I was walking through the Bailey Science Building, doing my observational thing, and I came across this in the hall:
It’s a packing crate, probably for some equipment VSU has had delivered. And my first thought was, “I can use that for firewood.”
My second thought was,”…if I were at home in my labyrinth.”
::sigh::
The bowl was dry and firm enough to begin cutting. First I used my handy template to mark where the channels for the bricks ought to be:
If I had been thinking, I would have cut way around the circle, since I was successful in making the bowl big enough to extend beyond the edge of the granite.
Then I used my little brick template to mark the channels:
Since I’m pretty sure the granite was not cut on precisely 90° angles, I took care to mark the cardinal points on the template, and on the bowl.
Here’s the first channel cut:
I cut it a little larger than the template. It will shrink, i.e., get bigger, as the clay dries and is then fired, but that’s OK. I want the margin of error to be big enough to accommodate the reality of the bricks in the dirt. I will not have another chance to get this right. Once I get the bricks set, I can fill in any terrible gaps with caulking if I feel like it.
Finally, all four channels cut:
I saved the cutouts, maybe I’ll make little markers out of them.
The interior continues to be a puzzle. Andy’s not sure about how gold leaf would adhere to the glaze, and it would be a constant battle to keep it gilded. All the sticks and dirt would scratch it off almost immediately. I’m thinking I may smooth the exterior as well.
A reminder of where this is going:
Today I smoothed the interior:
I think I’m leaving the exterior rough. You will notice that I have cleaned up the drainhole.
You will also have noticed, those of you with any history with this blog, that I have successfully distracted myself from both my 24 hour challenge and my sketching for the ELP.
After fretting about it all night, I decided that I would add more height to the bowl, for several reasons. First, as I mentioned yesterday, if I wanted more than an inch of water in the bowl after I cut slots for the bricks to jut into, I needed more to cut into. Second, by adding height I would also add width. The inside measurement stood at about 20 inches; with shrinkage, it might barely fit under the granite, and I think it would be better if it were significantly set back.
Anyway, here’s the bowl after adding one coil:
You can see how shallow it was. So I added two more coils after this, and ended up with:
It’s mammoth. It’s 22 inches across, inside measurement. I’m a little afraid of it, actually. Now I let it dry and set for a couple of days before making my incisions.
The floor is still open for discussion of what the interior should look like.
So first we flipped the bowl:
Here’s an interior shot:
I had developed concerns that it was not wide enough, the opening of the granite is 19 inches, and it wasn’t, but Andy showed me how to shape it and stretch it. As I worked, it opened up to at least 20 inches, which should be about right. I would feel more comfortable if I had made it larger to begin with.
Also, as I worked, the bottom flattened out quite a bit. I’m now developing concerns that it’s too shallow, in terms of cutting slots for the bricks to fit through.
Today I began construction of the bowl which will form the center of the labyrinth, its omphalos.
Here’s the center as it stands now:
The bowl in the center at the moment was given to me by Ginny for Christmas. I use it for different kinds of almost rituals: washing the granite center pieces, that kind of thing. The bowl I am building will be permanently installed beneath the granite and bricks.
It will have a relatively flat bottom with a hole in it. Thus, water will drain from it (and yes, I’m planning on digging a deepish hole and filling it with gravel to serve as a drain beneath the bowl), but I can plug it to fill it if I wish. If I’d rather have fire than water, I can place a tray with candles in it–or just candles.
If I get really good, I’ll have candles beneath the water.
Anyway, I started work on that today. Andy Cunningham, Jr., the head of our art department, is a patient and effective teacher. I am using the coil method to build this thing. Here are the first three coils:
I include the water bottle for scale.
Ah, but perhaps you’ve spotted a potential gremlin: the rim of the bowl cannot be flat. There are bricks which will cut through the rim and jut out over the bowl.
And lo! I remembered that and did a rubbing of the center before I came down here:
That’s how I knew how big to make the bowl, and where to cut the channels. (The granite was supposed to have been cut at 90° angles, but my eye tells me clearly that it was not.)
Andy let me use the extruder, much to the disgust of the art minors, who were made to roll their own coils. Hence, by the end of the afternoon, I was done with the basic construction:
That sits overnight to dry a bit and firm up. Tomorrow we’ll flip it over and let gravity do the flattening of the bottom.
The floor is now open for discussion of what the inside of the bowl should look like.
After nearly two weeks, the seed for the Irish moss had produced nothing, so I broke down and got more actual plants. These didn’t look exactly like the plants I had already planted. It will be interesting to see whether they blend or not.
I got a whole flat of 10 plants and used five of them in the center of the labyrinth:
I actually split the plants and spread them out in the channels of the vesica. I have five more and may plant them over at the entrance to the gentlemen’s loo.
I finished the new look for the southpoint lighting fixture:
It turned out very nice.
I have been nonplussed by how fast the grass grows in the labyrinth. I have to mow it every four days or so:
And it has rained so incessantly that it’s hard to keep up. The current forecast calls for one more day of sun today, then a week and a half of rain!
I also dug up as many daffodil bulbs as I could find yesterday, awfully hard to do through ivy, especially when the leaves have all but died off, and planted the remaining ferns, ghost painted ferns. I neglected to take a photo.
Nothing of import to discuss, just lots of little meandering ideas.
Yesterday was my birthday, yes, thank you for all the well wishes, and I received several nice things. Those of you who know my penchant for wooden boxes (and clearly my wife knows it) will understand the thrill I got from this:
It’s a pencil box, not an antique, but a very neat replica of one. Here you can see the inkwell on the left, and the upper “drawer” swung out to the side. The joint between the inkwell and the drawer is not distorted: it actually slants so that the drawer can swing out. When it’s swung in, the lid slides all the way in and holds it all together.
I’m thinking about making it my pen & ink case for all those many times I’m sketching with pen & ink. Well, you know, all those times I’m going to be sketching with pen & ink.
My dear wife also gave me, as a semi-serious gag gift, three little art kits: watercolor, sketching, and oil pastel. Each “artist’s kit” is about 12×14 and opens up to reveal a nice pad of paper, a tray of supplies, and a book by the series author, one Philip Berrill, the “Flying Artist.”
In what is surely a stunning example of the Newnan Vortex™ at work, Mr. Berrill died exactly two weeks ago. It almost makes me feel bad about what I have to say about his kits.
Here’s the cover to the watercolor kit:
This is it, guys. It doesn’t get any better in any of the illustrations in any of his guides. It’s awful. It’s so awful that it doesn’t even make me feel better about myself as an artist. I mean, this guy was famous and apparently rich from the sales of his books and kits. He flew to Dubai to teach ex-pats how to paint. Mercy.
Plus, the pad converts into an adjustable easel. At least there’s that.
I do think that such a kit would have been a godsend to me as a child. The quality of the materials is not the best, but it’s all there in a nifty little book/box, and there are some cheesy examples in the book to copy that wouldn’t strain the abilities of the rankest beginner, and I have to believe that these things will give the gift of art to more than a couple of people who would not have had it otherwise.
In other news, the sequel to Shubian’s Rift has begun shooting. Oh yes.
Did you know I’m in the Internet Movie Database? Oh yes I am. And in Amazon, where I am top billed.
The sequel, the title of which I am yet unaware, will be webcast in three episodes. I will not spoil it for you by revealing the dread secret of Sid Shubian and Tuka D’Nuul. Not to mention Dr. Ploo.
Today a box arrived from Cottage Garden, and it sorely puzzled me. I had not ordered anything, yet it was addressed to me. When I opened it, it was seven little plants, cunningly packed, a gift from Marc and Mary Frances Honea. They’re a little flowering shrub, Cuphea ilavea, and they’re in memory of our little dog Winnie, who passed away last month. This variety is called “Tiny Winnie,” which is why the Honeas gave them to us.
Here’s what they will look like:
For the moment I will plant them in planters, but eventually they’ll go in the planting area beside our “dance floor” patio overlooking the labyrinth.
I have a lot to get done between now and the gathering of the Lichtenbergians by the labyrinth on Saturday, and the amount of rain we’ve been having has not helped. Still, this afternoon I was able to drag some stuff together and start creating a new look for one of the lighting fixtures:
This is on the advice of my trusted shamanic advisor, who said that these lights, situated as they are by the southpoint of the labyrinth, needed metal, preferably copper. You can sort of see what it looks like in this photo. My puny camera cannot capture the glow and interplay of light in the night. You’ll just have to drop by and see it for yourself.
What else do I want to get done before Saturday? I have to finish the new lighting look at the southpoint. I need to plant the remaining ferns (Japanese painted) where the daffodils have finally died down, digging up the bulbs and transferring them, eventually, to the dance patio planting area. I have to clean off my work tables, no easy task. I’d love to get the stone circle made for the westpoint. I have to clean all the votives and replace the candles. I want to trim and sweep the stones. Etc., etc. I wonder how much I’ll get done.
You may recall that I had ordered Irish moss seed to plant on the vesica piscis in the middle of the labyrinth. They came today.
Here you go. I’ve included the penny for scale.
This is 5,000 Irish moss seeds. Five zero zero zero. It is enough to produce 300 square feet of Irish moss.
Since the vesica piscis is 10 sq. ft. at the most, I can do a lot of planting otherwise.
But mercy, how does one approach these things? They came with a planting guide, but even mixed with fine sand, it’s going to be a nightmare of distribution.
Perhaps I should calculate 300 tablespoons, get that much sand, mix the seed, and then I can just scoop up a number of tablespoons equivalent to the square feet I’m trying to seed. That would make it easier to calculate coverage visually. (My handy-dandy converter widget tells me that’s essentially a gallon of sand.)
Plus, it’s about to rain all week. That means I need to wait. But I wanted it at least to be germinated by the Lichtenbergian gathering on 5/16. That may not happen.
Next week’s rain is a pain in many respects, although it will allow me to work inside without fretting about missing an evening by the labyrinth. I have the orchestral version of “Milky Way” to knock out, and I can always paint.