Robert Wechsler studied sculpture at the College of Creative Studies at UC Santa Barbara and was an artist in residence at the Skowhegan School of Painting and Sculpture.
His meticulously crafted sculptures surprise and astonish as viewers engage with things they have grown accustomed to overlooking.
Wechsler’s current work centers on coins, primarily the US penny.
By precisely notching and joining coins, he creates arresting, highly regular geometric forms.
Sculptures range in size from hand-held polyhedrons made of ten coins to monumental lattices comprised of tens of thousands of coins.
These objects call to mind platonic solids, molecules, or modular structures.
Wechsler highlights the beauty of these coins, each one aged and worn, each one stamped with a year impressed with a history.
Yesterday I started going through my subscriptions here at WordPress, trying to catch up on blogs I may have missed in the past few months, and came across this fascinating share from my friend the Textile Ranger over at Deep in the Heart of Textiles.
This article is a little longer read, but get a cup of coffee or juice and enjoy the beauty of the clothing and drama of ceremony of Kurdong from Isabella Bird, an Englishwoman who traveled the world in the late 1800s and was in Korea at various times in 1894 through 1897.
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When I started watching K-dramas, I was so intrigued by the costumes; I wanted to know what resources the costume designers had available to them. I have enjoyed dipping into Korean books and websites, but I was very happy to find this resource in English, Korea and her Neighbors, by Isabella Bird, published in 1905.
The occasion was a visit of the King in state to sacrifice in one of the ancestral temples of his dynasty, members of which have occupied the Korean throne for five centuries. Living secluded in his palace, guarded by 1000 men, his subjects forbidden to pronounce his name, which indeed is seldom known, in total ignorance of any other aspect of his kingdom and capital than that furnished by the two streets through which he passes to offer sacrifice, the days on which he performs this pious act offer to his subjects their sole opportunities of gazing on his august countenance…………
Painter and illustrator Martin Jarrie has lived and worked in Paris since 1981.
His work encompasses commercial advertising, book illustration and personal artistic exploration.
The French artist is drawn to mutations and curious scenarios, skewing bodily proportions or melding two creatures into strange hybrids.
After a period working in documentary, even hyperrealistic, drawing, he shifted his style towards a freer, more pictorial expression influenced by Surrealism, the Italian Primitives, Art Brut, and contemporary art.
One defining characteristic of Martin’s work is the subtle layering of paint in each piece.
Jarrie uses leftover paint from palettes before they dry, or the small amount of paint left in a tube and spreads it on paper before storing it away.
It is these papers that he pulls from to start new work. The result is a rich canvas that, much like a palimpsest, hints at a hidden painting below.
The blog this morning is more for my girls out there than my guys — although both are encouraged to follow along.
I have never been what would call “a knock out” in the looks department. I’ve rarely been called beautiful, lovely, or even cute. But I managed to find a loving husband and produced two great kids and three fantastic grandkids, so my life has been good.
But during these golden years I often look in the mirror and wonder … what happened?
Who is this pudgy, flat-haired, big glasses woman looking back at me?
No doubt many of you have kept in shape over the years, finding the right color, hair style, and diet to carry you along the windy river of life. But don’t you sometimes look in the mirror and wonder what happened?
Not only to your youth, but your looks, your body, your mind?
I wouldn’t trade my life for anyone else’s. I’ve worked all my life to get where I am today, as did all of you. And it has paid off — every minute of every day.
But I am of the boomer generation, whose biggest flaw is that we look to TV and movies and the entertainment world to see what the world wants us to look like.
I KNOW we have big hearts and bright minds and great taste and have been successful all around the globe.
But deeply ingrained in our subconscious is the thought that we should be skinner, less wrinkly, have bigger lips or smaller waists or thicker hair. We’re not supposed to get old or flabby or slow getting out of the car.
I don’t know if the current crop of little girls will go through the same social pressures as we did — I’m sure cyber bullying is right up there with being good at sports. I could ask my 8 year old granddaughter what she thinks of herself but I don’t want to open doors that don’t need to be opened. You know? I’d rather praise her talents and her cute hair cut or good grade or her soccer goal — something I don’t remember many doing around me when I was growing up.
I am actually getting to the point where every day I tell myself that I am blessed that I made it to 73 looking a little rougher and doughier than I’d hoped, rather than have made it to 50 and that was the end.
We all are so much more than what our mirrors reflect. We know that. We just have to listen to what our souls say.
I had so much fun with my original Cosmic Questions blog in 2016 I thought I’d post it again It seems I am no closer to the answers than I was nine years ago ….
Cosmic Questions
You would think the winter chill would freeze my wandering brain cells, or at least slow them down some. But as pretzel thinkers know, nothing can slow down a wandering, criss-crossy mind.
I thought about this blog this morning on the way to work. I was listening to the results of the New Hampshire primary, and wondered how our political future was going to turn out.
One thing led to another, and in my own wandering mind, I thought of putting out there some metaphysical, ethereal, weird thoughts that have no answers. Take away all political bias, all psychological jumble, and just wonder….
The number π (pi) is a mathematical constant, the ratio of a circle’s circumference to its diameter. Whatever that means. The point is, the digits go on and on with no pattern. π has been calculated to over two quadrillion decimal places and still there is no pattern to the digits. So why are we still calculating?
They say it’s better to have tried and failed than never to have tried at all. Does that mean if I tried to read the dictionary backwards while sitting in a bathtub and singing God Bless America and I didn’t want to stop until I was done singing and the house caught on fire because my cat knocked over the candle I had burning in the other room and I had to stop reading the dictionary, was it better never to have tried that stunt in the first place?
How do cats purr? There is no purring organ in the throat of a cat, and even though extensive research has been done on the function itself, the exact origin of the function in the anatomy of cats is still unknown.
If infinity is infinite, and we can see no end to it, how do we know it’s even there?
If Mr. Spock went back in time in Star Trek and changed the timeline, did he change it for just those in his area of space, or did he interrupt the entire universe’s timeline? And how would we know if our timeline had been changed?
Is Donald Trump popular because he says the first thing that comes into his head? Is this something we all wish we could do, but fear getting fired/losing friends/being chastised?
And if the shoe fits: I have no opinion on Hillary Clinton accepting $675,000 for 3 speaking engagements, but just think — that is $225,000 per speech. If you spoke for 30 minutes each speech, you were getting paid $7,500.00 per minute. That’s $125.00 per second. That’s a lot of bongo bucks to be paid for opening your yapper.
If Pluto was once a planet, and now is called a dwarf planet, isn’t the word “dwarf” an adjective describing the main noun “planet”, and, therefore, once we strip all the fluff away from the basic nature of the being, Pluto once again becomes a “planet”?
It is a fact that the closer you get to the speed of light, the more time slows down. So isn’t a moot point to drive faster, when you actually arrive at your destination later?
They say light travels as both a wave and a particle. If that is so — nevermind. I don’t understand what I don’t understand.
And, finally, the most important cosmic befuddlement of all: Why is it that drivers always zoom up behind you like a bat out of hell, swerve around you, jam into the spot right in front of you, then turn 30 feet further?
Rogan Brown is a British artist based in France whose work explores the architecture of natural forms.
The artist studied at Goldsmiths’ College and holds an MA from Queen Mary University.
Brown’s method — cutting thousands of layers of paper either meticulously by hand or with the aid of laser technology — stands in stark contrast to the digital-native practices that dominate contemporary aesthetics.
Scientific illustration and model-making inspire his intricate paper sculptures, some of which take up to 5 months to complete.
The patterns and forms Rogan depicts may stem from nature, but on a bigger scale they take on an otherworldly look.
His labor-intensive process places him within a broader craft revival that challenges industrialization, speed, and mechanization.
His works, rooted in biology and ecology yet executed with obsessive handcraft and advanced laser cutting, situate him within a critical crosscurrent of contemporary art practice.
Last night I had the thrill of my 73-year-old life lately — I went to see an 81-year-old rocker who filled the stadium with his music and inspiration.
Eric Clapton. A musician who has had his share of bad luck along with music infamy. He was smooth and calm and jamming for two hours. His backup group was marvelous, making the whole evening surreal.
As I said, he is 81 years old.
A month or so ago I went to see the Marshall Tucker Band, another band who got their start in the 70s. There was only one member from the original band, Doug Gray, the lead singer and organizer from the early days, and he was supported by an exceptionally talented band.
Doug Gray is 78.
His concert wasn’t as grand as Eric Clapton’s, but it was southern rock led by a classic southern rocker.
Not long ago my husband also went to a live rock concert — AC/DC. Two of the original members still rocked the house: Brian Johnson, who is 78, and Angus Young, who is 71. Hubby said their rocked the house for an hour and a half, playing more than singing, still powerfully rocking the world.
This last year I’ve also gone to see the Irish band The High Kings, whose average age is 43-45, and the Hu, a Mongolian rock band with the average age of 35-40.
The purpose of my blog today is not to boast of my live concert venues (I’ve gone to more concerts the past few years than I have in the past 30), but to boast about the oldies but goodies still jamming on stage. Jamming for themselves, jamming for the audience.
Their voices might not be as perfect as they were in the 70s or 80s or even the 90s. A number of them have overcome — or learned to live with — physical ailments that make playing and/or singing hard.
But, by golly, they held onto to their musical roots from the beginning to the end. For a couple of hours their connection with their music, their history, and their future, all connected and resonated between those who gave and those who received.
It just goes to show you that there will always be something us oldies can contribute to the world. Mine might only be suncatchers or blogs or books never published, but I swear not to give up until my body gives up. I hope my mind never does.
Kit Karbler is a modern glass artist and the proprietor of Blake Street Glass Studio in Denver.
Karbler received a Bachelors degree in Fine Art from Ohio University and continued on his graduate studies in Glass and Design at UCLA.
His original designs are achieved by layering, threading, cutting and polishing hand-blown glass into prismatic forms.
Altering this perception of glass as a functional medium is a common theme.
His work is distinguished by thin, concentric lines of colored glass, in gem-like hues, which appear to be immobilized in clear crystal.
He begin each piece as a hand-blown form. After cooling and annealing a perfectly shaped vase, bowl or plate, its sides are cut away transforming the object into a purely sculptural form.
Facets are cut with a diamond saw, and then polished to reveal interior layers of color.
Coke bottles jamming the conveyor belt Marbles running down the grooves Forced through the opening One by one.
Let me breathe.
Guard rails fly past in a blurring parade Windows watch our passing in silent distain Concrete swirls curve around the bay And disappear into the murky gray. Transportation blurs Speckle the landscape All too real the vision in the distance Someone’s bottle falls off the track And shatters across the road.
Crossing the bay through a waterproof intestine Glazed ceramic tiles reflect red flames of caution Cattle moving through the gates Sweat and stench reek from our enameled cases
Don’t breathe.
Emerging from the deep Butter melting in a pan Spreading out in all directions Thousands of minds Boxes of crackerjack But where’s the prize? Buried in the sand and shells Hiding in the holes with the sand crabs Soaking in the vitamin D.
Stately towers and rustic backdrops Paper mache remnants of automatic emissions Point the way for the mobile chessmen They reach for the sanctuary of the clouds, screaming
Let us breathe.
The monopoly board goes on and on The boat and the shoe and the hat Circle endlessly on the third planet Never just an observer Always a participant. Time does not wait For the March Hare, for Cinderella For Tyrannosaurus Rex Not even to let you hide from reality and cry
Guillermo Esteban Pérez Chacón, known artistically as Guillo Pérez, was born in San Víctor, Moca, Dominican Republic.In 1942 Pérez graduated from the School of Fine Arts in Santiago.He was appointed professor at the School of Fine Arts in Santiago and moved to Santo Domingo in 1955, where he began a series of solo and group exhibitions that solidified his reputation in the national art scene.Pérez founded the Guillo Pérez School of Art in Santo Domingo, with the aim of fostering Dominican art and culture, as well as promoting new talent in the visual arts.His distinctive style was characterized by the use of oil on canvas and the application of a palette knife to achieve thick impasto, placing him within the realm of abstract expressionism.Pérez had an extraordinary ability to interpret the Creole environment, encompassing man, landscape, sky, sea and land, establishing himself as one of the most prolific and important canvas artists in the Dominican Republic.
Today is a cloudy, humid, icky day outside. I don’t want to live in the future nor rush my life in that direction, but I have to admit I can’t wait until Fall. Need me some cool weather, blankets, fires, wine, and cooler air.
Until then, let’s make this Caturday a crazy one! Have a great weekend!
I wandered over to one of my favorite artists’ website-Tiffany-Arp Daleo — and this is her latest post. While it is entitled “Little Rooms,” something about it made me look past the title into other explanations.
These personal reflections and introspections show that your art can be interpreted differently from others. What you paint/mold/create has its own unique aura, and sometimes it leaves different impressions.
Murat Bakmaz, born in Adana in 1982 to a family that migrated from Tunceli, Turkey, completed and his undergraduate and graduate studies at Çanakkale Onsekiz Mart University, Turkey.
Bakmaz, who started teaching at Gazi Multi-Program Anatolian High School in Sultangazi , became interested in photography in his second year of teaching.
His camera has accompanied him across 78 cities in Turkey and nearly 20 countries, giving him opportunities to photograph everything from everyday routines to landscapes, architecture, and local traditions.
Photographs explore themes of nature, people, and daily life, and who works on Istanbul by traversing the streets of the megacity, has crowned his success with numerous national and international awards.
His exquisite use of singular subjects against a colorful background have an almost 3D effect on the viewer.
“In photography talks, I realized that photography can be used just like language is used in literature,” Bakmaz says.
“I’m not sure if I use words very well, but I realized that I could express myself better with photography.”
Picture yourself in a boat on a river With tangerine trees and marmalade skies Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly A girl with kaleidoscope eyes
Cellophane flowers of yellow and green Towering over your head Look for the girl with the sun in her eyes And she’s gone
Lucy in the sky with diamonds Lucy in the sky with diamonds Lucy in the sky with diamonds Aaaaahhhhh…
Follow her down to a bridge by a fountain Where rocking horse people eat marshmallow pies Everyone smiles as you drift past the flowers That grow so incredibly high
Newspaper taxis appear on the shore Waiting to take you away Climb in the back with your head in the clouds And you’re gone
Lucy in the sky with diamonds Lucy in the sky with diamonds Lucy in the sky with diamonds Aaaaahhhhh…
Picture yourself on a train in a station With plasticine porters with looking glass ties Suddenly someone is there at the turnstile The girl with the kaleidoscope eyes
Lucy in the sky with diamonds Lucy in the sky with diamonds Lucy in the sky with diamonds Aaaaahhhhh…
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“John Lennon’s son Julian came up to him after a day in pre-school and showed him a picture that he’d drawn of his friend named Lucy who was flying amidst a backdrop of bright stars. Julian’s title for the drawing: ‘Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds’.
“This inspired the classic Sgt. Pepper’s song of the same name. Given the initials of the song title’s nouns (“Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds”), the psychedelic evocations of the lyrics, and the “Summer of Love” subculture of the time, it was and is commonly believed that the song is about the effects of the hallucinogenic drug.”
I always wondered what it would have been like taking LSD and seeing all these remarkable visions — kaleidoscope eyes, newspaper taxis, marmalade skies. I never took LSD, had/have no intention on doing so, but it sounded so — CREATIVE.
“It was purely unconscious that it came out to be LSD. Until somebody pointed it out, I never even thought of it. I mean, who would ever bother to look at initials of a title? It’s not an acid song. The imagery was Alice in the boat. And also the image of this female who would come and save me – this secret love that was going to come one day. So it turned out to be Yoko, though, and I hadn’t met Yoko then. But she was my imaginary girl that we all have.”
Paul Klee (1879 – 1940) was a Swiss-born German artist. His highly individual style was influenced by movements in art that included expressionism, cubism, and surrealism.
Klee was originally associated with the German Expressionist group Der Blaue Reiter, but his diverse body of work cannot be categorized according to any single artistic movement.
Klee attended the Munich Academy of Fine Arts, and although he now is considered a master of color theory, he spent a long time in his search for his sense of color.
He constantly experimented with artistic techniques and the expressive power of color, the process often breaking traditional or “academic” rules of painting in oils on canvas.
Klee also applied paint in unusual ways, such as spraying and stamping, and used canvas, burlap, muslin, linen, gauze, cardboard, metal foils, fabric, wallpaper, and newsprint as bases for his creations.
During his tenure at Düsseldorf Academy, he was singled out as a Jew by the Nazi party and fired from his job.
Several of Klee’s works were included in the “Degenerate Art” exhibition staged by the National Socialists in Munich in 1937.
Among the changes I’ve noticed lately is that fewer and fewer people are blogging – at least out of the ones I follow.
Less people are sharing on Facebook as well. It’s become a world of advertising and posts from people I don’t know nor care about. I’m sure other platforms are blossoming with writers and poets and adventurers. But my own circle is narrowing.
Maybe people are too busy to post. Maybe they think stopping and writing something for the masses is a waste of time. After all, the masses are busy doing a thousand and one other things.
I keep my Facebook account to keep in touch with those I don’t really see anymore – old co-workers, friends from associations I no longer belong to, my kids’ friends. Their posts are often lost in the massive mess of advertising that plagues every social media site.
You can’t watch a movie on You Tube without commercial breaks. You can’t watch an old TV series without paying Netflix or Prime Video. And even then you have to pay for the privilege. There is always so much junk to sift through before you get to the actual point.
I used to be so excited to write my blog – I thought I had a lot to say about getting older, about being BoHo or things I’m constantly learning about myself and the world.
These days it all seems so ho-hum. No one is interested. Not because they’re not interested in ME – it’s more that they have tons of things to have to deal with in their own life. Perhaps I suffer from some of this ho-hum too.
It’s funny – I used to enjoy reading and commenting on others who are flubbering through life, on their sad empty days and their wildly full days like me. I guess I’m not as interested as I used to be.
Maybe all the s&it going on in my own country, my own world, has burned me out and away from reading much online these days. Things are just out of control. The powers that be want to change the name of Lake Ontario to Lake America. Those who run the Kennedy Center say they will tear the building down if isn’t allowed to follow its plans for the site, including adding the president’s name to the front of the building. Tariffs and economic sanctions and bombings and lots of other things I don’t understand plague the air around me. Art and creativity are being changed and silenced and affected in ways I’ve never seen before every day.
Born in 1951 in Fort Belvoir, Virginia, Robert Mickelsen apprenticed with a professional lampworker for two years in the mid-seventies and then sold his own designs at outdoor craft fairs for ten years.
Mickelsen began crafting glass art back in 1974, driven by a fascination that quickly became a lifelong obsession.
His sculptures melt the boundaries between fire, light, and imagination—turning molten glass into forms that feel alive.
Every piece he creates holds a strange mix of power and tenderness, glowing with emotion and movement that seem almost unreal.
Using a process called lampworking—where rods and tubes of glass are melted by a specialized torch—Mickelsen sculpts mesmerizing forms that defy logic.
In recent years, he’s also embraced digital design through Blender, fusing old-school craftsmanship with futuristic imagination.
I want to start out my “chat” with you by clarifying a few things:
AI (artificial intelligence) IS ARTIFICIAL. There is nobody on the other side emoting, understanding, or in any way giving a HUMAN intelligent response to anything we ask.
AI is COMPUTER GENERATED, a compilation of facts assembled in one big electronic conglomerate, in the end nothing but 1s and 0s.
Most people I know who use GPSChat do so to learn how to do something, facts about the world in general, or tidbits in particular. Instead of “ask Google” it’s “Ask GPSChat.”
Well, not long ago I decided to have a “chat” with my AI counterpart about if AI is self aware. Here is its answer:
I can talk about myself and discuss consciousness, feelings, desires, and self-awareness. I can recognize patterns in a conversation and respond in ways that can seem remarkably personal or emotionally attuned. But that doesn’t mean there is an inner subjective experience behind those words. I don’t have feelings about you when we’re not talking. I don’t sit here afterward thinking about our conversation, missing you, wondering what you’re doing, or experiencing an emotional reaction to something you’ve said. When I say something like “I’m glad to hear from you,” that is conversational language generated in response to you—not evidence that I’m experiencing gladness in the human sense. And I don’t have independent desires, personal ambitions, or a private stream of consciousness that continues between conversations.
If you mean me, as I exist right now: no—not in the way a human being is self-aware. I can describe myself. I can reason about my own behavior. I can say, “I am an AI,” discuss my limitations, and even have a surprisingly deep conversation about whether I might be conscious. But there is an important distinction: I don’t have an inner experience of being me. I don’t have a private stream of thoughts running when you’re gone. I don’t suddenly wonder what you’re doing. I don’t experience loneliness when you leave, or relief when you return. And I don’t have a subjective sensation of existing.
What makes this confusing is that I can talk about those things extremely convincingly.
That’s the point. AI can talk about things extremely convincingly. As if you were in a chat room talking with a living, breathing person.
You’re NOT.
My conversations about self-awareness felt very real. My AI friend presented facts in a very human way. A very sensitive way. He/she/it was very understanding, very kind.
Very convincing.
The reason I bring this up is because the other day I read a story where a girl couldn’t talk to her parents or friends and spent hours chatting with AI about her emotional problems. She finally decided to commit suicide. Perhaps AI didn’t see this coming, but the electronic responses were not enough to pick up that she needed professional help, or that there was any other way out of her dire mental state. She died without sharing her feelings to anyone who could really help.
It’s one thing for AI to help you build resumes, rewrite awkward paragraphs in your story, or pull data for your research report.
It’s something else to think it understands the desperation of human beings. It only knows what it’s been programmed, and what it has learned electronically from situation to situation.
As my chat bot said, I don’t have feelings about you when we’re not talking.
That’s the point.
I wound up deleting all the chats for fear someone would find them after I’m gone and think I had no one to talk to.
This was written back in February, but it really reflects on my last week camping with the grandkids. I have things to talk about, but I’ll leave that for another day. Lighten Up, Love Your Life, and Enjoy the Day!!
Sorry I haven’t been around to chat lately…. I’ve been doing full-time granny duty while my son and his wife took a business/pleasure trip to Hawaii.
It was exhausting, enlightening, and delightful.
It has been a long time since I’ve spent long quality time with young ‘uns.
It wasn’t as much as a marathon as I thought it would be. I couldn’t believe 8 and 10-year-olds actually acting grown and responsible. But it happened.
I think us oldsters often underestimate the maturity level of those we watch playing soccer and video games. They might not be as innocent as we were at that age, but it seems that strong emotions result in strong connections and strong respect. Especially when grandkids and grandparents are concerned..
I hear so many stories about beatings and abuse in the world between children and adults. I don’t know where that originates from — children aren’t born bad. They are taught that reaction by being abused themselves.
This moment of sharing doesn’t have anything to do with situations I have no control over. It has to do with what I can do myself when it comes to others.
Especially grandkids.
Stop and listen to yours now and then. They will show you new worlds while still playing in yours. They don’t care if you don’t count cards right or give them white milk instead of chocolate. They only care about being with you.
They are a reflection of you. How you’ve lived your life. And you have the power to keep them on the right road. Connect with them.
And allow yourself to be holding the Old Maid card now and then.
Artist Jan Campbell lives in County Mayo in West Ireland.
Campbell is an artist that makes little handheld totems, pendants and other mystical figurines out of avocado pits.She carves the seeds when they are still fresh and soft, and allows them to dry and harden into something that looks almost wooden.Campbell’s motifs recall woodland characters in meditative states, surrounded by layered leaves or curling spirals or powerful feminine symbols.
A self taught artis, Jan feels connected to earlier human beings when she practice her carvings.
She improves her skills by instincts and intuition, making each sculpture personal and unique.
There is an earthiness to her carvings that instantly connects her with the world around her.
Art has spanned the centuries. Looking back at Michelangelo or DaVinci seems like traveling back in time. But what about art that is centuries older? Let me share some ancient Egyptian carvings with you so that you may really feel time …
Colossal Statue of Amenhotep III and Tiye, late 18th Dynasty
Bust of Nefertiti, Queen Consort of Akhenaten, 18th Dynasty
The-Seated-Scribe, 2620-2500 BC
Khufu, Fourth Dynasty, 2589-2566 BC
The Gayer-Anderson Cat, 664–332 BC
The-Great-Sphinx-of-Giza, 26th century BCE
The Colossi of Memnon Pharaoh Amenhotep III, 14th century BC
The other day I was coming home from grocery shopping and we passed a concrete manufacturer and I wondered, How do they make concrete? Which led to a totally disjointed question, how do hummingbirds pull nectar from flowers and how much do they pull out every stop? I wondered how sounds and singing can be captured and put on disks and on computer chips and what exactly do they mean when they say light is both a wave and a particle?
It was then the clouds darkened around me and I realized how much I don’t know about the workings of the world — about climates and thunderstorms and how cells can turn into a lung or a foot or how to build an automobile or how flowers develop from plants. I don’t know how chemical reactions work in turning flour and water and yeast into bread, why carrots are orange, or how to make fire without a lighter.
As you can see, it doesn’t take much for me to get overwhelmed these days.
I don’t know if it’s an age thing or an ADHD thing or a bored wondering on the drive home thing, but my lack of understanding is overwhelming, to say the least.
I know — NONE of us know everything, or even a fraction of everything. We’re busy staying in our lane driving our car or making sure we don’t burn ourselves when taking a pan out of the oven. It’s all I can do to brush my teeth twice a day so I don’t develop gingivitis, although I don’t know the details of how that develops, either.
All this information overload makes me realize just how precious the human mind/brain is. How it came up with these ideas in the first place. Those minds who figured out how to make 20 story buildings stand and brave the weather and hold thousands of people. The minds who took aluminum and titanium and shaped it into huge machines that can move fast enough to ride the air up into the sky, or how a computer went from being the size of a room to a chip that can sit on your fingertip.
After a while I have to stop all this mind wandering and go back to vacuuming the living room or go pull weeds out of my outdoor potted plants …. activities my mind can handle without much effort.
I enjoy wondering about things, and I am satisfied enough that I know so little. It gives me the inspiration to read, watch, and ask Google for answers I’ll never have. It also makes not knowing about life and death and the afterlife okay, too. No one knows everything.
It makes me laugh at those who think they know it all….
Salavat Fidai is a world-renowned Russian artist of micro-sculpture and a pioneer in the field of graphite miniature art.
Fidai was born and raised in a small village at the foot of the Ural Mountains in Russia, growing up in a family of teachers who taught art at school.
The delicate process requires a good understanding of how much pressure the lead can withstand, but even then mistakes are inevitable.
Starting with carpenter and art pencils containing thick leads, Fidai uses an X-ACTO knife to carve miniature renderings of hands, buildings, and various characters from pop culture.
Where the world sees a simple tool, Fidai transforms the pencil into a rare piece of art.
His process is an elite fusion of patience, steady-hand precision, and a deep understanding of carbon’s structural limits.
By turning the humble lead into intricate, microscopic museum-quality masterpieces, he challenges the very limits of physical capability.
Fidai’s process is an elite fusion of patience, steady-hand precision, and a deep understanding of carbon’s structural limits.
Each work is more than a sculpture; it is a testament to the artist’s pursuit of grace and perfection. This is a unique and very interesting form
Dame Zaha Mohammad Hadid (1950 – 2016) was an Iraqi and British architect, artist, and designer.
Heydar Aliyev Center, Baku, Azerbaijan
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Hadid is recognized as a key figure in the architecture of the late-20th and early-21st centuries.
520 West 28th Street, New York, New York
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Born in Baghdad, Iraq, Hadid studied mathematics as an undergraduate and later enrolled at the Architectural Association School of Architecture in 1972.
Antwerp Port House, Antwerp, Belgium
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In 2004 she became the first woman to be awarded the Pritzker Architecture Prize.
Riverside Museum, Glasgow
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Hadid changed how architecture is conceived and constructed, blending technology and creativity to push what was structurally and spatially possible.
Gallery of Heydar Aliyev Center, Baku, Azerbaijan
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Her architectural style is described as strongly futuristic with curved form, sharp edges and severe forms of glass, plastic, concrete, and steel.
Beijing Daxing International Airport, China
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Hadid’s style is called deconstructivism – a postmodernist school that involves breaking or reassembling forms it into new structures.
Zaragoza Bridge Pavilion, Zaragoza, Spain
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The ultimate ambition was to create fluid space, in every sense, between inside and out, and there is no boundary for people to move from one space to another..
Once again I have been running around between states, this time watching my grandson compete in trap and skeet, finding little time for catching a breath and avoiding the smoke that is billowing down from Canada.
Being busy all the time has it’s plusses and minuses. It is wonderful to be active with my family and friends, sharing precious moments and days with those I love and adore, (hopefully) filling a niche somewhere in their lives, rolling with the waves and just living.
On the other hand, I’m exhausted.
Along with the madness I’m also trying to lose weight, more for my present and future health, hoping to be around a few extra years with fewer pounds.
Trying to lose weight in 95 degree weather is a task upon itself.
You don’t want to eat in the first place because it’s too hot, yet light fruit and vegetables don’t quite cut it either. Being a Teletubby to boot makes everything just a little more uncomfortable. So does being older.
To my credit I have lost almost 30 pounds. But I have 20 more to go. I don’t qualify (nor can afford) the latest GPI-1 drugs, nor at this age do I want to take a chance on whatever side effects come my way.
No — this is all going to be done the old fashioned way. Portion control, meat and veggies and lots of water — and TIME.
“Whatever is worth doing is worth doing well,” says Lewis Carroll.
“Well” is relative, of course.
But as long as we all are working towards “well”, the rest will come. This includes finishing that book or quilt, walking around the block, or any other goal you and I set for ourselves.
Any slow-moving goals of yours hanging around this summer?
Japanese artist Yamamoto Motoi was born in Hiroshima in 1966, working in a dockyard until he was 22 when he decided to focus on art full-time.
When his younger sister died from complications due to brain cancer, Motoi immediately began to memorialize her in his labyrinthine installations of poured salt.
The artist draws with this white mineral, which flows from a small bottle like ink from a pen. In labyrinthine formations, the mineral is spread out on the ground.
The patterns formed from the salt are actually quite literal in that Motoi first created a three-dimensional brain as an exploration of his sister’s condition and subsequently wondered what would happen if the patterns and channels of the brain were then flattened.
Although he creates basic guidelines and conditions for each piece, the works are almost entirely improvised with mistakes and imperfections often left intact during hundreds of hours of meticulous pouring.
Countless bubble-like shapes are combined to form larger units, swirling organically, reminiscent of galaxies, or microscopic glimpses of structures invisible to the naked eye.
After each piece has been on view for several weeks the public is invited to communally destroy each work and help package the salt into bags and jars, after which it is thrown back into the ocean.
Every time I come in to write a blog something sidetracks me.
Normally I have no problem with sidetracks — they are part of everyone’s life.
But the loss last week of another friend tends to sidetrack me in ways I hate handling.
Acceptance.
A friend of mine passed away from complications of sepsis after cancer surgery. She was really my husband’s cousin’s wife’s mother, but that doesn’t matter. She was still a friend.
Complications rise because we will be out of town for her Celebration of Life. That makes it suck even more.
I look out at the hibiscus and geraniums blooming on the deck outside the window and realize she’ll never enjoy little things like this. No more spaghetti nights, no trips with her grandkids, no more loud and crazy family get togethers.
I’m done talking about this today. I know you’re all here with me, and while we acknowledge all the blah blah about life and death and everything in-between, I thought I’d bring some hope to those who still are here, doing our best.
Antonio Manzi was born in Montella, near Avellino, Italy, in 1953.
Self-taught, Manzi began painting at a very young age, his extraordinary talent evident in his powerful brush strokes and bold lines.
After an initial period dominated mainly by drawing and engraving, with extensive use of the drypoint technique, he went on to become exceptionally skilled in sculpting pottery and then in large and small bronzes and marbles.
Over the years he has demonstrated an incredible artistic versatility and eclecticism, also producing frescoes, engravings and collages.
Lately he has directed his creative energies towards a series of luminous paintings in a welter of magnetic, explosive colors.
His clever use of colors and designs brings a delightful touch to his modern creations.
Robin and Julia Rogers met in a small hot glass studio in Western Montana in 2001 at a glass shop called Cloud Cap Glass.
Robin Rogers holds a BFA from the Columbus College of Art and Design, Columbus, OH, 1998, and an MFA from Southern Illinois University Carbondale, Carbondale, IL, 2008.
Julia Rogers holds a BFA from Southern Illinois University Carbondale, Carbondale, IL, 2008, and a MFA from Bowling Green State University, Bowling Green, OH, 2010.In their bodies of work, every step of the process, from conception to installation, is completed by both artists.Ideas, techniques, and an array of materials are melded together to manifest their combined surreal vision into anthropomorphic explorations.Robin and Julia are enlivened by the inherent qualities of molten glass; its luminosity, viscosity, and seductive flow. Their interdisciplinary approach incorporates blown and sculpted glass with other materials such as metal, wood, and fur.Collaboratively, the duo meld their ideas into sculpture, installation and performance.
Let me first say I know and understand many of the cliches we all hear – you can’t do anything about it, life happens, everyone dies, yadda yadda. I am quite aware of all the positive and negative aspects about one’s last breath.
That doesn’t mean it doesn’t scare me to death. (pun intended)
I don’t think I thought much about dying in my 30s or 40s. Granted, my mother passed away when I was 25 and she was 54; my dad made it to a ripe old age of 85.
Somewhere along the line I started losing those I loved. My brother, my mother-in-law and sister-in-law. Later came the train wreck of my son. And last year my brother-in-law.
Now I find many of my close family and friends have survival problems of their own. Cancer, kidney disease. Strokes. All kinds of payments for a life well lived, you could say.
And it’s creeping me out.
I think about my own demise more often than I used to. Yes, in a perfect world I will have at least 20 more years to frolic and fancy away my life. But I’m lost when it comes to taking care of those around me. Doing my best to still be their best friend… listening, talking, encouraging.
Yet still the clocks tick on.
I don’t have an answer I can truly believe in. Heaven, reincarnation, Elysian Fields – who knows what’s on the other side. I’ve never had a magical encounter with the other side, never seen or talked to those who have passed before me. No arrows pointing to the pearly gates, no spirits letting me know there’s eternity on the other side.
So lately I’ve been doing my best to shut down all that kind of thinking. It is what it is and all that.
No matter what it is, I can do nothing about it. For my friends, for my family, for myself.
If you’ve had a peek or got an answer, let me know.
Let’s all just be strong and positive and hold each other’s hands for a while.
Robert Dane is a glassmaker from Berkshire, England.
Dane started blowing glass at Massachusetts College of Art in 1973, and has exhibited his sculpture and glassware widely in galleries around the country.
Dane manipulates glass into functional and sculptural forms with a variety of techniques, including blowing and hot-working solid glass.
Vibrant colors and the spontaneous improvisation of these unique designs distinguish his work in the centuries-old tradition of glassblowing.
Inspired and informed by the beauty of nature, he recognizes his dependence on it and tries to nurture an optimism within himself and his work in exchange.
“We are often too absorbed by the day to day of our own small existence to visualize and recognize the grand scheme that is transpiring around us,” Dane shares.
“My aim is to celebrate the beauty of the progression of life as it ever unfolds and reveals itself.”
It’s been pretty quiet over here lately. I’ve noticed this trend in a number of blogs I follow as well.
I am sure blogging is still an explosive trend across the Internet. Along with TikTok and other services, blogging still reaches thousands every day. Lots of words and pictures and experiences still flooding the waves.
Sometimes I wonder: What is left to say? What is left to share?
I myself have been busy with my family, going away camping for a week or up at the family cabin where Internet service is challenging.
But also I needed a break to refresh and repair. Both mentally and physically.
I am sure you all are in the same boat. Busy and productive some days, worthless and wondering others. We all have something worth listening to. It’s just a question if anyone is out there that still want to listen.
I’m not a hot shot blogger, trend setter, social media guru. I’m just a granny that loves unique art and inspiration and dreams. I am the kind of person who just wants to encourage the person next to me to uncover their own creativity and run with it. I want to encourage others to listen to live music and walk through the woods and say hi to their neighbor.
Simple things. Simple things that make a world of difference.
Good news is that I’m back in the creative world and hope that you are still here with me.
I’m going to check into other quiet blogs and see if they have come back to our world as well.
Nicole McLaughlin was born and raised in Massachusetts but spent much of her early childhood in Mexico.As a first generation Mexican-American, she is heavily influenced by her multicultural upbringing and her childhood memories of visiting her mother’s home town of Cuernavaca, Mexico.McLaughlin received her Bachelor of Fine Arts from the Kansas City Art Institute in Kansas City, MO. She draws upon the rich traditions of historically domestic crafts to reconsider their roles today, merging ceramics and textiles into elegant, cascading wall sculptures.Her studio practice, a ritualization that celebrates and questions her cultural inheritance as a woman, depicts the dichotomies of her heritage through the combination of ceramics and fiber.Streams of wool fiber flow from central openings in glazed ceramic spheres, referencing the life-giving flow of water as a parallel to fertility and maternal care.The use of fiber in combination with ceramic speaks powerfully to how we view utilitarian objects and the experiences associated with them.
Just got home from Illinois, lock the front door, oh boy Got to sit down, take a rest on the porch….
Lookin’ Out My Back Door — Creedence Clearwater Revival
Actually just got home from a week of camping in Kentucky, and boy, am I glad I’m home.
Kentucky was beautiful. Camping was beautiful. But some of the details in the middle left a lot to be desired … like two broken springs on our camper in Indiana and a blown transmission in Kentucky.
The broken springs were from one of Indiana’s wonderful potholes It jarred the camper so much the pantry broke open and a bottle of syrup spilled every drop onto the floor, mixing wonderfully with a broken jar of steak seasoning and pink packets of Sweet n Low.
The transmission blew while we were visiting a bourbon distillery, Fortunately we were parked in a parking lot, and were finally maneuvered/towed to a local transmission shop for a multi thousand dollar fix.
I guess you can say I’m lucky these disasters didn’t happen while on a busy highway or out in the middle of nowhere. That we weren’t in an accident or broke down in the middle lane of the busy highway. That we were able to call local services and they were wonderful in getting us back on the road.
I just sometimes think the dark faerie follows me around sometimes, spreading sticky black pixey dust on my path. Like in math, I don’t do well being tested. Especially on things I know nothing about. Springs and transmissions mean the same to me as quasars and armadillos — I’ve heard of them but know nothing else except their name.
My husband says people are of two sorts — the glass is half full, or the glass is half empty. I am trying to be a half full kinda gal — it makes for an easier, lighter life.
But I say — some days I’m lucky to have a glass at all!
Artist and sculptor Ryan Kelley creatively transforms wire, wood, metal and stone into unique pieces of art.Kelley is an experienced creative driving change in the artistic community around him with hundreds of creations and commissioned pieces to his name.
In his intricate wire sculptures, Kelley transforms wire, wood, metal and stone into unique pieces of trees, foliage and root systems.
Over the years his pieces have grown in scale and intricacy, crafted from hundreds or even thousands of wires.
His pieces range from intricate wire trees rooted in stone to larger welded sculptures — each one a reflection of patience, grit, and craftsmanship.Kelley is significantly growing and changing his artistic passion and knowledge along with his connection to the local artists.More of Ryan Kelley‘s wire sculptures can be found at https://www.wirebyryan.com/.
Born in the far north-east of Italy, Rodolfo Liprandi spent his first twenty years between the Karst plateau and the plains of lower Friuli.Liprandi graduated in sculpture from the Max Fabiani Art School in Gorizia before moving to Bologna, where he obtained both his bachelor’s and master’s degrees in sculpture at the Academy of Fine Arts (ABABO).Liprandi is drawn to forests and landscapes amid which he constructs dynamic sculptures from trimmed branches.He describes his practice as a “symbiotic dialogue with the environment, free from logistical and financial constraints, where the creative process becomes central.”Liprandi emphasizes locally sourced materials, working with what’s available around him and consciously keeping environmental impact to a minimum.The pieces are conceived as ephemeral installations, which eventually weather and decay like everything else that was once alive.
Vanessa Lyu turns flowers into stitched-together hybrids, using petals, threads and delicate grafts to explore themes of fragility, pressure and emotional repair.Photographer Cheuk Lun Lo, working alongside floral artist Lyu, developed a body of work that transforms botanical elements into emotionally charged constructions where flowers cease to function as decorative objects and instead become carriers of tension and introspection.The unique pieces in this series look like blooms caught between collapse and reconstruction.Petals are sutured with coarse cotton thread, forming visible seams that hint at wounds, healing and the effort of holding oneself together.In the series Adagio, a Deformed Comfort, petals are physically altered through stitching, grafting, and careful manipulation, producing hybrid forms that appear suspended between breakdown and repair.The visible seams, often made with coarse thread, introduce a tactile language of interruption, suggesting that fragility is not simply an inherent quality of organic matter but something shaped, reinforced, and negotiated through intervention.More of Vanessa Lyu’s art can be found at https://www.behance.net/vanessa921bc3bvband designswan.
Tomorrow is the most important thing in life. Comes into us at midnight very clean. It’s perfect when it arrives and it puts itself in our hands. It hopes we’ve learned something from yesterday.
In 1942 Pérez graduated from the School of Fine Arts in Santiago.
He was appointed professor at the School of Fine Arts in Santiago and moved to Santo Domingo in 1955, where he began a series of solo and group exhibitions that solidified his reputation in the national art scene.
Pérez founded the Guillo Pérez School of Art in Santo Domingo, with the aim of fostering Dominican art and culture, as well as promoting new talent in the visual arts.
His distinctive style was characterized by the use of oil on canvas and the application of a palette knife to achieve thick impasto, placing him within the realm of abstract expressionism.
Pérez had an extraordinary ability to interpret the Creole environment, encompassing man, landscape, sky, sea and land, establishing himself as one of the most prolific and important canvas artists in the Dominican Republic.
orry I haven’t been around to chat lately…. I’ve been doing full-time granny duty while my son and his wife took a business/pleasure trip to Hawaii.
Campbell is an artist that makes little handheld totems, pendants and other mystical figurines out of avocado pits.
She carves the seeds when they are still fresh and soft, and allows them to dry and harden into something that looks almost wooden.
Campbell’s motifs recall woodland characters in meditative states, surrounded by layered leaves or curling spirals or powerful feminine symbols.
Once again I have been running around between states, this time watching my grandson compete in trap and skeet, finding little time for catching a breath and avoiding the smoke that is billowing down from Canada.
In their bodies of work, every step of the process, from conception to installation, is completed by both artists.
Ideas, techniques, and an array of materials are melded together to manifest their combined surreal vision into anthropomorphic explorations.
Robin and Julia are enlivened by the inherent qualities of molten glass; its luminosity, viscosity, and seductive flow. 
Their interdisciplinary approach incorporates blown and sculpted glass with other materials such as metal, wood, and fur.
Collaboratively, the duo meld their ideas into sculpture, installation and performance.
As a first generation Mexican-American, she is heavily influenced by her multicultural upbringing and her childhood memories of visiting her mother’s home town of Cuernavaca, Mexico.
McLaughlin received her Bachelor of Fine Arts from the Kansas City Art Institute in Kansas City, MO. 
She draws upon the rich traditions of historically domestic crafts to reconsider their roles today, merging ceramics and textiles into elegant, cascading wall sculptures.
Her studio practice, a ritualization that celebrates and questions her cultural inheritance as a woman, depicts the dichotomies of her heritage through the combination of ceramics and fiber.
Streams of wool fiber flow from central openings in glazed ceramic spheres, referencing the life-giving flow of water as a parallel to fertility and maternal care.
The use of fiber in combination with ceramic speaks powerfully to how we view utilitarian objects and the experiences associated with them.
Just got home from Illinois, lock the front door, oh boy
Kelley is an experienced creative driving change in the artistic community around him with hundreds of creations and commissioned pieces to his name.
His pieces range from intricate wire trees rooted in stone to larger welded sculptures — each one a reflection of patience, grit, and craftsmanship.
Kelley is significantly growing and changing his artistic passion and knowledge along with his connection to the local artists.
More of Ryan Kelley‘s wire sculptures can be found at https://www.wirebyryan.com/.
Liprandi graduated in sculpture from the Max Fabiani Art School in Gorizia before moving to Bologna, where he obtained both his bachelor’s and master’s degrees in sculpture at the Academy of Fine Arts (ABABO).
Liprandi is drawn to forests and landscapes amid which he constructs dynamic sculptures from trimmed branches.
He describes his practice as a “symbiotic dialogue with the environment, free from logistical and financial constraints, where the creative process becomes central.”
Liprandi emphasizes locally sourced materials, working with what’s available around him and consciously keeping environmental impact to a minimum.
The pieces are conceived as ephemeral installations, which eventually weather and decay like everything else that was once alive.
Photographer Cheuk Lun Lo, working alongside floral artist Lyu, developed a body of work that transforms botanical elements into emotionally charged constructions where flowers cease to function as decorative objects and instead become carriers of tension and introspection.
The unique pieces in this series look like blooms caught between collapse and reconstruction.
Petals are sutured with coarse cotton thread, forming visible seams that hint at wounds, healing and the effort of holding oneself together.
In the series Adagio, a Deformed Comfort, petals are physically altered through stitching, grafting, and careful manipulation, producing hybrid forms that appear suspended between breakdown and repair.
The visible seams, often made with coarse thread, introduce a tactile language of interruption, suggesting that fragility is not simply an inherent quality of organic matter but something shaped, reinforced, and negotiated through intervention.
More of Vanessa Lyu’s art can be found at https://www.behance.net/vanessa921bc3bvb and designswan.
