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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