My wall mosaic is growing. The little canvases are quite a bit of fun. My visual journal is XXL all the way. The pages are a bit over 10 by 13. Working on a teeny tiny 8×8 or 5×7 or 6×6 boxy canvas is a completely different experience.
I’ve applied self-leveling gel to 2 of the canvases, but think I would prefer a thick layer of resin over the top. I think that involves mixing 2 different substances together then pouring. I like the idea of having a limited time to get the resin on the canvas, the strong odor necessitating a gas mask (?), and the vague possibility of a disasterous result. So thrilling!
Yes, maybe this is turning into a cat blog. I’ll lay off the cat posts just as soon as they stop doing such wildly entertainintg things. I can’t say when that will be exactly.
Okie Adams died in the house fire in my neighborhood late last week. I was intrigued by his bango-making history, which I heard about on the news so I googled him and found this:
Okie has a long and colorful history in the Southern California banjo building scene. I knew and worked with him in the mid-to-late ’70s as he was building block pots for Stelling banjos. The last time I saw and talked with him was early this summer at the Topanga Canyon Banjo/Fiddle Contest. Although hampered by old age and poor health, he was still active and happy, still building banjos then.
Okie was a fun, generous, humorous, non-conventional person to know. He helped many of us along as we were growing up in the banjo scene, leaving his mark permanently in our lives. A straight shooter, strong on clean living, hard, accurate work and faith, he took me in and taught me some of his trade and philosophy at a time when I was needing both work and skills. I know a number of others for whom he did the same.
I’m playing a banjo that was made by Okie Adams. Okie’s philosophy in making banjos is “…the heavier the banjo the better it sounds.” I bought this one from him in 1969; at that time his heavy banjos were 20 pounds, however in later years some of his banjos went up to 50 pounds. I consider myself lucky not to have met him in his 50-pound phase. Anyway, it seems like the older I get the heavier this banjo gets, but boy, it sure does sound good.
You never know who’s living just around the corner. Okay. Enough waxing poetic about life’s brilliant cast of characters, I’ve got wee canvases to stencil. Someone hand me one of my cans of paint and a fat cap! Clear the decks!