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The Sculptor's Funeral

sculptorsfuneralWelcome to the podcast!

The Sculptor's Funeral is the podcast dedicated to strengthening the ties between today's figurative sculptors and the sculptors of ages past. Art history, interviews, discussions on techniques and practices, tools and materials, and more, hosted by Jason Arkles, a practicing sculptor living and working in Florence, Italy.

Hooked on Basalt

By Bruce Richardson
Bruce working on "River Otter" 42"x12"x12", columnar basalt

Back in the last century I started carving soapstone with my pocket knife when you could find all you wanted along the Skagit River up above the small community of Marblemount. My first big “Aha” moment came when I finished sanding and rubbed my little frog with linseed oil! Where did all those colors come from?

At Camp Brotherhood for my first time three years ago, I took the plunge and with the help of Ruth Mueseler and Tamara Buchanan, learned about working granite with diamond tools and angle grinders. Although the actual carving process took a lot longer, that same excitement was there as polishing revealed unsuspected depth and patterns in the stone. That granite whippoorwill was only 12” long, but she convinced me hard rock was music I was destined to dance to.
“Pika”, 18” long X 12” high X 12” wide
Next summer when some barely manageable-sized pieces of columnar basalt showed up at the auction, I bit. How could I resist after seeing what Tom Small and others were doing with basalt and how they transformed it into black glass. A dull six sided grey column does not exactly generate a lot of instant ideas in one’s mind from its looks. Being a realistic sculptor who likes to carve animals I tried to imagine the most flowing and plastic creatures lurking inside with bodies that could be manipulated to minimize the amount of rock to be removed. In the end my artistic muse saw a river otter, so I started to fret my way into unknown territory. After three days of chips and dust clouds a number of wandering spectators asked if I was carving a slug.

“Porcupine”, 30” long X 12” high X 12”wideWith basalt the learning curve is steep. How much detail is realistically achievable? Curves need to be polishable. Small projections aren’t a good idea. And then there was always that pushy muse in the background repeating, “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

Camp B, year three, otter and me. After four long days in my bathing suit wet polishing I got my reward; a slippery, glistening, curvy otter, just out of the river wondering where she came from? That first assault on basalt got me hooked for life. (And should keep me fit for life ….)

“River Otter”, 42” long X 12” high X 12” wide, columnar basalt As I waited for the ferry back to Lopez Island on my way home that year, filled with wild excess energy from seven days with seventy other stoned fanatics gathered on “Planet Granite,” I noticed the black long necked cormorants drying themselves on the dock pilings. Wet, black, shiny and plastic! There had to be a way to find one in that other basalt column in the back of my truck that didn’t have a foot long neck and a narrow beak waiting to be snapped off by an unplanned encounter with a vacuum cleaner. Like otters, they are amazing contortionists and before long one showoff twisted his neck around to preen the back of his wing and I was a witness. The deal was sealed and the rest history …. and chips and dust and pools of water.“Cormorant”, 28” high X 12” wide, columnar basalt

Two otters, a cormorant and a porcupine later as I pondered a scarred and broken chunk of the other “black gold,” a high mountain pika let out its characteristic warning cry. Yes, they are rabbit relatives, but with short mouse-like ears, no tail, no skinny legs, but fat bodies …. hmm. I scratched my head. She scratched hers. I gave in. She posed for her portrait and the writing was on the wall, or chips were in the scrap bucket, as the case may be.

Come to camp next summer for chapter six, “Marmot Meets Maniac,” and maybe chapter seven, “Squirreled Away for a Million Years.”

Something of a Shearing

SOMETHING OF A SHEARING
By Cyra Jane Hobson
Cyra Jane's Studio
In late 2013, I found myself lost. I was carving outside a metal sculptor’s studio in downtown Seattle, but it wasn't mine and I knew it was time to start searching for my own workspace. I had a place to live in a building downtown, but I had never wanted to be there and while I didn't want to stay, I also dislike change and find it very hard to tear away from security. On a work front, my paying jobs were mostly about how much stress one person could hold, and I was putting every last bit of energy left into a large burning man collaboration with an awesome, but too small, crew. And the very last bit of my innocence was being destroyed in a bare-threaded and desperate relationship on its last strands. This all culminated in a serious breakdown in August. I went underwater, my light extinguished. And so, in September, I began moving.

And so I carved the foundation of the lighthouse, quit all my jobs, and began ripping myself off the ground to start wandering in search of home. I was hurt, I was stressed, and blindly determined.

With legs of stone, especially so unformed, I moved very slowly. I was invited to help set up a bronze foundry on Vashon Island and began commuting from my apartment in Pioneer Square, Seattle. I left the downtown studio. I started carving outside the Quonset hut destined to be the foundry. I worked a little on the lighthouse. I tried risky job propositions, each a lifting of feet. I joined NWSSA and began attending stone carving symposiums, and the light started to shine again, just a little. I began to carve the structural details

At the Silver Falls symposium that summer, I spent five days straight shaping the lighthouse itself (it's a separate piece from the base). I lost myself in the rhythm of filing down the body and rebuilding this form anew among new friends. I liked the focus I found in that group, and the ease of character. They felt like what home could be.

In late 2014, I started a business that allowed me to rent my own studio space at the same complex of abandoned greenhouses turned artists’ studios where the foundry will be. The business promptly failed, but I had that studio and I loved that studio. And I kept that studio. I started the detail carving of the lighthouse face. Slowly that year, plans began to come into focus. Progress was slow, as I was stretching thin, still tethered to that old apartment and unable to break away entirely.

The stone carving almost finished2015 found me wading in the river. I finally pushed off the foundation, relinquished the apartment and went peripatetic. Homeless. The day I found out that was to happen, the day after returning to my studio from Camp B, Rubble was cast as the foundation broke off entirely. A fit of ink projected the lighthouse onto a studio wall.

Splashing forward, I crashed on couches in a constant state of discomfort with the unknown, traveled to Arizona to work with a lapidary crew and there tackled the toes and the meaning of mobility. There, in the depths of isolation and in, by all accounts, terrible circumstances, I missed home, dreadfully. Not just my studio but my communities.

I came back to my studio for just a few days before a next journey to Vancouver, BC to be the artist in residence at Studiostone, a carving studio with a vibrant community. Touching ground so briefly in my own space was powerful and I did not want to leave, and I had to leave again, so soon! In B.C. I was homesick. Not that my experience there wasn't wonderful, it was. And in many ways, I was at home among other stone artists. But my own lens had finally focused, and though I had a whole studio full of stone and tools to play with, I worked diligently instead on the lighthouse carving its lens, sanding and painting, brazing the river, assembling the pieces, making plans, yearning for Seattle and for the island and the chance to pull in my feet and let down the walls. This was the seventh workspace I and the lighthouse had worked in together and by the end of March, all that I could do outside my own studio was done. All that was left to make was a wooden oval base and to have the light turned on.

At last, the lighthouse painted with bronze river and wooden baseI wanted to have the base before returning to Vashon, so I detoured for a few days to visit a friend on another island with a studio surrounded in forest. I took the lighthouse out into this eighth workspace to cut and laminate a solid base of old, repurposed mahogany. By now I was savoring the last drops of my homesickness. I still had no plan and no specific place to lay my head, but that didn't matter so much. One foot, a few toes, were still in the river, and the rest of me had pulled up onto a new land.

And so the return to the island and the finishing work. Lots of little details and readjustments that fell into place swiftly. A shearing of reality as the chronicled character of the monomyth became someone else, an entity unto itself and no longer an aspect of my internal visualscape. And now he ambles over there, quite alive. His path remembered in a wash of golden light. His lens bright with intent and determination. He delights me. I never thought he would exist; I never thought the feeling of home would again either.

I did not necessarily intend for the sculpture to be so literal, and there is a lot of backstory about the quest for home that began far longer ago than this particular lens. But that is how it works and I'm grateful to have been awake for this part of the journey.


Something of a Shearing first appeared on April 28, 2016 in Cyra Jane’s Blog: The Spaces in Between 

Fat Phobia

Venus in Two Views for the Fat Phobia Gallery Show
By Jonna Ramey (All photos by Jonna Ramey)


The Venus of Willendorf is an iconic Paleolithic image of woman. To anyone familiar with the female body, this small sculpture is not a fertility goddess per se, she is young and she is fat. Gloriously, unabashedly fat. Roughly 4.5” tall, she was carved from oolitic limestone 28,000 to 25,000 years BCE.
Clay Maquette

As a feminist, this figurine has spoken to me for decades. She is a primal, strong, personal image of women—fat women. As a direct stone sculptor, I have both yearned for and shied away from the possibility of making my own Paleolithic figurines. Recently, for the exhibition Fat Phobia shown at Art Access Gallery in Salt Lake City, I carved two stone Venus figurines, but on a larger scale. My works are each approximately two feet high, carved in African or Utahan stone. One piece is my fairly literal take on the Venus of Willendorf, the second is a more abstract portrait. Together, they frame a conversation on body image and celebrate large women’s bodies from earliest humans to our present society.

‘Venus at Middle Age’ reflects on the Willendorf figure, envisioning her as a woman a few decades older. Older, wiser, still strong and vibrant. Of the two sculptures, I carved her first, using a piece of Zimbabwean opalstone.

I started the process by studying all the images I could find of the original Willendorf figurine online. The figurine has been photographed in many angles through the years and the source material was rich. Studying these images, I came to some personal conclusions and observations. First, the original sculptor loved his subject. Yes, I think the Venus of Willendorf was carved by a man and he was smitten. He loved her breasts, her vulva, her fat, her youth. But he posed her with her face cast down or hidden, and he rendered her arms as a late afterthought. To survive 28,000 years ago, a woman needed strong arms and she needed to look directly at the world. My sculpture, I decided, would show her in a different light.

Sketching on paper, I found I was creating an older, more mature woman. Her breasts would have fallen with age, and her arms would hold them up to relieve pressure on her back. She would look out at us, but like the original, her face is not detailed, making her everywoman. Her hair thinned with age, her hairline receding. While I roughed in a shape (a cocoon really) in the stone, I also worked on a small Sculpey maquette. Clearly, my sculpture was not going to be a replica of the figurine. I worked the stone entirely with hand tools in some quirky homage to the maker of the original. She was hand-sanded to 2000 grit and finished with Butcher’s wax. The piece took about 120 hours to complete.

‘V Kicks Up Her Heels’ imagines the woman who may have inspired the original Venus figurine in a playful manner. From the beginning, I knew she would be sculpted with Utah onyx (honeycomb calcite) to provide a strong counterpoint to the opaque blue-green opalstone. Honeycomb calcite’s translucency and vibrant color dictated that the sculpture could not incorporate subtle or fine detailing. It would have to be created with bolder gesturing. Where ‘Venus at Middle Age’ had a solid, composed dignity to her, ‘V…’ was always an active, dancing figure in my mind. A quickly composed maquette led me in a direction, but the stone had other ideas and I was willing to compromise. Instead of both arms flung out akimbo, one was raised and the other just dropped by her side. One leg is planted on the ground, though we only see the thigh, and the other leg is kicked back. Honeycomb calcite does not take hammer and chisel well. This piece was created using angle and die grinders. Finishing included diamond pad hand-sanding followed by buffing out with Italian Craftsman Polish. This piece took half the time of the other to produce.

The exhibition Fat Phobia was the brainchild of artist Carol Berrey and was curated by her and Sheryl Gillian, Executive Director of Art Access. Fat Phobia has been a great success. The opening drew 400 people. The audience was receptive to all the work shown, discussing the pieces, asking each other questions, commenting. Connected to the exhibit has been a series of talks and workshops ranging from author Jasmin Singer speaking on ‘Body Positivity’ to a writers’ workshop and subsequent poetry reading in the gallery. All events were well-attended. High school and college art students have paraded through the exhibit to look at the art, complete onsite assignments and then talk about body image and art. And, the artists have met each other, spoken about what they do and the content of their work.

Jonna Ramey with Venus (middle aged)For an in depth critique of the show, go to Scotti Hill’s article in 15 Bytes e-magazine.

For me personally, these two pieces have pushed my work into new realms. Exploring a playful, active form has kindled an interest in making more active figures in stone. The physical sculpting has for some reason made me more fearless when approaching a stone. And as a Euro-American woman, it’s been empowering to artistically embrace my paleo roots. How this all plays out in my sculpture… we’ll see. But, it’s given my work a fresh perspective and verve that is personally appreciated.


I sculpt stone. It gets me up in the morning. Every day. My work is often abstract, sometimes figurative but rarely literal. Making sculpture is a way for me to examine thoughts, emotions, cultural concerns, myths and taboos. I live and work in Salt Lake City, Utah.

Keith Philips: Tools of the Trade

Page from the Past...

Keith Philips: Tools of the Trade by Terry Slaton

Dressed as a 19th century instructor in a trade school he explained many things about the conditions when stone work was the major building method. Then he quick-changed into the garb of a turn-of-the-century stone cutter, or banker mason, with black coat, vest and derby, as a play on words. A banker mason worked on quarry blocks supported by big benches called "bankers", possibly from the French 'banquette', meaning bench. (Possibly not.) Lots and lots of tools were shown and demonstrated. My favorite was the pneumatic tool of choice of Scotsmen; Bagpipes! Keith pulled some from an un-toolbox-style case and proceeded to demonstrate them for us. Quite adequately, I might add.Page From The Past May-June 2005

Terms were defined;
A stone cutter makes the basic geometric shapes;
A stone carver puts on the filigrees;
And we sculptors do the crazy stuff.

Other terms from the quarries:
'Oiling the rooster' referred to the necessity of greasing the pulley block on top of the rigging pole, or rafter space of the shed. The young and fearless apprentices got this job.
'Ringing of the square' was the foreman banging on a carpenter's square to get the yardworkers' attention.
The striking faces of a 'penny face hammer' were the size of an Irish penny. And a man's tools were highly respected and guarded.

Extractions from Keith's notes: Take pictures with a tape measure or other device to define the scale of the subject. When moving stone, plan ahead for where it's going. Pad the edges. Use momentum to carry the rock past neutral and onto another level of support. A plank and rollers can work well; and sand on an inclined plank can get big stuff out of a truck.

We were awed with the precision demonstrations of tool work. Broken surfaces become smooth, smooth ones became scored, grooves and leaves appeared, fan shapes spread across the surfaces. Many examples of the styles and types of column caps and facings were on hand. He must have had a big truckload of tools and samples to pay for on the ferry.

Other bits of info passed on to us
Tool marks generally indicate hand carving, and undercutting definitely does, as moulds can't be removed properly from an undercut form/ Make several light passes when undercutting, and direct your strokes into the bulk of the stone. Keep your tools sharp. Use a red pencil for marking, as magic market can soak into the stone. Make patterns and guides with weather proof material, in case of rain, or a spilled cup of coffee. Patterns on transparencies can be used for mirror-image reproductions. Copyright-free patterns can be enlarged at Kinko's to use on any sized stone. When high in a structure, features can be less defined, should be larger than grade-level features, and tip out from the vertical surface.

Carvers on YouTube


To view video, go to: getty.edu/art/collection/video/142930


Attribution

Original footage from “La Sculpture: Techniques De La Taille.” © 1980 Neyrac Films

Music courtesy of Moby Gratis. Narrated by Sculptor Gilham D. Erickson.

© 2008 J. Paul Getty Trust




CARVING A MARBLE FACE BY EDMUND SULLIVAN
Uploaded on Aug 24, 2008
Sculpture of a face from beginning roughing out with a point chisel, followed by refinement with tooth chisels and then finishing with rasps. The marble is a pure white large crystal Greek Marble from the Island of Paros.
See other carving videos by Sullivan and others on this page go to Sullivanart.com

Carvers on YouTube

YouTube’s Living Room Symposia for the stay-at-home carver

Dressed in sweats and relaxing in the privacy of our homes, rain pelting at the windows, our own Workshops, for many of us, are but a distant memory. Nevertheless we can, with a click of the keyboard, have small private stone carving tutorials brought to us at any hour, thanks to YouTube and the generous souls who share their processes and work.

Here are a few to get you started. Warning: Watching these videos can become habit forming.

Joey Marcella carving MANTIS from a 500 pound block of Carrera marble






Carving Marble by Mark Carroll



(Mark Carroll Copyright 2010, all rights reserved)

Five Sculptors, Five Stones, Five Days

By Ken BarnesKen Barnes

It was July and I was starting to get worried. I had a show scheduled for December and no work yet finished. One piece was started. I had zero time for a week of socializing at Camp Brotherhood, no matter how much I loved these people and this event. My home studio is set up for efficient work with my tools at arm’s length, just like a good kitchen layout. I have piles of stone to choose from. My wife, cats and comfortable bed were a 30-second walk from the studio. “What would it take” Camp Director Ben Mefford asked, “for me to make room in my schedule for Camp B this year?” I said the event needed to be different for me. I needed to be productive and I wanted to be challenged. Ben pushed further, “Give me an example.” A spontaneous phrase rolled off the tip of my tongue, “Five sculptors, five stones, five days.”I fleshed it out further as collecting five sculptors on one part of the field, give them each a stone and require that they complete the sculpture entirely in five days. This conversation started in July 2014, and there was not enough time to arrange this for the 2014 camp, but it could ramp up in 2015.

Rom SmallIn discussing the idea with Tom Small he suggested that it be 5 pieces in 5 days for each sculptor, and I thought that was a better challenge. That would also allow me to rough out a piece and let it sit for at least a couple days so that I could look at it and think about the necessary refinements without the pressure to polish a form that wasn’t necessarily ready. I was also excited about loose-form sketching in stone.

The sketching really pushed my skills – forcing me to be efficient in my design and blocking. I had to visualize the completed piece thoroughly and mark the cuts without hesitancy. I have in the past taken a millimeter at a time off a stone to see if the resulting form pleased my eye. This week I couldn’t take a thousand passes with a grinder cup wheel – I needed to decide how deep to cut and push the blade into the stone to just that depth, so it forced me to make definite design decisions instead of delaying them until I had taken another millimeter.

I typically welcome the happy accident but am still fearful of ruining a stone with a wrong cut. I am learning to leave that fear behind and literally plunge forward. A big part of losing my hesitancy was in dropping the idea that each stone, either in its raw or partially completed state, was precious. The more precious the stone is the more difficult it is to cut. I needed to view the stone as just a raw material until it is complete.

Four other sculptors joined me in the 5/5/5 quest in 2015.Sue Taves

Tom Small thought it was an intriguing idea. Tom wanted some play time, the chance to flesh out several different ideas. The 5/5/5 format gave him the excuse to start small and try out several new concepts. He brought several pieces to work with, some of which he had done preparatory work on and others that were a totally new exploration.


Sue Taves accepted the challenge as an opportunity to work on a series that she had long-conceived but not had the opportunity to achieve. Sue’s work was a group of heads from the same stone. It was nice to have the first head present when she was working on the second, and to have the first two staring at her as she worked the third. By the time the fifth arrived she had a small party of four heads waiting. The heads got to talk to each other as the week went on. It would have been difficult to stay on the same project for a full five days back at Sue’s studio.

Tom FrancisTom Francis wanted the opportunity to work with several different types of stone. Tom warmed up with stones that he was comfortable with, but then dove into some conglomerates and other challenging stones that he wanted to try. The shortened time format required him to dive into the stones and just,“do it”.

Therese KingsburyTherese Kingsbury was a first-time stone sculptor. She jumped into carving with great gusto, making five pieces over the course of the symposium. Therese did not start out to achieve five pieces, but just kept carving until the first one was done and then started the second. It was curiosity about how to carve combined with a desire to keep going until completion.

All of the participants thought the sub-event was a worthwhile pursuit and looked forward to trying it again.

At the 2015 Venice Biennale Art Show

Why is the Kenya Pavilion Full of Chinese art?Dynamic Africa by Wangechi Mutu

In the last issue of Sculpture NorthWest, we showcased six of our members talking about what they thought made their art their own. That is, how much work must they do to sign their name to it?
In this issue, we are expanding the question to the international scene by covering what is happening at the 2015 Venice Biennale Art Show. Can it be called the Kenyan Pavilion when it is filled almost exclusively with Chinese art by Chinese artists?
The Venice Biennale is one of the oldest and most import exhibitions of contemporary art in the world.
This year Kenya is part of the exhibition. NPR's Gregory Warner reports that there is something odd about the artists who've been chosen to represent that country ....almost none of them are Kenyan.

"Why Are Chinese Artists Representing Kenya At The Venice Biennale?"
There's something sketchy at this year's Venice Biennale — the international art exhibition sometimes dubbed the Olympics of the contemporary art world.
When you come to the Kenyan pavilion, almost all of the artists will be ... Chinese.
The Biennale, one of the oldest and most important exhibitions of contemporary art in the world, takes place in Venice every two years. Thirty countries, including the U.S., have a permanent slot.
Wangechi Mutu from KenyaAbout 50 other countries have applied for their own exhibition space, called a pavilion. The East African country of Kenya hosted its first pavilion in 2013 and plans to host another this year, featuring mainly Chinese nationals. None of them have apparently ever been to Africa or reference it in their work.
The controversial roster has provoked outrage among Kenyan bloggers and artists. It's also provoked a sense of deja vu — the same thing happened in 2013. 
In Nairobi, where the Kenyan contemporary art scene is gaining traction with serious art buyers, the news is being felt not just as an artistic flop but as a colossal missed opportunity. "It's a kick in the stomach," says Sylvia Gichia, director of Kuona Trust, an artist's collective and residency program in Nairobi. Organizations like hers work hard to bring Nairobi's artistic renaissance to a global audience via art fairs and art auctions.Zhengjies portrait workFeng Zhengjie from Beijing
Needless to say she is dismayed that the 370,000 art lovers who visit the Biennale will see none of the work that's driving the contemporary Kenyan scene. "What," Gichia asks, "do the Chinese have to do with visual arts in Kenya?"
Nobody in Kenya's government will answer that question. Calls and texts to the personal cellphone of Nairobi's minister of culture, Hassan Wario, went unanswered. In most countries, the government either selects the artists or assigns that duty to a private gallery. In Kenya, the government apparently played no role other than to fob off the job to an Italian curator, Paola Poponi.
Poponi cannot say she has ever set foot in Kenya, but her official title is "commissioner" of the Kenyan pavilion, the same title she held in 2013. She defended the choice of artists in an email liberal with capitalizations, saying that the Kenyan pavilion ably expressed the international theme of this 56th Biennale, which is All The World's Futures.
Poponi wrote, "Talking about art FROM ANOTHER PART OF THE WORLD during an art exhibition can be useful for KENYA, always more able to create its OWN IDENTITY." She said that art should not be constrained by geography and explained in a follow-up email that "MEETING THE REST OF THE WORLD" would enable Kenyan artists to analyze their own experiences "more deeply."
But if Poponi's goal is to expand the vision of Kenyan artists and have them "meet" the rest of the world, what better way than to invite Kenyans to the Biennale exhibition?
Poponi wrote back to say that the pavilion does feature Kenyans. Two of them. The one ethnic Kenyan in this pavilion — Yvonne Amolo, who has won awards for her film about racism — lives in Switzerland and has no connection to the contemporary Kenyan art scene.
The other Kenyan citizen is a 72-year-old Italian-born painter, sculptor and real estate magnate who has lived in the Kenyan coastal town of Malindi for nearly a half a century. Armando Tanzini sits at the heart of this controversy, because he's the only artist whose work has appeared in both the 2013 and 2015 Kenyan pavilions.
Patrick Kinuthia from KenyaI sat down with Tanzini last week in a cafe in Nairobi to understand how the pavilion had come to be. He explained that if not for his efforts, Kenya would not have any pavilion at all.
"The government of Kenya, they don't know about this important exhibition, the Biennale," he says. "I try several times to help them to understand."
Finally, in 2013, with the government's approval, he paid hundreds of thousands of dollars to get Kenya a pavilion and organize the show. This year he says it wasn't solely his money. He had other private sponsors. But again, no funding was forthcoming from Kenya's government. "Unfortunately, if I want to bring Africa, or Kenya, I must compromise in some way," he said. "Compromise because we have not the money." Kinuthias portrait work
Tanzini wouldn't elaborate on what this compromise was, or where the additional money had come from.
A petition circulating on Change.org, titled Renounce Kenya's fraudulent Representation at 56 Venice Biennial 2015, proclaims that "a group of well connected persons, who lack neither the intellectual nor creative capacity to represent Kenya's contemporary art to the international arena, are posturing to the world as the Kenyan Pavilion at the 56th Venice Biennial in Italy."
The Biennale would not respond to requests for comment. When the exhibition opens on May 9, participants will have to contend with Kenyan protesters who say they'd rather have no pavilion at all than one that doesn't represent their country. Novelist Binyavanga Wainaina told me that [the] issue is not with the Biennale nor with Tanzini but with Kenya's Ministry of Culture — and it's dismissive attitude toward the arts.
"That this parody could happen two years ago was already far from excusable," Wainaina said. That it would happen a second time, without government comment, he says, is "farcical."

Excerpted from the full text of All Things Considered, March 30, 2015 by Gregory Warner

Who Were Those Masked People

EXCERPT FROM THE PAST January 1995 NWSSA Journal

Who Were Those Masked People?

"Hello" from a new stone carver

Here we are, not even at the six-month mark between Symposia, and I wonder how I will make it until next July. The last Symposium was like the proverbial shot in the arm, but a lot more fun. For me, a person who is new to stone carving, and who lives in a relatively isolated area, (and as far south as possible and still be in the Northwest - if I sneeze in my living room in Oregon, they say "bless you" on my front porch in California). I found last year's Symposium to be a combination of a) several really great on-going classes, b) an unlimited chance to play with stone, and c) getting together with a bunch of old friends (for the first time).

I had heard about the NWSSA Symposium from various people at various times, but it wasn't until last year that I loaded up my air-hose and headed north. When I walked into Fisher Lodge on the Monday of the second week, it was the middle of breakfast and I experienced "that" feeling you get when you walk into a room full of people, all of whom seem to have known each other since birth, and you know no one.

That feeling lasted about one and a half minutes. As soon as I walked up to the registration desk I was greeted like an old friend who hadn't been seen in months. No sooner had I signed in, when Joyce Taylor (a friend I truly hadn't seen in months) came up to me and said, 'Have you had breakfast yet? Get a plate and come and sit down with us." (Us being the other 60- some people in the room.) I sat down and was in time for the 'meeting' part of breakfast ("Hello, Brian"), and by the time we left for the field, I was beginning to feel measurably more comfortable.

Down on the field, I realized that I had seriously under-packed. No work table (what was I thinking, I would hold the stone on my lap?), no shelter (and the temp. was on its way to the high eighties), and really no sense of what I was going to do (not that unusual). Within minutes Joyce had moved her stand to accommodate me under her shelter, (as well as Sandy Falcone who had a good excuse for not bringing a tent as she flew in from Minnesota), Vic had volunteered a work table and before I knew it, I had a "space" to work.

The whole week was filled with similar acts of generosity. The NWSSA has to be one of the most generous group of people that I've ever had the good fortune to come across. Generous with equipment, with time, with knowledge and support. Never, of the hundreds of questions that I must have asked during that week, did I get anything but a willing answer. Never was anyone too busy to help.

And so here I am, too far south to attend meetings (thank goodness for the newsletter), but not too far to say hello and thanks again. See you next year!
Penelope Crittenden

The Attraction of Subtractive Art

By Jill Snider Lum

For most of my life, when asked about my artistic abilities, I'd say, "Sorry; I'm artistically impaired."

Tanuki EmergesAnd I thought I was speaking the truth. I can't draw to save my life; the light-and-shadow-play of painting and pastel-work eludes me; and while I'm proficient at thread-craft, I can't work without a pattern, so my thread-work is really an expression of someone else's artistry. Creating art by putting materials together – pencils, charcoal, pastels or paints onto paper, board or canvas – is just beyond me. Despite all my efforts, even with the helpful teaching of others, I can't do it; I've no instinct for it. Artistic ability? Feh. Not me.
But not long ago I was with a group of friends on vacation by the lake, and one of them was carving a crouching cat out of soapstone. I was, to be honest, madly envious of her work. She'd started with a small, grey, rectangular block, and this beautiful little dark-green cat was emerging from it under her hands. It looked like so much fun; so tactile and creative; and in conception, almost miraculous.

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