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V Chin Pottery Presentation

August 10, 2017 Earnest Painter

The two vessels are Chin pieces

My friends and I attended a presentation by a ceramic artist, V. Chin. (I have written about him before.) The event was put on by the Greater Austin Clay Artists organization, hosted by St. Edward's University – Fine Arts Building. 

None of us is a ceramic artist, so our attendance was questionable at best. Fortunately, we know Chin and a few other of the artists there, and they were kind enough to let that tiny detail slide. I mean, it was promoted on Facebook, so that means it's open to the public right? Maybe? In the end, it probably caused less of a commotion to just let us sit in than to have us forcibly removed. 

Also, we decided to make an adventure of it and walk. Tamara lives near the university, so we left our cars at her apartment and set off – believing, in spite of all the evidence to the contrary, that it was simply going to be a matter of crossing Congress Avenue, which is an adventure in and of itself. In point of fact, her apartment is a few blocks south of St. Edward's and all of those blocks are uphill. There remained the matter of crossing Congress Avenue – quite wide at this section, particularly on foot. Having crossed with our lives intact, we continued to walk, because getting to the intersection of Woodward and Congress doesn't magically drop you into the lobby of the Art Building. It doesn't even mean that you've arrived at the university, per se. More uphill climbing got us to the campus where we did our best to look like lost tourists, in case anybody wanted to stop and give us directions. Most of the people we came across either didn't speak English, were only walking their dog through the campus or both. Combining the direction of two nice gentlemen (one of whom was a campus police officer who was very pleasant) we finally found the art building. Several spooky hallways later we came across the meeting already in session.

We quietly joined at the back of the class and did our best to use our inside voices. This is not something that we are particularly good at. I did manage to get a few pictures of Chin while he worked. Lots of cropping was needed because I didn't want to bring attention to myself by pushing my way to the front. (I kind of did want to, but decided that it was probably best if I didn't.) 

View fullsize  Chin demonstrates throwing a pot after speaking about different techniques and tools.
View fullsize  Chin carves the top of a pot using a unique technique.
View fullsize  Chin talks about carving techniques while doing a demonstration.

I took notes (even though I am not a ceramic artist.) He talked a bit about the thickness of the wall and how that will play into the pot you're throwing. He mentioned that when he carves he doesn't want to have a beginning or an end – it should be continuous on the round vessel. Also, just like in a painting he recommends doing the background first and then the foreground. There were a few quotes that I thought were worth sharing.

"If you don't sell a pot today, you won't be able to throw a pot tomorrow." In other words, a professional artist has to survive and sell work, and as such, they should stay in touch with current trends and what people are looking for. He spoke about the frog that has adorned his pots for years. He said that if he adds a frog, the pot sells. If he just has a pot, it might not sell for months or years. Some of his work isn't conducive to having his frog on it, but he keeps his little friend around because he brings luck.

"To develop a style, you don't try to develop it. Throw lots of pots in lots of styles and your own style will come." (Loosely transcribed.) When trying to master a craft, this is always important. Quantity is as important, if not more, than quality – particularly when you are first learning. Throw hundreds and thousands of pots. 

And here's one that really spoke to me. "Always carry a sketchbook." I do, I always have a notebook or sketchbook. (Unless I've left the silly thing somewhere.) He said that you never know when inspiration will come or from where, so always have your sketchbook. I would add to that, use it regularly. Make it a habit to open it and draw or write.

Thank you for visiting me at bemol Ardiente. I'll leave you with a piece that Barry owns, completely with frog.

Distinctive glaze and frog are part of Chin's signature style

Okay, bye!

In Art Tags art, Vorakit Chinookoswong, ceramics, pottery, Earnie Painter, Rather Earnest Painter
2 Comments

A Leaf Blowing in the Wind

August 6, 2017 Earnest Painter

Texas Historical Marker for the town of Kimbro

As I was driving this afternoon I came across a Historical Marker – one that I must have passed many time before. It is for the town of Kimbro, TX, an unincorporated entity that was founded in 1870 by Swedish, Danish and German immigrants. There are a lot Swedish towns scattered across the fields around this area, though as far as I can tell not many of them actually exist any more, except for their small cemeteries. Kimbro has a City Limit sign on highway 1100. Manda, Carlson and Lund just have historical markers and roads named after them. New Sweden has a church and a somewhat larger cemetery, though no town in the way that people think of towns now – a geographic location with crossing streets and avenues. Here there are fields of corn and other crops, and the occasional house. I read that general stores and schools once existed, but they are no longer around. (One of the schools has its own historical marker.)

Maybe I'm still tired, but walking through the tiny Kimbro cemetery made me a little sad. In One Hundred Years of Solitude, Gabriel Garcia Marquez observes that a new community has truly planted roots when it buries its first citizen and establishes a cemetery. I feel a little like a leaf blowing in the wind. Like I don't have a community of my own. I know that this could be perceived as a slap in the face to all of my family and friends, and I assure you all that it's not intended this way.

Gravestone in the Kimbro Cemetery. Very faintly you can see the steeple of the New Sweden Evangelical Lutheran Church on the horizon.

I have lived in Elgin, TX off and on for over 10 years. This is my third time living here, as a matter of fact. I know people here; I have friends. However, the feeling remains that they are all Barry's friends, and mine by extension. When I walk through the town I resist the temptation to like it, though the houses and trees are very appealing to me. I resist the temptation to fall in love with the house I live in, though I love the wooden floors, the front yard and the front porch. I've left so many places and I don't feel that I have ever learned to belong anywhere. 

I think the geographical aspect is key here. Yes, I have a large family, but none of them live in Elgin with me. I could live in Boerne, where I graduated high school, but I don't know that this is the best thing for me at this point. I want to find a place to put down roots and call it Home. That requires action on my part, and I don't seem to be good at that particular skill. I am sitting in a coffee shop writing these words, because I couldn't think at home. From the time I first lived on my own (150 years ago), I've always avoided being home. Friends have commented on this all along. It's easier just to be somewhere else.

New Sweden Evangelical Lutheran Church

Churches also hold a community together. I have struggled to find a church, and I have enjoyed being a member in several throughout the years. There are two problems: One is the fact that I'm gay and this tends to go against Christian theology. The other problem is me. I admit it. I am not good at getting up on Sunday mornings and going to church. I'm not any better at Saturday evenings. The Catholic church has been the most comforting for me. I love the ritual of Mass. The reading of the Psalms is particularly comforting and I've spent a lot of time reading the Liturgy of the Hours. But again, as soon as I commit to doing it, I fall off. (I am such a large part of my own problem it's amusing.) New Sweden has a beautiful church, and the sign promises that everybody is welcome. But, I'm not Swedish and I don't know these people and while I'm certain that I would be welcome there, how long could it be before I truly belonged? Would I ever? Could I? My track record isn't good.

So, where will I be buried when I die? Let's pretend that's not as morbid as it sounds. So many people are choosing to have their bodies cremated. My Aunt Roslyn was cremated when she passed, but none of us knows where the ashes are. Her husband said that he put them where she had requested, but hasn't told us where that is. It seems like a nice idea to have a place – a physical place that I could go to visit her and think about her. A grave, for instance. A grave is in a cemetery and a cemetery is part of a community and do I have a community? I mean, a town – a physical location with crossing streets and avenues, with people around that I belong to and who would claim me. Would people visit my grave? That's such a quaint, Old-World mentality – as foreign to me as the continent of Europe itself. It seems nice, though.

Gravestone in the Kimbro Cemetery 

I sometimes feel that these words that I write are me – the only roots that I am capable of putting down, the only hope I have of being remembered. My published books will be my grave, their covers my gravestone. People will visit me by reading my words.

I am truly feeling like a leaf today – lost and blowing in the wind. Maybe that's just who I am, and maybe I should embrace, rather than fight it. The North Wind calls and, again, I must move on. Maybe I'm just low on iron, and all of this is just a physical reaction. Maybe I'm just tired. My desire to create something beautiful out of all of this is matched only by my desire to lay down for about an hour and let sleep carry me away in its loving arms. When I wake will this all be gone? Will sleep gently stroke my face as it hands me back to wakefulness, who promises a new world, a new beginning and outlook? Perhaps these emotions will have ebbed with the circadian tide? In which case, I am glad I took the time to write this, so that I can remember how I felt. Because this is a powerful feeling, and it bears remembering.

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In Central Texas Tags Cemeteries, Community, Texas Historical Markers, Family, Church, Earnie Painter
4 Comments

Eyebrows

August 5, 2017 Earnest Painter

I wanted to let my eyebrows grow long, twist and curl and express themselves. But, Barry and Rhianna (the hairstylist) said no. 

Tags Eyebrows, Grinch
2 Comments

DNA Testing and Some Unsuspected Consequences

July 31, 2017 Earnest Painter

By Nonemansland, many thanks to Spesh531 for participating here - Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=56577763

A breakdown of what I believe my heritage will be when I take the DNA test. 

I read a fun story on the Washington Post website. It's about the unexpected surprise element in the growing field of DNA testing, an idea that has become more commonplace in the past few years. My mother and my half-brother have taken one. If the story-line in the article were a novel, it might almost be too convenient to be a believable plot. "Woman takes DNA test and discovers that she's half Jewish, not 100% Irish as she had thought, beginning an adventure that would span years, and people that she would not have otherwise met."

I wouldn't have expected their real-life reaction, though. I suppose it would have to do with the way we were raised, but I don't think that a surprise in a DNA test would unnerve me in the slightest. Granted, this comes from a person who knows next to nothing about his ancestry's heritage. The person in the story was Irish, through and through, so I can see how having that fact ripped away from her could cause an existential crisis. (The same half-brother told me once that he was eleven years old when he discovered he was Hispanic, even though his last name is Spanish and he lived in Mexico for three years. That did, indeed, cause an existential crisis for him.) 

Also, having five half-brothers and sisters means mixing it up with people I'm not biologically related to is pretty much a way of life for me. They have a half-brother on their father's side, who has a half-sister on his mother's side, so our family Christmas parties are always fun. For the past 20 years or so, there have always been at least three children under the age of three toddling around, which leads to the game of sitting with my sister and asking, "Are we related to that one?"

My father passed away recently, so I wouldn't be able to talk to him about anything we discovered. Again, I don't know how much the DNA aspect would matter to him. A cousin of mine did some genealogical research a few years ago and it was fun to find relatives and ancestors that I hadn't known before. Even Dad was pretty excited about that. (I also learned that the name 'James' being given to everybody in our family [including myself] is not a new trend – it seems to go back to the days of the Civil War.) But, if we found out that one of them wasn't biologically related to us, it wouldn't have much of an impact. Why would it? We didn't know about them to begin with. I never knew any of my grandparents so I don't have a personal stake in a genetic relationship. My maternal grandmother's family came from Mexico, but that is also of vague/mixed heritage. 

Eye color in my family is all over the spectrum, except I haven't seen purple yet. Still waiting.

I was happy to see that, while birth certificates had a part in the story, their integrity was not questionable. Very nice to know that our collection, keeping and indexing of vital records has proven efficient and useful. They even played a minor role in the solution. 

All in all, I think that my family's experiments with DNA testing has been one of discovery. Not having preconceived notions about our heritage helps a bit. I haven't taken a test yet, myself, but I do plan to do it soon. (I have to research which one would be best.) It's not likely that any of us would find that we had a different father than we expected – we all look too much like our fathers and each other. There remains the possibility that one of my parents' siblings had a father from an extra-marital affair, or we might find an adoption that we hadn't previously known about. Considering everything we've been through, though, I don't think even that is likely to bother us much at this point. Maybe some of my siblings or cousins would be upset, but from where I sit it would just be more intrigue in the family. 

Tags Family, DNA, DNA Test, Heritage, Genetics, Earnie Painter, Rather Earnest Painter
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Bedtime TV Cat

July 29, 2017 Earnest Painter

My beautiful cat enjoys watching TV in bed before going to sleep. I don't normally approve of TV, but who am I to deny her the chirping and flitting of birds that somebody recorded by setting a camera in a park for an hour near a bird feeder? In Raku's case, TV is a small tablet playing YouTube videos designed for cats.

Raku finds this episode particularly captivating.

I woke up to find her still watching intently. I'm afraid that if I let her, she'd binge-watch Paul Dinning's Videos for Cats until daybreak. I had to put my foot down at some point and make her go to sleep.

In Cats Tags Cats, TV, sleep, Earnie Painter, Rather Earnest Painter
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