Green Needles and Scales

When I look across our West Virginia hills during these leafless wintry days, it is the conifers that alleviate the monotony of brown and black. Scattered among their deciduous brethren, the hemlocks, pines, cedars, and spruce stand in striking contrast against the snow—or with some of it caught in their branches. Conifers may symbolize the holidays in December, but they are far more the rest of the year. Their density provides protective habitat for birds, while furry creatures live below—or build nests among the branches. Their needles and scales (many arborvitae/cedars don’t have needles) add texture to my pots, and their cones embrace the seeds that keep new trees coming. Conifers don’t grow everywhere. I returned to North America only once during the four years we lived in Hawaii. The first thing I did on the University of Utah campus was spontaneously hug a small fir tree just standing there waiting to be appreciated. Yes, it was a somewhat prickly encounter, but if you grew up in the north woods, palm trees and Norfolk Island “pines” aren’t everything! 

My most recent mobiles (aka windchimes) feature conifers in all their textured greens, sometimes with forest animals, sometimes alone. I’ve started embellishing the backs of my figutes so that they can be glazed in the indentations. Some conifer cut-outs have snowflakes on their backs, others have conifer sprigs. Of course, every mobile involves beads too—a lot of them. How did I get into these? I especially love making larger pots, but when you load those into the kiln, there is wasted space between them. They can’t touch each other or the glaze with melt together. Any number of small things can inhabit that unused space between the pots. Over the years, trinkets evolved into windchimes or mobiles. Originally tested on neighbors, I learned to drill the Chesapeake Bay driftwood that my friend Suzie collects for me, to string beads and figures together, to epoxy knots so the wind does not untie them, and to encourage people to hang them in relatively protected places—but, if you like windchimes, where you can hear them.

Gathering a flock

I have a request for a windchime with sheep on it. Others have asked how I make the mobiles, so here’s the process behind their creation. They are challenging to wrap, but there are several hundred Kahoka windchimes scattered across a couple of continents.

I start with a theme and cut out clay figures with cookie cutters or free-hand. The wee forms are cleaned, dried, and bisque fired. Then they are glazed and fired to Cone 6 and the real fun begins. 

My friend Susie collects drift wood for me from the Chesapeake Bay. I clean the wood and drill it, and then thread my strings, using beads for spacers. I usually incorporate smaller figures into the upper parts of the mobiles and larger ones on the ends. Sheep are great, being rounded and without vulnerable projections. I epoxy the knots to keep the wind from untying them if people hang their mobiles outside. Then I spray everything—the rope to keep out moisture and the wood in case of invisible in-dwellers. Indoors, the mobiles last indefinitely. Outside, they will last several years in a protected spot such as a screened porch. They don’t baa, but they sound wonderful!

Small things

I like to make large pots. I have been known to lop the top off pots to get them to fit in my kilns. On the other hand, I don’t like firing those kilns with gaps on the shelves—and big pots leave large unused spaces between them. 

Consequently, I began making small cookie-cutter shapes and inch-round beads to fill the spaces. Putting those glazed beads in one at a time is not my greatest joy, but living near the Chesapeake Bay for a long time, I had driftwood to play with. Who could resist the combination? 

Along came those Kahoka mobiles and windchimes because stoneware resonates so beautifully. I experimented on my neighbors and found that the wind often untied the knots, so drops of epoxy were introduced. I conferred with someone from the Division of Natural Resources about moving wood around, and we concluded that a few coats of polyurethane spray would do in any wood-borne critter that survived the brackish bay water. Now, hundreds of mobiles later, they still do not do well in gale force winds, but they are not merely an artifact of filling up the shelves. I have fun making 

them.