I have exactly two weeks to prepare for the hanging of my show at Art On The Divide Gallery in Georgetown, California. I have exactly zero (0, none, nada) works matted and framed. A week ago I had tidied the workshop and cleaned off the workbench in preparation for this project. And what happened? Somehow that lovely clean space attracted hordes of wounded and crippled typewriters who escaped their cuppboard dungeons and massed on that workbench demanding attention. What was I to do, but administer to their needs?
But now we are down to that point, the near-panic point, where the subconscious mind senses a deadline approaching and calculates that there is just enough available time remaining, minus ten percent, to complete the project . So the wounded typewriters are rounded up and mercilessly herded, at the tip of a tiny but fierce screwdriver, back into their dank cells. Ear and eye protectors are donned, and the big guns are deployed.
First up is the table saw, which reduces some lovely rescue lumber - in this case old-growth redwood two-by-sixes with a priceless 40-year-old patina, into about 25% scrap, 25% sawdust, and the remaining 50% into rustic picture frame molding.
I love my 12-inch miter saw. I loved my 1968 Craftsman radial arm saw, too. But it took half a day to get the blade set to make that precise 90 degree by 45 degree cut needed for frames. This saw just does it. Not 45.1 degrees, not 44.9 degrees, but 45.00 degrees every time.
And so the first frame goes together sweet and true, and even gets a momentary smile out of the old curmudgeon ... until he realizes there are ten more to go. And then there is the matting and assembly. But it's a good start, and as always, I'm looking forward to seeing a collection of nicely presented photographs and watercolors on the gallery wall.
|Poster Credit: Richard Moore|
C'mon by - there might even be a photo (or painting?!) of a typewriter.