Keeping things low-tech. . .
Category Archives: What’s Sitting on My Bench Top
What’s Sitting on My Bench Top (Figuratively Speaking)
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What’s Sitting on My Bench Top (Balcony). . .
Gluing up
Some new carvings, some old
It’s easier these days to work wherever and whenever I can fit it in. I cut the wood in my studio, filled it in at Paul’s shop, and glued it up on my balcony. Will prime and paint it at Paul’s (there are 5 large pieces).
I can carve and sand the little guys anywhere.
What’s Sitting on My Bench Top
Every artist has a lot of stuff. It gets hauled to and from wherever in tool boxes and in backpacks, in panniers and in backseats. It’s always roughly 43 lbs of stuff. The number and kind of holding containers, and their content, vary by medium. The 43 lbs–that’s an unchanging given.
What’s Sitting on My Bench Top
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Digital micrometer (top center): life changing tool–LOVE. Love the precision of decimals. Forget gauges and their corresponding drill bit sizes. Micrometer is a better measurement tool.
What’s Sitting on My Bench Top
I finally deleted enough images from my camera for its software program to recognize it. When I accumulate over, say, a trillion images, the software refuses to acknowledge the camera’s existence (error message to this effect). Then I can’t upload anything, and somehow blogging is less fun without images.
This forces me to deal with the images, one by one, making tough decisions (I hang onto old images). And until I find the time, patience, and decisiveness required for mass deletion, I tend to refuse to acknowledge the software’s existence–it’s dead to me. Vicious circle.
Happily, everything is back on track again. I still feel put out upon by the software’s strange agency in this matter, and after seeing a friend upload his images directly to iPhoto (bypassing camera software!), I’ve begun wondering whether I might be happier doing the same. . .
But all this is off-topic, as this is supposed to be about studio work.
I know that round cuts of branch can be a little cliché, but I really like the disparate quality of the (as-yet-unfinished) piece with them above–the wood is from Paul’s homeland, and I found the steel wire on the Ballard bridge.
