Home Again, Home Again Jiggity-Jig

 

Ceramic Incinerator Boxed and Buckled Into A Seatbelt

 

The HOME Exhibit at the Pajaro Valley Arts Gallery has closed. After almost seven weeks away,  my “Homefire 1957” incinerator piece is coming home.

When it’s in transit, I have learned to handle my work myself whenever possible. (Here’s one sad, sad example of why.) I figure if I break it, I am pre-forgiven. Others, they feel terrible all by themselves and I can’t assuage it! Consequently, I am glad for any nearby opportunities to show my stuff because I can deliver and pick up in person. If I have a driver, I hold pieces on my lap, but when I drive, I need to either fully pad and pack pieces in a lidded container or buckle them in thusly.

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Dad Points Things Out

Detail of Ceramic Incinerator with scgraffito carving of two silhouettes

 

It’s a moment from one’s childhood that becomes a primal imprint. We were suddenly out in the warm LA backyard twilight. Dad had us all looking straight upward, scanning, scanning. He grabbed my shoulder and pointed when he saw it and I think I saw it too. It was not a bird. Not a plane. Not a shooting star. I’d seen all of those. This was different: a glinting dot moving in a speedy soundless arc directly overhead!

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Between Two Fires

ceramic incinerator sculpture

“All art is autobiographical. The pearl is the oyster’s autobiography.” 

–Federico Fellini

So, there’s this: A ceramic incinerator sculpture that I ended up calling “Homefire 1957.” Other than perhaps a bomb shelter sculpture to exorcise my childhood’s deep fear of being annihilated in a nuclear war, nothing else quite portrays what was happening in my domestic and cosmic home at that time more than this piece. Yeah, it’s autobiographical.

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