Went to the Oregon Potters Association Ceramic Showcase tonight and, as usual, spent a little too much. But not much too much. It's become an annual ritual we not only enjoy while we're there, but continue to appreciate as we gloat over our treasures. Below is this year's loot. Where possible, the photo links to the artist's site.
It's finished! From the bare idea for a color wheel tattoo came this gorgeous work of art. Above is the pic Joe took right after the deed was done. I was going to wait until everything was healed up, but I couldn't. Here's the morning after:
I love the formal look of the piece. It's like someone dumped an illustration from a Victorian color primer on my arm. From a distance, it looks as the artist intended--like a big piece of jewelry. Amazing. I'm so proud to have this on my arm. I never liked long sleeves, and now I may never wear them again.
Originally uploaded by frykitty
There is a red-headed child of indeterminate sex in our apartment complex who shrieks a lot, and loves rain.
Today, it placed a blanket over a shopping cart, squeezed itself into the bottom, and was forging through a large puddle with the help of a piece of an abandoned dresser. Ingenious, and entertaining for the neighbors.
Shabby elegance cards
Originally uploaded by frykitty
What I've been working on lately. They aren't perfect, but I'm learning a lot. I'm really enjoying the wilted ribbon technique. I made up a double-embossing technique (read: lots of people probably use it, I just haven't heard of it) where I clear-emboss and then run it all through an embossing folder, so I have a layer of resist, and then a raised layer.
A comment on facebook got me diving into my archives. I didn't remember that I used to call myself "Fry". Bloody Futurama ruined that forever. In any case, I found some things I wanted to bring forward.
November, 2000: "Wouldn’t it be cool if our eyes turned gray along with our hair? Man, talk about being a creepy-looking old person. Maybe they’d just become translucent if you lived to eighty or ninety. Hmm. I may have to get some contacts in a few years, just to freak people out."
January, 2001: "Dream: I’m leading the Rose Parade through the streets of Portland, but I can’t figure out the route and I keep getting lost.
Note to subconscious: Don’t you think you’re being a bit heavy-handed with the metaphors? Oh, and quit with the grain silos."
September, 2001: Snif. Tonight will be the first time I’ve ever watched a Star Trek premier alone. Kel and I tried to get together, but we’re carless and bussing home after 10pm is no fun. I have great memories of parties and friends associated with various premiers and finales. I’ll have to do something to make tonight special.
Maybe an ice-cream cake and a gigolo.
October, 2001 [advice regarding the viewing of Magic Eye images]: The only way I ever got them was to use a technique that can only be tried privately.
First, take off all your clothes.
Next, put your nose right on picture.
Do the eye-relaxing thing.
Move your head away from the picture slowly.
It’s possible I’m lying about part of the instructions.
November, 2001: I spend too much time double-checking my sent items to make sure I didn’t send an email to the wrong person.
Maybe I should stop saying things I don’t want to get caught saying.
One more thing before I'm sick of my archives. December, 2001, this was my kitchen:
Awesomest kitchen ever.
About a week ago I had this brilliant idea. I love to make things, but I suck at color, so wouldn't it be handy to have a color wheel tattooed on my arm? The instant I thought it, it "stuck". I knew this was the thing that had to be my second tattoo. I wrote my friend Anna, who has amazing work, and asked her for a rec. She sent me to the personable and talented Joe Bass. I went in for a consult, and Joe quickly became one of my favorite people. Even if I'd hated his work and walked away, I would have been glad to meet him, because he's just one of those people who makes your life richer.
A week later, I was on the bench. For five hours. Now Joe, he was fine. He could have gone all night and finished this puppy, no problem. Me, I admit I reached the end of my endurance, but I think I did okay having my flesh needle-felted for that long. My first tat, probably because it's a tiny thing, hardly hurt. This one? Oh yeah, there was a great stinging for some of it.
I'm about halfway there, and go in again on the 27th. I can't wait. I keep staring at my arm. From a distance, it looks like I'm wearing a piece of Victorian jewelry. I'm in love with this thing. Some stuff I learned about me and tattoos:
- Though I took my Kindle, I read all of two pages. I'd rather watch Joe work than read.
- Long tat sessions are exhausting.
- Roy Orbison isn't so bad after all.