Tag Archives: Bob’s Sculpture

Cast in Potato Salad, Carved in Stone for “Great Minds Think”

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Cast in Potato Salad, Carved in Stone

The last thing I ever thought I would do would be to pose for a nude sculpture, but when I married a sculptor, I guess it was inevitable.  Since I never had children, this probably marked the longest period in my life that I ever lay nude being observed by a second party.  I remembered having no reservations about doing so, in spite of the fact that I am really rather modest––that is about revealing myself physically. Words are another matter all together.

My husband first sculpted me in plasticine clay. (No, not the ubiquitous Sculpey, but a very dense artist’s clay used to make the originals for bronze sculpting.) He then made a plaster mold followed by a rubber reverse mold that would enable him to make further plaster molds once he destroyed the plasticine original so he could reuse the plasticine.  After mastering the intricacies of wood carving, bronze casting, welding, clay, sandblasting, paper making and stone carving, he was in a difficult spot.  A tool junkie, he had already purchased or made every tool necessary for working in these media. How could he justify buying any more tools or building another studio addition to add to the seven studios he had already set up?

The answer came when our artist friend Diana moved to town.  Her medium was cast glass and Bob soon became fascinated with the process.  Of course, this necessitated the purchase of dozens of large jars of different colored glass casting pellets as well as books, chemicals and other supplies necessary for the process. Unfortunately, we already owned a large kiln, so he couldn’t justify buying a new pristine kiln to be used only for the melting of glass.  True, some molecules of clay might permeate the glass castings, but he decided at least for his first project, to use our existing kiln.

I can’t remember what his first few castings were, but after a few experiments, he decided that his first large glass project would be–ta da–a glass casting of his recumbent nude wife!

The thing was, this necessitated ordering a good deal more glass, and in the meantime, he had this wonderful rubber mold just sitting there unused!  He tried to busy himself with carving stone and wood, but meanwhile that mold beckoned!  Enter fate in the guise of the next show at the Santa Cruz Mountains Art Center, where we were both members.  And the next show was––Edible Art!  In addition to food-centered art themes, there was to be a cookbook of artist’s favorite recipes and the piece de resistance was an edible category, to be consumed at the reception!!!  Thus it was that I came to be cast in potato salad––first molded in “the” well-washed and disinfected rubber mold  and then fine-sculpted by Bob’s hands.

I must admit I felt some trepidation about first being viewed nude, then being consumed by my fellow artists and friends.  This smacked of the Donner party or some sort of sixties orgy, but how we suffer for our art.  I requested Bob not reveal who his model was and all went well.  Later, the judge told us that he would have won first place for edible art if I had not forgotten and used some of the water I used to boil the eggs to add moisture to the potato salad. I had forgotten that I always put a half cup of salt in the water to seal the eggs in case they cracked during the boiling process and that addition made the potato salad totally inedible.  The judges could do nothing but award his sculpture fourth place prize in place of first, right ahead of a jellybean mosaic in the Byzantine style, but behind my third place for my “Garden of Earthly delights” salad.

Yes, the glass grains did arrive and yes he cast the sculpture, but what happened during the further fiasco of my chain of nude effigies must be left to another time and post lest this one grow too long to read.    Suffice it to say that once cast in potato salad, twice in glass, it seems only appropriate that my grave be marked by my magnificent if inedible body rendered into stone!!!  It will be the sensation of my little town, I can promise you.

My post is in response to this  intriguing prompt for Great Minds Think:

In a world where anyone can be famous, and even the most seemingly commonplace life can become the next bestseller or blockbuster, you enter the spotlight.So how do you want to be immortalized? Is a Tony-winning musical the best medium for your life? An eight episode Netflix or Apple TV documentary or biopic? A comedy sitcom? If any of the above, who would play you? Or are you instead going the OG route and writing your own autobiography or letting another person tell your story? Are you inspirational or a cautionary tale? An epic poem which gives Homer a run for his money, or a limerick? A song played on the radio and sung at karaoke bars?I t comes down to this: If you were to be immortalized for future generations, what form would it take, and what aspects of your life do you think you would want people to know about you? Take any form you want, but try to have fun with it.

 

The Numbers Game #114. Please Play Along. Mar 2, 2026

Welcome to “The Numbers Game #114. Today’s number is 236. To play along, go to your  photos file folder and type the number 236 into the search bar. Then post a selection of the photos you find that include that number and post a link to your blog in my Numbers Game blog of the day. If instead of numbers, you have changed the identifiers of all your photos into words, pick a word or words to use instead, and show us a variety of photos that contain that word in the titleThis prompt will repeat each Monday with a new number. If you want to play along, please put a link to your blog in comments below. 

Click on photos to enlarge.

 

And Owl Moved to Some Other Tree

I’ve been trying to find a place for this hardwood carving of my husband’s for 19 years! It just didn’t go in the doggie domain. It needed its own space. A couple of months ago, I went over the dark wood with a white wash, then painted and wiped or sanded off the claws, eyes and letters. I wanted it to look weathered and friendlier than the rich dark wood had looked. Then it sat in my studio. A month later, I drilled and screwed in screws and wire on the back to hang it from. But where to hang it? The pistachio tree next to my hammock already had a Soleri bell and a little painting of a prehispanic figure in the knothole. (Thanks, Jesus Lopez Vega.) Then as I was walking up to the house, I pulled at the trunk of one of the really tall palms and the wood just gave way in my hands. I peeled off a few of the leaf shafts still clinging to the tree and voila! A space just right for the carving. Today I found a big nail and hung it, sorta tucking it in to the frond shafts. Perfect. With the color, it sorta blends into the tree, but as you get closer, you can read the message, “And Owl Moved to Some Other Tree.” R.I.P. Bob. I hope you are watching.

Click on photos to enlarge and read captions.

 

 

For Sunday Trees 445

You Have Become the Art You Lived For

You Have Become the Art You Lived For

The caustic smell of metal in your sweat
that by the end could fill the room,
as though the bronzes you had formed
had now invaded you
and filled you, blood and fiber.
Art can’t hurt you,
declared your favorite T-shirt,
colorful and now the final irony
of your life.

My dear,
art brought about your ending
as surely as it made your life,
yet you would have loved the bittersweet joke
as your kids and I
dressed you in that T-Shirt
for your final viewing.

You surround me even now—
brought two thousand miles
from Northern California
to middle Mexico.
The life you hoped to live, I live with those
who know you only through
your spiral lamp of stone and liana and paper,
Chi Wara standing feathered, bronze and tall,
the nude I posed for, on her side
with sticks for head and feet and cassowary feathers
hanging down from them,
the spirit sled of beaten copper, rawhide and willow—
all of them as exotic as you
never felt yourself to be.

They were beautiful and rare
and loved as you were.
How maddening
that you could not be
convinced of it.

That is why, when I think of you
now, so many years after,
the air grows pungent
with your memory.

(click on first photo to enlarge all)

 

 

To see more of Bob’s art and read another poem about him, go HERE.

 

The prompt today is “pungent.”