Ahh ... Christmas in California. When I was growing up in Detroit, Christmas meant snowball fights, building snowmen, toboggan rides in Rouge Park, well ... you get the idea. It was cold and we had lots of snow.
In Northern California, Christmas means sort-of cold and rain. But I can deal with that. After years of shoveling snow off driveways and sidewalks I can appreciate a few puddles and Eucalyptus bark trash. Fortunately the houses in San Francisco get into the spirit and a lot of them decorate with brights lights and wreaths. Hey, there's even a big tree in Union Square.
But wherever you are, the Christmas story is the same. God takes pity on the human condition and sends us His son to show us the way of salvation. And in a deeper sense, He reveals to us that true creation is the reflection/expression of the One Creator.
Here's my three-legged stool prototype. It still has a few details that need to be worked out. But so far it meets the design requirements: it's comfortable and it uses less materials to perform its function (good old Mies --- "Less is more").
The Berkeley Art Museum featured a show from their collection of Japanese art. As a fan of all things Japanese, I looked forward to seeing it.
What is it about the way in which Japanese artists depict nature? With minimal brush strokes and color they can transport you right into the painting. You feel the snow and cold of a winter scene.
A porcelain cone, about 24 inches in diameter and 24 inches high stood inverted on its point on a stainless steel rectangle. The glaze was a light, iridescent blue on the outside and a white semi-gloss on the inside. The circle on the cone's rim was perfectly even except for a slight disfiguration. I learned this is called "wabi-sabi."
According to Wikipedia, the words wabi and sabi "... do not translate easily. Wabi originally referred to the loneliness of living in nature, remote from society; sabi meant "chill", "lean" or "withered". Around the 14th century these meanings began to change, taking on more positive connotations. Wabi now connotes rustic simplicity, freshness or quietness, and can be applied to both natural and human-made objects, or understated elegance. It can also refer to quirks and anomalies arising from the process of construction, which add uniqueness and elegance to the object. Sabi is beauty or serenity that comes with age, when the life of the object and its impermanence are evidenced in its patina and wear, or in any visible repairs."
The coffee table is a solid slab of California Walnut by artist-designer Jeffrey Dale.
For some time I've been musing about the connection/difference between art and craft. As a youngster I was told I had an artistic gift. I could draw things and they would look like the thing I was drawing. I liked being able to concentrate and let my hands work. It was -- and is -- a pleasant mind-hand connection.
What I've come to realize is that art is a way of seeing and craft is the effort you make in transcribing what you see into a work that others can see and appreciate. You can be a great artist yet a so-so craftsman. And you can be a very good craftsman yet have work that lacks an artistic vision.
This doesn't mean that a work of art can't have a spontaneous execution that is still workmanlike. Consider some examples of Chinese calligraphy where the brushwork has been done in quick strokes and looks simple yet elegant.
Also consider a painting by Frans Hals. His attention to detail is very workmanlike, yet his brushstrokes are quick and sure.
I must confess that whenever I look works of art I concentrate more on the workmanlike manner in which they have been done and find this to be just as pleasurable as the piece itself. If you ever get to see a piece by Donald Judd you'll see what I mean.
I've just finished Men at Work: The Craft of Baseball (George F. Will,
HarperCollins e-books).
It's primarily a great examination of the craft of baseball. And it's also a great look at what makes a craftsman.
Allow me to quote Mr. Will directly. "America has been called the only nation founded on a good idea. That idea has been given many elaborate explanations, but the most concise and familiar formulation is the pursuit of happiness. For a fortunate few people, happiness is the pursuit of excellence in a vocation. The vocation can be a profession or a craft, elite or common, poetry or carpentry. What matters most is an idea of excellence against which to measure achievement [emphasis mine]. ... As Aristotle said, happiness is not a condition that is produced or stands on its own; rather, it is a frame of mind that accompanies an activity. But another frame of mind comes first. It is a steely determination to do well."
Here's a stained glass window at Notre Dame Cathedral. It exemplifies excellence in labor.
As a native Detroiter, I grew up surrounded by the auto industry. There was a work hierarchy that was apparent -- management and labor. And the two seldom spoke to each other. They even lived in separate areas. This was too bad. Management needs labor and vice versa. Labor needs to be aware of the finer things in life -- the cultural opportunities that a liberal awareness of man's higher nature can offer. Management needs to be aware that manual labor is rewarding, honest, and spiritually satisfying.
My grandfather was labor. He worked for Ford as a tool maker. He was embarrassed by this so he never taught any of his four children how to work with their hands. My dad didn't even feel comfortable with a screwdriver. As a result my mechanical teachers were my peers. We worked on bikes and, later, cars. We customized them, tuned them up and repaired them.
Like all American parents, my dad wanted me to have a career in the white collar world. I tried to do this so I would please him. But it never really took. I loved working outside and I loved working with my hands. It was always satisfying to mentally see something you wanted to make and then doggedly pursuing it and overcoming all the challenges in the process. This is hard to explain to someone who doesn't work with their hands. To those who do, they will understand what I'm saying.
Our nation needs young people who are encouraged to work with their hands. Not everyone can or wants to be an investment banker (especially after 2008) or a computer whiz. Some of us are in love with manual labor. And we have good track records. The Wright brothers were bicycle mechanics. Edison was an inventor. Even Bill Gates quit Harvard to tinker with software.
Here's an armoire I made. I loved the challenge of being my own architect and carpenter.
