Waiting on a kiln to cool down is THE hardest thing, and I don’t know how potters do it. We have six bisque plates in ours, decorated with something I’ve never tried before: ceramic decals, made from a few of Hannah’s drawings. I’m all atwitter since we’re leaving for Canada on Friday so these had to be fired today (the decals finally arrived yesterday). And I am worried that I may not have let the plates dry long enough. We’ll see. In like a zillion hours.
I’ve been going through my archives and am just about ready to give up. Does anyone else have this kind of trouble? You keep so many files, then are so exhausted at the end of a project you can’t stand to look at any of it? Soon it’s months later and you can’t make sense of what stays and what goes.
Anyhow, I found this old sketch from when I first started making the cover of The Dome of Tubes. References to fabric appear in the book, and I was trying to see if I could fashion words from ribbon. Clearly unsuccessful. Then, I started to see a face in the globe.
Maybe I should have made an ear from the ribbon end under ‘the’ so it matched the single ear of the f.
Two of the songs in the final CCCC spring concert at Mission San Miguel. Below: Dome Epais.
Another song from the final CCCC spring concert at Mission San Miguel. I shouldn’t have held my phone upright since the window shows only about half of AVE (the Advanced Vocal Ensemble subset of CCCC’s Concert Choir).
About a week ago I was looking for Nell Zink’s Wallcreeper, and Dorothy persuaded me that I needed a full set of the books they’d published, which included The Wallcreeper.
Today I happened upon a review of Zink’s Mislaid by one of my favorite critics, Dwight Garner. Sometimes when I’m reading one of Dwight’s reviews I get so lost in how well he writes that I forget I set out to learn something about the book itself.
“Nearly all the dialogue in Ms. Zink’s two novels is salted this way. Reading her can be like sitting in the front row at a Tracy Letts play. Ms. Zink has a gift for absurdist scenarios as well. The poet is gay. His wife is a lesbian. Thus this book’s title is a little battery of charged meaning.”
“This is a minor and misshapen novel from a potentially major voice. Robertson Davies said it: “With novels, like cakes, you never know.”
There’s a little friendly disagreement going on around the internet over Mislaid (see here, for instance), and that’s a very good thing. I’ll have to wait to see what the fuss is about since I blew my book allowance, but maybe that’s also a good thing.