Yesterday, we returned to Vivian Alexander. It may be the only time we’ve returned to a place after blogging it. I wanted to tempt myself into buying more Fabrage and I did. I signed up for their Easter, Mard Gras and Christmas eggs which are mailed to you at the appropriate time of year. They are signed and numbered. Above, Alex explained the holder he uses while working on an egg.
I saw things I didn’t see the day before. These eggs in process hanging from a shelf, looking as though they are drying.
And these beauties hanging above Liza’s work space.
Like stained glass, an enameled dragon fly hangs in a window.
And then Liza showed me a hat she had made for a costume party. I did not recognize what it was trying to convey until she explained it. You can spot a cricket, some leaves, a worm, a lady bug…?
From the top, you can see the banana skin. And now I will tell you, she went as a compost pile. I laughed because I’m an avid composter at home and because it was so clever. She loves her garden and I love mine, too. One of the things I miss on the road. But no one has more fun than Jim and I and we make compromises for our life style. Liza also put us in touch with another master craftsman that we will visit later today.
When I first met Alex, we talked some about silvering his eggs which put me in mind of my good friend Dr. Robert Coleman, a silversmith, goldsmith, enameler, painter, sculptor. He always joked that he had a PHD in silversmithing but he made more money in making papier-mache birds. He died last year and I didn’t realize I had never taken his picture. But I did photograph some of his jewelry and birds.
This piece was not actually his work. He traded with a fellow craftsman. I took these photos because I loved doing it. It was before I knew what a blog was. I’m so glad I did.
The hands of his wife Margaret Mary Coleman. Her favorite rings.
These pieces were made by his daughter Peggy Harrold. My favorite piece of hers is the persimmon.
This is one of thousands of papier-mache birds he made signed BOBADOC.
In the afternoon, we packed up my treasures and shipped them to my house. I will fly out on the 12th and we are feeling the tug of separation. Jim is kind of hunkering back into his life alone, preferring quiet places to busy places. We are extending our stay at this spot because it is so peaceful. I will return to design a new place for my flooded mobile and take care of taxes. I’m fortunate to have a son who is a master carpenter and worked as a construction supervisor before he hurt himself. He will supervise and assist the building project.
I get to design my new place, but the building won’t take place until summer.