Uncle Red, H 14", terra cotta & copper wire, soldThis was actually a self-portrait. In 1985 I noticed that my face was falling--I was 43. The sculpting was completed in one day. I scooped dirt and bits of dried clay off the floor and embedded them in the wet clay. (I think of those bits now when the dermatologist burns off growths and reminds me that redheads--even old ones--should stay out of the sun).
I pierced holes in the scalp for the hair. Epoxying the copper wires after firing was a bloody and time-consuming job (probably a bit like a hair transplant).
Life Artist left a comment on my July 16th blog entry: ".....age seasons us for art." Yes. I wonder, though, if the opposite can also work--that art seasons us for age.
This a 2010 photo; 25 years have passed since Uncle Red bore the brunt of my rage against age. Now I just walk quickly by mirrors. (When I walk by my eye-level clothes dryer, though, I cringe--my face reflection in the dryer door is 3X life-size!)
I pierced holes in the scalp for the hair. Epoxying the copper wires after firing was a bloody and time-consuming job (probably a bit like a hair transplant).
Life Artist left a comment on my July 16th blog entry: ".....age seasons us for art." Yes. I wonder, though, if the opposite can also work--that art seasons us for age.
This a 2010 photo; 25 years have passed since Uncle Red bore the brunt of my rage against age. Now I just walk quickly by mirrors. (When I walk by my eye-level clothes dryer, though, I cringe--my face reflection in the dryer door is 3X life-size!)
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well if my math is right and that is a current photo I demand to see your driver's license for verification. lol. Seriously, you are quite the youthful good looking person. Your sculpture is very weighty is a positive way. He looks imposing and important. The hair totally "makes it"
ReplyDeleteHallie, I am amazed at the lines and expressiveness you achieved with this sculpture. You truly do remarkable work. "Uncle Red" looks like (he) has a world worn opinion on most everything, but if you can get (him) to crack a smile, you may find a glorious sense of humor. (His) hair is INSPIRED!
ReplyDeleteYour current photo shows me you have aged quite gracefully, you are beautiful! Interesting to me that your self-portrait is represented by the image of male. I relate to that on a visceral level.
Inspiring post... again.
Thanks Celeste. My wrinkles are blurred in the photo--the secret is to inherit an intentional tremor from your father. When a camera's around (even my own) the tremor kicks in--a bit like walking quickly past a mirror. (I usually stay on the other side of the camera.)
ReplyDeletePamo--sometimes the quick captures are the most expressive. I think I titled this Uncle Red so that no one would say, "Wow, this looks exactly like you!" I did not know at the time that the red-headed uncle I knew as Everett was called "Red" by his friends (he spent his life in the Air Force and I rarely saw him).
Oh Wow! That is absolutely stunning! If I can be that interesting, I'd very much like to be old! Just three years to go by your calculation!
ReplyDeleteMM--Old is interesting when viewing it from a distance. Self-portraits are cathartic; they allow you to acknowledge loss and fears--then you move on and sometimes find humor.
ReplyDeleteWith your camera, you've caught some good self-portraits.
I'm always so happy when I come to visit you Hallie.
ReplyDeleteThis sculpture and the story, like all of your fabulous stories, carries so much to muse over.
Now I certainly get no indication that you're fishing for compliments here ;-)
yet I must tell you that I'm whole heartedly agreeing with Celeste, Pamo and MM ...you are a true beauty inside and out.
Thank you so much, Hallie, for your lovely comments on Luna See...it's fun being Luna-tics together.
OH, but you have such an interesting face! I like the sculpture piece, though. I know the feeling of "aagh! what's happening!
ReplyDeleteHi Merci. Thanks. I now think I should have left the bottom photo off--I was trying to say that by looking deep and facing the bad, we're more accepting of what's ahead. (Of course, my mother said I was born 50 years old.) I think I've gotten lighter as I've aged.
ReplyDeleteI never mentioned that my dad's nickname for me was Loonytick/Lunatic. He said it was because I loved Lorna Doone cookies. Luna See is so interesting!
Hi Peggy. "Aagh!" I remember that feeling. It passed and was replaced by "WTH?"
ReplyDeleteLove Uncle Red, what a catharsis!
ReplyDeleteI agree art seasons us for age--on many levels. Many artists seem to retain a youthful, bright, and fun outlook.
The "aagh" feeling, been there, now I'm at WTH! REally? I can't go back?
(if I can an retain inner/outer beauty like you have Hallie, then I'll be doin' alright!)
Hi Indigomar. It took me almost a lifetime to reach the WTH attitude; and I'm not sure about this inner/outer beauty thing.
ReplyDeleteI like what Merci/Donna said on one of her blogs: "Let all things be exactly as they are. Trust."
Hallie, my Aunt Helene always repeated a popular phrase, "growing old is not for sissies" as she lived to 93 and had a second set of hip replacements in her 89th year. I loved her gutsiness.
ReplyDeleteYour sculpture is wonderful -- life experiences produce such fine art -- love the bloody hair. Thanks for posting your current picture -- you have weathered the years well. Being your age, I have run the spectrum of emotions about aging...I'm in my "live well and enjoy it" phase. Soon I go to my 50th high school reunion and get to see some of my classmates I haven't seen in many years. That will be the moment, I'm sure, when I will know I am old!
Hi Mary. I think I've always felt older than my years--not necessarily wiser, though.
ReplyDeleteNo 50th high school reunion for my class; the chairman (me) from the 44th chose painting over planning. We follow no schedule; when I was asked why a 44th, I said "Why not?" (We need a Chairman.)
Just checking in on a flying visit. Oh do I ever appreciate high speed internet after several weeks at my summer place. I love this sculpture. It draws me in, especially the hair. It's wild in a great way. I sometimes get shocked when I look in the mirror quickly and see all the droop. Thankfully nature goes slowly and you have a chance to become accustomed to your body changes. If I may say so I think time is treating you very well. I wrote a poem once about aging (I was in my early 50's then)but I've never done a self portrait.
ReplyDeleteHi Margaret. I'm glad you like the sculpture. A friend was with me in my studio that day; she kept saying that I didn't look like that. And I kept saying, "I saw it in the mirror." It was one of those great days of sculpting--nothing could deter me. I was the wild woman artist. It was sold to another wild woman artist from West Virginia.
ReplyDeleteI was thinking of Pam's comment about the masculine side earlier. I do like tools and have never seen the point of lipstick or nail polish or wearing white gloves in the summer. I hate housework. When I was young, I tried to kiss my elbow many times (Mom said if I could do it I could turn into a boy). I envied my brothers their freedom; later, I envied my husband's role--his only job was his career; everything else was my responsibility. I need a wife (ha!) I didn't give much thought to the title "Uncle Red;" the sculpture was untitled until it was accepted into a show.
ReplyDeleteHallie, I've loved "Uncle Red" since the first time I saw 'him' when you posted 'him' on ArtScuttleButt. Thanks for sharing the great story behind this cool piece. I love the idea of you creating in a frenzy - undeterred and wild in your desire to get this piece out. THAT is one of the greatest things about this thing we do. It's totally cathartic.
ReplyDelete-Don
Hi Don. You're right--the best times are those frenzied ones; nothing matters but the work. Then you're exhausted. Later you wonder, "How did I do that?"
ReplyDeleteI love the copper hair! and am in awe of your sculptures. (I didnt realize you were on the scuttlebutt website, I "met" Don there, and a few other bloggers too but now I rarely visit the site)
ReplyDeleteHi Robin. Thanks. One day I might use my sculpting tools for encaustics. I enjoy following your progress. (I met Don on Scuttlebutt, too. I think it's how I found his blog--one of the first I ever read.)
ReplyDeletewhat a stunning sculpture, Hallie. I love it, i love it, i love it! No wonder it sold. It's gutsy and laces something many of recognise in ourselves with self-depricating humour. A tonic to see such sanity.
ReplyDeleteAnd thanks for the great pic of yourself, now downloaded to my rogues gallery - what intelligent, perceptive eyes sitting over a warm and kindly smile.
Harry--thank you. Self-deprecating humor is a survival tool.
ReplyDeleteI can't get your latest painting Landfall out of my mind. It speaks.
It's fun to see one of your sculptures, since you were a sculptor and now you paint. I think it is fabulous! The shape, the character, the rawness of it! Wow. I am at the stage - agewise - where I always envision myself younger than I am. So when I see myself in the mirror, I am always surprised, and often disappointed. Anyway, I think your sculpture must be "expressionist" - about the emotion you felt. It certainly lacks the elegant charm and beauty of the photo, so it only looks like you if perhaps you put your finger into a light socket that day.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Dan. This was one of those sculptures that demanded to be made, and I loved every minute.
ReplyDeleteThe photo was taken after dinner out; I probably could have found one that looked more like the sculpture--the smile lifted the jowls (shoulda worn a scarf around the neck, though). I think my usual look is the light-socket look--I like to think of it as the "arty" look.
Grant Woods could have used me as a model--I can look like those DAR women.
Your humor carries through almost everything you do and I love it all!
ReplyDeleteOMG! You are skillfully genius! Hmmm, can you make a portrait of me, too? :-)
ReplyDeleteRaena. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteSashindoubutsu. You're much too young and beautiful for this type of portrait. Your thousands of followers would agree.
Fantastic piece of art and the red copper wire really makes it! If you are saying there is a resemblance to you now, I don't see it, but it is said there is a piece of the artist in all of their creations. I understand about avoiding the mirror. I applaud you for posting a photo of yourself. I'm not that brave. You look fine to me and someone I would enjoy meeting.
ReplyDeleteHi Eva. Actually, I thought I looked like this sculpture 25 years ago--on the day I made it. I notice now that I didn't give it a lot of wrinkles; I was more concerned with gravity and drooping. I agree that most paintings and sculptures are partly self-portraits. (My hair would now have to be fashioned from white or gray wire.)
ReplyDelete