Last Sabotages First

The one and only mold for the Unicorn.

This week is a mad dash to make ten open-face press molds before Thursday. One for the Unicorn (above) and nine for the 2011 porcelain Christmas ornament. They need to dry for about twelve days, then I can start casting.

The Unicorn was straight-forward. Mix, pour, pop apart. Done. Yes. No hitch. That couldn't be said of the ornament, however. Of course it couldn't. Silly me! It had to present a problem right out of the gate, in the making of the very first mold! Mix, pour, pop apart. WHAT. ACK!

Let me backtrack. I don't plan on making rubber masters of these ornaments because the integrity of the limited edition is important to me. So each of the 8-9 press molds needed for the edition of 100 are cast directly off the clay original. This means that if damage occurs to the original during this process, I have to fix it before I make another mold. Easy enough with oil clay. It does mean though that all I have is the original, so if it gets hosed beyond sensible repair, there would be no 2011 ornament.

On top of that, thinking it was efficient and clever, I simply resculpted the old 2010 ornament clay original, filling it in and paring it down to create the blank block I needed for the Friesian (which also means the 2010 ornament truly is done since I no longer have an original to mold). 

What I'd forgotten, however, was that in the process of making the last press mold for the 2010 ornament, it got pulled off its backing, too. All the heat generated by the curing plaster and the subsequent pulling had eventually loosened the oil clay from the backing tile and that bond had to give sometime. But since that last mold was a back-up freebie, I slap-dashed it and simply affixed the clay original back onto the tile with double-sided tape, then proceeded to make that last mold. This trick works great for resin or rubber, but barely for oil clay, for obvious reasons.

So flash forward to now: as I pulled the first press mold for the 2011 ornament apart from that 2010 backing tile, this happened:

CRIKEY! There it is, stuck in the mold. Those bulges along the edge are the casts of my thumbprints from squishing the "caulking" clay into the seams of the mold boards. Kinda pretty. You can even see the streaks left by the double-sided tape on the clay.

Good gravy. It was wedged in there really good, too. When I screw up, I certainly do a good job of it. At least I can find satisfaction in that.

But what to do?! Tearing this thing out meant it was a wash - the damage would be too great and I'd be left with one, untested press mold. Great. I needed to do three things, and fast:

1. Get it out of there as undamaged as possible.
2. Affix it back firmly onto the backing tile without using double-sided tape.
3. Figure out why it got so stuck in there in the first place. If it happens now, it'll certainly happen with the porcelain, something we definitely don't want!

To attend to #1, I remembered Barb's advice about using the clay plugs to get the pressed clay out of the mold. So I warmed up some oil clay under a lamp* and gingerly duplicated that technique. With a bit of tugging (oi - it was really in there), I got it out with surprisingly little damage. Practically none. Phew! A thousand thank-yous again, Barb!

[*I heat my clay under a drafting lamp, using the bell of the light to contain the heat.]

Addressing #2 took a bit more doing. The backing tile is slick - glossy slick. This makes is easier for the plaster to be pulled off and for the tile surface to be cleaned in preparation for mold making. It also means that affixing a soft, smooshy clay piece firmly back onto it would be a tricky proposition. I just couldn't squish it on there!

So after thinking about it, I decided to do two things. First, I would smear a thin layer of heated, soft clay onto the backing tile in the rectangle mounting area. Really squish it on there good with a tool, too, then place it under a lamp to keep it soft and sticky.

Then I'd take a BBQ lighter and gently melt the backside of the original, avoiding sag or distortion, just until the backside became glossy and melty. Quickly grabbing the backing tile out from under its lamp sauna, I'd gently press the two together, like those glues you apply to both surfaces before attaching them together. When I actually did it, it worked like a charm. Phew x 2.

As for #3, it was clear the problem was a design flaw. As perpendicular and pothole free I thought the edges were, apparently they weren't. There's some degree of suction between the original, backing tile and plaster, which makes pulling them apart hard enough, but any edge not absolutely perfect has just enough extra grab to be a bigger problem. In short, any minute flaw along the side edge creates an imperfection for rigid plaster to grab.

Now I wanted to avoid the deep bevel the 2010 ornament had because it introduced some annoying problems for pressing. That was why I made the edges of this 2011 ornament straight up and down. After this mishap, however, it's clear that a bevel to some degree was required, if only for mold-making and demolding. Afterward the bevel could be pared down with a blade as a kind of mold flashing, and I suspect a dough blade would be the ticket. We'll see how that goes.

After all was said and done, here it is re-affixed, repaired, and retweaked with a slight outer bevel:

(Right) A new smearing of edging to create the slight bevel and to fill the gap between the bottom of the ornament and the surface of the tile. A gap will suck plaster behind the ornament, creating a "hand" that would tear the piece when pulled out. It doesn't matter if the edges are slightly wavy now, since they'll be cut away in the cleaning stage. (Left) All cleaned up. The glossy areas are parts that needed to be fixed and resmoothed with GooGone. So altogether - phew x 3!

This hiccup caused the loss of half of yesterday, so today will be busier than anticipated. And here I thought I knew just about all I needed to know simply from last year. I mean - how hard could this simple thing be? Ha! I have a sneaking suspicion that this piece has its own lessons to teach me, and trickier ones at that. That's ceramics for you. Let me just say it's a good thing I got an early start this year. 

"Never play a thing the same way twice." ~ Louis Armstrong

Last Sabotages First

Three Little Hammies

The image above pretty much sums up the ongoing Cold War in our house. I mean that literally. My husband is a rather stocky, muscular man, a Tolkien dwarf come to life. I swear if I got pregnant, I'd give birth to a 12 lbs pot roast. Anyway, all that muscle mass generates a lot of heat and so he's always hot. So up (or down?) the AC goes. Indeed, a Ham in his natural environment would probably be during the last Ice Age, in "balmy" sub-zero "shorts" weather. In contrast, I'm constantly cold because of my freakishly low blood pressure. Since Ham doesn't appreciate, as I do, the hand-warming properties of his warm body for frosty fingers, I bundle up in my own house just to keep my core temperature up. 

Anyway, in the whirlwind of activity, I've neglected posting about three more Hammies that were born recently. I've been taken by surprise with the popularity of these little guys - they may outsell my regular work! While they started as a ode to my husband, they've transformed into a shared ode to those loved ones who endure our quirks, and it's such a treat to hear of your stories relating to a Hammie. So for these three new ones, let me set the stage...

I'm not the type to vigilantly maintain my computer in lean, mean racing condition. As long as it goes well enough, I'm satisfied. I'm also not the type to fanatically stay current with an operating system. I tend to stick with one, get comfortable, and drive it into the ground, so to speak.

So here I was cruising along for years, doing all my records, articles, Boat publishing, photo editing - everything - and all while blithely neglecting to clean out my computer or update my OS. It could be said I just didn't run Tiger into the ground, I augered it in. 

This would have gone on for many more years had Paypal shipping not become a thorn in my side. My version of Tiger became so outdated that Paypal shipping, among other things, became increasingly incompatible and inefficient to use. Even the USPS site became quirky. But being so spoiled by online shipping, the thought of waiting in line at the PO was (gasp) unthinkable. To rectify this I had to (finally) update my OS to Snow Leopard, and then to Lion.

To do that though meant some house cleaning on my forlorn Mac. Now my IT-guru husband religiously keeps his machines in fine shape, de-fragging and de-thising and de-thating like a proper, devout geek. So while his machines sing, my Mac sobs. Trust me - only a Mac could tolerate my shameful treatment! So. All this meant I had to empty the trash can. 

For the first time in, oh...five years!

I clicked on that little magic trash can and lo and behold - over 13,000 items sat there, having patiently waited for their destiny with oblivion. Wow. That's impressive even by my incompetent standards. So I click "delete trash" and off it goes, finally doing what it's waited so long to do. It takes 30 minutes to delete the trash can. 

I saunter back to Ham's mancave and nonchalantly quip that I'm currently deleting 13,000+ items from my trash can. He looks up at me with a blank stare...then this erupts:

Hammie #6: "You HAVE HOW MANY ITEMS TO DELETE?! HOW MANIEEEEEEE?!!"

But it doesn't end there. Of course not. In the process of deleting the trash can, I somehow managed to delete my browser. One that he'd spent some bit of time setting up for me months earlier. I still don't know how I did it, but it apparently had to do with icons and hard drives. Upon hearing the familiar plaintive, "Hey....Haaaaam?...", he knew I had another gem of trouble just for him.

Hammie #7: "How...how...did you delete your browser? Seriously? How."

But wait - there's more! I also happen to be of the (futile) belief that if you click on something enough times it'll speed up the function of the command. That the amount of clicks actually is like circuit board accelerator. Ham has scolded me more times than I care to admit about my astute practice of this technique, but well...let's just say when electronic impulses "take too long," off I go clicking like a mad woman.

And so I managed to lock up some sort of function that was necessary for the upgrade, and what would have taken 15 seconds had I waited required a reboot. He suffered in silence, standing behind me, with his facing saying everything that needed saying:

Hammie #8: (thought bubble) --> "Yes, she did it again. I've told her a million times and yes...she did it. Again." (rolling eyes)

So there ya have it folks. Three fresh new Hammies. Suffice to say, I got upgraded just fine and everything is working like a charm now, ready to get slogged down by another five years of chaff. All I can say is this: Mac had better not come out with another OS upgrade anytime soon because Ham may not survive it.

"I was an accomplice in my own frustration." ~ Peter Shaffer

Three Little Hammies

Bustin' Through Boundaries

see more Lolcats and funny pictures, and check out our Socially Awkward Penguin lolz!

Things are moving right along in the studio, one-third gearing up for Christmas, another third tackling ongoing projects for 2012, and the other third having complete creative spaz attacks. It feels great to wake up each morning with lots to do, with each piece inspiring the next in an endless loop.

 

One project, in particular, I just finished. One of my casting partners, Resins by Randy, has started casting in low-melt metals, such as tin and pewter. That got my immediate attention because this material opens up new possibilities, everything from ornaments and decorations to functional housewares and key chains. 

 

As I mentioned in my last post, I bristle at being told what I can and can't do, and this is especially so of my art work. Over the years I've had various individuals (even art instructors) tell me that equine art isn't real art and, what's more, that realistic art isn't real art. Hey, whatever makes them happy, but that train of thought obviously doesn't work for me. I have my own drum and I'm bangin' it. Loud.

 

Similarly, I've had others throughout the years poo-poo my desire to create functional art, such as switch plates, key chains, sinks, installation tiles, stepping stones, fountains, or even to create fantasy pieces, such as Unicorns, Dragons, Kirin and Pegasi. Apparently those sorts of things aren't real art either. 

 

I can certainly understand why on both counts. The idea that real art doesn't have a practical function - it exists simply to express - is common. I get it. But I also love the idea that art can be integrated into function, that they can be one and symbiotic to each other. In our mass-production world, I rebel against the notion that function and art are separate by definition. I say squish 'em together and see what happens!

 

As for fantasy critters, an aversion to them in the art world is completely understandable given the cheese-factor associated with all of that. But I'm reminded of the Unicorn tapestries and the wonderful Grecian coins and splendid Asian art that integrates these motifs without apology. These creatures are a part of our collective culture and when approached in a certain way, I believe they can transcend the cheesiness of airbrushed pink Unicorns dancing on rainbows and snorting pixie dust.

All this has taught me that it's not the subject so much, it's how we chose to portray it. Anything can be made profound and transcendental, even a blade of grass or a shoestring. Just as easily, too, anything can be cheapened into demeaning banality. It all depends on the creative spin.

Art knows no boundaries, so why should I? As my long-suffering hubby hears on a regular basis, "I'm gonna do whatever I wanna do however I wanna do it!" I create my art this way. So in this spirit, I just finished the first of many future pieces, in this case a Unicorn ornament destined to be cast by Randy in either tin or pewter (haven't decided which yet).

 

Oil clay original, 2.5 x 3". I'm going to make a plaster mold and then make a ceramic casting. I'll then clean and detail that up because at this size the oil clay gets too gooey. Even the Hard NSP Chavant, which I use, is too soft to hold detail well at this size. Then I'll sign and stamp the back, bisque fire it, and send that along to Randy for production. The hole at the top is for a hanging ribbon or some such contraption.

I'd like to keep this piece a limited edition exclusive to the metal, but I'll probably also make a limited number of ceramic castings to use up the plaster mold (probably in porcelain). I hope to have this edition in my Etsy store in time for Christmas, but we'll see.

It was really fun sculpting the piece, and liberating in many ways. And since I'm not in the camp that interprets a Unicorn as a horse with a horn, I got to play around with body parts. For instance, he has the ears of a Pronghorn antelope, a leonine tail, and eyes that are more deer-like. While I wanted to make the horn much longer, casting logistics prevented that though I got to put a curve in it, which I prefer. Sculpting that horn was a hoot! How often do I get to do that with horses? Um. Never. Really looking forward to sculpting more horns of all different kinds, since the options are open for a mythological creature.

It'll be so fun to start delving into my functional art lines along with the mythological animals. There are no limits other than those we impose on ourselves. When we create from our sincere passions, that's art enough for me!

"A forest bird never wants a cage." ~ Henrik Ibsen

Bustin' Through Boundaries