Umpf, HORSESHOE ....what is it good for!
Exchange WAR for Horseshoes, and you will probably recognize the song I was humming.
No that song doesn't have much to do with horseshoes but it does have a lot to do with helping explain what cast iron horseshoes are good for.
First, Cast iron horseshoes are oddly versatile.
I know, you are thinking "get a grip, I don't own a horse!"
Well slow down grasshoppuh, as I'm about to elucidate you.
We
got these decorative cast iron horseshoes that are absolutely perfect
for decorating your pad if you are into country, primitive, cowboy,
rustic, or western decor. Just add them in an artful manner to end
tables, bases of lamps, on the wall and especially above the door.
"Why above the door?" you ask. Well in ancient lore a horseshoe placed
above the door pointing up is good luck! You point the ends of the
shoe up to hold the good luck in.
Or, since a horseshoe carries in
itself inexplicable good luck inherently they are perfect favors at
weddings. Perfect in that they are small pony shoes at about 3 " tall,
and they are inexpensive and memorable and practically unbreakable if
the reception gets wild.
They are also great crafting items for
kids. Again they are cheap, tough, and safe with adult supervision.
I've seen children paint them, tie ribbons, feathers, and colorful
string to them and glue beads, penny's, and lots of other whatnot.
They can be a uniquely made piece of art for any kid.
As for art, there is even sculpture made of them.
There simply isn't any limit with a little imagination.
The one, the only, the crazy - versatile cast iron horseshoe.
dc
Showing posts with label art. Show all posts
Showing posts with label art. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 09, 2012
Saturday, February 04, 2012
Deliverance Weekend
WELL, this last weekend was weird. It ended with me and my wife with cuts and bruises and caterpillars crawling out from our hair and clothes, soaked in sweat. Sounds great huh?
This was a political trip for a hanging I built last year. My commissioner is relatively new to art, and actually new to being able to afford art, who invited us up for the weekend at his lake house. He wanted me to see the finished work hung up (which I refused to help with, Thank God!) and be introduced to his circle of friends. The carrot he dangled in front of us was lots of new potential art customers and a relaxing weekend at the lake.
We kenneled our little dog (with doggie day camp!), and drove the 3 1/2 hours to BFE. I should have known something was up when the cell phone stopped working. We arrived to see my buyer grilling chicken on an outdoor grill. After being congratulated for making the trip we sat at an outdoor table where the buyer made himself a plate and ate his lunch in front of us. Just him, with no offer to us whatsoever. It was a little uncomfortable since etiquette wasnt followed at all. This was the second hint of our fabulous weekend.
We were shown our quarters in a separate house. They were quaint with a nice view of the lake. No problem there.
My host immediately showed me the piece hanging from an A frame porch. I was struck with it and stared for some time. Its cool to like your own work because it doesnt happen every time. I did note that it was placed in kind of a shadow and that the stop-rust coating made it too dark. I sold the job based on a natural or rust condition that showed up well against a dark background. This piece virtually disappeared against the background. I didnt point it out but instead told him how great it all looked. His house is in some odd repair process so I didnt mention that either. He was replacing some old wood with new wood but only doing so in a sporadic manner here and there. I got my camera and took a bunch of photos hoping that one of the shots will be good enough for my site.
After that we all went to his boat dock to ooh and ahh over his collection. Only four in his family but they got 6 motorized boats plus a paddle boat. We climbed on his pontoon boat having already dressed in swimsuits and accompanied by loud country music from his all weather stereo began to move slowly in front of his lake home. I obliged this and took about a dozen more photos. He loved that I did that and pointed out all kinds of angles that might be better for showcasing his "compound". We finally struck out across the lake to find some friends. The temperature outside then was about 100 degrees.
Needless to say, we baked quite well and had our ears pounded by some poor hillbilly soul whose wife left him. We slowed down at a neighbors boat dock and they hopped on our pontoon. We were introduced all around as the artist and wife who built the "thing" on the porch. The conversation quickly petered out so we went back out on the lake. About half way across the bay our host yelled that it was too hot and that we should all hop in and cool off. Which we did. My wife however, hopped off and hit her hand on something sharp and sliced open her little finger. She was bleeding profusely in greenish brown lake water. I honestly didnt know what to do except get her out of the water. Surely fish poop laden water isnt good for an open wound.
She managed to climb back on board the boat with blood running down her arm and dripping off her elbow. No doubt it was a pretty good cut to bleed that bad. Our host though was annoyed that she hurt herself. He basically called her a dummy for getting hurt on his boat and then he followed her around with a spray hose to keep blood from getting on the floor. She took all this in good form admitting that she could be a klutz. But that wasnt enough for our host. He went on and on about it for the rest of the day. Not once did he ask if she maybe need a stitch or even a bandaid. His wife finally found some butterfly strips and put them on her hand. The other guests too jumped on this delightful bandwagon about how dumb my wife was to get hurt. It was getting old but we didnt know exactly what to do.
Bored with insulting my wife and the heat approaching 102 the host decided to go back to the neighbors house and we would float there for awhile.
All this time we were drinking beer and bottled water. My wife mentioned that one reason she landed oddly when she jumped out of the boat was that she didnt was to get her hair wet and then have to deal with that later. She does have a great mass of hair.
This started the abuse all over again from host and neighbors. The neighbor lady said something about her being a city girl and all foo foo. My wife finally had enough of lip and riled up on them. I cant repeat what she said but it was clear she was going to show her some foo foo if she wished. My wife works out several days a week, one day being kickboxing.
We finally left that gathering and went back to the hosts dock. There we found his parents who live next door floating in the water with life jackets on while still fully clothed. No one said anything about it so I didnt either. It just looked odd.
I took more photos of the artwork, none of which were going to look very good, and then helped apply more bandages to my wifes hand. It looked terrible and was still seeping.
We gathered about dinner time on the front porch and talked and drank more beer as the sun went down. My wife still taking barbs about getting hurt and bleeding on the hosts boat. It got darker and later until it was full night. It occurred to me that it should be getting time to eat dinner but no notice was given to that effect. I saw one of their children eating something and mentioned it to the host. He said sure, go in there and find something. He had a pot roast on the stove top. I went in and sure enough there it was nearly ice cold. Somebody said grab a plate so I did and went back to the table to eat. I went outside and told my wife to come eat. She looked suprised and asked the host if dinner was ready. He looked suprised back and said it was if she wanted to eat. I can only suppose that they are an unstructured family when it comes to mealtimes. It was never announced, no plates were set. We just fended for ourselves hunting forks and spoons down. There was also nothing else served or ready. Just potroast. Still, we were appreciative as it was way better than nothing.
After the loosely held dinner we gathered outside again and our host talked of going out on the lake again and to see the stars. We did, and that was the true highlight of the trip. I had forgotten what a field of stars looks like on a truly dark night. It made me feel less alone in the universe. We made the trip back without any problems and said good night.
As we were settling into our bed I turned on a ceiling fan that made a clacking sound like a train on a track. Then the central air return being right by the bed sounded like a load of gravel slowly being poured on sheet metal. It was a marvelous cacophony of sound that made me sleep like a baby. My wife did get up in the middle of the night to take some painkillers for her hand but I didnt know it.
Next morning, me and my wife were already talking of leaving early and going to get our little dog out of the kennel. She had had enough of being insulted for getting hurt and of not being exactly being fed and getting heat stroke on the boat. I agreed so we went over to the main house and visited with the entire family on the front porch. It was about 9:00 and already 95 degrees outside. Our hosts wife produced a foil wrapped set of sasauge bisquits and we gratefully ate them. Nothing else was offered for breakfast. Just coffee and water and if you wanted it, go get it.
Our host asked about our leaving time and after we told him announced that we must take the nature tour and that it only took 15 minutes to get there. Trying to be socialble and looking at our watches we apprehensively said sure, lets go. After all it would only take 15 minutes.
We went to the boat dock and instead of getting on the pontoon climbed into the flat bottom boat. Maybe I should have been concerned right then but I was lulled into the 15 minute remark and thinking further that my obligation would be over in just a few more hours and I could go home.
The flat bottomed boat was slightly uncomfortable as I have a bad back. I cant sit in the position required for very long without it becoming excruciating. Plus it was very hot and incredibly humid at this time. Oh well, only 15 minutes.
The baking, jarring, painful boat trip took at least 30 minutes across the lake. Our host cheerfully oblivious to our distress. Still making remarks about how dumb my wife was to get hurt and to please be careful today. We both smiled and ignored him as best we could.
We finally crossed under a small bridge and entered a quiet creek amid lush near tropical foliage. I kept expecting a hippo to rise up and tip our boat over. It was all quite beautiful but dreadfully hot as we lost even a vestige of breeze.
Our host talked of aligators and snakes and giant loggerhead turtles and went further and further upstream. He gave us paddles to help keep the boat straight and to keep briars and other bushes from pushing us out of the boat. The stream got smaller and smaller and sometimes was no more than 6 feet across. He constantly plowed the boat into briars on the bank that not only scratched us repeatedly but dumped all kinds of vermin on us and in the boat. My wife, hating spiders, began an extermination attempt with her paddle but she couldnt kill them all. All the time the host thought this was the funniest scene he had ever witnessed.
This type of fun continued for two more hours. We were drenched in sweat, leaves and sticks and other debris stuck to any vacant skin available, scratched from head to toe, bugs crawling all over us, boat full of spiders, and my wifes wound bleeding again from all her exertion.
All the while being laughed at by our host.
Did I mention my back was killing me by this time?
He finally tired of torturing us after my wife mentioned that this reminded her of the movie Deliverance. All she was waiting for was the little funny looking kid to start banging a way on a banjo somewhere. If it all wasnt so true it would have been funny.
The ride back felt like we were in a furnace with hairdryers blowing in our face. We survived to the lake house and basically made our getaway. I didnt bathe or anything. Hell with it, I can bathe at home!
We made our goodbyes and hurried out. Three or four hours later we picked up our little dog who was exhausted from Doggie Day Camp and promptly fell asleep in my arms. On the way home my wife looked at me and said God intended this weekend to go this way no matter how bad it seemed.
I looked at her and said that Hes still laughing over our decision to do it in the first place.
We argue over Gods actions frequently. I think He has to have a strong sense of humor.
So ends the tale of dealing with the nuveau riche. They only play at being frugal now since they dont have to anymore, and make small attempts at showing their status by buying art and artists. It reminds me of an old saying , you can take the boy out of the country but you can never take the dumb ass out of an ignoramus.
This was a political trip for a hanging I built last year. My commissioner is relatively new to art, and actually new to being able to afford art, who invited us up for the weekend at his lake house. He wanted me to see the finished work hung up (which I refused to help with, Thank God!) and be introduced to his circle of friends. The carrot he dangled in front of us was lots of new potential art customers and a relaxing weekend at the lake.
We kenneled our little dog (with doggie day camp!), and drove the 3 1/2 hours to BFE. I should have known something was up when the cell phone stopped working. We arrived to see my buyer grilling chicken on an outdoor grill. After being congratulated for making the trip we sat at an outdoor table where the buyer made himself a plate and ate his lunch in front of us. Just him, with no offer to us whatsoever. It was a little uncomfortable since etiquette wasnt followed at all. This was the second hint of our fabulous weekend.
We were shown our quarters in a separate house. They were quaint with a nice view of the lake. No problem there.
My host immediately showed me the piece hanging from an A frame porch. I was struck with it and stared for some time. Its cool to like your own work because it doesnt happen every time. I did note that it was placed in kind of a shadow and that the stop-rust coating made it too dark. I sold the job based on a natural or rust condition that showed up well against a dark background. This piece virtually disappeared against the background. I didnt point it out but instead told him how great it all looked. His house is in some odd repair process so I didnt mention that either. He was replacing some old wood with new wood but only doing so in a sporadic manner here and there. I got my camera and took a bunch of photos hoping that one of the shots will be good enough for my site.
After that we all went to his boat dock to ooh and ahh over his collection. Only four in his family but they got 6 motorized boats plus a paddle boat. We climbed on his pontoon boat having already dressed in swimsuits and accompanied by loud country music from his all weather stereo began to move slowly in front of his lake home. I obliged this and took about a dozen more photos. He loved that I did that and pointed out all kinds of angles that might be better for showcasing his "compound". We finally struck out across the lake to find some friends. The temperature outside then was about 100 degrees.
Needless to say, we baked quite well and had our ears pounded by some poor hillbilly soul whose wife left him. We slowed down at a neighbors boat dock and they hopped on our pontoon. We were introduced all around as the artist and wife who built the "thing" on the porch. The conversation quickly petered out so we went back out on the lake. About half way across the bay our host yelled that it was too hot and that we should all hop in and cool off. Which we did. My wife however, hopped off and hit her hand on something sharp and sliced open her little finger. She was bleeding profusely in greenish brown lake water. I honestly didnt know what to do except get her out of the water. Surely fish poop laden water isnt good for an open wound.
She managed to climb back on board the boat with blood running down her arm and dripping off her elbow. No doubt it was a pretty good cut to bleed that bad. Our host though was annoyed that she hurt herself. He basically called her a dummy for getting hurt on his boat and then he followed her around with a spray hose to keep blood from getting on the floor. She took all this in good form admitting that she could be a klutz. But that wasnt enough for our host. He went on and on about it for the rest of the day. Not once did he ask if she maybe need a stitch or even a bandaid. His wife finally found some butterfly strips and put them on her hand. The other guests too jumped on this delightful bandwagon about how dumb my wife was to get hurt. It was getting old but we didnt know exactly what to do.
Bored with insulting my wife and the heat approaching 102 the host decided to go back to the neighbors house and we would float there for awhile.
All this time we were drinking beer and bottled water. My wife mentioned that one reason she landed oddly when she jumped out of the boat was that she didnt was to get her hair wet and then have to deal with that later. She does have a great mass of hair.
This started the abuse all over again from host and neighbors. The neighbor lady said something about her being a city girl and all foo foo. My wife finally had enough of lip and riled up on them. I cant repeat what she said but it was clear she was going to show her some foo foo if she wished. My wife works out several days a week, one day being kickboxing.
We finally left that gathering and went back to the hosts dock. There we found his parents who live next door floating in the water with life jackets on while still fully clothed. No one said anything about it so I didnt either. It just looked odd.
I took more photos of the artwork, none of which were going to look very good, and then helped apply more bandages to my wifes hand. It looked terrible and was still seeping.
We gathered about dinner time on the front porch and talked and drank more beer as the sun went down. My wife still taking barbs about getting hurt and bleeding on the hosts boat. It got darker and later until it was full night. It occurred to me that it should be getting time to eat dinner but no notice was given to that effect. I saw one of their children eating something and mentioned it to the host. He said sure, go in there and find something. He had a pot roast on the stove top. I went in and sure enough there it was nearly ice cold. Somebody said grab a plate so I did and went back to the table to eat. I went outside and told my wife to come eat. She looked suprised and asked the host if dinner was ready. He looked suprised back and said it was if she wanted to eat. I can only suppose that they are an unstructured family when it comes to mealtimes. It was never announced, no plates were set. We just fended for ourselves hunting forks and spoons down. There was also nothing else served or ready. Just potroast. Still, we were appreciative as it was way better than nothing.
After the loosely held dinner we gathered outside again and our host talked of going out on the lake again and to see the stars. We did, and that was the true highlight of the trip. I had forgotten what a field of stars looks like on a truly dark night. It made me feel less alone in the universe. We made the trip back without any problems and said good night.
As we were settling into our bed I turned on a ceiling fan that made a clacking sound like a train on a track. Then the central air return being right by the bed sounded like a load of gravel slowly being poured on sheet metal. It was a marvelous cacophony of sound that made me sleep like a baby. My wife did get up in the middle of the night to take some painkillers for her hand but I didnt know it.
Next morning, me and my wife were already talking of leaving early and going to get our little dog out of the kennel. She had had enough of being insulted for getting hurt and of not being exactly being fed and getting heat stroke on the boat. I agreed so we went over to the main house and visited with the entire family on the front porch. It was about 9:00 and already 95 degrees outside. Our hosts wife produced a foil wrapped set of sasauge bisquits and we gratefully ate them. Nothing else was offered for breakfast. Just coffee and water and if you wanted it, go get it.
Our host asked about our leaving time and after we told him announced that we must take the nature tour and that it only took 15 minutes to get there. Trying to be socialble and looking at our watches we apprehensively said sure, lets go. After all it would only take 15 minutes.
We went to the boat dock and instead of getting on the pontoon climbed into the flat bottom boat. Maybe I should have been concerned right then but I was lulled into the 15 minute remark and thinking further that my obligation would be over in just a few more hours and I could go home.
The flat bottomed boat was slightly uncomfortable as I have a bad back. I cant sit in the position required for very long without it becoming excruciating. Plus it was very hot and incredibly humid at this time. Oh well, only 15 minutes.
The baking, jarring, painful boat trip took at least 30 minutes across the lake. Our host cheerfully oblivious to our distress. Still making remarks about how dumb my wife was to get hurt and to please be careful today. We both smiled and ignored him as best we could.
We finally crossed under a small bridge and entered a quiet creek amid lush near tropical foliage. I kept expecting a hippo to rise up and tip our boat over. It was all quite beautiful but dreadfully hot as we lost even a vestige of breeze.
Our host talked of aligators and snakes and giant loggerhead turtles and went further and further upstream. He gave us paddles to help keep the boat straight and to keep briars and other bushes from pushing us out of the boat. The stream got smaller and smaller and sometimes was no more than 6 feet across. He constantly plowed the boat into briars on the bank that not only scratched us repeatedly but dumped all kinds of vermin on us and in the boat. My wife, hating spiders, began an extermination attempt with her paddle but she couldnt kill them all. All the time the host thought this was the funniest scene he had ever witnessed.
This type of fun continued for two more hours. We were drenched in sweat, leaves and sticks and other debris stuck to any vacant skin available, scratched from head to toe, bugs crawling all over us, boat full of spiders, and my wifes wound bleeding again from all her exertion.
All the while being laughed at by our host.
Did I mention my back was killing me by this time?
He finally tired of torturing us after my wife mentioned that this reminded her of the movie Deliverance. All she was waiting for was the little funny looking kid to start banging a way on a banjo somewhere. If it all wasnt so true it would have been funny.
The ride back felt like we were in a furnace with hairdryers blowing in our face. We survived to the lake house and basically made our getaway. I didnt bathe or anything. Hell with it, I can bathe at home!
We made our goodbyes and hurried out. Three or four hours later we picked up our little dog who was exhausted from Doggie Day Camp and promptly fell asleep in my arms. On the way home my wife looked at me and said God intended this weekend to go this way no matter how bad it seemed.
I looked at her and said that Hes still laughing over our decision to do it in the first place.
We argue over Gods actions frequently. I think He has to have a strong sense of humor.
So ends the tale of dealing with the nuveau riche. They only play at being frugal now since they dont have to anymore, and make small attempts at showing their status by buying art and artists. It reminds me of an old saying , you can take the boy out of the country but you can never take the dumb ass out of an ignoramus.
I may have added to that a bit.
Friday, May 21, 2010
The Art of AD Carver
My Dad is retired from the hustle of the working world. He worked in the oilfields of Texas, Arkansas and even Montana all of his life. He admits now that he enjoyed his work but I'm sure he wouldn't have back then. Too much hard labor in miserable weather. He spends his hard earned time now retired, fishing, and tinkering. If you want to see some of that oilfield history you can visit the East Texas Oil Museum.
Lately he picked up his pocket knife and began to whittle. (he doesn't call it carving)
Whittling goes way back in my family and was a men's social tradition of sorts. When I was a child I remember sitting under Papaw's mimosa tree with the old men of the family. Im sure some as young as 17 or 18. They were all old to me. As they settled down in the old colorful metal lawn chairs they would all produce a bit of wood or a stick found underfoot and whittle as they talked. Most of them didn't have to make anything either. They just whittled away and probably wound up with toothpicks. Even me, I had a small pocket knife and would whittle away at whatever I could find to fit in with the men. In those days you simply weren't a man if you didn't have a pocket knife. I don't feel much different about that even now. Its something about being prepared to work at a moments notice. It feels manly somehow and Ive tried to convey that to my son and others over the years.
Dad I think remembers all this as well but with the added effort of actually making something. Cool thing is he whittles scenes from his memories of his working life. I'm very proud of him doing this and wanted to share it a bit. The whittling art of A.D. Carver.
...
Lately he picked up his pocket knife and began to whittle. (he doesn't call it carving)
Whittling goes way back in my family and was a men's social tradition of sorts. When I was a child I remember sitting under Papaw's mimosa tree with the old men of the family. Im sure some as young as 17 or 18. They were all old to me. As they settled down in the old colorful metal lawn chairs they would all produce a bit of wood or a stick found underfoot and whittle as they talked. Most of them didn't have to make anything either. They just whittled away and probably wound up with toothpicks. Even me, I had a small pocket knife and would whittle away at whatever I could find to fit in with the men. In those days you simply weren't a man if you didn't have a pocket knife. I don't feel much different about that even now. Its something about being prepared to work at a moments notice. It feels manly somehow and Ive tried to convey that to my son and others over the years.
Dad I think remembers all this as well but with the added effort of actually making something. Cool thing is he whittles scenes from his memories of his working life. I'm very proud of him doing this and wanted to share it a bit. The whittling art of A.D. Carver.
...Saturday, March 20, 2010
IN DEFENSE OF FENCE BUILDING
First lets start with plumbing. I had a rough day at work last Monday. I tried my best to be superman and you can imagine the outcome. Far too many tasks to juggle because I was short handed and my ability to actually complete any of them sorely tested. At the end of the day it was a marvelous whirlwind of activity and I paused for a moment in wonder at this business I've built.
As I was leaving the shop at about 7 PM I noticed a large water leak in the mechanics bathroom. "Mechanic's Bathroom" you ask? Yeah, this building was a mechanic shop for the last 25 years. A whole other rant believe me.
I checked under the toilet and saw a steady drip. The hose going into the tank itself. The connection was loose. Simple tightening did the job, thankfully. I got some old shop rags and threw them all around to soak up the water.
Its all part of owning a building I figure and being blessed with handiness. Like my Father before me, I'm a pretty good handyman.
Later, as I was detailing this remarkable day to my close buddies in the TBG (a discussion group on Ebay) I had several mention that I should stop doing this type of repair and call a service person. My time is too valuable for this type of thing and I should be doing far more important tasks. I suppose if my entire day had come to a halt for major plumbing I could agree but as you've read the repair was small and quick.
-----------------------------------------------
Now forward to the next Saturday morning. I've reserved this part of my week for fence building. It wasn't very much of a fence actually. I measured the length at 28 feet. I knocked down the old fence with a hammer and pry bar and found that I had to dig up the entire corner post, concrete and all. All the other posts I could just break off at ground level and dig next to them with post hole diggers and set my new posts.
As I was was doing this chore I could just imagine the hoopla I would create with my business peers as they berate me for doing such work. I actually chuckled. I can't really think of another chore that I like as much. Digging fence post holes is my least favorite part though. Thankfully the ground was damp so it went pretty fast. While I dug the holes and measured the ground my mind is free of the everyday worries of my business. It's quite pleasant JUST hammering away and watching the results of my labor. No phones, no irate customers, no questions, no emergencies. I'm able to think freely and work and concentrate on the small details of the fence. I'm reminded of the old book, "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance".
The outdoors can be cleansing mentally and emotionally too. The smells, fresh air, and in my case rain. It didn't rain hard but lightly. Just enough to soak me pretty good but not stop me from my weekend chore. After the posts had been leveled and supported with scrap wood to hold steady, I poured a small sack of concrete mix in each hole and shoveled a bit of dirt around. The days work was done. When the posts set up firmly I will build the frame work of 2x4s to hold the fence pickets. I will wait overnight for the setting and install the pickets tomorrow afternoon.
I highly recommend this chore to anyone who needs a bit of distraction from the daily zoo of business. It is totally relaxing and enjoyable. It costs a lot less than the gym and you get a lot more out of it. Mainly peace of mind, tired muscles, money saved, and the joy of pure work and effort that pays off in a beautiful stretch of wooden fence.
dc
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