Our 3-D Design Fundamentals final was to be a group effort narrating a story of mysterious disaster. We were to have life-sized or near-life-sized figures arranged around campus, in postures of flight or expressing amazement, leading back toward the box, graven with unreadable symbols, where one figure slumped with its hand still resting on the lid.
As the weeks progressed, we had to concede the ambitious nature of this project and reduce it to an interior display. The box itself, of course, was mine.
Closeup of the spot-welded interior tabs. Spray-painting is nasty business, particularly in winter; do NOT attempt it if you can't work outside or at least in a garage. The splatters are a result of me sticking my finger too far over the nozzle for leverage; paint would quickly build up on the underside of my finger and fall off in large drops. The amount of paint and primer consumed (and it didn't even provide a good full coat) was another unpleasant surprise.
I didn't want to let all this expense get thrown out, so I offered it to arts dean John Mathews, who said to pick a place outdoors. We placed it in the garden of the Hicks Art Center. It's been two days and I'm not 100-percent sure they'll be okay with my choice, so it may be gone by now.
For Intro to Sculpture, a rather less ambitious project was requested: a memorial, monument or reliquary in wood. I chose to do one for my mother's younger cat, Azabache, who died unexpectedly in October. It shows her as we remember her best, crouched on the dining table with one paw stretched out to take things off your plate without you noticing (or so she apparently imagined).
Most of it is leftover 3/4-inch pine plank, except for the appliqued relief (which is a bit of thin plywood) and the pillars (1-1/4-inch hardwood dowel), together with wood glue and filler. It's finished in interior primer (the white) and various types of paint (as I had on hand for the colors I wanted).