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Foom-Bozzle-Wozzle, part 3

January 21, 2020
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The house on Krall Street inhabited by my unique friend Martin Klass (see Foom-Bozzle-Wozzle parts 1 and 2) is nestled in diverse overgrowth of bucketed flowers, crawling vines, and trees. Marty is a horticulturist and a hoarder, so much so that the City has issued him at least one citation, and not the good kind, either.

Yesterday I made my public-transport way to Marty’s place, and found to my mild dismay that a ceramic vase, which I had made and either given to Marty or had it dumpster-dived by him when I cleaned out my former workshop after my amicable divorce with the very nice small-town Minnesota gal Joni née Froehling, was in one of Marty’s flower-buckets, toppled over. I grabbed the vase and tried to open the screen door of the house, but it was strangely stuck. “HELLO…”

“Bongo!” replied Martin son of Max & Betty. (He calls me Gary infrequently. “Bongo,” “Ca’Bear,” and “Bernanke” are more frequent forms of address.) “Jussaminit!”

Inside his enslovened abode, I brandished the vase, told him how I’d found it, and accused him of neglect. He nodded in agreement and assured me that many other works of my creation on his property were being neglected, and that some in his back yard had been destroyed in storms. (I knew that already and it didn’t bother me–a lot of what Marty had were “factory seconds” of mine, unsuitable as showpieces. Prolificity’s downside is also its upside.)

I had a proposition for Marty, spawned when I picked up my vase. I was there to pick up the bird sculpture that had been rejected by Bruce Cody, the juror of the Glendale Arts Council’s 57th annual Juried Show. But I would rather have the vase, made by me on the 19th of May 2003 and having a suggestion of hard-to-capture antiquity, of ancient days, about it, than the rejected bird, made recently, which I could easily replicate in a couple of hours spread out over a couple of bisquing/glazing weeks. How about a trade?

Marty instantly agreed, and also agreed to pose for a photo illustrative of the trade:

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I left soon after, but before I left I said, “You’re my best friend,” perhaps quoting Jessica Tandy as Miss Daisy, or perhaps telling him a simple truth.

Christy & Gary & Saturday & sundaes & Sandcutters

January 19, 2020
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This is Christy White. She is now, and has often been, the President of the Arizona State Poetry Society. Sometimes she has been its Treasurer. I have known her for about ten years, and a few times I’ve participated in poetry-sharing meetings she has conducted at the Mustang branch of the Phoenix Public Library. We see each other at spoken-word poetry events as well, both of us being enthusiastic participants in open mic.

Early last October Christy asked me if I’d be willing to be a featured “Poet/Artist” and cover artist for Sandcutters, the poetry anthology that ASPS now produces annually. I was glad to agree, and I invited her to harvest my blog for whatever she thought would be fit to print.

Yesterday, Saturday, we met at the Arizona Center, at Cold Stone Creamery, so that I could treat her and myself to a sundae, and she could treat me to the 2019 edition of Sandcutters. Christy had the Apple Dumpling Sundae, and I had the Chocolate Delight in the I Love It size. (I did in fact love it.) We talked about poetry, personal histories, The Vagina Monologues, Neil Diamond, Elvis Presley, and this and that and other things for about an hour. Christy is a spellbinding storyteller and her playfulness is complemented by a beautiful, mischievous grin.

And we took a couple of pictures, I of her and her of me holding her anthology featuring my artwork and poetry, and the poetry of a host of creative, talented people from across the country as well as from the Valley of the Sun.  Teens and oldsters, New Yorkers and small-towners, all participated–it’s a wonderfully diverse crop.

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Here I am on Page 142:

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There’s more of me, and MUCH more from about five dozen award-winning poets, between the covers of this fine publication. The hard work that Christy threw into the book shows on every page. And it can be a fine addition to YOUR library for the unbelievably low price of Nine Dollars US!!! If you’re interested, please go to http://azpoetry.webs.com. Or if you’re in the Valley and want a free sundae to go with your purchase, let me know with a reply to this post, and I’ll see to it!

Mercy and Breakfast

November 24, 2019
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Here are two vessels that I made, some coffee in the smaller one, and “The Original Decadent Salted Caramel Bar,” which is only 210 calories per bar, but 1,680 calories if you have all 8, which I did, in a mere 9-1/2 hours, mostly last evening, with the last one left over for breakfast.

 

“Lord have mercy on me, a sinner.” That is what is inscribed on the larger vessel. I am practicing ersatz stonecutting for the sake of the urn I will make that will house my late brother Brian’s ashes. When I read from the New Testament at the urging of a college roommate of mine more than 40 years ago, the story of the bigshot who thought he was praying but instead was bragging about his accomplishments, compared to a truly humbled and penitent soul TRULY praying by saying these simple words. struck me as the heart of the matter. I have said this prayer dozens of times, fingers interlaced, in the last 40 years, though to me it’s a “message in a bottle” prayer that may not be heard. And “Lord” seems to be shorthand for “Whatever makes and sustains us.”

But to my brother Brian the  words needed no analogizing. He was a Christian through and through, including humility. The words fit him.

Most likely, though, other words will be on Brian’s urn– something like WITHIN◇THIS◇VESSEL◇ARE◇THE◇EARTHLY◇REMAINS◇OF◇BRIAN◇CLEMENS◇BOWERS◇1957-2018◇BELOVÉD SON◇BROTHER◇UNCLE◇HUSBAND◇NEPHEW◇COUSIN◇OUTLAW◇REQUIESCAT◇IN◇PACE. As I imagine it, these words will wrap around and around the vessel, which will be placed on a rotatable platform. Of course I will ask my family to review and evaluate a prototype before I proceed.

Sincere and humble thanks to whatever creates and sustains us.

 

clay on its way

October 22, 2019
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At last I am again spinning mud into shape on the potter’s wheel. Here is a wheel’s full of bisqued clay:

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I spent this evening’s class session applying glazes to these pieces. The glaze buckets were marked Turquoise Matte, Turq, Dk Green, and Black. You can tell which ones I glazed black, but not so much the others.

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I helped instructor Jon Higuchi load glaze and bisque kilns, and then I cleaned up the mess I had made in the glaze room. Then it was time to go. No wheel-throwing today, but I’ll make up for it next week. It’s nice to be One With Clay yet again!

Four More Demented Birds

April 17, 2019
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I am sick today, but encouraged, because yesterday I was sicker, with a cough with its claws on my throat, and a maddeningly-stuffed, impossible-to-blow nose. Thanks to rest, dried pineapple suggested by my poet friend Sharon Suzuki-Martinez, and a therapeutic breakfast at Bertha’s Cafe, I am better enough to have a realistic hope of going to work tomorrow.

Meanwhile, I’m home, getting more rest, and playing with my recently-sculpted birds the way other children play with Barbie dolls or GI Joes. This is also therapeutic.

Early in this blog-posting journey I did a segment that I think I called “Four Crazy Birds and One Demented Creator. That was six years ago. New birds, but same old Crazy.

formy diablo

April 7, 2019
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formy diablo

life for them began
on a batt on a potter’s wheel
spun from lumps of clay
into a semblance of symmetry

attention was then paid to lips and feet
the ones smoothed the others trimmed
one gained a handle
one was knifed into body and lid
one was left alone

they were baked
then they were dipped twice
sponged free of excess emulsion
baked again

now they are three (or four)
imperfect yet functional vessels
one will hold coffee
one will hold pencils and pens (perhaps)
one will hold secrets
and its other when lifted will reveal them

the diablo is in the details
this handle is clumsy
that lid is harsh
those glaze jobs are uneven

a french speaker says something like formydahbluh
and spells it <<formidable>>
and means it forceful/nontrivial/significant

these are too flawed to be formydahbluh
but the flawed human who made them
is happy he made them

 

Putting Out My Shingle

March 31, 2019
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Today I made some business cards. I made only eight, because there were horrible consequences to not manually feeding the label stock into the printer. The printer decided to teach me a lesson by mangling three pages of stock and leaving variously-jammed, hard-to-remove stock-sections hither and yon. Somehow some printing ended up occurring on that green-feltish roller thing inside the printer.

So I spent much of an hour opening front and back and top and drawer pulling out little accordions and rectangles and origamis of stiff paper. I THINK it is all out but I’ve had enough for one day and will do no more printing.

But pictured here is one intact card and two recent ceramic creations. This is a baby step toward the goal of monetizing my fine-arts efforts to the point of being able to fully retire from day-jobbing. Not that I don’t love my day job. It is just that I have three lifetimes-worth of important things to make, and only at most twenty years to make them.

Why twenty? Well, I’m sixty-four right now. My mother is a bit less than twenty years older than I am, and though she is still able to enjoy life, her memory and other faculties have declined sharply in the last couple of years, and my DNA is half her. The other half came from my father, who left us via myocardial infarction on January 5, 1983, at the tragically-premature age of 49.

So, Friends, my meter’s running.  If you’d like an original creation of mine at an astonishingly reasonable price, please shoot me an e-mail using my onewithclay@hotmail.com address. Include the amount you are willing to spend, and a headshot and personal philosophy if what you want is a custom portrait. No job too big, nor small!

The Vessels that Time Forgot

February 12, 2019
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I made these around the end of 2006 and the beginning of 2007. My mother acquired them, probably as gifts from me, and while my Aunt Diane was visiting this weekend and making Mom’s home more livable, she saw a box labeled “Gary’s Pots” and when we opened it there they were.

Mom is keeping the leftmost one, and at her direction I’ve put it in the middle of her dining-room table, for future use as a flower vase. The rest will go home with me with Mom’s blessing.

Another Spin on the Wheel

January 8, 2019
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Today, at my first “Beyond Basic Wheel Throwing” class, I did these:

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Jon Higuchi, the regular instructor, was not there, but Luis Baiz, whom I’ve known for decades from Phoenix College, was filling in. He let me take this selfie:

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My mouth is open like that because Louie said, “Say ‘Cerveza.'” I usually do what Louie says. He’s kind of like Yoda.

During cleanup Lou asked me lightheartedly, “Did it feel good?”

It did. I need this.

One With Ware

December 21, 2016
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Today  my daughter Kate treated me to a Netflix binge-watching of LUKE CAGE, and a theater viewing of the new Star Wars movie ROGUE ONE. She also brewed me some coffee and took this picture of me with my coffee cup:

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When I say “my coffee cup,” it is and isn’t. I made the cup a little more than 16 years ago. It is signed and dated on the bottom, thus:

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Though it’s dated October 9, 2000, the signature and date were done when the ware was in the greenware stage. It was then bisque fired, glazed, and glaze fired. I would guess the finished product came out of one of the gas kilns at Phoenix College right around the end of October, 2000.

The cup is ungainly and otherwise imperfect, especially its handle, but it feels friendly to the grip and its lip meets mine warmly. But when I say it is and IS NOT mine, that’s to say that the cup resides with Joni, my ex-wife, and Kate, our daughter and Joni’s co-tenant. When Joni and I declared divorce, which was finalized five years and two days ago, I left and the cup stayed. It is only when I come around to the place I lived for more than 22 years that I get to see and interact with this cup.

But I do have full visitation rights, and bragging rights: This is Exhibit A to establish that I can make a coffee cup with my bare hands, with or without the use of a potter’s wheel. (One of my coil-built cups would be Exhibit B.) I fully intend to make more cups in 2017, which would end a more than two years’ hiatus. I miss being One With Ware.