Good grief, it's AUGUST already!! July went by in a blur of greenhorn Photoshoppery and digging through old stashes of stuff while i build inventory for the next kiln firing. In a basket of dog busts created for my pet portrait promotions a few years back, i found a few more chimps; a mother and two babies, and one of a very few "Bleu Monkeys" that i got a little crazy for after my initial "Imogene Experience."
Now, once upon a time there was a huge demand in 17th century French culture for any kind of dressed up monkey, and they even had a name for it: Singerie. Usually miniature in scale, and dressed in period costume, they were often depicted in clandestined little vignettes doing things naughty, frivolous, and generally human. In fact, i daresay that L. Frank Baum's minions for the Wicked Witch of the West could've flown right 
through some reference to them before flocking onto the pages of The Wizard of Oz --albeit no longer miniature in scale. They weren't blue in color in the French version; but their "blueness" was of a cultural hue that could've been a subconscious riff in Baum's turn-of-the-century moral psyche... in my humble opinion.To further complicate matters, i became aware of a fable --perhaps from India or Tibet?-- i'm no longer sure of the provenance of the story, so if someone can illuminate, by all means, dig in! It goes something like this:
There was an old emperor who, in his isolated dotage, married a young bride whom he adored, but who died suddenly and mysteriously, leaving the emperor in a paroxysm of grief. He was inconsolable, and sought the counsel of his most trusted advisor, who simply said to him, "It matters not what you do, sire, as long as you do not pursue the blue monkeys." 
Astonishment gave way to curiosity, and then to obsession, and the emperor decided that he could not resist the very thought of such enigmatic creatures, and set off on journey after journey, discovering worlds of wonder and making alliances in every culture, in an attempt to learn what he could about the elusive blue monkeys, but no one knew where to find them.
Decades went by, and the now ancient emperor who, in the course of his searching had encountered many great things which enriched the lives of his subjects, finally lay dying, unfulfilled in his quest. Defeated and exhausted, he called his trusted advisor to his side to unburden himself of this final disappointment.
"You were right to advise me not to seek the blue monkeys," he said, "for i have failed most miserably in finding them even though it was my keenest objective over these last many years since my wife died." And the counselor smiled, "Ah, but sire, your disobedience has been my greatest achievement. For i knew you would go seeking them the moment i put the thought of blue monkeys into your head. Forgive me, but it matters not in the least whether or not you found them; i knew that the pursuit of them would save you from the grief that was consuming you when your young bride passed away from this life. --That you had more to accomplish in this world."
"And so you have," the counselor continued, "and so your 'failure' is the boon of your loyal subjects. See how our culture has blossomed in the wake of your diplomacy and courage! See how our children are educated about the worlds beyond our city walls!! See how people smile even at strangers, all because of blue monkeys that you could not find!! Sire, you are the greatest emperor this land has ever known."
But his praise fell on deaf ears: the emperor had slipped away in the midst of the counselor's absolution, to join his patient bride in Heaven, amid a sweeping, whooping crowd of eager blue monkeys.
I love that story. And so my dilemma remains as it was when i left off with these little faces a few years ago, which kind ARE they??? Are they naughty 'monkey tricks' or agents of divine guidance?
Maybe it's' just an engineering thing, but this paper puppet has taken me almost TWO WEEKS to complete!! I had to reconfigure her arms and legs from multiple shots, and i had to Photoshop her footbinding ribbons so they looked like ribbons, and yet possess a graphic interest, two-dimensionally. This proved trickier than i expected. But her she is. I hope all you Etsy fans who "hearted' her will try putting one together for yourself!! An exercise in doting for the intrepid soul, to be sure.
Well, it's taken me over a week, but i've created 
the first of a new series of digital printable downloads for my Etsy shop: the inaugural piece, inspired by all the interest in Imogene and the Golden Lotus Puppet Show, is a paper puppet of Imogene and all her shoes and puppets. Shown here are some details of the downloadable files. Please go to my Etsy shop to order.
on
Just checked the Etsy before bed, to discover one of my pieces, "Imogene and the Golden Lotus Puppet Show" was featured on Etsy's "Keep It Weird" Blog. How awesome is that?! I mean, i've known my work was weird my whole life. But to have it acknowledged with such eloquence by a blogger on the Etsy Admin Team ten days into my tenure there is just delicious. Plus, today is my Mom's birthday! So, all together now:
I happened to be reading something about traditional footbinding slippers somewhere at the time; i remember seeing some naìve posting on eBay: someone had these ornate footbinding slippers up for auction advertised as antique baby booties. The irony of such a perception was too poignant to disregard. Since i had 'chimp' on the brain and was even then trolling through my cultural lexicon trying to imagine how to costume a chimp for maximum effect, the footbinding slippers just hit me, because chimps, of course, have opposable thumbs on their feet. Who better to exemplify the dramatic hyperbole of a foot deprived of its primary function by the very embellishment which adorns it and elevates it to a fetish? As is usually the case with my more demanding sculptures, the matter had decided itself and we were off and running, so to speak. 
in this project. Why her, with this? 
Ten months of researching and sewing, embroidering, and doting. My weird little Imogene crept pedantically into my world with no commissioner (lucratively speaking) and no real prospects. Too doll-like to be really conceptual, too laden with statement to just be a pretty little dolly-doll, with her scary puppets and her unflinching revolutionary earnestness. By the time she found her way into a gallery in SoHo (where she was priced at $11,000 by the gallery owner, a number calculated from the $4,500 i told him i needed for my end of the work) we were living in a post-9/11 world, and the collector market that i'd just been orbiting into suddenly seemed to dry up. She sat there in a glass case for two years, until i came and took her home, seven years ago. Even now, she waits in veils of tissue, to tell her puppet stories to someone.
At right is a diagram of how i 'throw a slab.' It's similar to wedging the air out of a body of clay, and creates a large smooth slab without the use of any mechanical equipment. For this process, you will need to wedge or throw your clay on a wooden board (appx. 18"x 24")upon which you've stretched some unprimed, raw canvas. If you attempt to do this on a slick surface, the clay will simply stick like pie dough on an unfloured surface and you'll have to scrape it up and start again. Starting with a cube of clay (no more than a pound or two), simply lift it up with one hand to about 12" to 15" above the surface of the board, and throw it straight down, turning each lift so that it maintains a cube shape, to be sure any air bubbles have been driven out. Once you're confident that the clay is sufficiently de-aired, then continue to lift and throw it down, but confine your 'turns' to two sides, and throw the clay down at a slight angle, so that it begins to spread out like a pancake. Don't try to do it too fast or the clay will tear or crack. Every time you pick up the slab to flip it over, grab an adjacent edge, so that the clay is driven out evenly from the cube's original center. It's a lot simpler a motion than i can draw in a single diagram, and it takes practice to get the feel of what's going on. I will try to make a demo video for a later post. Please don't hesitate to email me with any questions or suggestions if this seems unclear. --A footnote: i work with slab-built cones because i HATE to hollow out a solid sculpture, and if you fire a solid chunk of ceramic clay any thicker than about 1" or 2" it's highly likely your piece will explode from the expansion of chemical water trapped in the greenware that turns to steam in the high temperatures of a kiln. Building with slabs is a bit different, but well worth the practice, so Good Luck!!
Any kind of ceramic clays will work; i prefer mid- to high-fire ranges (cone 05 to cone 6). My favorite source in TN is Midsouth Ceramic Supply, located in Nashville. My favorite source in NYC is New York Central Art Supply, in Manhattan (their range of ceramic clays is somewhat limited but they get extra points for comprehensiveness: their second floor full of exotic papers is my idea of heaven, but i digress). Shown here is a buff colored high-fire stoneware, at what i consider an ideal working state: in a room that's 72 degrees Fahrenheit, and 72% humidity. The drier and hotter the room is, the faster your clay dries out. The cooler and damper the room, the longer your clay's 'open time,' or time you can work it.
Shown here are an array of my favorite tools (from left to right): two small wooden knives (the first one i've had since i was about ten years old; you can see where i've had to whittle it sharp again), a red-handled stylus from the days when graphic design involved using sheets of transfer type; an empty mechanical pencil used to impress tiny circles, usually for the pupils of my Humpty Dumpties' eyes; two salvaged dental tools (get friendly with your dentist!); a standard ceramic 'scoring' needle used to 'score and slip' two pieces together; a handmade scoop utilizing a paper clip and a straight pin at opposite ends; a bamboo calligraphy pen; and a spare red-handled pattern-transfer wheel from my sewing basket, so the red-handled stylus wouldn't feel lonely.
Pure pigment, high-fire ceramic stains are expensive, but a little goes a long way. I'm still using the first tiny bags and jars that i bought 20 years ago for the most part: I keep a palette of dry stains in an old "Jelly Bellies" assortment box for easy access, and dry mix them as needed (except for copper carbonate, cobalt carbonate, and rutile, which alter chemically when mixed with other colors; everything else is pretty much 'what you see is what you get.' Pinks fade a bit with no overglaze while yellows and blues can deepen in high-fire, depending on what they're on or under, clay- and glaze-wise.
You can also buy pan sets of underglazes, which are mostly just ceramic stains suspended in gum arabic so they stay put on the greenware. Mine have been emptied and refilled with ceramic stains and filtered water so many times i've lost count. These basic eight colors here cover just about all my organic mammal needs, color-wise. Old pudding cups, sour cream containers, and baby food jars pinch-hit as pans for alternate colors. An assortment of decent brushes help with mixing and application, and a small pot of 'slip' (slurry of water plus whatever clay i'm sculpting with, if it's white) helps when i'm creating lighter tints of some colors.
Chunks of clay are sliced using a length of florist's wire anchored to a table-clamp (i think this one's actually a lamp-base, but whatever you have handy works). It helps to keep them an even thickness, but if you're a bit wobbly like i was here, no worries. You can even it out in a couple of different ways. Slices for a bust or cone that's about 5" high needs to start off about 3/4"to 1/2" thick (1 cm). 
Once the slices have been pinched or wedged into slabs, i tear them into triangles, curling each triangle into a cone. For a narrow cone, i let the corner opposite the longest side be the point of the cone. For a medium-width cone, i pinch a fold into the middle of the longest side, and let that be the point of the cone. For a wide, saucer-like cone, i tear the slab into a circle and cut out a tiny wedge-shaped slice (like removing a skinny slice from a pizza, and the center of the circle becomes the point of the cone). I then 'score-and-slip' the two edges of the cone together.
None of these cones is more than four inches (10 cm) from base to tip. If you wanted to work bigger than this, i recommend thinning your slices by throwing them out on a wedging board, rather than pinching. (See next post). These cones became the busts of the various animals in the photos below. The narrowest cones became birds, some fish, and some mammals (such as a borzoi hound's head, and a deer's head). The medium-width cones became various mammal's heads for the most part (rabbits, some dogs, and a pony), while the wide, shallow cones became the faces of stouter faces, such as bears, owls, and cats.
