F. Scott Fitzgerald, 1920, read as an e-Book from BlackMask.com

This collection of short stories deals with the bored daughters of the super-wealthy, jaded society girls, lucky ne’erdowells, fallen philosophers, and other (perhaps less expected) characters. The stories vary in tone, in how convincing they are, and general depth:

• “The Offshore Pirate” was somewhat weak and predictable; the best part of this story was its early descriptions of the spoiled, bratty Ardita, the Paris Hilton of her set.
• “The Ice Palace” is one of the best of the collection, which deals with regionalism, relationships, and the lies we tell ourselves when we think we’re following a dream.
• “Head and Shoulders,” while contrived, told a good story of the twists of fate and changes to plans that love can bring.
• “The Cut Glass Bowl” was a second rate story, but did get in some digs at society mores.
• “Bernice Bobs her Hair” is an interesting exploration of the battle for status in the leisure class. Direct and brutal, it’s one of those stories I’d had to read in high school, and therefore didn’t properly appreciate. It really highlights Fitzgerald’s understanding of human interaction, and the ways people establish social hierarchies.
• “Benediction” is the most subtle of set, and has more complicated characters than the others.
• “Dalyrimple Goes Wrong” is a simple tale of the downtrodden worker being turned to crime, and thus to politics. Amusing, but forgettable.
• “The Four Fists” is a fun conceit about an ordinary fellow who gets punched into moral behavior, and thus great success.

Fitzgerald’s greatest strength seems to be exploring the inner dialogues of the desperate and disaffected, although he also excels at a sort of insider critique of upper class American culture and the mythology it creates for itself.

I did more work on War Widow this evening. She’s made with a marbled layer of assorted clay slips, supported on a base of white clay (Laguna B-Mix with Sand). The bones all started as extruded tubes, which were then manipulated and sculpted.

She’s really shaping up nicely, although her face is fairly androgynous. Especially with heads coming from my slump molds, I am still struggling with the subtleties of feminine faces. Older male faces happen easily; feminine or young faces are still somewhat ambiguous.

Here are some fairly crappy pictures taken with the Treo (click to see larger version):

I went to an art opening of work by David Trulli tonight at the Earl McGrath Gallery in West Hollywood. It’s a great show.
There has been a lot written about David lately, and it’s not hard to figure out why. His work is compelling and a little disturbing. They are rich in film-noir narrative, a very strong sense of place, and often come from an unexpected viewpoint. There is a fascination with the infrastructure of alienation (or is that the alienation of infrastructure?) Most, if not all, of the works feature people surrounded by the city; people caught in the middle of their own stories, yet pulled from the leading roles and made into extras by the buildings, overpasses, streetlights, microwave antennas, radar dishes, automobiles, and chain link fences.
The show is on through the end of February. Definitely stop by if you’re in the area!

Oliver Sacks, Vintage, 2004.

These are less a memoir than the story of a boy’s recapitulation of the discoveries of pre-Quantum chemistry. Sacks tells the story of his love affair with chemistry, as fostered by his Uncles (including the eponymously apellated Uncle Tungsten). His enthusiasm is contagious, and his highs of discovery made me want to rush out and buy a chemistry kit … although, as he points out, today’s chemistry sets are sadly hamstrung by the removal of anything that could be dangerous — which is to say, anything interesting. His interweaving of stories of stinkbombs and metallic sodium explosions with the history of how these same chemical processes became understood makes the history accessible — not to mention more impressive.
It made me think about the knowledge that is today taken for granted (e.g., the air we breathe is a mixture of gases, and different kinds of “air” can be emitted from various chemical reactions), and the profundity of these discoveries.
Perhaps I learned less about the chemical properties of various elements than I could have from this book, but I certainly did take away a sense of the history of chemistry, a sense of the magic, and a sense of the enormously exciting environment of discovery that took place through the nineteenth and early twentieth century.

Even though I’ve been working on it for about six months, I’m still in that excited, “hey this is great!” stage with my new teapot series. Usually, by this time, my enthusiasm has run out, and I’ve fallen into the depths of blackest despair over the general unworthiness of the project in question.

This series is based upon the shape of human heads. The inspiration has its genesis in teapots I did years ago, but got rekindled with Joey, and then later Sylph from last year.

The current series is less about pure representation, however. The first in the series, Identity Politics is online (although I’m not happy with the photography. I’ll probably reshoot this.) Recently out of the kiln, but not yet photographed, is Gabba Gabba Hey, which is a commentary on cell-phone culture, and Time of Your Life which is a simple summary of a life. Most recently, Hope has been bisqued, and Paranoia / Homeland Security is ready for the bisque. These two both involve modified or sectioned head forms, and I’m really pleased with both of them thus far. Last night I started work on War Widow, which will return slightly towards the more representational.

Pictures will be posted as they get completed.