This weekend Jonny and I geeked out. A year or so ago Jonny came up with the idea of making retro rockets, we found some really cool rocket toys and pictures of old rockets while researching the idea. We also found some old robot toys that we thought were pretty cool too. We’ve finally found some time to play with these ideas, last week you saw my robot cane and above you can see Jonny’s INCREDIBLE robot. Isn’t it the cutest thing you’ve ever seen? It can open up too:
I made a rocket can that I’m going to use with my robot cane:
After yesterday’s post I had a few questions from readers regarding my method for conditioning Kato clay. I decided to take a few pictures to illustrate my technique. First I condition the clay in the mini food chopper:
I don’t add any liquid clay unless the clay is absurdly hard. The more you run it through the chopper, the softer it will become. Once I’m satisfied with this phase of conditioning, I empty the clay crumbles out into a big ziploc baggie.
Then I flatten it out and roll it with the weighted rolling pin that I bought for conditioning. I try to get it as thin as I can, then I put it through the thickest setting of the pasta machine. Once through the thickest setting, I take it down to about a #7 on the Atlas. Don’t try to fold the clay like you would other brands, but just take it down thinner and thinner.
I have rheumatoid arthritis and am in a wheelchair from a spinal cord injury, believe me I struggle with conditioning clay, especially Kato clay, but I find the extra struggle well worth the final results.
It took two days and LOTS of clay, 2 broken pasta machine’s but I finally finished my robot cane. Anyone who works with caning in polymer clay knows that feeling in the pit of your stomach when you’ve finally reduced the cane and are ready to slice it and see what happened between the constructing and reducing. I was so nervous, it’s an awful feeling after putting tons of money (clay), time, and emotional investment into a cane and have it come out distorted. So caning is an act of faith, patience and overcoming your fear of failure.
Here he is:
Isn’t he adorable? my next cane is going to be a rocket ship that will match the robot. You wouldn’t believe how much clay I used for this guy. Now I’m out and will need to wait until more comes in the mail. I use Kato Clay, hard to condition, but it makes the best canes of all the clays. I’m learning that I need to use the food processor to condition the clay first and then I put it in a strong ziploc baggie and roll it out into a thin sheet with the rolling pin so that it will fit into the largest setting of the pasta machine. This guy started out so big that while he was just a square, minus the antennae and ear bolts, I had to reduce it so it would be manageable once the other parts were added.
I’ve been rally busy with my new photo setup the EZ Cube and my new Canon Rebel DSLR camera. I’ve mentioned elsewhere how important it is to have good photos of your work, these additions to my studio have not only elevated my work as seen on the web, but having good photos to present on the web, really affects how I feel about my work in general.
Thank you Ohio Arts Council for the grant that allowed me to finally purchase the light tent setup, I really couldn’t have done it without the grant from Artists with Disabilities program. Once I had the setup, I realized that the only way to really get the most out of it was to take the plunge and purchase a DSLR camera, it has made a world of difference. I have very little editing to do in Photoshop, the photos are excellent right out of the camera. This means less time on the computer and more time in the studio.
So, right now, I’m busy taking tons of pictures for a new ETSY site and have totally revamped my River Wolfe Art Jewelry site as well. My project for this year will be to advertise the ETSY site on as many low cost sites as I can, I’m going to try my best at marketing the websites for more online traffic.
I’ll keep you posted on my progress, although as the season ramps up, I find I have less and less time to blog. I think the secret is in short posts and lots of links so that you can see me in motion.
One of the first things that intrigued me about the movie Avatar was the protagonist, Jake Sully as a paraplegic. I had to dismiss the fact that the actor is not disabled, though there many paraplegic actors who would excel in the role, and concentrate on the part he played and why it matters to people with disabilities.
There are several layers of meaning portrayed in this part. First is the wounded warrior. For the first time in my memory, a person with a disability is portrayed as returning to military duty. Not simply an injured knee, or slight loss of hearing; in this case a person with paraplegia, complete paralysis of his lower body. Coming to a military industrial complex near you, and soon. Our military is finally finding the value of it’s injured soldiers, not necessarily in the battlefield but in the offices, research facilities, forensics, language sciences and etc…Who hasn’t seen the stories of amputee pilots returning to flight, with hopes of returning to duty in some fashion? The ADA comes to the military not a moment too soon, AVATAR leads the way. For decades the military has been retiring it’s wounded to a sedentary life with gainful employment a disincentive, return to work and you lose your benefits. Such a waste of talent and ability.
The next level, Sully not only returns to duty but he returns to duty in both his paralyzed body and a new super-human body. I remember reading an article in Wired written by John Hockenberry, years ago, he talked about persons with disabilities as puppeteers. That is, using our bodies as operators of a new and improved body. We would be, he proclaimed, the pioneers of technology that produces robots, bionic men or women, if you will. AVATAR puts this idea into action. Sully is not only getting a new body, but he controls his new body with the mind of his current paralyzed body. He goes from one to the other (the metaphor of an avatar one takes in the online world is also an obvious metaphor for this transition from offline to online). Immediately upon entering his AVATAR, he of course, is overwhelmed with excitement, joy and a childlike enthusiasm for the world. He has legs again, he can run, jump, and interact at eye level with the world once again. Upon returning to his paralyzed body, he feels grief and anger, the loss once again of his perfect warrior body. The transition is difficult, each time he returns with great reluctance. Eventually, his reluctance is not entirely because he returns to a broken body, but because he returns to a broken world. That’s where the third level comes into view. Sully is promised that if he betrays the near-perfect world (Pandora) he travels to while in his AVATAR, he can regain his ability to walk. This promise soon becomes empty compared to the promise of a world in Pandora. For even the ability to walk cannot make life on earth better than life on Pandora. In the beginning of the movie, Sully as narrator, proclaims that had he the funds to finance the medical intervention, he would no longer be paralyzed. Enter, modern medicine with its financial inequity, the rich get better the poor get little. What’s wrong with a society that grants a cure to those with the financial means and allows those without (most of us) to live a meager existence on the federal doll? Sully ultimately decides that life on Pandora can not only offer him a cure but a better world in which to live.
Despite it’s flaws, AVATAR delivers and on a level a bit deeper than I expected.
On a related subject Vic Chesnutt, singer, songwriter, person with a disability, took his life on Christmas Day 2009. He was overwhelmed with medical debt and faced bankruptcy, in spite of paying $800 a month for health insurance, his medical debts exceeded $70,000. He would have loathed this movie, I’m certain of it.
My neighborhood is pretty diverse, to one side of me are my long time neighbors, I think they’ve lived in this neighborhood for about 25 years, I’ve seen their children grow up and have children of their own. The kids have moved back home, and left again, and come back again; I suppose this is a consequence of an uncertain economy and parents who long for their kids to have it better than they did. To the other side of me is a house that was inhabited for 30 years with a similar family, the parents are long gone, one to a nursing home one who died of heart failure. The house has been bought and sold several times; none of the new owners treated it with the respect of its original owners. Currently, an immigrant from Jamaica lives there, she doesn’t talk to us.
I assume most of the neighbors know we’re gay; we don’t try to hide anything. Many of the houses are rental houses, fixed up by the owners, or not, and occupied by renters, some responsible, some not. A mix of cultures and races, mostly lower class and some outlaws in the bunch. I feel safe on my street, but not in the neighborhood, even with my German shepherd, I hesitate to stray too far from home on our walks.
About 6 yrs ago a young African American family moved into one of the nicer rental homes, a mom and dad and three kids. Shortly after they moved in, the mom disappeared. I found out later that she was arrested and is in prison, not sure for what but I assume its drug related. I’ve watched the three kids grow up and have developed a great admiration for their father who is raising them alone, two girls and a boy. The boy is the oldest; he was about 10 yrs old when the family moved in. We noticed pretty early on that he was in the tribe (for the uninitiated that means he fits into the glbt spectrum); it was hard not to notice the effeminate walk and exaggerated hand gestures. It is for that reason, a young member of the tribe in our neighborhood, that we’ve kept a protective eye on him. In the past 5 yrs he has turned into a girl, right before our eyes. It has been an amazing genesis, first the clothes, presumably borrowed from his sisters, skintight jeans and short little jackets, the feminine mannerisms became more exaggerated. He never tried to hide anything, just put himself right out there for all to see. I was appalled and amazed. Appalled mostly because I was afraid for him. What could happen to a young African American boy who so proudly swings his butt and sports clothes borrowed from his sisters, in our tough neighborhood? He grew taller and more muscular, his body reminds me of a dancer, thin and wiry but strong too. He is beautiful. The clothes became more elaborate, lots of purple and pink; he added a purse and some burgundy streaks to his hair. For along time his hair remained in a short cut Afro, but then he started wearing a turban, I realize now that he was growing it out. As he whisks down the street, rarely without his sisters in tow, I marvel at his boldness, for he is a proud young boy/girl. I wonder how on earth his father must feel? His sisters? What was their process with him? Did he sit down with them and discuss his feelings, or did it gradually happen over time, everyone avoiding the proverbial elephant in the living room?
The turban is gone and so is any pretense that he was ever a boy his hair is long now and he’s in High School, I fear for him every single day. I called our local GLBT youth organization Kaleidoscope for some advice, how do I break the ice with him? His family and my family rarely talk, other than the occasional “hi” in passing on the street. I remember when they got a German shepherd puppy and when it disappeared, learning of its death I expressed my regrets to the kids. I remember when my own German shepherd puppy scared the youngest sister, she screamed and ran when he approached her. But, aside from those brief encounters, I don’t really know them. It’s not like I can go up to him and say, “hey I see you’ve decided to be a girl, I know just the place where you can get support”. Mostly, I watched him, hoping that he remained safe, praying that he doesn’t become a statistic, wondering about the abuse he suffers, and yes marveling at his beauty.
Finally yesterday I saw he and his sisters walking home from school and decided this was the day. I ran out the door yelling his name, which he didn’t hear because he had on pink earmuffs, his sisters stopped and called to him (he always walks ten paces ahead of the girls) he turned around and came towards me. His sisters, no doubt feeling protective or curious, stood still. I motioned them onwards indicating this was between him and me. I asked him if he knew about Kaleidoscope, he does. I asked him if he is treated well at school, he replied with a shrug “it’s ok”, I told him we worry about him, he smiled “awww, thank you” and that we watch him hoping he’s safe. We hugged, I told him to come by anytime, if he ever needs anything come over. I think this encounter helped me more than him, in fact I know it did. I hope and I fear for him and all of us.
I had an art opening on Nov 1st at the High Road Gallery here in Columbus, Ohio. The place was packed, not really much room for me to move around, but I was very grateful that the owner of the gallery Carol Hershey was thoughtful and purchased portable ramps when she established the gallery years ago. This means so much to those of us who often cannot participate in their own openings, or other events simply because of a few steps. Thank you Carol. Here are some pictures of my pieces at the gallery:
In other news, I’m busy making Fairie Bottles for Hayley Gallery and the Christmas event at Children’s Hospital on Dec. 5th. If you or anyone you know works at Children’s Hospital, be sure to check out their annual Christmas shopping event for employees.
This month’s New Mobility magazine devotes a few pages to those of us who make art for a living. It’s an interesting read that describes the obstacles that get in our way, how we transform or tools and our lives with art.
As I thought about my last post, I wondered what other artists with disabilities may think about their experiences and their movement into the realm of art. My resistance to being labeled as “artist with a disability” is not shared by some. In fact, there is a completely alternative perspective.
Dancers, actors, and performance artists have created a genre that seems completely dependent on disability in order to manifest artistic expression.
The University of California at Berkley has archived oral interviews with several artists that have made disability their primary focus as performers.
