Earlier this year, I posted my delight in the abstract photography of Olivier Yves Lagadec. At the time, I couldn't find a link to examples of his work. Happily, Olivier recently replied to my post with a link to his blog. The creative eye with which he turns the simplest and most mundane of subjects into striking abstracts is fascinating.

August may be the most enervating month of the year. As the summer temps peak, my energy plummets. The very last days of it held out the first promises of cooler weather, with early morning temps in the upper 60s. Not much, but enough to provide a tiny bit of relief and a tease of autumn to come.

As a month, it was a bust on the artistic front, and I had time and energy for only one book:

I made my foray into bronze metal clay at Baton Rouge Bead Company today. I like the feel of this clay. Unlike PMC, the bronze clay feels more pliable and cool to the touch. Although it does dry out easily, it seemed to stay workable longer than the silver clays. It's also a very weighty clay, which came as a bit of surprise at first, though I suppose it really shouldn't have.

This week has been busy, so I didn't have time to create designs ahead of time. Since I'm never very good at off-the-cuff designing, I took advantage of the library of texture plates and cache of molds Carolyn (teacher and BRBC owner) made available. I used them for three of the four pieces and was pleased with the results.

For the fourth piece, I wanted to find out how well the clay sculpted. The quick drying time was a challenge, but I was surprised that I was able to produce a very smooth rope about 3mm in diameter. I doubt I could have done it so easily in PMC. I don't have particularly high hopes for this last piece from a design standpoint, but it gave me a good feel for the hand of the clay.

They won't be running the kiln until Wednesday, and the pieces will need to be tumbled after that, then made into finished items, so nothing to show yet. It was a nice class, though, and a nice break from grading scripts.

Another month overrun by classroom concerns. With only one week between sessions, I received an email announcing that the next session would be deployed in a new software application. This left a single week to learn the new application and set up the classroom. Ack!

Fortunately, after a day of abject panic and primal screaming, I discovered that the application had excellent documentation with an overview that had me up to speed in a day. Contrary to my initial impression, it wouldn't be necessary to re-write my lectures to fit into the new system. Problem solved. New classroom set up.

Two days later, another email: New app rollout delayed. Back to the old app for the next session. Yet another primal scream. Is it any wonder I didn't get anything else done this month?

Also, just realized that I left the URLs out of the links in last month's review. I've fixed them, but here's a link to the short (1141 words) "Stuck on Johnny," which won the "Meet Death" challenge.

Again, many hours devoted to the classroom, but I managed to squeeze in a few for reading, writing and beading.

War for the Oaks, Emma Bull

War for the Oaks is considered the seminal work in the urban fantasy sub-genre; Emma Bull is a Foley artist with words; and this is a very good book. It's a measure of my alienation from my own generation rather than any fault of the author's that I struggled through the first hundred pages. The main character, Eddie, is a rock musician, and I may be the only person born in the baby boomer years that never, ever nursed the fantasy of playing in a rock band.^*

I stayed with the book because it came highly recommended by a friend whose taste I respect. I'm very glad I did. There is a thread in it with which I profoundly disagree, but that doesn't blind me to its pleasures. A book like this one is the reason I wade through a score of others: Its plot is engaging, its characters, including the main feys, have distinctive personalities; its prose is not merely readable, but enjoyable. To all of these, it adds a dimension which prompts me to converse with the story on multiple levels. Whether I agree with everything it says is not so important to me as the conversation itself. It's a book which could launch multiple posts, but I shall contain myself.

Excuses, Excuses

Legitimate ones, true. All the same, creative output for May was definitely down. I spent the majority of the month preparing for and then teaching the first week of class. It's a large one this session—34 students. At 3–4 scripts per student per week, that's a bit of grading.

April was devoted to recovering from surgery. It should have been a perfect opportunity to read, write and bead. It probably would have been had I been able to find a comfortable way to sit upright for long periods of time. As it was, I managed only a little reading and beading, but enough of the latter for Mother's Day.

Beading

I made these two necklaces as Mother's Day gifts for my mother and mother-in-law. They're simple pieces, designed to suit the tastes of the recipients rather than to explore new territory, but they turned out nicely:

Wearin' of the Green

River of Amethyst

( Beading: Enlargements and descriptions. )

Louisiana

I've procrastinated as long as I can, but OCD insists that I finish this meme. Writing about the state in which one lives should be simple enough, and I suppose it would be if I were genuinely fond of it. The most I can muster is that the people are friendly, the food is great and the economy better than that of the rest of the nation at present. As to the rest, the climate is only slightly cooler and less turbulent than that of Venus (though considerably wetter), the politics barely an improvement on those of Chicago (and only recently) and the landscape about as interesting as a swamp, which is exactly what the lower third of the state is, for the most part.

Having said that, you might wonder why I still live here, and the answer is simple: my husband's job. If there were a comparable one in the western mountains of North Carolina, we'd have moved there not long after our honeymoon, over 20 years ago.

That said, Louisiana does have a unique folk tradition, complete with its own folk tales and legends, which is grist for a writer's mill. While trying to decide how to approach this topic, I was tempted to write a short story based on one of them. I even wrote a few paragraphs, but was dissatisfied with the protagonist's voice and decided that if I waited until I wasn't, I'd never finish the meme. Which I have now. Pity I can't say the same for the story.

The work of one of my favorite local artists, Michael Crespo, was recently on exhibit at the LASM. One of the docents, a petite black woman about my age, asked me about my reaction to his paintings. We sat talking for about 30 minutes, about his art, her desire to write and her experiences growing up as a black woman in the South.

I appreciated her honesty, objectivity and willingness to articulate her experience, painful though some of it must have been. It allowed me to see through the eyes of someone whose life had been vastly different from mine, not merely in terms of her racial experience (though that was certainly a defining factor), but also in its family structure and relationships. It's rare to speak to someone who can create such an expressive and perceptive portrait of his or her life and relationships without either ostentation or self-pity. I hope she does write and publish; she has a great deal to offer the world.