Tuesday, October 20, 2020

The new stainless steel Dance and Family sculptures seen through the lens of Larry Glick

Newly arrived from the Tany Foundry in China. 

The hands were modeled from life castings of the hands of my grand daughter Malia and grandson Dashed back when they were 13. This fall the both started college at UVM. How time flies. 

The Jumping Dancerhas my heart. I’ve always loved her. 

Photographer Larry Glick self portrait with the Family flag. 

She definitely has the best view. 

Monday, October 19, 2020

The Dance returns to the Field Gallery after taking passage on a ship to China last winter

In the old days they left the Vineyard by ship to go to China to do whaling but now you go to China to be cloned in stainless steel.

Saturday, July 11, 2020

Albatross Story


Jay Lagemann
c. 1988
Chestnut wood on Pine base

    An albatross quite possibly saved my life.  It was 1972, and I was on a Hinckley 48' yawl sailing from Spain to South Africa.  We were about 5 days west of  Cape Town on the edge of the Roaring 40's.  The wind had started picking up the previous afternoon and by evening the waves were over 30' high and around midnight a steering cable stretched and broke.  I was woken up to help fix it.  By the time we were able to fix it, it was 2 a.m. and time to go on watch.
    By dawn the wind had increased to hurricane force gusts and we were surfing down waves 50' high.  Those of you who know Hinckleys know the 48’ is a fell keel cruiser and it not designed for surfing.  But with those waves and the strength of the wind we were.   It was hard enough to steer the boat but we also had to try to keep track of the wind.  The wind speed would go over 70mph in some of the gusts and then when we were deep in a trough between waves is might drop below 20 because of the way the wind was swirling around between the waves.   Just after dawn  either I steered too much downwind or a wind shift caught us.  In any case the boat jibed and when I was able to straighten out the boat, the wind caught the storm sail jib and snapped it back so hard that I was afraid the mast or rigging might break.   It turned out that half of the hanks holding it to the forestay broke.
Scared of jibing again I started steering us on more of a broad reach.  This seemed to be working until the crest of one of the bigger waves started to break and when that mass of water hit the side of the boat and knocked the it over onto its side.   The mast was horizontal and the deck vertical with water flooding over the  right hand side of the ship.  Fortunately the hatches were closed and we had on safety lines.  If you think I was scared before at that point you were right, but now it started to feel like we actually were going to die.   
I asked Carsten, my watch-mate,  to take over the helm.  I felt I was failing and I was also totally exhausted from not having any sleep that night and fighting the storm.
Carsten refused, said he couldn’t do it.
         That's when the albatross came to us.  In the howling wind and huge waves, the albatross was calm and controlled as he glided toward us.   He circled our boat and flew back the way he had come and was gone.  Then he came back,  with his wingtip  seeming to skim the crest of the waves.  The he circled the boat three times and I could feel the tension and panic slip away.   The albatross was one with the storm.  He wasn’t fighting it, he seemed to be enjoying it and using it to help power him in his flight.
         Time seemed to slow down. I let myself feel the boat and sail interacting with the waves and the wind.  The boat seemed to be steering itself all I had to do was to work with it, not fight it.   Everything was going to be alright.
Within a half an hour the the wind slowly started to decrease and our watch would finally be over.   Turned out I had to stay at the helm an extra half hour because the Captain decided it was more important that he try to get a RDF or LORAN bearing from Capetown even though it couldn’t make any difference since we were still days away and well out of radio range.


Monday, July 6, 2020

Family Sculpture

This piece has a lot of different names.  When Obama started coming to the Vineyard in 2009 I created it in I created it in a white cement over  foam and a steel rebar armature.  Everyone called it the "Obama Sculpture" because they could see that it was the Obama family with their dog Bo.

But to me this sculpture was my family back when Chris and Jenny were still young.  It was originally made in 1998 for Bill Clinton's visit to the Island in painted flat stock steel.   It was inspired by the way families would wait by the roadside to see the Clinton entourage pass by in their fleet of black SUVs with motorcycle cops leading the way.   In 1998 Chris and Jenny were 29 and way to big to stand on my shoulders, but I could imagine it.   Because of Viet Nam I have had a problem with waving the American flag, but I decided it was time the "good side" took back the flag.   And in 2009 I was feeling proud of America for electing a black man as President.

When everyone though the sculpture was the Obama family even though I had created it thinking of my family I finally realized that what I had created was an American Family.   That turns out to be  one of the main strengths of my "minimalist abstract figurative style".   The figures are not any particular people, they have no ethnicity or class,   It is up to the viewer to put into the figures whatever they want to see or feel.  As Degas said, "Art is not what you see, it is what you make others see."

    This is one of the reasons I wanted to have this piece made in the mirror finish stainless steel.  That way when people come up to it and look closely at the sculpture they will literally see themselves and their family in it.

Thursday, April 16, 2020

Lucy Vincent Beach Ride

    I felt drawn to the ocean today.

Fortunately it was low tide and I was able to ride my bike up and down Lucy Vincent Beach.

Many years ago I made this one of my "Declared Sculptures".   I think of it as a portrait of Alfred Hitchcock.   I never thought it would last this long.

When I left the beach I headed for Menemsha, but on the Menemsha Cross Road my left knee began to hurt a little so I slowed down, turned around, and headed home.  Don't need to push it and have a painful knee.   

Sunday, April 5, 2020

NorEaster final Ends: First Sunshine in Days

I will say the damn NorEaster was starting to drive me CRAZY!

   Then finally the sun came out, the wind died, and I got on my mountain bike and went out for a ride.

I love this grove of Beetlebung Trees in the Menemsha Hills Reservation.

The Brickyard was my furthest point out.   There is something about ruins that can't help but make you think.  This is what is left of the Water Wheel which supplied all the power.   It is hard to imagine a time before ubiquitous electric motors and gas engines.

     My shadow sends a friendly wave (from a safe distance!).  But the trail beckons.

    We arrive at the highest point on the Island; Peaked Hill.   Gay Head is in the distance.  With all the rain it has become a land of lakes:

   On the way home the Keith Farm is always a sight to see.

    Then past my house and to the Wequobsque Cliffs, the highest on the Island.   

     Then home with a smile on my face and sunshine in my heart.

     Marianne and I share a grilled steak dinner and a massage.  

     Life is good again.  


Getting ready for Thanksgiving

{Found this post still as an "Draft"  made me nostalgic for the days when we had people in the house.  Now we talk to them outside from 10' away.}
Nothing like a real squash pie by Marianne

Grandma checking out the twins making Turkey place settings

The twins Art Nook.    It is times like this I'm glad I built a lot of space.

El's Turkeys starting to take shape

Wren and her Turkeys