THE TECHNOLOGY OF RECAPTURE


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Sunset in San Juan Islands photo by KSR

Two weeks ago I was typing away, minding my own business, decided to empty my recycle bin, and suddenly with no warning, over 4,300 files slipped rapidly away in front of my eyes. What did I do to deserve this? Not even the clever tech people could say what happened, but they were smart enough to fetch it back; for a price. The only things worthwhile to me were Art records, so yes, it was worth it to me.

The computer came home clean, with all 4300 files home again, this time in incomprehensible computer language. Being a determined woman of a certain age, I muddled my way through all of them and now life is again running along as it should be.

Among much-loved photos, I found this one of a sailboat at sunset, taken one evening several years ago in the Canadian San Juan Islands. We had pulled into a small secluded cove and dropped anchor for the night. Shortly afterwards this boat pulled in with the same idea and as the sun was setting, presented this lovely scene. A friend aboard with us, unwrapped his bugle and gave a tender rendition of “Taps” to end a perfect day of sailing.

TIGER, TIGER BURNING BRIGHT


tiger

Tiger, tiger, burning bright
in the forests of the night.
What immortal hand or eye,
dare frame thy fearful symmetry.” William Blake

It’s easy to see why Ang Lee’s adaptation of Yann Martel’s fantasy novel, Life of Pi, became a surprise success story around the world, winning four awards from eleven nominations in the Academy Awards.

It is a story both striking and unique telling of Piscine Molitor Patel, a boy growing up in Pondicherry, India, the son of a zookeeper. Piscine changes his name to “Pi”, to avoid being teased by his classmates, who pronounce his name “Pissing”.

This change of name is only the first of several fascinating changes in Pi’s experience. Some, like his name, are more or less under his control, like his pursuit of truth by simultaneously studying Christianity, Hinduism and Islam at the same time. He tries to understand God through the lens of each religion and comes to recognize benefits in each. Some, like his father’s decision to move the family and some of the animals to Canada, are not under his control, especially when the ship carrying the Patel family sinks, the rest of the family is lost, and Pi is stranded in a lifeboat for 227 days with only a zebra with a broken leg, a hyena, a gentle orangutan and a 450 pound tiger named Richard Parker for company.

The bulk of this fascinating and colorful story focuses on Pi’s struggles to survive and to make sense of the dehumanizing condition in which he finds himself. The hyena first eats the zebra and then the orangutan. The tiger has found a place to hide under the tarpaulin on the lifeboat, but the tension grows as you realize it is only a matter of time before he will emerge to kill off the hyena and then Pi.

The tiger indeed kills the hyena, but then miraculously goes back under his tarpaulin, where there is an occasional growl, keeping Pi alert for constant danger. Meanwhile, Pi is developing survival skills and learns to live alone with the threat of the tiger always present. Throughout the odyssey, it becomes apparent that when Pi is angry or fearful, the tiger comes out from his lair, and Pi strugges to regain his strength and domination over the animal.

When the journey is finally over, and the little boat reaches land in Mexico, Richard Parker and the boy are weak with hunger and near death, and the skeletal tiger silently slips off into the jungle.

Several years later, Pi has settled in Canada, and is interviewed by the insurance company for the sunken ship, who are still trying to learn how and why the ship was lost. Pi tells his story, but the men do not believe that a 13 year old boy can survive with a live tiger in a lifeboat, so Pi tells them another story, this one involving the base and vicious cook from the ship, a sailor with a broken leg, and Pi’s mother, who had miraculously made it into the little boat, and the tiger, Richard Parker.

In Pi’s mind, to shroud the utter horror of his condition, the cook has become the hyena, who kills and eats the helpless zebra with his broken leg. Pi’s mother is his next victim, with Pi cowering at the end of the boat awaiting his turn. Giving a huge roar, Richard Parker emerges from beneath his tarpaulin, and quickly disposes of the hyena and returns to his den to sleep and digest his meal.

Who then, is the tiger?

There is a tiger within all of us, sleeping, but capable of taking control unless constrained. It represents our fear and our anger. This is our ultimate strength: we are endowed with the ability to choose in which path our best interest lie. Do we conquer the tiger, or learn to subdue him?

SHADOWS OF OUR ANCESTORS


raku pot
“Large porcelain raku pot”

Shadows of Our Ancestors
“Shadows of Our Ancestors” watercolor painting by kayti sweetland rasmussen

I’m not sure how I feel about so-called “ancient memory”; the qualities, gifts or understanding we may inherit from a forebear, though it is true that we certainly can inherit appearance, and certain other characteristics and mannerisms from those who have gone before.

To say that we do believe in ‘ancient memory” it would follow that if we happened to have a talent for singing, dancing, art or whatever, that it came from Great-Aunt Harriet, and not from the hours of hard work we put in every day. We could possibly just sit on our duffs and “let it come”. But I have a friend who believes implicitely that somewhere buried deep in our psyche, resides “learned memory” which can emerge with a little deep thought. Personally, I am not that deep a thinker.

The only concession I will grant however, is that the first time I plunged my hands into a pile of nice, gooey clay, I felt right at home. I was in the place I was meant to be.

Two hundred years ago, my ancestors operated a large production pottery in Devonshire, England, where along with everyday tableware, they manufactured the glaze used by the Doulton Company, which with a Royal grant, soon became “Royal Doulton.” Upon their emigration to Canada, they continued in the pottery business for many years.

Now I would never presume to believe that that is where my love of pottery came from, but then again—who knows?

It would be nice to think that through the years, our children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren may somehow “know us” as people just like themselves, people who stayed out too late, ran along the beach with a friend, snuggled with a lover, were funny and silly and made mistakes, and were nice to old ladies and dogs.

The door to the past opens creakingly, but I hope they peek through to the other side now and then.

TRACKING DANGER IN THE CANADIAN WILDERNESS


Dateline: Calgary, Alberta. Law Enforcement officer Sgt. Harry Carruthers, on patrol on a typical day with his dog Beastly, was alerted when Beastly suddenly stopped, ears erect and nose twitching rapidly. They had been tracking the suspect for more years than they cared to remember without a single sighting. The hair on Officer Carruthers’s neck rose and his blood turned cold in anticipation.
Beastly uttered a low growl and the hair on his back was stiff with fear.
Harry had a photo of the suspect which he carried in his breast pocket, although in the 50 years he had been tracked, nobody had actually seen the criminal. Could this be the time they had all been hoping for?
The suspect lay, apparently dead, under bushes and in dank, moldy grass. He removed the memorized photo again from his pocket and studied it. The size, color, thickness of tail and length of claws seemed correct. Yep, this is a rat!
Sgt. Carruthers of the Rat Patrol was elated and careully placed the rat into a plastic container. Henceforth it would be known throughout the territory as “Medicine Hat Rat”, and his plastic container labeled “Rat under Investigation”, so that by checking the website, people would know what to look for, and learn possible means of eradication.

Beastly found the first one. Since then there are over 200 sightings annually, and about 4-6 turn out to be the real thing. Canada has saved 1 billion dollars over 50 years in property and crop damage and health care. Now they are helped by infrared cameras, much as Canada tracks rampant raccoon traffic.

Recently, as Carruthers and Beastly were out on patrol, Beastly stopped in full trot and came to a point and the hair on Carruthers’ neck rose once again. Inspection reavealed it to be a muskrat.

Some stories are true that never happened.” Elie Wiesel

A New Sculpture


kilnIt has been a long night.  Too excited to sleep, I have worked and reworked this new project in my mind.   These are the sculptures I most enjoy creating.  The one’s just for me, just because I want to.  Not someone else’s preconceived idea, or a gallery which wants more of what you have already done.  Those are the lucrative, and always flattering requests, but the one you do for yourself is frequently the one you can’t bear to part with, at least until you realize you absolutely have no more space for it!  It becomes your baby.

The light is just breaking through the curtained window, and I quietly leave my bed and sleeping husband, and go to the studio.  I always forget how cold the room and the floor are when I go to it early each day.  I have washed  the floor down the night before, cleaning out the used clay scraps, which when dry, become like dust, to be tracked everywhere. My tools are clean and placed neatly on the work bench.  I prepared 25# of clay the night before, but I may need more.  Oh, how I love the smell of wet clay, plaster, damp wood.  All the myriad  odors that linger in a working clay studio.

I think the ideas which come in the night creep out of some mythical box in my head, like small pieces of paper, each with a suggestion of something new.  Beginnings are magical, the possibilities are endless.  An old hand at this, I realize that I may start several times before I perfect what is in my mind.  I have a good feeling about this one, however, so Iwill begin  slapping wads of quite wet clay around the armament to sketch out the figure.  This will go fast.  The entire piece, if all goes well, will take several weeks of sculpting.   After it is blocked in, I can use drier clay, and begin the actual details.  A few days of drying, and it can be hollowed out.  Cut off the head and hollow, cut off appendages and hollow, glue it all back together.  Then will come the wonder part of it.  The lovingly crafted features, skin, hair, clothing.  It looks pretty good, so I can set it aside for a month or two depending on its size and the weather.  When it is dry, I will sand it and make sure it is fit to put in the kiln.  If it is cracked, it may be repairable, or the crack may be too big.  I might have to begin all over again.  Better be very careful the first time.  Drying time is up, it is looking good, but I know not to pat myself on the back yet.  Kiln time!  He is inside and the temperature will gradually rise to 2800 degrees over a 24 hour period.  A day  or two to cool off, and then it is time to open the cooled kiln.  I want to do this alone, if it isn’t too heavy to move by myself.  It is really a time of birth, private and subject to great disappointment if somehow there was a kiln accident.  Blowups and cracks are caused by careless wedging of the clay, or insufficient drying time, or just because it may have been placed in a bad spot in the large kiln.  With clay, the finishing materials  can be many,  including some I have used to patina bronze sculptures.  But I am so loyal to the earth that is clay.  My ancestors in England and in Canada worked in clay, and I feel a part of them is continuing through me.  It is time to begin.

Art lives through the imagination of the people who are seeing it.  Without that contact, there is no art.                                                                                                                                     

“Heartbeat of the Earth”  original sculpture by kayti sweetland rasmussen