By WR Jones
Ok, I’m prostituting my titles again. Trolling for readers, I’ve optimized my bait. Of course, once they start reading, the hook tends to slip out of the mouth and I lose them.
kimiam is working on a bas-relief in stone. I would like to learn sculpting, but how to find the time? I’m in awe of those who can carve from stone.
I had this piece of walnut with the knots that left it useless for most projects so I made a mirror with a bit of carving. I did this many years before I started drawing the figure. I think I could do a better job now but who cares.
From childhood I did projects in wood. This was before TV which left many long winter nights to build things. My wood projects were much like my painting projects in that there was an order of magnitude difference between what was started and what was completed. I remember wild enthusiasm to build a soap box derby race car. I finished 1/4 of 1 axle before I found a simpler project much more attractive. I made a lot of rickety stuff; you wouldn’t want to set your good china on any of these.
In those days boys had to take shop where we learned the different woods and made things like a foot stool, shoeshine box, and weather vane. I got a ‘B’ for my weather vane. I wanted an ‘A’; this was my first encounter with the concept of bribery. It didn’t go like I had read about in books. Did you know they can drop your grade from a ‘B’ to an ‘F’ for offering the teacher a little something to tide him over? Lesson learned there I tell you; I didn’t try bribery again until that DUI business.
When my son was born I made an old fashioned covered rocking cradle. Even then, for the cost of the wood alone, I could have purchased (retail) a baby grand piano. I don’t think the blame for the failure of this project can be laid solely on my doorstep. That little rapscallion son of mine grew up too damn fast. By the time I finished the cradle he was 18 and refused to sleep in it. He wouldn’t even get in it long enough for a photo.
While working on the cradle I made use of a large industrial power saw at work. I came very close to losing my arm/life when the board I was cutting along with my arm was pulled into the blade. My hand rang the outside edge of the blade. My knees buckled as I realized how close I came to disaster. I couldn’t hide my ignorance as the wood had so jammed the saw it had to be dismantled. For a very long while I had to endure the nickname “woodpecker” which morphed into “peckerhead”.
This scare put me off using power tools of any sort. Then the fear spread so I avoided all tools, and eventually widened to where I avoided work of any kind. Thats about where it stands today.
With modern medication for OCD and anxiety I’ve improved to the point where after only a couple of swigs of Southern Comfort I can use one of those electric toothbrushes. I’m still waiting for the pill that will make me consider working.