Posts tagged ‘polymer clay’

Sometimes the Universe speaks to us, ya know?  After my night and talking with my girl this morning, I settled into checking my email and enjoying the many responses to both of my Thursday Thirteen posts, both here and at my new blog, The Eclectic Witch.

I answered one comment by email.  One of my most favoritest bloggers, Janet, had commented over at the new blog, so I fired off an email to her, never thinking for a second that she didn’t know it was me.  We had a good laugh, but the comment got me thinking, and inspired me (in combination with my experiences of the previous night), to write a new post there, entitled  Creating an Ancestor Altar or Altar of Your Dead.

I’ve been recreating this altar recently, and making some small shrines and decorations for it, and had, for some reason, stopped.  I don’t know if it got to be a little overwhelming, or if life-stuff got in the way, or both.  But somebody’s talkin’ and I’m listening.  It’s time for me to finish creating and decorating my new home for my many departed ones, and to celebrate their lives with color and light, with mementos and candles and incense.

I’d love for you to stop by over there.  Not just because I shall supposedly get paid per click in some way that I don’t really understand, but because I’d love to share this with you, my friends, if you’d care to join me.

I posted this image over there, but I just can’t get enough of his sweet face right now, so I’m going to post it here, too.  The image has been transferred onto polymer clay and then surrounded by colorful bits on a candle glass.  I still have to finish polishing it.  But he’s so beautiful… my angel grandson… our Lil Pharaoh.

Peace, out!

Before Baking

Okay, this seriously sux. My Girlyboi helped me mickey-mouse some support for my Grandma so I could lay her in the convection oven. I read like mad about baking your polymer clay and after all the reading I concluded that it was pretty much a crap shoot.
Everyone seems to have had problems with their clay “darkening”, or even burning. There are different temps to bake your polymer at, depending on brand and type. There are also altitude specific directions, but even though we are around 3500 feet I don’t use them to bake a cake, so I figured I didn’t wanna crank up the heat on my clay. Much of the polymer I used was unlabled, so I had to try a median guess. And NEVER, I repeat NEVER use poly-fil batting to rest your
clay on. I don’t care what those polymer people say; the shit melts.
It seems that either something completely wonky happened with one of the white clays I used, or someone slipped some modeling clay in with the polymer.

So not only did Grandma’s hand and breast burn, but she now has one exceedingly hairy arm,
courtesy of the polyfil,

and the “fleece” lining I had in her boots melted and ran everywhere.She also must have been spending too much time at the track lately.
I think her loan shark sent some enforcers into the oven after her. They broke both of her legs.

Imma go sit in the corner now and eat a worm.

Have you ever had one of those days? The kind of day when nothing really big goes wrong. No major catastrophes. Maybe even a few good things happen. But the couple of things you really want to happen- just don’t? I mean, you can’t make them happen no matter how much you try to force the issue? No matter how many angles you come at it from, how many prayers- how much cursing-bargaining-begging? The kind of day when the only version of “The Serenity Prayer*” you can muster is the short** version?
Today has been that kind of day. I stayed up all night working on my little Grandma. That was okay. I’m a night owl and I do that every now and then, especially when I’m dancing with one of my various and eclectic muses. I took a nap this morning at about 9:30. I slept ’til one. Up until then the day was going great.
It was then I went looking for my paints and brushes. Now, I don’t need the paint right this minute (we’ll get to that), but I needed the brushes. Grandma’s face needs a bit of work that only a couple of my fine sable brushes dipped in alcohol will do.
My paint box appears to be MIA, (Missing in Action). Okay, I can live with that. I’m an artist after all. I have paint brushes coming out of my ears. Hell, didn’t I use one to put up my hair just the other day?
No.
It must have been a crochet hook.
I can’t find a paintbrush in this freaking house to save my soul.
And where, you may ask, are my paintbrushes?
Probably in the fucking cellar with my paints!! The fucking cellar, the door of which is covered by a 2 fucking foot deep drift of snow!
Okay. (I take a moment to breathe). No biggie. We can work around this- right? Right! So I’ll just go ahead and bake her, and then finish up her face when I do the rest of the clean up, finishing and polishing with my handy dandy little dremmel tool.
Yay! Good deal. Found the dremmel (I was SO afraid it was in the cellar!)
Proceed to the kitchen for baking. Towels for the space under the door so my birdies don’t get fumes? Check. Houston, we have ignition.
Errr- or not.
Grandma, with her staff in hand is too tall for my convection oven.
Okay. I have a real oven. I do! Of course, since it is an antique it has no thermostat. And I never use it because it’s just too big a pain in the ass to regulate the temperature by hand, keeping n eye on the little thermometer that hangs from the center rack. But what the hell, I can deal with it for the 15 to 30 minutes Grandma needs to be in the oven, right?
The hanging rack thermometer is missing.
(Check this out, okay? I am a fucking trooper, here!)
Meat Thermometer!!! Woot! That ought to work! (Damn! Yay me!)
Well… It probably would have.
How the fuck does an oven that you never use break? Quit? Stop working?
I have no idea, but mine seems to have. Go figure.

I’m going to hand sew her cast off cloak now, and hope she at least partially cures sitting in front of the fireplace. Just enough so that I can lay her down in the convection oven.

So here’s my girl. She has nipples and boots and snow and crocus.

* The Serenity Prayer

God(dess), grant me the serenity to:
accept the things I cannot change,
the courage to change the things I can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.

** The Short Version

Fuck it!