You step in the stream,
But the water has moved on.
No things are for sale.
You step in the stream,
But the water has moved on.
No things are for sale.
Oak, steam bent, lathe turned, colored with essence of magic bean, and containing the secret of the next sunrise. Continue reading
These paintings are explorations of color, gradation and texture. Various application techniques were used, and the reflective nature of the steel and aluminum substrates, where used, add a depth that dynamically changes with the angle of view that static photos cannot capture. Continue reading
In the 1930’s, Harpo Marx visited Russia in the combined role of ambassabor and performer. The Cryillic alphabet rendered his name as something like Xapno Mapcase. I read this years ago in Harpo’s autobiography, and have often used it as my online identity. In reality, though, I’m not Xapno. Continue reading
A Collection of My Photographs…
Now, however, I’ve decided it’s time for a proper vise.
I decided that it might be fun to replicate the Excelsior No.1 table entirely in wood. I did; it was.
This is a study of worn out impeller blades from an industrial shot blast machine. They’re cast from incredibly hard and abrasion resistant material. As hard as they are, though, the blades do wear out, resulting in some of the patterns captured here.
This stool was built spontaneously. No plans were made or referred to, and virtually nothing was measured.
The hot, busy summer of 2018.
We went to the Guilford Fair on the first cool day in what seemed like forever.
We set off for a trip to New Hampshire without realizing it was the peak of the fall foliage display. Living in Connecticut. it always seemed redundant to drive around to see more trees in the fall. I was, however, surprised both by the flamboyant beauty of the colors and the number of cars out for a look.
A classic old Craftsman toolbox came into my possession in a sad state of neglect. I came very close to simply scrapping it, but I made the mistake of hesitating, of thinking about it. Continue reading
Blue #85, Abstract
Fish Eye / Fisheye
A self sustaining still life.
My best guess is that the New Haven Police Department dumped these guns in Long Island Sound. Continue reading
A living tree, then a structural component, now this.
I think I know what I see when I look at this.
I got into the habit of giving names to my computers long ago, once I learned how useful a recognizable identifier can be in a network setting. I’ve named machines after Ansel (Adams), (Thelonius) Monk, Euclid and other figures that resonated with me for some reason.
Here is an example of reclaimed wood being given a second chance.
A bench dog is a piece of hardware that fits into a workbench for the purpose of holding or steadying a piece of material. A woodworker might use a bench dog to clamp a block of wood in order to carve it, for example.
Here’s a small stool made from scraps of pine, fir, and a dash of walnut.
Some information that might be useful to those who live and work with sandpaper.
The Barber Motorsports Museum in Birmingham Alabama is quite a place. On a recent trip there, I took a bunch of photos, but didn’t want to end up with with a series of conventional motor vehicle shots, however rare and unusual the subject might be. I knew I’d never be happy with awkwardly lit machines, and backgrounds cluttered with fellow visitors. I did, however, capture a few impressions and images abstracted from the whole that I think are interesting.
I had the privilege of visiting the Sloss Furnaces National Historic Landmark and industrial museum in Birmingham, AL.
It’s a unique destination. The sprawling industrial complex is largely open for unsupervised investigation, despite being in a state of decline that occasionally seems, well, only marginally safe.
In the spirit of a Picture is Worth a Thousand Words, here are some photos.
I acquired a factory produced Queen Anne coffee table some time ago, and it hung around the shop serving as an overflow storage surface, buried under paint cans and unsorted hardware.
I forgot all about it until the day I finally got around to cleaning up.
Legends are born in events that we rarely take personal part in. Actions that transcend ordinary lives always seem to occur when we’re not there to see. Those near enough to bear witness later share their tale with a circle of friends, and eventually the word reaches our ears. This is such a tale. Continue reading
I’ve had a short section of a log in my possession for years. I have no idea where it came from, or what type of wood it is, just that it’s very light in weight. It’s also light in color, yet it produces dark brown chips. It’s a mystery.
The holidays, and a co-worker gave my wife a bottle of 13 Crimes wine. Something about 13 types of crime that the English courts punished the guilty by banishment to Australia. I guess that could be historical fact, but a strange name for wine.
The job actually included the entire scope of renewing the insulating cement, but making these patterns was far and away the most enjoyable aspect of the project. Continue reading
I welcome the whole ‘re-purposing’ movement. It makes fashionable what people all over the world have been doing for thousands of years as a matter of instinct and survival: simple conservation. Continue reading
A box of my old notebooks passed through my hands recently. The pages were filled with thoughts and impressions in the form of words and images. Most had lost whatever had made them originally worth committing to paper, and I had no hesitation at tossing them, notebook after notebook.
So I put together a chart of the major blocks of time that I can account for. Continue reading
I’ve noticed the changing meaning of the word ‘unpacking’ in the last few years. It used mean simply removing items from the container in which they had been stored. Like unpacking your bags after a trip.
Increasingly, reporters endeavor to ‘unpack’ the contents of a complex story, hoping to separate and clarify the interlocking layers that give the story context and meaning.
I have a great fondness for fairy tales, and even have a modest collection of old fairy tale books. I have vivid memories of reading these fantastic stories as a very young human, fretting for the safety of the characters as their rambling adventures brought them to far-off and impossible places. I remember feeling wistful, even at that age, that I would never be able to travel there with them. Continue reading
A few years back, I had occasion to work on a couple of run-down sailboats whose owners remained stubbornly blind to their vessel’s overwhelming list of flaws. Continue reading
People were busy making things in the 1980s. This is just one example of what they were up to. Continue reading
Behold the intrepid fisherman… Continue reading
Shadows move quickly, especially late on a winter afternoon. We forget, or maybe just don’t notice, just how fast the earth spins. Continue reading
For almost fifteen years, I performed maintenance work on the F/V Oceanic, a 41′ research and teaching boat owned and operated by the Maritime Aquarium at Norwalk, CT. Continue reading
For reasons I can’t explain, I never got around to adjusting the camera’s built-in calendar, so the date recorded in the image file’s metadata is an improbable January 1, 1980. The probability of that being the correct date is very low, considering that the A550 wasn’t introduced until 2007. Continue reading
This tree made me uneasy when I first saw it. It’s huge. At its base, my arms barely make it halfway around. An informed estimate of its height puts it a more that eighty feet tall.
Your message in on its way.
Carry on with whatever you were doing. Once my fully robotic staff has read your message and added their well intentioned comments to the margins, it will be rolled up and served to me in a copper samovar along with a warm biscuit. I’ll get back to you.