sharon Woodward

Group of Hags, by Sheila Bentley. I love the vintage elements.

185, Karly Perez

Anntu, by Beth Robinson of Strangedolls.net

Einstein, by Donna of So Dark So Cute

The Fun Farm is a little bit north of Bend, Oregon, east side of the highway. It’s hard to spot, because the town won’t allow signs on the highway. Just look for the bowling-ball tree and the field of goats.

We showed up about 30 minutes before closing, but as we learned at Petersen Rock Gardens, “Bend time” is a relative thing. Apparently someone heard us drive up, as the door was unlocked and we were ushered in before we had a chance to drive away.

The mouth is an electronic kaleidoscope, using scenes from The Wizard of Oz to create ever-shifting images.

Originally called The Funny Farm, it was founded by partners Gene and Mike, and houses an antique and costume shop in addition to a yard full of outsider art. When you first enter the shop, you are greeted by a large dollhouse, and the sound of The Wizard of Oz. Soon you realize that the movie is playing on a tiny television inside the dollhouse.

Tin man.

Once vibrant, the Farm has fallen into a genteel decay since the death of Gene’s partner, Mike, in 2005. While we were there, work was being done to get the place ready for free wedding day. It’s usually in July, but they’re running a bit behind, so you’ll be able to get married or renew your vows at the Love Pond in August this year.

Dusty bottles await a purpose.

I think we missed a lot when we were there. I’ve seen several pictures online of things we didn’t see. I felt as if I were intruding on something private, rather than visiting a tourist spot. Part of that feeling came from being there so close to closing–I always feel funky about that–but a larger part came from the quiet, the disarray, the decay. Nonetheless, I’d like to visit again next year. Next time I’ll go in the early afternoon, and I’ll follow the map to make sure I don’t miss anything. What I did see, you can check out in my flickr set.

The king of the garden surveys his domain.

There are a few things I love more than letterboxing. Which is why, when we recently went to Central Oregon for a letterboxing event, I spent some time touring the local outsider art.

Petersen’s version of Independence Hall

Rasmus Petersen immigrated from Denmark, and built the Garden in the last 17 years of his life, from 1935 to 1952. It was his tribute to his new homeland. He collected local rocks from the mineral-rich, volcanic landscape surrounding his home. Obsidian for a shiny facing, shells for an accent, and the occasional delight of a thunder egg.

Plaque (out of frame): “Enjoy yourself. It’s later than you think.”

Peacocks, cats, and chickens roam the grounds. We wished we’d brought along the grapes from our hotel room. Peacocks love them some grapes. The day was bright, and two other families roamed the garden with their children. I had hoped to visit the museum, and though it was scheduled to be open, the doors were locked. I hear there is a display of fluorescent rocks inside. Ah well, maybe next trip.

No trolls under the bridge–just tadpoles

I was charmed by every bit of the place, even the decay, that allowed us to see the metal barrels supporting the masses of glued and cemented rocks that made up a tiny building. We plan on going back to the area next year, and I’d like to visit when the museum is open, and perhaps get some better pictures. Here’s the rest of the set on flickr.

Unlike past years where we bought many small things, our strategy this year was to just get a few larger pieces. We are tickled as heck with what we brought home, though there was a small pang at not picking up something from all our old favorites. We’ll probably go back to nibbling next year.

We did actually end up with a couple of small things. I got some dazzling roving from the Handweavers Guild show, and a couple of lovely beads from the Bead show.

I originally spotted the bowl on the right, but as we were checking out, the Spousal Unit decided it simply must be paired with the bowl on the left. He was right, of course. If you turn them around and hold them to the light, they are translucent. Gorgeous work.

We also couldn’t resist adding to our collection of Michael Fromme critters. This mousie will join a rabbit and a fox.

Our method as we browse the OPA show is to bring a map, and mark the artists we want to come back and consider buying from. But sometimes we are thwarted by potlust. This wonderful Ginger Steele cried out to come home with us. We have a smaller piece by her, and it was high time we had something a bit larger. Speaking of Ginger…

This was our great prize this year. Note: we named him, not the artists. We had just come from Ginger’s booth, happily toting her pot in our basket, when we found an old favorite, James DeRosso. I have a collection of his tiny monsters. This is not tiny–it’s about 10″ high. I spotted it on the back shelf and said “Hey, that looks like James collaborated with Ginger Steele!” James just happened to be lurking behind us, and filled us in. He’d left this piece in Ginger’s studio for her, and when it got leather hard “she just went nuts”.  They then used her glazes on it. The result is one of my favorite pieces ever. The Spousal Unit is also completely smitten. And not only is it a delightful piece of art, that second fin comes off to reveal a slot–it’s also a coin bank!

Good show, everyone! We really enjoyed the addition of the Handweavers Guild to the guild shows. We talked to lots of artists and saw many beautiful things. Can’t wait for next year.

One of my favorite creepmeisters, Dahlia Dreary, has started a book club.  The first assignment is Sarah Rayne’s A Dark Dividing. As usual, the Kindle edition is full of copy-editing errors. Nonetheless, I’m enjoying the novel, which is oh-so-gothicy thus far.

So I posted a beautiful foam monster built of foam on facebook a few days ago. Turns out the creator used the building of this monster to film a tutorial on scaling and building in foam. It’s fascinating, and boy do I want some of those tools. If only tools could make me a brilliant sculptor.

Nick Cave’s Shamanic Sound Suits (sorry, Spousal Unit, not that Nick Cave):

Urban Geodes:

Stunning porcelain art dolls from Marmite Sue:

Finally, a spooky little automaton by Thomas Kuntz:

This is something I’ve never had trouble with, much to the Spousal Unit’s frequent consternation. For example, I am convinced the Custom House in downtown Portland is full of spies. Look at it:

Looming there with its stony edifice and its formal courtyard. Why do you think plans for the building continually fall through? Spies.

Then there was the time when we lived downtown and I’d hop the bus in the mornings for a short trip to work. One morning, I saw a handsome black gentleman, about 50, dressed in a dark turtleneck, charcoal slacks, and polished dress shoes. The Spousal Unit and I agreed he was quite sharp. The next day, there was another black man, very similarly dressed, with features very much like the fellow of the day before, except 20 years younger. Father and son? Of course not. It was the same man. When we saw him the day before, he’d obviously come from the future with a dire warning for his younger self. We never saw the older man again, though we saw the younger several times. See, his older self went back to the future.

Recently, the Spousal Unit and I were pulling a set of letterboxes I’d planted temporarily. Heading along the trail, he asked me where the turn was. I told him that according to my clues, it was at the castle ruins. He looked at me skeptically. Eventually, we came to a trail on the left, marked by a few overgrown slabs of concrete. “Castle ruins!” I said. She shook his head and said I had to be kidding. I harrumphed that it was perfectly obvious.

It’s possible I have an excess of imagination, but I’m not giving it up.