I read and hear a lot these days that the ability to produce turned wood
fine art is not an inborn talent and anyone can do it. It just takes
hard work, perseverance and self confidence. Maybe so, but heretofore I
seemed to lack these attributes. They may be inborn themselves and if
so, I didn't inherit them. Just as I'm not a handsome movie star or
singer with a smooth larynx and rough personna or a tall/giant athletic
hero or any other combinaton of 'Genetic Multimillionaire' and notorious
'DNA Celebrity'.

I've been trying to think up some sort of turned wood form that I can
destruct to express my innermost feelings, my angst and anguish, my joys
and jubilations, my longings and laments. Something unique, never to
have been turned and injured before. Something that goes beyond mere
uselessness to serve as a voice for social change and all that. OK, an
artistic bowl.

I thought the long sought for and awaited epiphany had arrived; the
revelation that will make my life's work another small step for man, not
to mention a giant step for my wallet. You previously epiphanized
artists will understand. For the rest of you uninitiated, that's art
speak for "maybe this'll work". I sure hope so. I'm running out of ideas
(plus wood, lacquer and Lori's patience).

What is this Byzantine Abstraction that I've turned? This
Expressionistic, Cubist Modernism. This Impressionism that subtly
reveals hints of Baroque Realism and Pop Art? This Arch Nouveau, this
Romanticism, this 'Ism of 'Isms.

Enough of art speak for now, what oblate objet d' art that will be my
ticket into that august hallowed (hollowed) club did I turn?

Sorry rcw friends, Please forgive me. I'm too overcome to describe this
paragon, this icon of perfection just now. Actually I haven't made it
yet because Lori insists that I turn off rcw and take out the garbage. I
know you fellow artists will understand. For everyone else, there's
craft.


Turn to Safety, Arch
Fortiter


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