Forward movement

The firmament is done, and all that needs be done is to paint the sun and moon. Soon. The mechanical work of cutting a couple of hundred pieces of glass is largely over, and now endless fitting, trimming, and painting will begin, or better, continue. 



Today, I realized that the image is starting to take on a life of its own; this sounds crazy, but it's showing me what needs to happen to enhance it. I'd opted for some simplification in some areas, and it said no, thank you. Get back to work.  An example: I had planned just to rough in with paint two tiny townscape pieces in the center of the image. Each is the size of my thumb, or smaller:

 

Well, no, that wouldn't do. This is what a couple of hours realized. Paint and shading still needed, but you get the point. So from macro scale (pieces of glass up to two feet long and 15 in. wide) to almost microcosmic scale:

 

Here above, the little yellow strips are the pattern pieces for the castle and houses: the red pen gives a sense of scale. What you see in color below on top of the enlarged original is about two feet wide and one foot high.

Lots of painting and firing in the next few weeks, and a number of other small projects. The kiln firings vary between 1225 and 1425 degrees, and take between 6 and 8 hours each. It has capacity for lots of pieces at one time, and/or large pieces as well. It's keeping the room warm on cold mornings. It gets so warm that I get down to a teeshirt sometimes (and pants, of course, I haven't gone that far around the bend). Here's a candid shot from one of the firings. Be assured that the kiln doesn't stay at this setting for long:

 

 

Here are a few photos of the Guild Lands:

 

 

Stella Artois on the bridge at sunset; perfect end of a day. The Purkinje Phenomenon. Uncle George told me about it years ago, and as a kid, I loved the name. Jan Evangelista Purkyně, pronounced more or less "Purkinje," a Czech anatomist, figured out that rods and cones in our eyes bring up the greens and blues after sunset. He also studied floaters, muscae volitantes "flying flies" that appear in our field of vision as we grow older. 

The source of all wisdom, Wikipedia, says: 

"The effect was discovered in 1819 by Jan Evangelista Purkyně. Purkyně was a polymath who would often meditate at dawn during long walks in the blossomed Bohemian fields. Purkyně noticed that his favorite flowers appeared bright red on a sunny afternoon, while at dawn they looked very dark. He reasoned that the eye has not one but two systems adapted to see colors, one for bright overall light intensity, and the other for dusk and dawn. 

Fascinating.

Finally a very wise older woman, Liz Cammerer, co-founder with her late husband (Richard) of the Grunewald Guild, passed along this little piece of Rumi's poetry. it's worth sharing:

 

The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.

     Don't go back to sleep.

You must ask what for what you really want.

     Don't go back to sleep.

People are going back and forth across the doorsill

     where the two worlds touch.

The door is round and open.

     Don't go back to sleep. 


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