Frequently Asked Questions (January 31, 2015)

Soapstone sculpture

Do you believe in the Easter Bunny?
Well, no.  I do believe in Mother Nature, though, and she always seems to be surrounded by small creatures most of the time.  IF there ever was an Easter Bunny, I believe it would hang around with her, giving away egg shaped chocolates to believers in US holidays and their corresponding deities like Cupid, Santa and the Tooth Fairy.

What is your shoe size?
Eleven.  Really, I have really long feet.  It would be helpful if they were wide as well, but, hey I have finally accepted that I just can’t go anywhere to buy shoes.  I liked living in big cities that had transvestite (not the correct pc term) stores so that I could buy heavy duty, girly, knee high or thigh high boots in my size, but alas, small town rural areas don’t have a enough liberal leanings to accept cross dresser stores.  So, I buy them online.  Yes, you can usually find one or two pairs of my size in the clearance section of chain shoe stores, but I believe they are referred to as “clown shoes” so I abstain.

Why do you post things then retreat for a day or two?
I live in the monsoon of life. Occasionally, I get drenched and need a day or two to dry out.  Then I get my wireless to work long enough before I lose my laptop to a sticky handed cheek demon* who incidentally, can chew through metal and has acid saliva.

*What is a sticky handed cheek demon?
She, is the child I gave birth to, who may not be in a good mood due to hunger, teething or a really full diaper. She, can be angelic or demonic, but has such sweet round cheeks.  Actually, when she is playful, I have to stop writing immediately, close the laptop and slide it three feet further than I think she can reach, since she knows that the laptop contains music, little people, babies and sign language movies.

How long have you been interested in photography?
Since I was a child.  My parents used to let me use up the roll of film (you know, back when you used to buy a roll of 12, 24, or 36 exposures.)  My parents would take forever to use up a roll, taking pictures of odd things, like the tree, the house, my brothers and sisters.  I took it upon myself, as a personal goal, to put something strange at the end of each roll.  Like photographs of shoes, feet, ground, sky or spinning blurs. “Who took these picture of the floor under the table!!”

Does anyone really think you are funny?
My students and children do after they get over the initial shock.  I try to have fun in spite of everything and at my own expense most of the time.  Also, a small group of adults realize that stating the obvious is enough to get you laughed at.

How long have you been singing?
Since I was very little.  I was in a singing group for children at the age of 9.  We performed all over the large metropolitan area I’m from.  We had tv shows and world tours.  I was, of course, petrified to ever try out for solos or the touring group.  I have barbershop harmony, show tunes and cheezy Christmas carols stuck in my head forever.

We did not read music, therefore, we were obligated to remain with the group.  I’m sure the group organizers thought it would be difficult to teach 200 children to read music, but other groups do it all the time.  I’m being snarky, but I think they we’re all about the publicity, cute kids and money they made from us.  We had to pay to be a part of the group.  Once again, snarky rears its ugly head.  Yes, I had to google http://www.its-not-its.info/ .

During high school, I was in a renaissance group that sang acappella.   We were four sometimes five students from different cities who sang together for the love of madrigals.  We also had gigs singing real Christmas carols at a local hotel during the Christmas seasons.

Up until a couple of years ago, I sang in a local community choir.  I had to fight to get out of the house to sing.  My children were only brought to one concert by my ex.

What’s your musical background?
I started piano lessons when I was five.  My brothers and I all took lessons from Mrs.______.  That’s not me being coy.  I just can’t remember her name right now.  (My memory is slipping.  My therapist says it is a side effect of my depression/anxiety/adhd cocktail.  Priceless.)  I played piano for about eight years before I had a teacher who noticed how much I hated playing the piano.  My hands would go numb while I played.  He talked to my parents and that was the end of that.

In a summer community band, I played the electric bass. Briefly, there was clarinet (until I lost it on a school bus,) and finally fell in love with the string bass in junior high school.  I was tall therefore, I either was to play the upright bass or the tuba.  I’m just not full of enough air for the tuba. (If I can write this much, this often, I probably do have enough air now.)  Back then, I was wee little thing, invisible when turned sideways, almost 6 feet tall barely 112 pounds.) Playing the bass was lovely.  You merge with your instrument as it is pressed against you and you make it sing deeply. Then have 27 measures rest.  I would read a book while I waited.

What in the world possessed you to write a blog.
I have been writing for most of my life.  I started writing again for myself when pregnant with my first child.  I was documenting the physical and mental changes associated with being an incubator of a very active occupant.  I wrote about life with boys, a business, cats, a husband, etc.  When it all came to a head, I stopped writing.

I now realize that there is power in the documentation of life, thoughts, art and my new love, poetry.

Do you know who is playing in the Super Bowl?
The what?  It’s happening again?  I don’t know.  I don’t have a television.  Well, I do have a television, it just has a VCR hooked up to it and I don’t get a signal or any channels on it.  I happily live under a sports free rock.

Why don’t you have more of your metalwork on this blog?
This is an anonymous blog, therefore, any of my metal work identifies me to my audience.  Outing me, while supporting me as an artist.  Right now, my writing is not a part of my artwork.  When I die, someone can merge the two personas and an art historian will have my whole life story in my own words to go with my artwork.  Of course, at that point, I’ll be dead, so who cares what they do.

The images above are carvings I made in alabaster.

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