Who Were Those Masked People
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- Last Updated: Tuesday, 04 April 2017 21:46
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
And 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.