@ Lady Bay, SA
Here are two fine recut prints from the Hiroshige Mt Fuji series in vertical format.
There wasn’t much online interest, presumably because they show ‘foxing’ (brown spots) here and there. I secured them for scarcely a song.
The blemishes don’t bother me at all. These are old prints – maybe from the 1950’s, if not before. And besides, I can choose to adopt the Wabi Sabi philosophy – celebration of imperfections….at least when it seems appropriate (or convenient).
Lute 2 is taking shape.
I have fastened the poplar block from the inside of the mould. Now comes the tricky task of carving facets to house the ends of the lute ribs.
Tricky, but I have done it once before; I should be able to do it again….
Tsuda Pine Grove: Shiko Munakata (1903 – 1975)
I want to strip my work of ‘effects’ until it stands monolithic, based on reality and yet transcending it. It must flow naturally from my materials, from the way of the chisel and the way of the block…..
Tomioka Tessai (1836 – 1924)
Woodblock prints from the Winter group: Four Seasons of Flowers (1907)
Here is my little fleet of wood clamps awaiting their first task: the gluing of an endliner at the stern end of the lute. I enjoyed making them, and I tried to make them well; they are meant to last the distance – whatever that may be.
To my prejudiced eye they look quite charming and companionable….but apart from that, I am hoping they can actually do the job.
Black and white are absolute – expressing the most delicate vibration,
the most profound tranquility, and unlimited profundity.
I make black and white prints because I want to go back to the beginning.
Shiko Munakata (1903 – 1975)
The beginning of a new Lute Shell. I thought I might as well work on a second lute, while completing the first.
As before, I will shape the neck-block from a piece of quarter-sawn Poplar. There is no need to ‘loft’ the mould and templates; it’s all done, and ready to go.
The search is on for a suitable wood: possibly (recycled) Huon Pine. I have been told by those who know that it produces a gentle sound – which is fine by me. Any sort of lute sound would be gratifying.
I hope I can remember what the Learning Curve taught me….
Much has been written about Joshua Slocum’s last voyage, and his mysterious disappearance.
Arthur Ransom believed that the Spray was probably cut down at night in a shipping lane. An alternative theory holds that her captain simply fell off the fore deck in a storm….while she kept sailing unerringly towards the sunrise. Other pundits suggest that a giant swordfish might have skewered a garboard plank – and again, that the little ship was swamped by a hump-backed whale, surfacing without due care.
All these theories are plausible – but I think they fall wide of the mark.
To my mind, there is no mystery: Joshua Slocum sailed away and never came back. That is all. He had his beloved Spray as companion; no doubt he carried below deck the old tin clock, freshly-boiled; his knowledge of sea and sky and everything in between was immense – and the Pilot of the Pinta would have been keeping night watch, as the captain slept. Why not sail on?
For all we know, he may be sailing still….
casting off
casting away
tin clock
without a face
tells the hour
casting away
for the last time
no way back
clearing the lee shore
through the eye
of a zephyr
sweeping across
sweeping the currents
trimming sail
beneath the dizzying stars
beyond the hours
beyond the days
beyond sight
beyond breath
a mirage of gannets
soaring
plummeting