FinderMaker

Expedition: Estate Sale!

2011-10-16T14:08:00.013-04:00

Looks like I'm well-equipped for a fine expedition: Sturdy canvas rucksack? Check! Plenty of glass vials for collecting specimens? Double check! Significant length of hefty hemp rope? Certainly!

Well, the truth is I've just returned from a brief expedition, and the provisions pictured were acquired along the way! Last Friday evening I noticed that an estate sale was to occur several blocks from my house first thing Saturday morning, so I set out at dawn to see what the day might bring. I took a brisk sweep through the first and second floors of the Craftsman-style home and found nothing of interest until I reached the kitchen and noticed a staircase leading down to the basement, which is generally the part of the home I enjoy poking around in most (besides the garage) when I visit estate sales.

Allow me, please, to attempt a brief explanation of the allure of estate sales (it is a complicated topic for me, so I must err on the side of brevity if I'm to keep this post moving along!) I'm very drawn to things, especially old, curious things with a history of some sort. I certainly enjoy antique stores and flea markets, but in these places one is apt to be confronted with a random and often overwhelming jumble of objects that have been stripped of any historical context, while the objects at estate sales have, in a sense, been "curated" by the former owner, creating the possibility of happening upon ready-made collections of interesting objects if you can manage to arrive at the sale early.

A true estate sale occurs when the resident of a home has passed away and the remaining family members, after dividing up heirlooms and special items that hold meaning for them, are faced with the task of clearing out everything else that the departed has accumulated over the course of their life. Strangers are invited into the home to purchase whatever they may find, a process that the family may find upsetting, and so the whole operation is generally carried out by some estate liquidation outfit that is equipped to deal with hordes of Saturday morning bargain hunters keen on discovering that rare Ming vase that the family surely overlooked!

The thrill of the hunt is powerful, true, but I am most moved when I discover that I share some interests with the deceased and thus happen upon that collection of odds-and-ends that, as I mentioned before, was seemingly curated with the sole intent to surprise and delight me upon its discovery, as when I pick out from amongst the clutter a few old books on whaling or Native American culture, or some choice mineral specimens. During the brief time I spend in the vacated home picking up small surprises, I privately celebrate the life of the former occupant, promising to offer a new appreciation and home for the objects they once held dear. Estate sales also offer a reminder that our time on earth is very limited indeed; all of the interesting curios and souvenirs I have picked up along the way that hold memories and meaning for me will eventually end up in one of two places: the dump, or in the hands of someone else who will appreciate them. I hope for the latter, and so I mostly aim to choose my acquisitions judiciously!

Aha! Back down to the basement we go, where our former master of the estate presided over an extensive collection of engines, power tools, welding machines, gun-making and maintenance equipment, mineral specimens and just about every manner of screw, nail and other hardware imaginable. The estate sale operator hadn't bothered to sort through drawers and drawers of stuff, nor to price anything, so, this experience being rather akin to mining, I donned my hard hat and dug right in!

Here's a general tip for those looking to acquire stuff: visualize whatever it is you want, and know that it will be yours one day; perhaps not within a day or week, but most likely when you've just forgotten you wanted it, it will appear. Remember how I used to be so interested in the history of whaling, and even went so far as to craft a faux display bottle of whale oil? That project was inspired by a visit to Mystic Seaport and the fact that I wasn't having luck finding any real whale oil, which, in the past, was used for everything from candles to margarine. Just so happens it also makes a superior gun lubricant, which is precisely why I happened upon a bottle labeled "Sperm Oil" in a drawer containing other gun-maintenance accoutrements. It was in a self-labeled bottle, true, but the oil within bore the very mildly fishy smell and tiny suspended white spermaceti crystals that left no doubt as to its authenticity!

I'm a sucker for old bottles and vials of any sort, and I found plenty of those; I don't yet have anything in mind for them, but they came in a couple of colorful vintage cigar boxes which was a nice bonus! The large old canvas rucksack makes the perfect beachcombing bag, while a smattering of rough turquoise specimens from Nevada, some wonderful, thick old hemp rope, a few little antique brass containers, and a jar of reflective glass spheres round out the morning's finds; not bad for ten dollars!

This next batch of items came from the home of an elderly gentleman who had many interests; according to his daughter, who was handling the sale personally, he was a locksmith, artist, engineer, jeweler, traveling salesman and avid flea market enthusiast. My heart nearly stopped when I spied a set of Native American-themed jewelry stamps of the sort used in Navajo silver jewelry. I grabbed a nifty old wooden box from a nearby desk and put the stamps inside, then happily poked around the crowded workshop for another hour or so picking up a few more odds and ends: a jumbo fish hook (a size commonly used for catching sharks I've since been told), a terrific book on whaling, and a fun vintage "ancestor mask" from Papua New Guinea. The whole lot was just five dollars; the deceased gentleman's daughter was happy to have a little help clearing a few more items out of the house-- just a few items, true, but at least they were destined for a new a new life rather than the dumpster out front!

I've already put those stamps to use; below is my first attempt at doing some stamping on copper... maybe when I get better at it I will move up to silver!

Thank you ever so much for joining me on this little expedition! If you should happen to have access to sea urchins in your area, you may enjoy my upcoming tutorial... coming soon!

Trash or Treasure: Copper Tube Contents Revealed!

2011-10-10T08:00:00.000-04:00

Several weeks have passed since I first happened upon this mysteriously battered, verdantly patinated copper tube on a secluded stretch of Northern California beach. Those curiously folded ends surely concealed some wonderful prize, but what? Diamonds? Gold? A treasure map sealed in wax? Before opening the tube, I allowed some time to pass during which I could do a little research and pose the question of "What is it?" to my knowledgeable team of FinderMaker followers.

Alas, the tube seems to be a mystery all around, though a co-worker had a rather alarming theory: that it had washed up from one of several offshore radioactive waste disposal sites in the vicinity of the nearby Farallon Islands. He may have been kidding, but after looking into the matter, I found that radioactive materials are sometimes encased in copper, as it is a very stable metal that is resistant to corrosion. I had the tube with me at work, and was suddenly very concerned that I was exposing myself and everyone around me to radiation. Thankfully, it was nearly the end of the day, and my geiger counter was ready and waiting to deliver the final verdict back at the house. The results were.... Negative. No radiation, thank goodness.

With that scare out of the way I decided that it was time to carefully open one of the folded ends and find out what was concealed within! The ends had developed some nice bright new coloration as saltwater leaked from within and evaporated on the surface.

I wrapped a portion of the tube in canvas to protect the surface, then secured it in a vise.

I had a variety of tools on hand; I was able to wedge the tip of a small chisel in the seam of a fold and carefully pry open the seal.

For the first time in who knows how long, the interior was exposed, and I was able to get a look at what was inside (please let there be diamonds hidden in that dirt!)...

Sadly, no diamonds. No gold. No treasure map encased in wax. Just dirty old gravel.

I let the gravel sit out to dry then saved it in a jar. The mysterious tube sits on the bookshelf, its ends once again neatly closed. Am I disappointed? Yes. Deeply. But that won't discourage me from hunting for treasure, in fact, I'm about due for another trip to the coast!

Trash or Treasure? Please Help!

2011-09-08T00:45:00.012-04:00

WOW! It's been ages, right? I mean really... it's just been rather too long! I've been busy like you wouldn't believe since relocating to the West Coast, and will at some point soon compose a post aimed at keeping my faithful readers abreast of all of the current projects brewing at FinderMaker Manor. Until then, however, I have just one question for each and every one of you: What is this thing???

Frankly, I'm stumped. First things first, though...

This weekend I felt compelled to embark on a spur of the moment drive up the coast to one of our usual beachcombing spots; it is remote, and requires a near life-threatening scramble down a cliff face to access, so it is rare to see another soul and common to find weird stuff washed up.

We survived the cliff-face scramble down to the water and commenced to ramble along the rocky coast some distance until the geography presented an insurmountably rocky outcropping, which I, ever eager to discover more curious objects, determined that I would simply have to surmount. Surrendering my preference for keeping dry, I took a few minutes to study the swell and retreat of the waves and, in a moment of relative calm, picked my way out around boulders submerged waist-deep in cold water and made my way back in towards a tiny secluded beach on the far side of the outcropping. I quickly scanned the area for any odd detritus (looking specifically for buoys on this trip but always on the alert for anything interesting at all) and honed in rather quickly on what looked like a rosy, metallic rib poking up among a cluster of surf-lapped rocks; I made my way over and immediately dubbed the thing "Jonah's Rib" and determined it worthy of closer inspection back in the company of my cohort.

It is copper; that much was easy enough to surmise, but beyond that I was unable to determine its age or any concrete purpose. What intrigued me most were the closed ends. Please humor me here and examine each end closely; you'll see just as I did that they appear to have been folded closed purposefully. What is being held inside by those folds? A treasure map? Drugs? Lead weights? Sand? Nothing?

The thing has some nice green patina on it and may have been fully covered in that green patina at one point; I've started to think that as it washed close to the shore, it may have rolled around on the rocks and sand for some time, rubbing away much of the patina and exposing the bright copper beneath.

When I first discovered it, the exposed copper was bright and rosy colored like a brand-new penny; over the past few days, however, the copper has dulled and darkened considerably. It isn't particularly heavy, but then it doesn't feel empty either. It doesn't rattle when shaken or bend easily. Oh yes, and it is 13.5" long x 5/8" wide and ranges from 3/8" to 1/2" on the side depending on where ones measures (some parts are more squished than others).

Questions foremost in my mind:
1) How long must copper be submerged in salt water to acquire that crusty green patina?
2) When was copper tubing invented? Although the thing is sort of a flattened, beat up tube-shape, it is definitely tubular, which is to say that it was formed as a tube from the get-go and not as a sheet of copper that was rolled and soldered, as there is no seam running along the length. Figuring out when copper was first extruded as tubing may help me determine the age of the thing.
3) What, if anything, is inside?
4) Can any of my readers help me figure out what this thing is? Is it trash or treasure?

I'm going to give myself a few weeks to do more research, and then I will perform as delicate a surgery as I am able to open up the object and see if there is something concealed within. I will post the results of my findings right here on FinderMaker, so please check back in the next few weeks and if you have any thoughts on what the thing might be, please send me a message; I need your help!

So You Want to Buy Some Pueblo Pottery...

2011-01-23T19:11:00.015-05:00

I was back in New Mexico for a few days around New Years to load up all of our stuff that was still in storage in Santa Fe. Shortly after my arrival, my brother, a connoisseur of book stores, took me to a great one on Central Avenue in Albuquerque. I like finding inexpensive vintage books and magazines on Native American culture, and this place had plenty!

I was excited to find a beautiful magazine from 1961 called "Indian Life". It was published by the "Inter-Tribal Indian Ceremonial Association", which produces the yearly Inter-Tribal Indian Ceremonial Exposition in Gallup, NM. I guess the magazine served as sort of an informative guide to the Ceremonial and souvenir of the event. It is printed in full, blazing color, and has amazing photos and some fun articles. I didn't have an opportunity to read the whole thing until a few weeks ago, and was delighted to discover a big article about pottery inside! Given the theme of my most recent blog posts, I figured it would be fun to share it.

It was written in a different time, remember, so you'll have to excuse certain outdated, wince-inducing turns of phrase (the "unsophisticated Indian potter"? yikes!) Oh, and next time you are shopping for a piece of pottery high on the mesa at Acoma, you probably shouldn't "wet your finger and run it along the paint" --trust me, that "paint" isn't going to run, though you may have to if the potter catches you subjecting her art to your dripping finger!

Clicking the images below takes you to the Picasa album, where you can use the magnifying glass icon to make them bigger!

(all images above courtesy Gallup Inter-Tribal Indian Ceremonial Association.)

"The pottery bug is virulent and there is no known cure" the article proclaims; and rightly so, I'm sure, though my current budget certainly keeps the bug quite in check. If only a fine piece of pottery could be had today at the prices of 1961!

I really enjoyed sharing my experience at Felipe's studio with you all. For the advanced potter wishing to try their hand at micaceous pottery, Felipe does sell and ship his micaceous clay in 25 pound bags for $50.00 plus $10.00 shipping. I didn't realize that until after my visit. The morning before our moving day, I felt compelled to rush back out to La Madera to buy a bag. When I pulled up the smell of cooking bacon greeted me; breakfast at Owl Peak was in full swing!

The clay is supplied with dried squares of clay to be re-hydrated and used as slip; it is an extra sparkly clay dug from a pit that has a higher proportion of mica.

Not only is Felipe a renowned potter, sought-after medicine man and all around nice guy, it turns out he also opens up his home as a Bed and Breakfast! That morning the table was crowded with visitors: a young man who directs commercials in Los Angeles, a writer, a purveyor of high-end lumber, another local potter, etc... all happy to have found themselves together, enjoying good coffee (from micaceous pottery mugs!) and good food under the roof of one very talented and generous "master of ceremonies", Felipe Ortega!

As I departed, this time for good, with my bag of precious clay, a retired couple was ambling up towards the studio, excited to procure a fine piece of micaceous pottery from the source. As he did with me, Felipe greeted them warmly and ushered them in out of the cold morning air, and just as it was for me, I know that day will be a highlight of their stay in Northern New Mexico!

Mica Mines and the Pottery that Glitters Like Gold, Part Three: Firing Felipe's Pots!

2011-01-20T11:53:00.021-05:00

When famed Jicarilla Apache medicine man and potter Felipe Ortega agreed to have me out to his studio in La Madera, New Mexico, to watch and photograph him as he created one of his coveted micaceous clay pots, I never dreamed the experience would be such a complete one. I barely kept up as he formed a bean pot before my very eyes; the pace slowed as I was welcomed into Felipe's circle of family and friends to enjoy a hearty lunch, then it was back out to the studio, where, before I knew it, Felipe was readying the fire that would transform a batch of recently shaped vessels into durable pieces of cookware that were destined for collections and stovetops around the world.

I hope that by now you will have been enticed to read Felipe's excellent article "The Art and Practice of Jicarilla Apache Micaceous Pottery Manufacturing," which explains each step in the production of a traditional micaceous vessel. If you compare each step with the photos in my previous post, you should have an excellent understanding of the process, and you will probably also notice that in my documentation I missed some crucial steps in the process: sanding, application of slip, and polishing. Those steps were not scheduled for the day of my visit, so I am delighted to be able to refer you to videos that Brian Grossnickle, a former apprentice of Felipe's and an accomplished potter himself, has produced that illustrate sanding, applying slip, and polishing micaceous pottery.

Felipe had several pots that were polished and ready to go in the fire that afternoon; it turns out that he planned to deliver those very pots to his gallery in Santa Fe that evening! Firing micaceous pottery is not the long, drawn-out process I thought it might be; though some potters may consider the clay finicky and prescribe ideal conditions under which the pottery must be fired, Felipe fires his pieces whenever he finds convenient, and he rarely loses a piece in the process.

He began by clearing a space on his outdoor hearth and starting a fire with branches and brush that burned quick and hot. This fire rendered a nice bed of hot coals over which to stack the pots, but first Felipe set down a metal grate, perhaps an old oven rack or two, so that the pots wouldn't sit directly on the coals:

He stepped away for a moment and returned with some well-dried cow patties that he would place amongst the pots; these would burn in such a way as to leave unique black "fire clouds" on the fired pottery:

Then the pots were arranged on the metal grate:

More of the patties were tucked in here and there:

I've taken several pottery classes, and I recall always having to be careful not to allow pieces that were being loaded into the kiln to touch each other; the glaze vitrifies under the heat, causing any parts that touched to stick ruinously together. Felipe's pieces, shiny though their surfaces may be, are not glazed -- the shine results from the meticulous sanding and manual polishing of the already glittery, mica-flecked surface -- thus Felipe's pots may be stacked closely, right against each other, with no danger of sticking.

Now it's time to build the "kiln" around the stack of pots. Felipe selected from a great pile of thick, curved slabs of Ponderosa Pine bark several pieces and quickly positioned them among, and then around, the pots, forming a sort of wigwam:

Satisfied with the structure, Felipe suddenly hopped right over it and emerged from the billowing clouds of smoke with an armload of dry branches, which he placed on top:

The branches were alight almost immediately, and the pine bark began to roar and hiss as the temperature in the pile soared:

Moving aside a charred piece of bark to peer into the pile, Felipe watched for the moment that his pots began to glow red:

It doesn't take long! Maybe 20 minutes or so, before the heat of the fire had caused the pots to glow bright red, indicating that their transformation was complete!

No lengthy, controlled "cool down" time is required as it is with most pottery; the mica imparts in this clay the ability to withhold extremes in temperature without breaking, making micaceous pottery ideal to cook in. Felipe began to pluck his pots from the still-flaming pile and transferred them to a piece of corrugated metal to cool:

Not a single pot broken!

The areas where the dried cow patty came in contact with the pottery resulted in beautiful, shadowy fire clouds, each as unique as a fingerprint. Felipe had also inverted one shallow bowl over another with a patty in between. Burning in that enclosed space, the patty was consumed in a low oxygen environment, causing just the inner surfaces of the bowls to be blackened by the "reduction" firing. Felipe examines the effect, and likes it:

Before long the pots were cool to the touch, and as I gathered up my things, Felipe wiped any remaining soot off of each pot and wrapped it in newspaper.

Those pots were bound for the gallery at Cafe Pasqual's, the famed Santa Fe restaurant, that very evening. Given the effort that goes into creating each one, from the digging and processing of the clay that is dug from the same pits his ancestors have dug from for centuries, through the many steps of creation, and to the final transformation through firing, Felipe's pots are a bargain. His pricing is straightforward: $100 per quart, literally measured by scooping quarts of dried pinto beans into the finished vessel.

I simply couldn't leave that day without something tangible to remind me of my visit, and was thankful that Felipe had a coffee mug, half price because it had suffered a minor cosmetic mishap in firing (it does happen on occasion), just for me. I treasure it, but don't think that means I put it on my bookshelf to gaze upon; I drink my coffee out of it. Every morning. And I love it. Thanks Felipe!

Mica Mines and the Pottery that Glitters Like Gold, Part Two: Felipe Ortega!

2011-01-12T19:12:00.019-05:00

When last we met, we had embarked upon some exhilarating rambles around various Northern New Mexico sites, exploring the ruins at Posi Ouinge, poking around an abandoned mica mine, and finally, settling in for a lengthy soak in the mineral springs at Ojo Caliente.

Having discovered beautiful, glittering, apparently mica-rich pottery sherds at Posi, I became curious to learn more about this type of pottery, and my curiosity was soon richly rewarded. Shortly after that adventure I reconnected with a good friend with whom I had lost touch for some 15 years; I was astonished to learn that she had previously lived very near Ojo Caliente for some time, working as the apprentice for a famous Jicarilla Apache medicine man and potter in the nearby village of La Madera.

A quick google search revealed that the man she spoke of, Felipe Ortega, was indeed highly regarded among pottery aficionados, and that his specialty was, of all things, sparkly micaceous pottery created from local mica-rich clays! Felipe's website is a goldmine (mica mine?) of information on the rich history of micaceous pottery; I pored over every page and link, and before long I became quite fixated upon the idea of driving back out to the area to visit Felipe at his studio and learn more about his pottery firsthand. I hesitated for some time, however, fearing that my visit might prove an unwelcome distraction to the renowned Apache potter, but my friend insisted that Felipe was an affable fellow who was happy to welcome visitors to his remote studio, and she was certainly not mistaken!

Felipe's website provides excellent directions to the studio, and I soon found myself driving back through Ojo Caliente, keeping an eye out for the "pigs" sign on the left outside of town that marks the turn onto State Road 111.

The scenery along 111 is so lovely I just had to stop and take some pictures!

A sign points the way toward La Madera:

Arriving in La Madera, one passes the prominent and cheerful-looking store Apache Drums. I sure was curious to stop in and check it out, but they were closed.

A little further up the road on the left, right after the pink house, is Felipe's home and studio, Owl Peak.

Felipe was taught how to use the local clay to create a traditional bean pot by a Jicarilla Apache elder, Jesucita Martinez, back in 1969, and has continued ever since to create micaceous pottery on the same plot of land on which he was born. He is often credited with preserving and reviving the centuries-old tradition of micaceous pottery production among the Jicarilla Apaches and beyond; he generously shares his love for the craft with anyone who shows an interest. Through classes and workshops that Felipe has taught as well as personal apprenticeships, potters the world over have acquired the traditional techniques for creating true Jicarilla Apache-style micaceous pottery.

Lately, Felipe enjoys spending more time in the studio creating pottery, trusting former apprentices, many now masters in their own right, to offer classes and workshops to beginners interested in learning the craft. He has written an excellent article, "The Art and Practice of Jicarilla Apache Micaceous Pottery Manufacturing," that offers detailed step-by-step instructions on the production of a traditional micaceous pot. Anyone interested in exploring a more in-depth, anthropological analysis of the importance of clay in the Jicarilla Apache culture will greatly enjoy his article "Ceramics for the Archaeologist, An Alternative Perspective."

Felipe's studio.

Some examples of Felipe's craft shimmer in the morning sun by the door to his studio.

The morning was chilly, but a stout wood stove well-fed with cedar logs kept Felipe's studio warm and cozy:

Bright morning sun bathed the room with light as Felipe assembled the few materials he needed to create a pot. So adept is Felipe at his craft that he moved from one step in the process to the next very swiftly indeed, explaining each as he went, offering anecdotes relating to Apache history and micaceous pottery production, and cheerfully fielding all of my questions, while a finely formed pot took shape before my very eyes!

Bags of micaceous clay, collected each Spring from ancestral clay pits nearby and used throughout the year, are neatly stacked against a wall of the studio.

Felipe takes his seat at the low work table and forms a "tortilla" of clay to serve as the base of the pot:

A "puki" is a shallow vessel that serves as a support for the base of the pot, allowing the walls of the pot to be built up. Traditionally a ceramic vessel, today a shallow, turquoise-colored melamine bowl makes a fine puki! Before being put into service, the puki is coated lightly with cooking oil, then dusted with fine mica flakes; this prevents the clay from sticking to the walls of the puki:

The clay tortilla is positioned in the mica-dusted puki:

Then the inside is smoothed with a potter's rib and prepared for the addition of coiled clay walls:

A ball of clay rolled back and forth between the palms of his hands quickly becomes a "snake" of clay that Felipe adds to the wall; several snakes are formed and added to the wall in quick succession until the desired height is reached:

The process of adding coils and pinching them together to build up the walls is quick, taking only a few minutes to reach this height:

Now Felipe scrapes, smooths, and thins the coiled walls with a potter's rib, defining the overall shape of the pot:

This one will be a traditionally shaped bean pot, so named because one can indeed cook beans in it. I may have failed to mention that aside from being beautiful to look at, micaceous pottery can certainly be used to cook food in! The Apaches used their micaceous pottery right on the fire to cook beans and stews, and so can you; the mica acts as both an excellent temper and an insulator, allowing the fired vessel to be heated directly over a fire (or your stove) without cracking and then to hold in the heat to keep your food warm!

The bean pot Felipe has been working on will have a short, fluted neck, but the vessel body he has made thus far must rest and firm up a bit so that it can support the weight of the clay that will be added for the neck. At this point the vessel was set aside while we retired to the kitchen (or rather, I retired, while Felipe continued his work at the kitchen counter, this time forming and cooking delicious actual tortillas).

The focal point of Felipe's kitchen is this impressive wood-fired cooking stove, but look behind the stove at the wall . . . do you notice that familiar golden iridescence? All of Felipe's walls are plastered with micaceous clay that radiates a warm glow throughout the house!

And remember how I mentioned that you can cook in micaceous pottery? Here's the proof! Felipe cooked up this delicious chile sauce in a pot that he made in 1974 and that still serves him well to this day!

Before long we were joined by Lee Moquino, a young potter and friend of Felipe's who participates in many aspects of local Pueblo Indian culture. By the time the last tortilla was cooked, a group had assembled around the kitchen table, eager to tuck into a hearty chicken stew, to which we all added spoonfuls of that fiery, micaceous pottery-cooked chile sauce and scooped up with those delicious, freshly made tortillas.

After that wholesome and filling lunch, Felipe, Lee, and I headed back out to the studio, where Lee (who comes from a family of accomplished potters and has discovered that micaceous clay suits him very nicely) started working on a pot and Felipe continued his bean pot. The body of the pot had firmed up sufficiently to allow more coils of clay to be added to create the neck.

Coils are added, then scraped and formed into the desired shape:

Meanwhile, Lee's pot was coming along nicely!

Lee and Felipe had an easy, comedic rapport that kept me in stitches. Here, Felipe gives Lee a good natured ribbing: "Why'd you make your pot look so ugly," after which he explained to me that in Apache tradition, a pot is never referred to as "beautiful" until after it has survived the entire process of creation and firing.

Then, before I had even realized he had done it, Felipe had tidied up his bean pot, started on a lid for it, then set them both on a sunny shelf to dry while he went outside to prepare for the firing process.

That bean pot still had a journey ahead of it before it could be fired . . . sanding, applying slip, polishing . . . but Felipe had a group of pots that he was not only ready to fire, but also intended to drop off at his gallery in Santa Fe that very evening!

I wasn't sure I was understanding the timeline correctly; I had envisioned the firing process being rather time consuming, but I would soon learn otherwise (and so will you!). I hope you will stick around for the third and final installment in my "Mica Mines and the Pottery that Glitters Like Gold" series to see how Felipe fires his micaceous pottery . . . It's so hot I think you'll actually feel the flames!

Mining New Mexico: Mica Mines and the Pottery that Glitters Like Gold, Part One

2011-01-09T12:24:00.004-05:00

Alas, our time in the Land of Enchantment amounted to little more than an extended vacation; a month in Corrales and two more in Santa Fe before the lure of better work prospects drew us further west to Oakland, California. There is so much to see and do in New Mexico; we managed to get in several little adventures during our stay, but the possibilities for further exploration seem truly limitless there, if one's time allows. One brisk morning we headed north out of Santa Fe, Taos bound, to see what the day might bring.

We passed under a few highway overpasses embellished with images that reflect aspects of the local Pueblo culture:

and spied a monumental lithic dromedary (Camel rock!) gazing out over the expansive landscape:

We spent a few hours poking around Taos before heading north on U.S. 64 out of town towards the Rio Grande Gorge. Now that was a sight for which I had been totally unprepared. Having never visited the Grand Canyon, I can't compare the two, but as we approached the bridge that spans that gorge I could hardly believe my eyes. We parked and walked halfway across the bridge, where the view over that vast gorge was positively breathtaking! I had never heard anything about this place before, but I felt certain that what I was seeing must surely have been every bit as awe-inspiring as the Grand Canyon!

Eventually we made our way back to the car and, consulting our guide book, found that we were a reasonable distance from the town of Ojo Caliente, home of the famous hot mineral springs! Reckoning that a goodly hot soaking might be a fine way to conclude the day, we adjusted our course towards Ojo, and were there well before sundown.

The hot springs themselves were not quite the rustic, backcountry pools I had envisioned; a rather posh resort-like environment now envelopes the 4 original mineral pools, and an admission fee must be surrendered to gain access. As it turns out, admission is slightly discounted after 6 pm, so we decided to explore the area a bit until that time. A map available in the lobby indicates that hiking trails extend for several miles out behind the resort, leading to the ruins of a Tewa Indian pueblo on the mesa above the resort, and also to a few abandoned mica mines further out. The main path leading up to the lobby entrance continues out towards the trails:

The ruins above Ojo Caliente, called Posi Ouinge, are the remains of a thriving community inhabited by the Tewa people between around 1300 to early 1500 a.d.

People have been attracted to the healing waters of the hot springs for thousands of years; while the Tewa are believed to have relocated to other areas after a period of illness reduced their population, the Spanish took up residence in the area shortly thereafter.

To the untrained eye, there is little left to indicate that a city once stood here; time and erosion have erased most traces of walls and plazas. Look down, however, and the signs of human habitation are scattered everywhere in the form of broken bits of pottery.

Some pieces are colored, some bear remnants of vivid geometric designs, some are inscribed with neat rows of lines, and others are dull black, but glisten curiously in the sunlight. One of these latter pieces glistened so brightly I thought surely I had spotted a nugget of gold! Closer inspection revealed that tiny flecks of what appeared to be mica embedded in the fire-blackened clay of a pottery sherd were responsible for that golden flash.

Knowing that some old mica mines lay further out, I wondered if mica from the area had been worked into the clay for either decorative or utilitarian purposes. I took a few photos of the potsherds and then we hiked our way out towards the mica mines.

The mines weren't difficult to spot. We knew well in advance that we were on the right track, as the ground became increasingly sparkly with flakes of mica as we approached the shallow caves.

As we were walking towards the caves, eyes trained on the ground, my heart would skip a beat every time I spotted a chunk of mica larger than a quarter. Little did I know that the mines would yield massive sheets of mica the size of which I had never before seen.

Yes, I am putting those in my backpack; while collecting pottery sherds is strictly forbidden, I believe it is ok to collect some samples of the mica.

Thin, transparent sheets can be peeled off of the "books" of mica. Once, on a tour of Acoma Pueblo, I recall learning that the adobe-walled pueblos were fitted with windows created using sheets of mica; I had a hard time picturing it, since I had only ever seen little flakes of mica. The sheets we found could easily be trimmed into neat squares and secured in wooded frames, making perfectly serviceable windows!

Perhaps the pueblo people used sticky Piñon resin to seal up their mica windows? I couldn't help but stop to scoop up the fragrant resin that oozed from the many dead Piñon pine trees in the area, victims of the 2002- 2003 drought and heat wave that took quite a toll on New Mexico's Piñon population.

As the sun sank below the horizon, we realized that 6pm was nearly upon us; we hastily loaded up my mica and Piñon resin and made our way back down the trail towards the hot springs. The evening was cold and clear by the time we arrived; steam rolled off of the surface of the various mineral-rich springs as burning Piñon fires perfumed the air. My muscles ached from carrying back the heavy burden of mica samples I had collected, and it felt just grand to lay back in the hot water and look up at the steep wall of the mesa upon which the old Tewa village once stood; stars twinkling above. I felt privileged to have the opportunity to soak away my aches and pains as countless generations before me had done; I hope you have the opportunity to explore Ojo Caliente someday too!

A few days after visiting Ojo Caliente, a curious coincidence revealed all sorts exciting information about the glittery, mica-enriched pottery pieces I had noticed at the Posi Ouinge ruins. It turns out that "micaceous pottery" is well-known to archaeologists and aficionados of indigenous pottery, and soon I would find myself back on the road towards Ojo to meet up with a fellow who is well-known for transforming the local mica-rich clay into beautiful (and useable!) pieces of pottery! I hope you will check back soon for part two of the "Mica Mines and the Pottery that Glitters Like Gold" story!!!

FinderMaker West Coast Edition, Volume One!

2010-12-27T16:55:00.011-05:00

Happy end of the year tidings! I still have one more "Mining New Mexico" post in the works, but thought I might just do a brief post to let folks know that FinderMaker & Co. are now relocated to the West Coast and very much looking forward to a prosperous and fulfilling new year in the San Francisco Bay area! It has been a rather trying voyage, and it actually isn't quite over yet; on Wednesday I'll be traveling back to New Mexico to rent a truck and load up all of our stuff that is in storage in Santa Fe and drive it all out here.

I was recently looking at some photographs I took during some of my beach walks in Bristol, Rhode Island and started to feel nostalgic, wondering if my beachcombing days were mostly behind me. What a silly thing of me to fret over! A vigorous beach ramble may be enjoyed at a moments notice here!

Yesterday, feeling a little over-nourished from holiday treats, we set out in search of some activity that might get our blood pumping and, within an hour, found ourselves on a remote portion of Point Reyes National Seashore scrambling and sliding down muddy cliffs to the rocky beach below.

I immediately spotted a huge abalone shell awash in the surf and brought it ashore. There were lovely, smooth pieces of broken abalone shell all over, and although my back and bulging pockets eventually protested, one could hardly help but bend over to pick up those enchanting rainbow-hued sherds!

The day was misty and drizzly; plenty of water to keep this waterfall rushing!

The recent rough weather had washed all sorts of goodies ashore! I didn't find a whale vertebra (yet!) but I did find a couple of the biggest sea urchins I've ever come across...

I was also delighted to come across a little piece of "beach turquoise"... a Chiton shell.

Who would think this drab, armored mollusk would have such a colorful interior?

Thanks for joining me on the first of many future West Coast beach rambles! I hope you all enjoy a terrific New Year!!!

A Temple of Turquoise in Kingman, Arizona: Colbaugh Processing!

2010-12-03T18:34:00.053-05:00

I have a new Mining New Mexico post in the works, but in the meantime I have one final turquoise-related discovery to add to my "Turquoise Trilogy"!

When I relocated to Santa Fe from Providence, I had hoped that the numerous museums and galleries in Santa Fe would provide ample work opportunities in my field of museum art handling and exhibit installation. Alas, the economy has not been kind to the arts in Santa Fe, and after three months in the city and no likely prospects for work, the difficult decision to move on west to the San Francisco Bay area was made. While I was sad to be leaving the "Land of Enchantment," I looked forward to making a few stops along the trip west, one of which, in Kingman, Arizona, was Colbaugh Processing Inc., the processing facility and retail shop for a renowned Arizona turquoise mining operation.

After a restful night in the sleepy Route 66 town of Seligman, AZ, we headed out early, bound for Kingman, about an hour west. The facility wasn't difficult to spot; the cheery little building was painted in hues that left no question as to the nature of their business: Turquoise!

I might have been content to poke around all morning in the parking lot, which was liberally peppered with colorful leftovers from mining and processing operations:

That's alot of turquoise!

Eventually I diverted my attention from the mineral-rich parking lot towards the door marked "Office," behind which a small world of wonder awaited:

Tables were crowded with bins of turquoise from Kingman as well as several other mines. Much like pearls and opals, turquoise, in its raw natural state, is susceptible to damage and discoloration by exposure to detergents, excessive sunlight, cosmetics, perfumes, and our skin's natural oils. Recognizing that many folks would like to maintain the color and integrity of their stones without, for instance, removing turquoise rings and bracelets every time they wash their hands, Colbaugh specializes in stones that have been stabilized, a process by which the turquoise is saturated with an epoxy resin that renders it nearly impervious to harm by the various factors mentioned above. Colbaugh stabilizes their turquoise on-site, and the retail shop offers everything from colorful chips literally swept off the workshop floor at the end of the day and sold by the pound, to massive, weighty hunks of turquoise, the size of which I had only ever seen in museums.

For the purist, bins of completely natural, unstabilized stones of every size are offered as well:

Below the tables are buckets brimming with even more turquoise:

The walls are laden with lush swags of turquoise beads in every shape and size imaginable:

In fact, every surface in the shop is crowded with colorful mineral wonders!

Need an exceptionally fine specimen to brighten up your curio cabinet? Done!

Inside the glass counter are samples of turquoise from around the world (I didn't notice any Cerrillos turquoise, but I might have just overlooked it!):

The friendly gal behind the counter went out of her way to answer my many questions and patiently weighed and priced each of the "prize specimens" I excavated from the bins of rough, natural turquoise. Priced at between $100 and $250 a pound, I expected that my generous selections might have been very expensive, but I picked out three nicely sized pieces for only $15.00 and treated myself to an additional 1/2 pound of the "floor sweepings" for only $7.50.

Colbaugh Processing leases the right to collect turquoise from an active local copper mining operation; copper is the element that imparts the blue hue to turquoise, and the two minerals are often found in tandem. I was giddy from my visit to Colbaugh Processing as we headed north out of Kingman towards the Hoover Dam and Las Vegas. My turquoise fever now very much reignited, my heart skipped a beat as I spied the mine site in the hills a few miles north of the shop:

There was no time to stop and explore, but opening up my brown paper bag of floor sweepings that evening at the hotel in Bakersfield was tantamount to the suspense and excitement of Christmas morning: I spent a blissful hour excitedly picking through my little pile of sweepings, marveling at the color and variety of tiny treasures therein. If ever you find yourself near Kingman, I promise you'll find a little chunk of heaven (or a bucket full, depending on your needs) at Colbaugh Processing!

My "floor sweepings." Not bad, eh?

Mining New Mexico: A Turquoise Trilogy in Old Cerrillos Part 3, Casa Grande Trading Post!

2010-11-18T12:38:00.056-05:00

So, after having read my harrowing tale of a backcountry turquoise trek through the hardscrabble hills of Cerrillos, you've opted instead to undertake a relatively safe day-hike through the handsome and nicely maintained Cerrillos Hills State Park. Completing your ramble, you find that your legs ache pleasantly from the exertion and, listening intently, you can almost hear the sound of a phantom pickaxe ringing against stone, a distant echo from the days when the hills were bustling with hardworking miners, each one eager to find his fortune. Your heart pounded as you peered down into those seemingly endless vertical mineshafts from the safety of the sturdy observation deck but you realize, while making your way back to the car, that your medicine bag is still lacking a little piece of turquoise to remind you of your time in the Land of Enchantment; that your pocket isn't yet heavy with the blue-green stones you thought you might pick up along the trail. Your turquoise fever is still burning and it seems likely that a prompt ice-bath may be the only cure!!! The very cure, in truth, is well-marked on your drive out of the park; simply follow the prominent signs indicating the way towards the Casa Grande Trading Post!

The appearance of heavy antique mining equipment and majestic view of the Devil's Throne Cliff indicate your arrival at Todd and Patricia Brown's crown jewel of my Turquoise Trilogy, and the bona-fide treatment center for every known symptom of the turquoise fever!

photo courtesy Casa Grande Trading Post

Originally from Long Island, NY, Todd Brown has been rambling the hills of Cerrillos for decades now, inspired by the beauty and history of the area. In the early days I think a touch of turquoise fever must have kept him on the lookout for any hint of color among the long-abandoned mine sites, and as he describes it, one day he found what he was looking for:

Thirty-five years ago, I was walking in a New Mexico snowstorm and was taking the long way home around Grand Central Mountain in the Cerrillos Mining District. I came across a vein of brilliant green stone and decided to stop and work off some of the vein. I worked for 15 minutes and got about 2 lbs of rough turquoise, then covered it up and headed for home. 35 years later still dreaming of the green turquoise I had found that day, I decided to file for a mining claim with the Bureau of Land Management on that same spot.

Today, his mine, officially registered as the "Little Chalchihuitl", is perhaps the most actively worked mine in the area. With the help of family and friends, Todd continues to coax brilliant chunks of genuine Cerrillos turquoise, prized for its unique greenish hue (imparted by the iron content of the surrounding soil), from the rock walls of his claim.

Todd and Patricia at the "Little Chalchihuitl" photo courtesy Casa Grande Trading Post

Back at the Trading Post, Todd and Patricia choose the finest pieces to cut, polish and set in sterling silver; a wide range of their handiwork is available, from earrings and pendants to money clips and keychains, all set with that coveted natural Cerrillos turquoise!

photo courtesy Casa Grande Trading Post

If an uncut, unpolished pocket piece is more your style, you can dig for your treasure in one of several small boxes brimming with rough turquoise direct from the Little Chalchihuitl; prices are reasonable, ranging from six dollars for quarter-sized chunks, on up. I picked up two nice six dollar pieces, and a fine silver-dollar sized specimen from the eight dollar box, all richly colored and guaranteed to be completely natural: unstabilized with no color enhancements, just the way nature made it!

My purchases and signed certificate of authenticity.

Just as you finish picking out your turquoise pieces, either rough or set into finely-crafted jewelry, you take in a wider view of the shop and realize that your shopping adventure is far from over!

All around you are artifacts from the days of old, skulls and antlers, colorful mineral specimens (not just turquoise!) and all manner of handmade creations; of the latter category I noted lovely walking sticks crafted from lengths of Cholla cactus skeleton, decoratively painted hubcaps, locally produced pueblo pottery, plaques mounted with samples of old barbed wire, little pouches sewn from swatches of old pendleton blankets, turquoise-covered skulls, and so much more.

If artifacts are your thing, perhaps you'll be interested in Civil War-era bullets, antique bottles, old ceramic crucibles left over from ore-refining and smelting operations in the area, railroad tie date nails (to indicate when the track was laid) or actual old documents and checks pertaining to the daily transactions common to turn-of-the-century New Mexico businesses. Oh, and I know you'll love (carefully!) picking through the labeled boxes containing segments of authentic antique barbed-wire!

In addition to the Cerrillos turquoise, Todd has rounded out his offerings with abundant samples of turquoise from other mines as well, including the well-known clear blue turquoise from the Sleeping Beauty mine in Arizona:

(I want to go back for a bag of that turquoise powder!)

Sleeping Beauty is a large-scale commercial mine that does things a little differently from Todd. Where Todd may spend days or weeks carefully teasing a precious vein of color by hand out from the drab matrix stone around it, the folks at Sleeping Beauty literally blast away huge portions of mountainside and later sift through the rubble for pieces of turquoise. The following video is pretty interesting; a good example of turquoise mining on a large scale where the mineral is relatively abundant in the surrounding rock.

An abundance of other mineral specimens are offered in the Trading Post as well. Perhaps your collection is lacking a fine, colorful specimen of Peacock Chalcopyrite, New Mexico Garnet, or a jumbo, clear sheet of Mica? Can't make it down south to White Sands on this trip to New Mexico? Don't worry, Todd's got you covered!

I'm quite certain at this point you will have settled into the cheerful and charming atmosphere of Casa Grande sufficiently that you'll begin to think "Wow! I could just live in this place!" In fact, Todd and his wife do; they built the 28 room adobe casa by hand and raised their six kids there as well, one of whom very kindly tolerated my awe-struck bumbling around the shop photographing everything in sight on the afternoon of my visit! Once you've taken in all there is to see (is that even possible?) in the shop portion of the Casa Grande, be sure to request admission to the mining museum; at two dollars a person, you are virtually guaranteed at least another hour or two of visual and educational delights!

Your host, Todd Brown, welcomes you! photo courtesy Casa Grande Trading Post.

Step through the gate and walk back in time!

photo courtesy Casa Grande Trading Post

See photos of a younger, bearded, ponytailed Todd scouring the hills for what would eventually be known as Little Chalchihuitl! Pore over maps indicating the locations of mine sites and peruse articles on the history of the area! See a real vein of Cerrillos turquoise just as it is found in the rock!

A long glass display case houses collections of pottery and artifacts dating from the time when indigenous people worked Mt Chalchihuitl for the precious blue stone:

Another case is full of colorful mineral specimens and samples of turquoise from many different mines:

Cross the room and learn about the connection between Tiffany's department store and a Cerrillos turquoise mine!

This display features a cloth bag and tins of genuine old nuggets from the American Turquoise Company mine, which sold almost all of its robins egg blue stones to the world-famous Tiffany department store in NY after their chief gemologist, George F. Kunz, declared certain shades of turquoise (not coincidentally, the specific and well-known shade of blue unique to Tiffany gift boxes, aka "Tiffany Blue") to be gem-quality stones worthy of inclusion in the finest jewelry.

The Mine's chief operator, James P. McNulty, who mined much of the turquoise himself, shipped cigar boxes packed with the precious stones back east where they were worked into chic pieces of Tiffany jewelry.

Afternoon sunlight streams through the colorful glass insulators that line the windows, administering a healthy dose of light and color therapy quite certain to boost your spirits even further in this bright, happy place!

Old artifacts from mining operations around Cerrillos abound:

Many pieces of equipment are labeled and explained, though Todd welcomes further inquiries if you'd like to know more. He has crafted some wonderful displays depicting the earliest Native miners in the hills:

Note the notched logs that were dropped into the shafts and used as stairways between the levels.

This old timer seems to have had his fill of turquoise and is trying his luck with gold!

An old ore cart piled high with antlers shed in the hills by the resident mule deer population:

Don't forget to look up! An old, exquisitely beaded glove is among the many treasures hanging from the rafters!

I was delighted to see this old shelf mushroom with images of Mount Rainier painted on it (not exactly local, but thats ok!). I should probably post this picture on my Mushroom Shelf Tutorial page!

Now, lest you fear I've herein revealed all of the most remarkable points of interest throughout the trading post and museum, fear not! The wonders that await you at Todd and Patricia Brown's Casa Grande Trading Post and Mining Museum are sufficient to fill volumes; my photographs and brief descriptions barely scratch the surface of what you will find there in old Cerrillos! Oh, and did I mention that the Browns also run a petting zoo?

When you bring your treasures up to the cash register, be sure to ask for a two dollar bag of food for the petting zoo... your Casa Grande adventure continues just outside the shop, where goats, a llama, turkey, fancy chickens, and pigeons come right up at the sight of the feed bag!

A day in the Cerrillos Hills State Park is certainly a worthwhile adventure, but get an early start and make sure to plan on spending a few hours at the Casa Grande Trading Post; I sure did, and I probably could have spent a few hours more! In editing the photos for this post, I kept noticing things I hadn't noticed in person; thats the beauty of of the Casa Grande, and indeed of the Cerrillos hills as well: there is so much to see that you'll surely need a second visit to take it all in! Thanks so much for joining me on this Turquoise Trilogy! Before long, I will be embarking on a mining adventure of a different sort, and will introduce you to another local FinderMaker... I'll see you then!

Mining New Mexico: A Turquoise Trilogy in Old Cerrillos, Part Two!

2010-11-13T21:46:00.035-05:00

When last we met, I had just returned from a vigorous ramble through the Cerrillos Hills State Park where my turquoise fever, instead of subsiding, became rather more advanced, and I determined that I might like to reconnoiter a portion of the public land that lies just north of the park boundaries to see what I might see.

A mysterious, anonymous reader left me a comment shortly after I published Part 1 of this trilogy, warning that "individual mining claims have been legally registered across the landscape and are worked and fiercely protected on that land." Alas, the warning was delivered well after the completion of my backcountry adventure, though I was aware ahead of time that there might be active mining claims in the area and, accordingly, packed in only a camera, a honeycrisp apple, and plenty of water in place of the pickaxe, black powder, and shovel that I might otherwise have preferred to convey into the "forbidden zone."

Seriously, though, it is my understanding that BLM land may generally be used responsibly by the public for purposes of hiking and similar low-impact leisure activities; tracts may be registered for purposes of mineral exploration, however, and anyone that goes into the area seemingly intent on working a miner's legal claim might well face the wrath of said miner. While I might have held out hope that a little chunk of color might reveal itself from the drab tailings of some old, disused shaft, I certainly would not have endeavored to poke around any area appearing to be actively worked, and neither should you; it's wrong, and it simply isn't worth the risk.

My trusty, dusty old Palladium boots served me well through the journey, protecting my ankles from the numerous low-growing cacti that guard the hills. I will confess, however, that those boots are on the heavy side, and the long trudge through deep, sandy gravel up the creekbed (we call them arroyos around here) into the BLM land that was my destination left me rather in need of an extended period of rest, during which time I found that previously mentioned honeycrisp apple to be a welcome, if rather insubstantial, refreshment. Reasonably revived, I commenced to work my way east towards the front (south) side of Grand Central Mountain, encountering along the way a great number of lovely cholla cactus skeletons, one of which I might like to have collected had I not been required to haul it back out via that long, burdensome arroyo:

I was not long in happening upon some old mine sites. A few had been capped and marked by the New Mexico Abandoned Mine Land Bureau:

And not too far from those, this:

A very uncapped, unmarked vertical mine shaft. I suppose this is what I hoped I might see out here, and yet, faced suddenly with that gaping, black, seemingly endless pit, I began to question the wisdom of my bounding alone out into this remote and slightly scary tract of land. That shaft was no joke; if I had attempted to peer in and lost my footing in that loose dirt I would certainly have gone down far, fast and hard, irreversibly concluding, I do believe, my time on this earth. Notably rattled, I paused long enough to snap a few photographs and then continued on my way.

Continuing along the sunny south-facing side of Grand Central Mountain, a bright-white object concealed in the dry grass caught my eye:

Do you see it there? My mood, rather darkened by my encounter with the gloomy pit, brightened considerably as I approached the white object, which revealed itself to be a lovely shed mule deer antler!

I have never before found a shed antler, and determined that this one was well worth hauling along with me for the duration of my ramble! My prize safely crammed into my backpack, I rounded the eastern slope of the mountain, and beheld in the distance a landmark I dearly hoped I might catch a glimpse of: the famed Mount Chalchihuitl.

The NM Office of the State Historian describes mount Chalchihuitl thusly:

...the largest known prehistoric turquoise mine in North America, with turquoise artifacts found from the site dating from around 1000 AD. Native miners excavated thousands of tons of waste rock at Mt. Chalchihuitl before Spanish invasion in the 16th century. Archeologists have recovered cultural materials at the site that confirm that this prehistoric mining occurred, including grooved stone axes, mauls, picks, hand-held hammers, anvils, and lapidary stones, mostly made of igneous rock. Pieces of pottery found at the side indicate that the greatest periods of activity at the mine were 1000-1150 and 1300-1600 AD. The name “Chalchihuitl” is a Nahua word derived from the word “xui,” meaning blue. Nahuatl is a group of related languages that was spoken by the Aztecs, and has been spoken in central Mexico since the 7th century AD. The word “chalchihuitl” is used to refer to other green stones such as emeralds and jade, and has a connotation of preciousness. Southwestern peoples have valued opaque, blue-green turquoise stones for trade, ornamentation, and ceremonial use for thousands of years. These stones appear in Navajo, Zuni, and Hopi creation myths.

This short video provides a little more information about the history of the mine at Mount Chalchihuitl:

Mount Chalchihuitl itself and much of the land surrounding it is currently privately owned. I didn't dare go near it; I was perfectly content to have such a nice vantage point from my perch on the side of old Grand Central! Barely a stone's throw from that vantage point, I stumbled upon a disturbed area of the mountainside that, upon closer inspection, revealed a tunnel leading directly into the mountain.

I remembered reading about a tunnel that had been dug deep into Grand Central Mountain in the late 1880's, and wondered if this could be it.

There was a gate preventing entry, and for good reason; check out that warning sign:

That's serious stuff, and not to be ignored! The view from between the bars:

Now the fact is I had gotten a rather late start on my day, and I had stopped to investigate enough little things here and there that by the time I rounded the north side of the mountain, it was already getting a tad late for my taste, especially considering we had just turned back our clocks an hour for the winter making the afternoon that much shorter. Its too bad, because old maps I had been studying had revealed a few disturbed areas of land on the far side of the mountain that had been minor sites of turquoise exploration before the turn of the century that I was hoping to get a look at. It didn't take long to find them; the land is easily traversed, and landmarks I had read about or seen on maps were easy to spot in person. Scrambling up from a gully I looked out towards where those sites should be and caught my first glimpse of actual...

TURQUOISE!!!!!! Not quite the turquoise the area is known for, but a fun and very unexpected find nevertheless! There were a few old mine sites in that vicinity, different from the previous ones I had seen in that these were sort of wide pits that had become overgrown with vegetation:

Closer inspection revealed that within the pit, some lucky miner must have followed a vein rather deeply into the rock:

Rather deeply indeed!

Climbing back out... could it be???

TURQUOISE???? The color sure was pretty, but it appeared to just be a hair-thin crust of color on the very surface of the rock; if it was turquoise it surely wasn't worth chipping off of the rock, and I didn't have any tools, anyhow. Good thing I was able to collect that nicely colored specimen on my camera!

Evidence of a 1960's "pit party" reminded me that I was awfully thirsty, and my water supply was getting low; it was time to leave the backcountry.

I had seen more interesting things than I had expected to see, found an antler, didn't get bit by a rattlesnake, fall down a mineshaft, or get chased off at gunpoint by a fiercely protective miner, so I considered my Cerrillos Hills backcountry ramble a real success. I can't say I plan on returning; I feel pretty fortunate to have emerged from that little adventure with my life, so I'm glad to have captured some of it on film, and I'm pleased as punch to be here to share it with you! Thanks for joining me, and don't forget... this is a trilogy! In Part 3, I'll introduce you to someone who has been finding stuff in these hills for years, and makes some truly extraordinary creations... a real FinderMaker!

Mining New Mexico: A Turquoise Trilogy in Old Cerrillos, Part One!

2010-11-11T14:56:00.026-05:00

Friends, I hope you can forgive my extended absence from the old FinderMaker forum; my existence has been rather untethered of late, and crafting doesn't come easily when one's materials and tools are boxed up and buried in a storage unit. It dawned on me recently that, although I may not be able to work on my own projects as readily as I had become accustomed to doing, it may be gratifying in the meantime to focus some attention on folks who truly embody the FinderMaker spirit of "finding things and making them into other, better things!"

And so I find myself now, for an indeterminate amount of time, in old Santa Fe, New Mexico. The nights are chilly, and smoke from burning piñon logs that warm the cozy adobe casitas drifts from chimneys and perfumes the air. In the picturesque downtown Plaza, visitors from around the globe embrace the attitude of the Old West and amble about in cowboy hats and boots; they'll make a point of strolling along a deep stretch of covered sidewalk in front of the Palace of the Governors, where Native peoples from the surrounding pueblos spread out their handicrafts on colorful blankets. You'll be hard pressed to board the plane back home without a beautiful souvenir of your stay in the "city different": perhaps a delicate pot from Acoma, or a bold Navajo bracelet accented with turquoise nuggets? It is this latter material that has captivated my attention of late; indeed, I fear I have come down with an acute case of turquoise fever!

Now, I've always heeded the old adage "Feed a cold, starve a fever," but this is one fever that may be fed with gusto, whether in the shops of Santa Fe, or a bit further afield, in the hills of nearby Cerrillos. Hoping a vigorous desert ramble might cool my fever, I headed for the hills. Driving south out of Santa Fe, I exited I-25 and merged onto NM 14, the Turquoise Trail National Scenic Byway, which passes through a number of small, historic mining towns and scenic areas as it winds south towards Albuquerque. Be sure to keep an eye out on your right for a cluster of low but unmistakeable hills; within these hills are numerous abandoned mines, a few active ones, and Mount Chalchihuitl, the site of the most extensively worked prehistoric turquoise mine in North America!

Not far past those hills is an exit for the town of Cerrillos; hold on to your hats when you make that turn because pardner, you are about to enter the true Old West! The town itself consists of but a few dusty roads and a main street with a row of storefronts that look as though they could be the set for a Western movie; in fact, several have been filmed there. Friendly locals and old timers share a drink and swap yarns outside of Mary's Bar, prominent signs will point the way to the Casa Grande Trading Post (more about that later!), and the local dogs will trot along beside your automobile as you make your way towards the Cerrillos Hills State Park. The beginning of the park is marked by an information and pay station, where a mere five dollars secures your access to the area. Here I could go to great lengths to explain the history of mining in the area, how the park was created, and so forth, but there is an excellent website dedicated to addressing these and many other related topics, and so I will direct you to the Cerrillos Hills State Park site, where the embers of your interest in the subjects of mining and turquoise may be stoked to a veritable conflagration!

Rocky but well-defined trails wind through the hills and reveal evidence of the late 1800s mining rush: gouges and vertical shafts in the earth piled all around with the excavated waste rock.

Many of the shafts are deep enough to have warranted safety precautions: attractive observation decks allow visitors to get a bird's eye view, while sturdy steel mesh covers the opening, preventing anyone from accidentally (or otherwise) going overboard!

Historical information is posted at each of the significant mine sites:

See a whole bunch of historic photos of early mining operations in the hills here.

When is a stump more than just a stump?

When it reveals a story about the area's past! When miners flocked to the Cerrillos hills mining district in the late 1800s to find their fortunes, they needed firewood and timber to brace mine shafts; the juniper and piñon trees that dot the hillsides filled that need, and today you can still see many of the stumps of those trees with axe cuts and saw marks where wood was harvested over a hundred years ago! The park has several unobtrusive signs pointing out those interesting things that the casual hiker might otherwise miss.

Rambling my way towards the back of the park, I crested a hill and beheld one mammoth of a hill off in the distance:

That is what the miners called "Grand Central Mountain" on account of its stature and location in the mining district. Although the Cerrillos Hills State Park encompasses a large tract of the original district, Grand Central Mountain itself, which lies just outside of the park's northern boundry, was the site of several mining operations; out beyond Grand Central Mountain are more hills, and even more old mine sites!

By the end of my day exploring the park, I'm afraid my turquoise fever had advanced considerably. I spent the evening poring over the park's website, eager to find out as much as possible about the area's history and the locations of the mines. Many of the mine claims within the park were struck in pursuit of silver, gold, lead, copper, iron, and coal; little gold was actually discovered, but mine operators often exaggerated its existence to investors back East in order to secure funding to expand operations. Many of the historic turquoise sites are actually located in the hills out beyond the park boundaries. Curious to find out the ownership status of the land beyond the park, I pulled up a detailed Bureau of Land Management (BLM) map, and was surprised by what I found:

While a good portion of area around the old turquoise mines is privately owned, the areas overlaid in transparent yellow (above) are actually public (BLM) land, and that includes much of good old Grand Central Mountain! Now I'd be lying if I said that part of my intended cure for Turquoise fever didn't include finding a few bits of that lovely stone out in the field, but significant effort went into preserving the land and remaining sites within the Cerrillos Hills State Park; removing anything from the park undermines those preservation efforts, so "rockhounding" anywhere within the park must be strictly avoided. Likewise with straying off the trails... it damages the ecosystem and can alter the appearance of the area. I stayed up half the night plotting how I might access the BLM land without going through the park or overtly trespassing on private property, and determined that I might do so by following a dry creekbed that runs well outside of the park boundaries and ends up within the BLM land surrounding Grand Central Mountain. I decided that my goal for the following day would be to hike entirely around the mountain, avoiding the few privately owned sectors, while hopefully encountering some interesting scenery (and maybe a few bits of that mythical blue stone!) along the way. My path is highlighted with red dots in the map above.

Did I make it into the backcountry? Did I fall into a mineshaft? Did I even find a mineshaft??? I hope you will stick around for part two of the Turquoise Trilogy!

Inspired by Sigmar Polke: Uranium Glass Collection

2010-07-27T15:06:00.004-04:00

Sorting and packing continues here at FinderMaker manor, and I've just unearthed some more items that were inspired by a recently deceased and very influential artist.

Many years ago I was flipping through a coffee table book featuring interior photographs of several famous artist's homes, and something I saw in a photograph of German artist Sigmar Polke's home caught my attention. It was a tray loaded with oddly-colored glass objects that a caption identified as belonging to Polke's collection of "canary glass".

I did some research on canary glass, and found that it is a term sometimes used to describe glassware that has been pigmented with depleted uranium oxide; other commonly used terms include "uranium glass" and "vaseline glass". The uranium pigment, though mostly depleted of it's radioactivity, remains somewhat radioactive, and reacts with ultraviolet light in such a way that it has a barely perceptible luminous quality in normal light, and positively glows a bright yellow-green under a strong u.v. or "black" light.

Sigmar Polke was something of a modern day alchemist, incorporating unusual materials (fruit and vegetable juices, silver oxide and other reactive chemicals, crushed meteorites...), into his paintings, and even did a photographic series in which sensitized plates were exposed to the emissions of radioactive minerals. I became quite fascinated by that collection of strange radioactive glass, and soon began to notice pieces at estate sales and antique stores. If a piece was cheap enough, I bought it, and eventually amassed a decent collection of the stuff. Sadly, my collection suffered a great blow when, in preparation for our move from Oakland to Los Angeles, part of my uranium glass display case came loose and allowed about a third of my collection to spill out onto the floor and shatter.

Here are some pieces from the collection that have been wrapped up and stored away for several years. I will wrap them back up now, and perhaps they will be stored away for several more.

Sigmar Polke passed away on June 10th at the age of 69. Thank you for sparking my interest in that glowing green glass, Mr. Polke.

If anyone happens to know anything about that book, i'd love to know the title and author so I can look it up-- I haven't been able to locate it.

Inspired by Louise Bourgeois

2010-07-26T12:35:00.007-04:00

Getting ready to move is really stressful; I've done it alot over the past several years and I can't say it gets any easier over time. Occasionally I'm pleasantly surprised while I'm sorting through stuff and packing; finding this stack of screenprints I did in 2002 was one of those pleasant surprises.

I really like Louise Bourgeois' artwork, and find her large-scale installations (the "Cells") to be especially compelling. Her passing on May 31st at the age of 98 was a great loss to the art world, but my what a wonderful and inspiring body of work she created during her lifetime! 12 years ago or thereabouts I came across an image of this watercolor she had done depicting various clippers she found around her home and studio:

I was immediately inspired to try my own version using images of surgical instruments taken from a turn-of-the-century surgical supply catalog. I did several hand-drawn and colored versions before I had access to screenprinting equipment; I was excited to finally do a run of screenprints based on one of my favorite layouts during a screenprinting course at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. These are 3-color prints: 2 shades of red, and black, printed on a cream colored acid-free paper.

I always just called them my "Tribute to Louise Bourgeois" --not a very original title, and certainly not a worthy tribute to such a grand artist, but these images occupied my mind and time considerably for a period, and I'm glad to have been given the opportunity to revisit and share them. Thank you, Louise Bourgeois!!!

Medicine Bags!

2010-07-19T13:34:00.004-04:00

I recently acquired two super soft, buttery buckskin hides and have been having a grand time sewing medicine bags! I do sew them on a machine, but since every piece of each bag is cut by hand from the hide, they end up taking a good bit of time to make from start to finish. I have 15 so far; these are meant to be worn around the neck, and I have been assembling a nice cache of beads, metal cones, horsehair and the like to add to each bag along with a strip of intricate beadwork that will be stitched directly onto the face of each bag!

Eventually these will go into my FinderMaker shop, along with mushroom shelves and all sorts of other curious objects and handmade treasures! I believe I will have to put this project on hold very soon though, as I am preparing for a big move at the end of August. We are trying to decide between New York City (we lived there before, in Manhattan, but would be in Brooklyn this time around) or Santa Fe (a new adventure, though I did spend some of my childhood in Albuquerque). The seemingly unavoidable threat of bedbugs is making the NY area seem like a rather frightening option, but Santa Fe is quite distant, and I am tiring of stressful cross-country moves. Those concerns aside, both places have much to offer, and I am looking forward to the changes that are in store! I would certainly welcome any opinions or insight on either option from my dear beloved readers!

June Projects: Charles W. Morgan, Eleggua, Peyote Rattle and More!!!

2010-06-20T10:51:00.016-04:00

Although I have been working at the museums quite regularly of late, I am still finding time to work on some little projects here and there. Lest my patient readers begin to fear I've dropped off the face of the earth, I'll take a moment to share...

1. An old model of the whaler Charles W. Morgan that I had been meaning to assemble for at least the last year. I finally started on it, and am about 3/4 of the way through. I'll confess that I never had the patience for model building growing up, and still find the process supremely tedious. I made one other model of the US Navy hospital ship Haven a few years ago to display in my hospitalmuseum; I think the Charles Morgan may be my final foray into model building! This model won't be painted... I have another idea in mind that I will share as the project nears completion! Before getting started on the model, I drove down to Mystic Seaport, where the actual Charles Morgan is hauled out of the water for a major restoration, to get some inspiration:

The brick "tryworks" on deck, where blubber was boiled and rendered into oil.

The area below deck at the front of the ship called the "forecastle" where the majority of the crew members slept. Most of the props and bedding in the forecastle and throughout the rest of the ship have been stripped out for the duration of the restoration.

2. I have had a handful of bone choker tube beads laying around for a while; I combined them with some India glass trade beads and made a nice, simple Plains Indian-style choker. This may end up in the FinderMaker online shop when I start stocking it up, as I'm not generally one to leave the house done up in Native American-style regalia (if you were to infer that I am apt to parade around inside the house in Native American regalia, though, you might just be on to something!)

3. This is a replica of a wonderful coconut and cowrie shell Eleggua effigy I saw online . It was for sale, but was way out of my price range, and anyway it looked like a fun project to replicate at home! I'm not done with it yet; just need to find some colorful little feathers and a few other magical sundries to adorn it with!

4. I made one of these peyote ceremony rattles about a year ago, and, after running across an extra gourd I had purchased at a farmer's market last year, decided it was time to assemble another. I think this one has turned out beautifully so far; the feather and horsehair tip on this one is extra fancy! The next step will be to add the peyote-stitch beadwork over the white leather portions; I think the beadwork on this one will have several shades of green in it. I can't wait to share photos when it is done!

5. You are probably getting awfully tired of seeing this thing! I took the strip of lazy-stitch beadwork off of the front once again and re-did it in the pattern you see presently. I also replaced the earlier cobalt beads on the red sheepskin portion with old turquoise-colored glass trade beads, and affixed the abalone and tin-cone hair drops around the sides and back (I will do a complete post with photos of all of this when it is completed!) I chose some of the finest wild turkey feathers from the batch I found at Mount Hope Farm, and have wrapped and stitched red sheepskin around the base of each in preparation for affixing them to the top of the cap. I'm finally happy with the way that front beadwork strip looks, and will definitely be keeping it!

6. In fact, I liked the beadwork pattern I came up with for the cap above so much that I just kept going with it on my little bead loom... I guess I have a hatband now!

7. One of my earliest FinderMaker posts showed me crafting a replica of an old whaling harpoon. I had made examples of two of the predominant styles of hand-darted harpoons: the double-flue and toggle irons, and figured I should add the third common style, the single-flue iron, to complete the set. The baked fimo head has been epoxied onto the shaft, and the seam sanded smooth; now the shaft and head will be painted to resemble old metal, then affixed to the cedar pole that is all shaped, sanded and ready to receive it. This is a fun project to work on using readily available materials; if your collection of nautical artifacts could benefit from the addition of a real showpiece, I encourage you to go back and follow my how-to!

Thank you so much for sticking around... I regret that I've allowed so much time to lapse since my last post! I'll be sure to do updates as I complete these (and other!) projects. Thanks for joining me!!!

FinderMaker Trading Post

2010-05-21T19:03:00.023-04:00

A warm welcome to you, friend! Please, tie your horse up right out front... there's plenty of good water in the trough there. Its nice and cool inside, so stay awhile and have a look at some finely crafted dry goods I'm quite sure you can't live without. Never mind these old mesquite floor boards... they squeek like a kangaroo rat hurling insults at a rattlesnake, but nobody's fallen through yet! Here are a few items I'm particularly fond of...

1) Travels in the Interiors of North America 1832-1834 Familiarize yourself with the appearance and customs of the folks who occupied this territory long before you or I rolled into town! $44.39

In 1832, looking to gather images and information about Native Americans and their customs, Maximillian Prince of Wied travelled with Swiss painter Karl Bodmer across North America; Wied's travel experiences were published in 1840, his text printed in two volumes, and 81 of Bodmers illustrations were published as a portfolio. Reprinted from a splendid hand - coloured copy of the publication still owned by the Wied family, 'Travels in the Interior of North America' is the first book to reproduce a complete original colour version. Focussing on many details in each plate, in depth text serves as a key to the customs, clothes and tools of the Native Americans.

2) Derringer in a Book. In these parts, a lone stagecoach traveling though some lonely canyon often presents an irresistible temptation to armed bandits; don't be caught off-guard! Tuck this treacherous tome into your gladstone before you set out and be prepared for the devils! $159.99

In the mid-1800's the Derringer was the gun of choice for anyone wanting an easily concealed, yet deadly firearm for personal protection. Our version, from renowned gun maker Davide Pedersoli, is a fully functional and faithful reproduction of a classic Belgian percussion pistol with removable .44-caliber, rifled barrel and folding trigger. Concealed in its own padded book, aptly titled 'Law for Self Defense,' this gun could have easily belonged to any scholarly 19th century person looking for peace-of-mind while at home or travelling.

3) Pendleton Woolen Mills San Miguel Blanket Sure, it's powerful hot under the noonday sun, but the mercury does dip considerably in the twilight hours; cozy up the cabin with this classic Southwest-style Pendleton blanket! Made in the USA. $198.00-$318.00

A pattern inspired by mid- to late-19th century Native American weaving traditions and the influence of Spanish missionaries in the Southwest. The design's roots are in the traditional banded Chief Stripe pattern which evolved into a "nine-element" layout. The reversible jacquard has two dramatically different looks.

4) Glass Crow beads in aqua. Just because they're the only thing in this Trading Post I can afford to own doesn't make them any less pretty! Made in India, with subtle variations in color and shape that make these beads look like they've been around a good long while... string 'em up and wear as a necklace, or work them into your craft projects; you'll be glad you did! $3.96 per 100.

5) Dark red traditional 4 button Navajo-style moccasins. Slip into a pair of these sturdy leather mocs, and you'll be kitted out in true Pueblo fashion! You'll traverse many a high mesa before those thick leather soles show any signs of wear at all! Hand-made in the USA. $170.66

The stock is always changing here at the Trading Post; if you don't like what you see this time around, well I reckon we'll have something new for you next time you're in town! Thank You kindly for stopping by, and don't forget to help yourself to a few pieces of penny candy on your way out!

Brimfield 2010 Follow-Up

2010-05-18T09:07:00.031-04:00

After taking in all of the non-stop, slow moving crowd-filled, junk-packed, over-priced excitement that is the Brimfield Antiques Market on Sunday, (read my report on the day here!) I felt like I needed to go someplace free of crowds where I could just take in some fresh air and nature, and perhaps do a little casual beachcombing. One of my favorite places to take just such a ramble is on the grounds of Bristol, Rhode Island's Mount Hope Farm, which their website describes thusly:

Mount Hope Farm, overlooking Mount Hope and Narragansett Bays in Bristol, Rhode Island is the quintessential saltwater farm consisting of over 200 acres of fields, woods, streams, and ponds with expansive water views. The landscape abounds with wildlife, handcrafted stone walls, terraces, flowers, mature shrubs and indigenous trees. Walk the grounds that our forefathers walked before and after our nation declared its independence.

A perfect description, and just the thing I needed to clear my head and sooth my nerves! Except.... It seems Brimfield had worked its way into my brain. WAY into my brain! Was I out among flowers and wildlife, slowly making my way along handcrafted stone walls towards Narragansett Bay or was I back in Brimfield????????

The parking lot looked so invitingly open, and free!

Within moments of walking out of the parking lot, I found something I desperately needed, right out in the middle of a big field...

Turkey feathers! Dozens of them! And the price was quite reasonable!

With my feathers locked safely back in the car, my pulse quickened as I approached the gate. Immense crowds were gathered, waiting anxiously to storm the market and beat each other to the bargains!!!

Once inside, I overheard these old dealers bragging about how much money they had made selling reproduction Art-Deco feathers to "antiques-obsessed sickos" earlier in the week. Shameful!

When I asked if I could photograph one of the few remaining feathers, they barreled towards me and shouted "NO PICTURES!" Point taken. I was reminded of the Design*Sponge flea market tip: "Don't buy from mean people." Indeed!

I continued on, shaken by the bad attitude of those haughty dealers, but felt better as I approached the main selling area:

The day was hot, and the concessions stands were already busy... nectar-lime rickeys and kettle-popped pollen seemed to be the official refreshments of "Beachfield"!

Some of the earlier tables I saw had fairly pedestrian assortments: feathers, Quahog shells, taxidermy trophy mount (isn't anyone getting tired of that trend?)

But there was plenty more to take in! I was glad to see that this dealer of glassware and early American pottery was in attendance this year, and with a beautifully merchandised table, I might add!

The inventory at this booth was geared towards the fellas: sports memorbilia, architectural salvage, and another trophy mount...

And then, speaking of taxidermy and trophy mounts, I came upon this dealer who had clearly cornered the market:

I had to laugh when I saw that taxidermy horseshoe crab rear-end! A little lowbrow, but funny nevertheless! That will probably end up hanging over someone's bar, but the rest of it? Too much! Judging by the quantities still available, not too many people were buying that stuff this year:

Some dealers had the audacity to show up to Beachfield with contemporary items... ugh. Fortunately I didn't see too much of this junk.

Some common trends throughout the show included nautical items (old rope and lobster buoy pieces):

And industrial design/architectural salvage:

And the usual Beachfield humor/kitsch:

The visual merchandising teams from Ralph Lauren and Anthropologie were fighting over who would get this primitive painted sign; turquoise is the "it" color for 2010!

Meanwhile, the J. Crew visual team tagged this primitive wooden piece (look for it in a window display later in the year!):

Gothic Revival furnishings just weren't selling:

But shabby chic is still quite popular; this booth was mostly sold out:

I saw alot of people buying these spongey corals-- the neutral coloring goes well with the shabby chic/Scandinavian farmhouse/French country trends, and adds a nice touch of natural history/cabinet of curiosity flair:

One final taxidermy piece, not very well preserved at all, by the looks of it. Isn't it illegal to sell a stuffed Seal in the U.S.? One can never predict what strange things will turn up at Beachfield!

O.K. that was pretty disturbing. And scary. I thought it was a big dog taking a nap at first glance (yes, dogs scare me). Then I realized it was a big dog taking a permanent nap. Then I noticed that this dog had flippers and remembered that dogs don't have flippers. Yikes! It shook me right out of my sun and sea soaked reverie and sent me hoofing it back to the parking lot, pronto. But I scored some great items! Check out my haul from Beachfield 2010!:

Feathers (they look a little ratty but after a gentle washing they will look great), some of those spongey coral tufts, glass, Quahog shells. Ok, I'm a hypocrite, but that Horseshoe Crab was too good a deal to pass up... a steal, really. Thanks for joining me on this 2010 tour of "Beachfield"!!! I hope to see ya there next time!!!

Dispatch from Brimfield: A Report on the Final Hours of the May 2010 Antiques Market!

2010-05-16T17:38:00.024-04:00

Browsing tables of African artifacts, beads and textiles at Brimfield

Halloooo FinderMakers!!!

If you enjoy antiquing and scouring flea markets for dusty treasures, chances are you've heard the name "Brimfield" tossed around before. I first heard the name a dozen or so years ago while working at an antiques store in Houston; the store's owners (retired pharmacists turned antiquing power couple!) routinely regaled me with tales of an enchanted New England town that transformed, as if by magic, from sleepy hamlet to bustling antiques metropolis during three precious weeks out of every year. For one of those weeks each year, the couple secured passage by air from Houston to Boston, then rented a small moving truck once they arrived. Each day saw the pair up before sunrise, flashlights and rolls of cash in hand, frantically hustling through acres and acres of dealer tents, elbowing past crowds of fellow enthusiasts to hone in on the pieces they knew their customers back in Houston would pay top dollar for. At the end of the week, they drove the truck, packed to the roof with the week's accumulation of period furnishings and bric-a-brac, back home, where I waited eagerly to help unload and begin the exciting task of sorting, cleaning (but not too clean!) and pricing the deluge of treasures.

Anne and I have lived about an hour and a half away from Brimfield for nearly two years now and each May, July, and September (the months during which the shows operate) we have said "Hey! Let's go to Brimfield!" and then the very mention of that name gives me a little shudder as I recall those old tales of dark, dew-soaked mornings, the tension hanging over the fields as hordes of professional antiques sharks race to claim the choicest morsels from the biggest stash of antiques the east coast, and possibly all of America, has to offer. I don't have the steel nerves and iron will that Brimfield demands, I decide, and the conversation invariably fizzles with a fickle "How 'bout let's go to Brimfield next time?" This time, however, a powerful curiosity did gnaw at me, and though we weren't able to go during the week (the shows run Tuesday - Sunday) our Sunday was wide open, so at 6:00 this morning we set out on our Brimfield adventure.

The antiques shows at Brimfield consist of some 20-odd fields on either side of a mile-long stretch of Route 20. Each field has a different name, and the "opening" of the fields is staggered throughout the week; much of the action takes place earlier in the week, and the real excitement (read: anxiety) occurs just as a field is opened and the crowds rush in to buy buy BUY. Knowing this, my biggest concern about going on a Sunday was whether there would even be anything left to buy, though that concern was tempered somewhat by the broadly held opinion among Brimfield veterans that whatever is left on a Sunday may be had at tremendous discounts since dealers are loathe to haul away unsold merchandise.

We pulled into town around 7:15, and I puzzled at the lack of traffic, the absence of crowds, the bounty of free parking:

(Route 20 at 7:15: One person and a lone truck)

This was certainly not the Brimfield of my imagination. Baffled, we parked and wandered into a field where a few dealers nursed steaming cups of coffee and exchanged battle stories from earlier in the week. Sunday, it turns out, is not the day to show up early; the dealers know that the families, casual antiquers, Harley enthusiasts and "lookie-loos" that comprise the Sunday crowd are not early-risers, and so they adjust their own schedules accordingly. We were thus afforded an opportunity to wander about and get the lay of the land before things really opened; we also worked up a mild air of melancholy and regret about not being able to get in on the action earlier in the week. This passed rather quickly, however, as the tents started opening up and wares (yes! there were still wares!) were set out for the steadily growing groups of browsers to ogle.

(Route 20 around 9:15: Starting to see more folks)

While those Victorian-era stuffed songbird displays set a promising tone early on in our adventure (no, we couldn't afford them, but still... Oh, and we got sternly admonished for taking this photo!), it was pretty apparent that the merchandise throughout the market was the "leftovers." It was also clear that a great number of dealers had already packed up and left:

I started noticing all sorts of little bits and pieces left on the ground in those empty spots, and wondered if there were people who paced back and forth across the fields in the days after the show, perhaps even with metal detectors, looking for little things of value that may have been left behind:

I picked up this little grouping in about 30 seconds-- plastic soldiers, watch parts, keys-- then left them for someone else to find. What else will be left behind?

If one was in the market for wooden lobster traps, lobster buoys, ship's wheels, and other nautical-themed items, one would certainly not have been disappointed. Portly gentlemen sporting wildly overgrown handlebar mustaches seemed to enjoy the abundant dealers trafficking in "mantiques," that curious melange of old tools, old toys, and military items, with the odd Native American artifact thrown in for good measure. Their wives sauntered off towards the equally abundant and meticulously arranged "shabby chic" tents featuring an array of wood furnishings freshly painted white, mint green, or pink, upon which might be arranged tidy stacks of vintage linens and aprons or baskets of antique ribbons and buttons. The collector of postcards would not be disappointed, and Fiesta Ware and Fire King Jadeite were, as might be expected, readily available. Savvy New Yorkers may have been enamored of the dealer specializing in rustic Swedish farm antiques, a more rarified and minimalist genre of shabby chic featuring well-worn wooden farm tables, steamer trunks and banks of wooden apothecary drawers in varying shades of white and dove, mostly featuring "sold" stickers (that latter piece was purchased by an antique dealer from Brooklyn).

If there had been serious dealers of mid-century modern furnishings, they must have sold out and gone home early on. There were still mounted antler sets to be had, if one is still embracing that trend (one pair is enough for me) and those old (or newly screenprinted, and scrubbed to appear old) linen grain sacks that everyone is turning into pillows and re-upholstering their wing-back chairs with could still be found. I'm a sucker for those fellows who unload shipping crates full of menacing (or sometimes just goofy) looking African statues and masks ... they always have an adjacent table piled with strings of old African trade beads that I just go nuts over. I didn't buy any, but I sure do like to pick through all those dirty old beads!

In regards to those mythical last-day price-slashed bargains, well, we didn't actually see many items that begged further inquiry. Anne found a violin that she liked, but the dealer's price reduction from $275 down to $225 wasn't enough to entice. As things wound down and dealers were packing up, there were plenty of tables heavy with merchandise priced at just $1.00, but these were the type of things you wouldn't bother looking twice at in a thrift store, and you really had to wonder why anyone would bother hauling that kind of junk to Brimfield.

My big purchase? I bought a book, $5.00 (was marked $12.00), and I think it might be about me, but I'll have to read it and get back to you on that...

Not a bad way to spend a Sunday morning, though I certainly can't claim to have had the full Brimfield experience. The next show happens July 13th - 18th; if I go again, it will definitely be early in the week, and very early in the morning. The gals over at Design*Sponge went earlier this week, and have some great posts and pictures on the experience here, here, and here. The housemartin blog also has some great Brimfield posts and eye candy-- click through her links to see posts on shows past as well!

I may not have the tenacity and single-minded determination of the hardened career antiquer, but neither I am I content to shop from the leftovers; now that I'm more familiar with the way things work, I'm looking forward to getting in early and seeing first hand what all the buzz is about! Maybe I'll see you there?

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Mashantucket Pequot Museum Visit and the Hunt for Purple Wampum!

2010-04-11T13:00:00.012-04:00

On Easter sunday, Anne and I took a vigorous ramble along the rocky coastline of Beavertail State Park in picturesque Jamestown, RI, hoping to find some interesting ocean curiosities washed up by the recent storms (below):

I was excited to find a lobster buoy and a "mermaids purse" (an empty skate egg sac), though there wasn't much else to speak of. Driving back to Providence, we pulled over to examine Mackerel Cove beach and Sheffield Cove, where we became enamored of the rich, purple-hued pieces of quahog clam shell that dotted the shoreline at low tide. We eagerly picked up as many specimens as we could hold before hunger and fatigue forced us back along our journey home.

I didn't have any particular project in mind for those lovely purple quahog shells, though I was aware that some of the coastal Native American tribes fashioned the shells into tubular purple beads that became valued as a form of currency often referred to as "wampum". Well, as luck would have it, I was treated to all sorts of great information on wampum, and every other aspect of the lives and culture of the local Mashantucket Pequot Indians at the amazing Mashantucket Pequot Museum yesterday!

I had heard great things about the museum, and was excited to finally make the one hour drive down to the Pequot reservation in Connecticut to visit; boy, were we surprised and delighted with what we found! Opened in 1998, the museum is huge, with beautifully designed exhibits, dioramas, films, interactive elements and immersive environments that cover seemingly every aspect of life as a Pequot from the ice age to modern times. By the time we had taken in the ice-age caribou hunt, the life-sized mastadon, woodland foraging displays and a peek at life under the Mashantucket rock shelter, we were starting to feel some serious museum fatigue. A stroll through the gift shop and subsequent cookie break rejuvenated us nicely, though, and it's a good thing, because the most astonishing experience was still to come!

(image courtesy of the Mashantucket Pequot Museum)

The Pequot Village is a stunning, immersive environment that recreates, down to the minutest detail, life in a Pequot village. A hand-held audio phone allows the participant to punch in numbers to access spoken descriptions of some 35 different scenes or activities while wandering through the village. I always love those miniature dioramas of life in Native American villages you see at some museums; this is kind of like one of those, except it is all life-sized and totally realistic: there is steam billowing out of the top of the sweat lodge, you can walk right inside and explore the sachem's (chief's) wigwam, or peer into the medicine man's wigwam, where a healing ceremony is taking place! Oh, and I know what to do with my purple quahog shells now... make wampum!

(image courtesy of the Mashantucket Pequot Museum)

In one part of the village, a family sat around a fire enjoying a meal of succotash and mussels, while dad cut up quahog shells to make purple wampum beads!!!

above: strings of wampum beads from the collection of Harvard's Peabody Museum of Anthropology.

There was only an hour and a half left until closing time; we could easily have spent twice that exploring the village! Beyond the village are films depicting various aspects of the Pequot experience, and exhibits detailing the changes that Pequots faced after the arrival of the europeans. Although we made one last stop at the gift shop to pick up some well crafted beaded items, the best souvenir of all was the newly learned appreciation for the local Pequot history and culture that we took away from our visit to this fine museum!

I will do a follow-up post if I manage to produce some wampum beads from my quahog shells (I say "if" because it doesn't look easy to do)! I'm really glad to have learned more about quahog wampum... I hope you will click here to learn more about the role that wampum played in Pequot life! Below is an image of some wampum beads in a partially finished state, courtesy of the National Museum of the American Indian:

Time to go make some wampum! Thanks for joining me!

Piranha Attack! (The Natural History Museum Inspired This! Part Five)

2010-03-29T16:07:00.031-04:00

Welcome aboard, voyagers! Sit back and enjoy our lazy journey up the mighty Amazon river while our trusty old diesel engine does all the work, chug-chug-chugging our little river boat past picturesque ribereño settlements...

alongside other riverboats all loaded up for a journey from the deep forest to the colorful market in Iquitos...

This fellow certainly looks imposing, but that blowgun is no threat to us; he is just out hunting for a meal... wild jungle chicken, perhaps?

There are far greater threats in these parts: I implore you, friend, despite the heat, do not dangle those tender toes into the murky water lest you pull them out stripped to the bone by our hungry, razor-toothed scavenger, the fearsome PIRANHA!

Charley Harper's illustration of a cow being devoured by piranhas.

Some fifteen years ago, I found myself on just such a journey, chugging up the Amazon river from Iquitos into the heart of the Peruvian Amazon rainforest to learn about the plants that the indigenous people use as medicine. It was a picture perfect trip: I learned alot from the local shaman, saw all manner of fantastic jungle flora and fauna, paddled a dugout canoe up a tiny tributary to explore an overgrown medicinal plant garden, traded for some lovely indigenous crafts made by the Yagua Indians, witnessed the distillation of the local rum-like spirit (aguardiente) from sugarcane (then enjoyed some tasty aguardiente and sugarcane juice cocktails!), and even baited some tiny fishhooks with bits of raw chicken and caught several piranhas! We cleaned, cooked and ate those piranhas... they are awfully bony, and had a slightly "muddy" flavor, but they are still a popular source of sustenance for the local people. I also learned that the piranha's widespread reputation as an aggressive man (and livestock) eater has been greatly exaggerated, and even felt comfortable taking a leisurely morning swim in the same cove from which I had pulled the toothy little beasties the evening prior!

These dried, shellacked piranhas are popular tourist items in almost every populated area that abuts the Amazon, and while I didn't buy one on my trip, I did admire them, and thought that a school of them arranged in a case of some sort would make a rather fetching display.

Several years later, while taking a scientific illustration course that met within Chicago's Field Museum of Natural History, I made use of the museum's fabulous library of "Exhibit Case Dioramas" available on loan through the Harris Educational Loan Center. The cases are self contained dioramas, 24" high, 22" wide , and 7" deep, that depict actual preserved plants, fish, birds and mammals in natural settings. Upon seeing these, I immediately thought back to those preserved piranhas, and knew that I should craft my own piranha diorama!

Well, oftentimes these ideas take some time to incubate; I have been collecting materials and thinking about how my diorama should look over the past few years, and when I finally found a good source for those dried piranhas, I took the plunge and got to work on a small scale, one-fish version of my piranha diorama (larger version to follow soon)!

The wooden shadowbox I am constructing this in comes from Ikea, and is called "Bas" though in searching the online catalog, I could not locate them. I purchased several last time I was at Ikea, but find them so useful that I would be rather disappointed if it turns out they have been discontinued. In the photo above, I am painting the interior and back panel of the box a deep aquamarine "underwater" sort of color.

Next, I carefully pulled my piranha off of its base, drilled a new hole in its belly, and used epoxy to secure a length of brass rod through the hole and into the body of the fish. Once the epoxy had cured, I determined where within the box the piranha should be mounted, then drilled a hole the same diameter as the brass rod into the base of the box. After plugging the hole with a piece of scrap rod to keep it clear of glue and gravel, I carefully poured about 1/8" of thick white craft glue into the base of the box, and sprinkled a layer of gravel into the layer of glue. In the photos above and below you can see that I put a piece of blue tape across the lower back of the box so that the glue and gravel wouldn't spill out the back before drying. After the gravel had settled into the wet glue, I sprinkled sand over the top so that no shiny glue spots would be visible where it seeped up between the gravel bits.

Next I set out several plastic aquarium plants I had picked up at the pet store, and decided which ones would look best in the display. Of course these aren't accurate representations of actual Amazon river aquatic plants, but I'm not really concerned about that. Because the plants are too large for the box in their original state, I trimmed off appropriately sized tufts, then fused the bases together by holding them briefly over a candle flame (in a well ventilated area!) until the plastic softened just enough that the stems could be pressed permanently together. The plastic seems to soften at a fairly low temperature, rather like the material used to make some of the lower-temperature hot glue gun sticks.

Then I stood each little fused plant clump upright on a sheet of thin scrap paper in a little, nickel-sized puddle of epoxy, and sprinkled gravel into the puddle. When the epoxy hardened, I had plant clusters firmly embedded in little, natural looking mounds of gravel that I could then tear off of the paper and transfer onto the gravel base in the box. I secured each cluster in the box with more epoxy (again sprinkling in some extra gravel and sand so that no shiny glue spots show through).

I also prepared a few plant sprigs to attach to the back panel of the diorama (above) by carefully slicing off a plane of leaves so that the plant would lay flat against the panel. Then I determined the placement of the sprigs, and drilled a few tiny holes through the panel on each side of the stems through which I could pass a piece of thin wire up through the back, over the stem, and back through the other hole, tying securely behind the panel:

As purchased from a curio shop, these mounted piranhas all have a characteristic high-gloss shellac finish that I find somewhat distracting. I was able to take the shine away very nicely by spraying on a few coats of clear matte-finish enamel. The fish on the left, below, is untreated, while the one on the right has been sprayed with the matte coating:

One of the little grassy clusters in the gravel base of the box is strategically placed to hide the brass rod that will secure the piranha within the box. I went ahead and painted the rod to match the tuft of grass:

Then I finally mounted the piranha securely inside by adding some epoxy to the hole I had drilled earlier, then inserting the brass rod (again, sprinkling a little gravel and sand in to cover up any glue that was pushed out of the hole!) and leaving the whole thing undisturbed overnight while the epoxy cured completely.

I was so excited to start on the inside of the diorama that I hadn't given much thought to how the outside would look, but at this point I decided I wanted the outside to be painted white, so I used blue masking tape to cover the front glass, and sealed up the back, and sprayed a few layers of primer and flat white paint on.

Painted! While the paint was drying I started one of my favorite parts of the project: writing the informative text and designing an appropriately scientific-looking label! In the photo above I've printed out four versions and I'm deciding which one I like the best. They are sized to fit onto the side of the display box. After picking one, I inspected it one last time for typographical errors, then printed out a high resolution copy on photo paper. Inkjet prints don't hold up well, though, so I took the print to a photocopy shop and made a black and white photocopy of the label onto a nice, cream colored paper, then trimmed out the label and glued it to the side of the box:

Done! My, what a voyage this has been, and we've managed to return with our tender toes intact! I Thank You most sincerely for joining me on this Amazon adventure and look forward to our next journey together!

(That's me on the riverboat heading back to Iquitos after twelve days in the jungle. My hands and face are stained with the juice of the unripe Genipa fruit. The local Indians decorate themselves by applying the clear juice to their skin. Over the course of several hours a deep, blue-black tint develops. The juice stains the top few layers of skin, and stays vibrant until those layers of skin are naturally shed. I sure got some quizzical looks back home!)

Ceremonial Bachelorette Party Headdress!!!

2010-03-12T13:54:00.025-05:00

While I wasn't permitted to attend this talented friend's festive bachelorette party (girls only!), I jumped at the chance to craft the crown that would be placed on her head during her "abduction" and subsequent rituals and ceremonies performed throughout the evening to honor the bride-to-be!

I tend to be bad about documenting projects from start to finish; many of the details of making things seem so mundane to me that I can't bring myself to stop what I'm doing to photograph them, and before I know it I have a completed craft project and no photos of the creative process (which is pretty much what happened with this one)! I realize this is a problem, and I'm really going to work on this in the future!

For this project I decided pretty quickly that the crown was really going to be more of a headdress, and from there, I began to visualize the various elements that make up a headdress and how I could personalize those elements for the bride-to-be. In keeping with the original request for a crown, I started by cutting a foundation strap of silver leather to resemble a crown that terminated on either end in long, thin strips that would be used to tie the headdress on:

Once I had that foundation figured out, I decided on a dark turquoise leather strip (aqua/turquoise was a dominant color in the wedding) that would serve as the backdrop for a strip of beadwork I was envisioning that would feature the bride and groom's initials. I cut the scalloped upper edge of the strip (with some difficulty) using pinking shears. Although I've been doing quite a bit of lazy stitch beadwork lately, the turquoise leather wasn't well suited for that technique (the surface of the leather is very dense, not "pillowy" and easily pierced like the deerskin I had been beading directly onto previously), so I set up my little bead loom, and proceeded to bead a decorative strip (while listening to the entire new Joanna Newsom album for free on NPR!). This is the pattern I came up with beforehand that I worked from while I was beading:

Once finished, I tied off the ends of the beadwork strip, and whipstitched through the outermost warp thread on the top and bottom edge of the bead strip and into the turquoise leather. Now that the beadwork was attached to the turquoise strip, I wanted to attach that to the silver crown foundation; this I accomplished by punching pairs of evenly spaced holes through both layers of leather with an awl, then poking strips of imitation sinew up through through the holes from the back of the headdress. Each strip of sinew passes through both layers of leather and a vintage mirrored turquoise glass bead on the front of the headdress, then back down through the second hole where it is secured by a knot in back, so while the row of 15 glass beads across the lower edge of the headdress appears decorative (it is pretty!) it is also structural, serving to hold everything together! I wanted to resort to using glue as little as possible; on this particular project, I felt like the process of stitching different materials together was representative of the union of my two friends, so I stitched alot, and wished for their happiness with each stitch!

I had a grand time plundering my craft bins for materials to use on this project! On either side of the beadwork strip hang two tin-cone and horsehair (a reference to Horsefingers, the bride-to-be's brilliant short film trilogy) drops that pass through a decorative abalone disk... again, these items are all affixed with the imitation sinew... no glue (yet!). The turquoise bells were then stitched on.

Now it was time to affix the feathers, and that is where the glue came into play. First I glued the little arrangement of colored feathers onto the inner surface of the silver leather crown with flexible craft glue and let that dry. Then I glued the long strip of white feathers (they are sold on a ribbon strip by the yard at M&J Trimming in Manhattan) onto the interior surface of the silver leather crown and let that dry. Finally, I glued a strip of wide cotton twill tape over the entire interior portion of the headdress to cover up any knots or feather bits that might poke out and feel uncomfortable against the head.

This was a really fun and meaningful project for me that culminated in the attendance of a super-duper fun and meaningful wedding! Thank You, Congratulations, and Best Wishes to you Both, Kirsten and Bill!!!

And Thank You for joining me, Kind Reader!!! I hope you will join me again soon-ish for the fun and scary next installment in my "The Natural History Museum Inspired This!" series!

Following are a few images of headdresses in the collection of The National Museum of the American Indian that served as inspiration:

Shaman Cap Makeover... Update!

2010-02-19T17:49:00.009-05:00

Hello, Hello! Please pardon me and accept my apologies while I take a brief respite from the popular "The Natural History Museum Inspired This!" series and publish this post that will, in all likelihood, appeal to exactly 0% of my readers!

You might recall one of my less interesting earlier posts entitled "Shaman Cap Makeover" in which I deconstructed a somewhat sketchy artifact I had assembled many years ago in the hopes of bringing it up to my current, more stringent, craft standards. I committed to applying quite alot of "lazy stitch" style beadwork to the shaman cap, and ultimately had a devil of a time deciding on a bead pattern for the front stripe. I actually applied and removed 3 different designs (making each subsequent strip wider by a few beads so as to cover the punctures from the previous round) before I settled on something I could live with. I finally came up with a simple, 13 bead wide strip of white and blue (2 shades) arranged in a "chevron" pattern. I'm pretty happy with this one; it's nice and simple, though the use of a darker and lighter shade of blue kept it from looking too plain.

There is still more work to be done on this project, but I was excited to share the new beadwork... Thank You, kind readers for indulging me!

Below are some images of similar headwear from the Native American collection at Harvard's Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology. While I was researching this sort of cap, I found that the diagonal-stripe beadwork was quite common, which is why I decided to do the same pattern in black and white beads to cover the seams where the buckskin segments are sewn together.

Thankyou Thankyou Thankyou for joining me!

The Natural History Museum Inspired This! Part Four: Shells!

2010-02-01T11:34:00.001-05:00

Chicago's Field Museum of Natural History had, as I recall, an excellent display of seashells from around the world. I wish I could find an image of the display online, but haven't had any luck... I hope that it is still there (they were renovating several older exhibits last time I was there), and I also hope I'm not mixing up my Natural History Museums at this point! At any rate, I will cite that extensive display of shells at the Field Museum as inspiration for my pursuing the hobby of collecting, and decorating with, seashells.

The images immediately above and below depict a small cabinet I picked up for a few dollars at a thrift store in Chicago. The glass front and side panels were originally wood; I simply popped out the wood panels and replaced them with glass, then cut and installed two glass shelves and a nice nickel knob, and gave it a few coats of paint: white outside, sea blue inside. I've picked up shells and bits of coral and sea life to put inside mostly at various beaches, though a few special ones were purchased from some of the many excellent seashell shops during visits to Sanibel Island, Florida. The beaches on Sanibel are veritable shell shops in their own right; the island is situated such that tons of shells from the Carribbean and beyond are carried there by the currents and dropped off right at your feet... all one has to do is assume the famous "Sanibel stoop" and make your way slowly up and down the shore picking up your treasures!

I made little stands for some of the shells by cutting a 1" diameter dowel into 3/8" thick disks. I then drilled a hole in the center of each disk and inserted a short length of brass rod, bent as needed to fit into the opening of the shell so that the shell could be displayed upright.

One of my favorite shells to hunt for on Sanibel is the tiny "coquina" (Donax variabilis) shell; what they lack in size is made up for in the fun assortment of rainbow colors that nature has imbued them with! They are sometimes called "butterfly shells" and it is easy to see why; at first glance you might think the image below is a butterfly display! In fact, I just picked out some nice colorful coquinas from my collection, drew a pencil grid onto a piece of black mat board (I left the pencil grid lines; I like the somewhat scientific "compartmentalized" appearance they lend) and glued a matched pair of coquina shells into the center of each square of the grid! They are framed in an inexpensive white Ribba frame from Ikea.

In an earlier "The Natural History Museum Inspired This" post on minerals, I pictured a pack of vintage educational mineral "flash cards" made by Ed-U-Cards of Nature. That company also issued a beautiful set of seashell cards; I liked looking at them so much that I decided to make a permanent display for them so I could enjoy seeing them all at once!

I started by assembling a simple 3 foot by 4 foot background support using 1"x 2" pine strips from the lumber store for the four sides (and 2 extra cross-strips in the center for support) onto which I glued a 3 x 4 foot sheet of Masonite. I painted the surface of the Masonite with primer, and then a light yellow/putty shade, then used PVA glue to glue the cards on. Over all that I affixed a sheet of protective Plexiglas by drilling small holes in each corner and the center of each side of the Plexiglas. I screwed tiny screws through each of the 8 holes and into the wooden background support to hold it on.

I haven't yet tired of looking at those cards, and I'm pretty good at recognizing shells by sight now, as well!

Also in that earlier post on minerals, I wrote about a contemporary reprint I found of one of my favorite little Golden Guide field guides entitled "Rocks, Gems and Minerals". Well, it turns out, the whole line of Golden Guide field guides has been re-issued, with updated covers, but featuring all of the same terrific information and illustrations as the originals! I recently picked up the beautiful edition on seashells and have enjoyed it immensely! Does anyone else remember having one (or more) of these books as a youngster?

Early one morning I walked out onto the beach in Sanibel and found that hundreds of sea urchins with brilliant purple shells had washed ashore overnight. I eagerly carried an armload back to the bungalow and set about cleaning them. They were very delicate, though, and only three or four made it home intact (two of them are barely visible on the bottom row of the second photo). One afternoon I was at Jamali Hardware and Garden in Manhattan searching for some supplies I needed to finish a window decorating project I was working on, and saw (of all things!) a bin of beautiful salmon pink sea urchin shells. They felt quite durable and I sure liked the color, so I purchased a few dozen. Back home, I packed them into an antique apothecary jar, and have enjoyed displaying them along with my collection of "sea curios" ever since!

To learn more about seashells than you ever wanted to know, hop over to the fun Seashell Collector website! Thank You ever so much for joining me, and I do hope we meet again soon!

The Natural History Museum Inspired This, Part 3... Nests and Eggs!!!

2010-01-26T15:05:00.022-05:00

Good Morning, FinderMakers! During my last two semesters at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago I had the great pleasure of participating in a scientific illustration course that met within Chicago's venerable Field Museum of Natural History. I have worked for several prominent art museums over the years, and have always appreciated the privilege of having a "backstage pass", or unlimited access to stored artwork and areas of the museum that the regular patron doesn't often see. I had never been granted that special access in a natural history museum, however, and eagerly looked forward to each session of the illustration course, as the instructor went to great lengths to expose the depth and breadth of natural wonders held therein for us study and draw from.

One session was held amid thousands of bottles containing preserved specimens of ocean life forms; another took us into a room densely populated by live colonies of dermestid beetles, busily stripping various animal carcasses down to the clean, white bone. One afternoon, a friendly Ornithologist showed up with a small bird that had perished after flying into a window, and demonstrated the process of bird taxidermy from start to finish; afterwards we were invited into a storeroom in which many compartmentalized storage boxes full of various bird eggs and nests had been set out for us to draw. I was quite taken with the beauty and diversity of the eggs, and have always marveled at the ingenuity of the feathered architects who build their cozy homes from grasses and twigs, or whatever other suitable material is at hand (or beak, I suppose!).

A couple of years later, I was ambling along the shore at Stinson Beach, north of San Francisco, and noticed that a stormy tide the night before had washed up countless long wisps of fine, dark seaweed tangled together with ribbons of seagrass roots, feathers, and other little bits of natural shoreline detritus. All of these masses gave the impression of bird's nests having been unwound and strewn about the sand. Of course they weren't, but I determined that I should collect as much of the stuff as I could conveniently handle, and set about figuring how I might turn it into convincingly realistic faux bird's nests!

I think the conversion was very successful, and was achieved thusly: I simply soaked the tangled masses in water so that they became pliable, then straightened them out and carefully wrapped portions around the bulbous end of several different-sized laboratory boiling flasks to achieve the characteristic nest shape. I then wrapped each wet "nest" loosely with twine so that it would stay in place, and somewhat compressed, on the flask, and set them all out in the sun to dry. When they were all dried out, I simply unwound the twine and slipped them off the flasks... bird's nests!

Oology is the term used to describe the collection and study of eggs, and although the practice of collecting eggs from nests in the wild is now quite illegal in most localities, the practice was wildly popular amongst hobbyist collectors during the 19th, and into the 20th centuries. I enjoy the look of eggs, but wouldn't dare collect them in the wild. In the photo below, I have constructed a wooden box, 12" long x 8" wide x 4" deep, with Plexiglas interior dividers, to display my homemade nests in. A sheet of glass slides into grooves cut into the side walls of the box to cover and protect the contents.

For eggs, I purchased a few dozen quail eggs from a Japanese market (sold for culinary purposes... not hatching) and pierced them on each end and blew out the contents. Some of these I painted white, others I left natural: brown and cream speckles. I also added a few colored artificial eggs from the craft store for variety, and, believe it or not, the easter candy aisle at your local drug store will be a great source for good looking eggs in the coming months. I have a few candy-coated chocolate eggs in there as well!!!

Below is a lovely book of mine that allows the bird enthusiast to identify birds by the appearance of their eggs. I don't spend much time peering into birds nests out in the wild, but I certainly do enjoy perusing the beautiful images of eggs and related information in this book!

And, finally... The esteemed artist Rosamond Purcell has published a book of her beautiful egg and nest photographs, many of which were exhibited at the wonderful Harvard Museum of Natural History last year. I have yet to see the book in person, but have no doubt that it will be stunning!

I Thank You for joining me for the third installment of "The Natural History Museum Inspired This!" and do look forward to sharing with you again soon!