Today was glorious in West Point, California. Clear skies, 74 degrees, no breeze. I spent the day using my wheel barrow, creating under a birch tree. I made a gnome army surrounded by cloud glazed tubes.
I cleared and raked the seventy square feet to lay down weed cloth, which I hope will eliminate unnecessary weed growth. Three trips to the hardware store and fifteen buckets of pea gravel, the space looks like a zen garden.
My gnomes are made out of plaster of paris, and I made ten successful ones from a plaster mold, until the casing for the mold disintegrated. The gnomes have lived around my studio for over five years. Some people love my gnomes, with a face like Savannah, Georgian, Johnny Mercer, my favorite lyricist who wrote the song Moon River. Some people really hate the gnomes and have told me that they are creepy.
They are now surrounded by bent and straight turquoise cylinders glazed with cumulus clouds and magenta interiors.
My interest in tubes goes back decades, because I’ve thought that humans are like tubes. We have these forms that can be straight or bent, and their fragile nature doesn’t last forever. Our spirits inherit these forms we live with on Earth. For me, the tubes are my artistic conception of our fragility and hilarity of our bodies. Tube forms crack me up, and I don’t take them seriously at all.
This blog isn’t intense, because it wasn’t an intense day, and the gnome garden will testify to my passions, regardless of whether or not anyone else thinks they are funny. I’m laughing.