sculpting of things

One of the points of getting back to Oahu was to get back into bronze sculpture. It is time to wear a leather apron again. I have not approached a blast furnace since before the punctuation mark that was 2006, when I picked up and ran from myself like a cat with its tail on fire. It takes time, said Marc, and then you see how well the scars blend into the flesh. Maybe the seams will be smoother after sandblasting. This is a lot of metaphor for me to deal with.

So of course, the clay was lost. I dug around in the art cupboards and almost immediately gave up. But then the goldfish went belly-up and required emergency rescue measures, so I made a giant mess in the search of the fish net, and LO, there was the clay, amongst a pile of plaster molds.

And now I am making models of all the cats, starting with the ancient old ones who threaten to expire with every tottering step and croaking maow. Xebo is the best model, since he stays in his cat-nest 20 hours a day.

 

The idea is to make one for every little beast in the house, and line my shelves with little gestural cats. I hope I have enough clay for a miniature Sookie, who was bigger than our Thanksgiving turkey.