Sunday, March 21, 2010

New Ithaca Necklaces

These two necklaces were inspired by two of Ithaca's questions: Bloom, after picking up Stephen at the Cabman's Shelter, goes back to 7 Eccles Street but it is not the glorious Odyssean return, but rather, another moment where the reader is made aware of his keylessness:

The first necklace is made with an antique key hole I found at a flea market in Paris. (Lucky for me someone had salvaged a bunch of them from an old hotel being torn down!). The words, "Was it there?" (U17.95) are made with wire hanging from gold chain. Of course, as we know, the key is not there in Bloom's back pocket but "in the corresponding pocket of the trousers which he had worn on the day but one proceeding" (U 17.96-97).

The last question of the episode is one of the most famous (and, in the Random House edition, is accompanied by the large period at the end in reply which does not appear in the Gabler edition). "Where?"--so simple and recreated here with silver wire and a large circular piece of onyx. The necklace hangs from silver seed and tube beeds.

(Forgive the blurry resolution, I am blogging in a hurry this week)

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

My Solid There

I've been at my kitchen table sketching and decoupaging paper all week in between reading. Tonight I revisited a summer favorite, Audrey Niffenegger's The Time Traveler's Wife and rediscovered something I had forgotten. She writes so beautifully of creating art:

The compelling thing about making art-or making anything, I suppose—is the moment when the vaporous, insubstantial idea becomes a solid there, a thing, a substance in a world of substances. Circe Nimbue, Artemis, Athena, all the old sorceresses: they must have known the feeling as they transformed mere men into fabulous creatures, stole the secrets of the magicians, disposed of armies: ah, look, there it is, the new thing. Call it a swine, a war, a laurel tree. Call it art. The magic I can make is small magic now, deferred magic. Everyday I work, but nothing ever materializes. I feel like Penelope, weaving and unweaving. (248)
Thought I'd share something that I had found again and also post some pictures of my latest experiments. I've been dabbling with decoupage, paper, rubbish, and little scraps of magazine print culture!