Above is a photograph of most of my fork collection, arrayed by size and type. A reasoned edit was the goal yesterday and I wanted to see them all in one place and count them.
I’ve long been a collector of forks
Category: archive
A long overdue revisitation
Along A Path, 2011 (intaglio and aquatint) I've just signed up —at long last— for another printmaking class! Difficult to believe it's been seven years since my scholarship to learn copperplate etching (intaglio) at Manhattan Graphics Center, which was my first and only foray into this fantastic ancient method of picture-making. The class begins in… Continue reading A long overdue revisitation
Regard me as a Sink
Here's a page from an antique journal or diary of sorts— it's from an old "Autographs" book that I purchased at the Antiquarian Book Fair last Sunday at the Brooklyn Expo in Greenpoint, and the majority of dates found within are between 1879-1884. It was a sacred collection of sentiments, photographs, and drawings of one… Continue reading Regard me as a Sink
Sunday morning, looking through old sketchbooks
It's a fine Sunday, breezy and overcast; not bad qualities for a lazy morning at a window-side desk. A long time ago I used to use crow quill dip pens for drawing and lettering. Though it can be a chore keeping those nibs clean enough to flow nicely, their character cannot be matched by the… Continue reading Sunday morning, looking through old sketchbooks
Twin angels, their bisque trepanned; eyes empty
This image, a detail of one of my assemblages involving old porcelain dolls. Their halos are of sterling wire.
Winter itself is exhausted; kicks and screams against its scheduled retreat nonetheless
I think the original title of this was A sick thing upon the rocks in the very early morning. It's from when I was a teenager in college. (I think the sketch that precipitated this ink drawing originated during an acid trip; that coming down feeling—) As I see it now, looking through the archive,… Continue reading Winter itself is exhausted; kicks and screams against its scheduled retreat nonetheless
The subtle mental nausea of homesick
Here's a scrap from one of my journals of youth. A page written when I was twenty-one, and newly out of college— my first summer spent in Brooklyn, as I'd always gone back to the farm in between the school years. Few of my schoolmates were in town that summer. I was broke, looking for… Continue reading The subtle mental nausea of homesick
The waning light turned gold and reflected in the windows
Here is a painting from a small series I did back in 2007. (It's hard to believe that was a decade ago!) This is Amsterdam II, and it has been sold! Its new home will be in California, and I'm very excited for its new adventure. Though I love having my art in my own… Continue reading The waning light turned gold and reflected in the windows
A cozy brownstone at the end of the block
Once again I missed my Thursday post. I was at work late. We were shooting a little set up of cut paper buildings for a campaign, and they reminded me of this illustration I did for a holiday card a few years ago, which has sort of the look of cut paper. Below is a… Continue reading A cozy brownstone at the end of the block
Elegant instruments, arrayed in bowls
There is a room full of young women lounging in or at the edges of inviting pools of water. The room has an otherworldly atmosphere, with dim, colored lighting and biomorphic curves in the walls and ceilings. It feels, looks like a grotto; like some ethereal rendering of a subterranean brothel. On low ledges all… Continue reading Elegant instruments, arrayed in bowls
e daggar art: THE MUSEUM 