http://sculptorsjournal.com
http://dawntreestudio.com
http://henrymitchellsculptor.com
Copyright © 2005-2010 henry mitchell
Copyright for all artwork shown on this site resides with the artist.
http://dawntreestudio.com
http://henrymitchellsculptor.com
Copyright © 2005-2010 henry mitchell
Copyright for all artwork shown on this site resides with the artist.
Tuesday 10 November 2009- October has simply refused to leave. Today, one last glory before she's blown away (right).
Wednesday 11 November 2009- Rain in the night, and geese on the wind. By dawnserly light, it is definitely November (below).
Wednesday 11 November 2009- Rain in the night, and geese on the wind. By dawnserly light, it is definitely November (below).
Thursday 12 November 2009- And so, I begin- again. Have no idea where this is headed- not even a firm idea about medium. Only have a word- "Rising." Yet these little scribbles (right) demand attention. Somewhere in the course of winter, if I live, their intentions will come clear.
Had a serious discussion with my urologist this morning. He agreed to leave my innards alone for the next six months, until after I make one more pilgrimage up LeConte. I have that long, at least, without interruptions.
Had a serious discussion with my urologist this morning. He agreed to leave my innards alone for the next six months, until after I make one more pilgrimage up LeConte. I have that long, at least, without interruptions.
Friday 13 November 2009- There is woven throughout nature a Thread of ravening hunger, ever insatiable, that would devour all. Whenever She shows me her face, I am afraid.
Saturday 14 November 2009- Jane Ella and I spent most of the day with Simon, our spiritual guide, along Hospital Rock trail at the base of Cleveland Cliffs (below). The country was not as rough as we'd been told, but rough enough for an old guy and a blind lady. One surprise (right): the wildflowers that were blooming in nooks and crannies wherever south-facing rock masses had held enough heat to extend the season. We met not a single soul along the whole way.
Saturday 14 November 2009- Jane Ella and I spent most of the day with Simon, our spiritual guide, along Hospital Rock trail at the base of Cleveland Cliffs (below). The country was not as rough as we'd been told, but rough enough for an old guy and a blind lady. One surprise (right): the wildflowers that were blooming in nooks and crannies wherever south-facing rock masses had held enough heat to extend the season. We met not a single soul along the whole way.
Monday 16 November 2009- Out across Gum Gap, then back along the high ridge (below) on the north flank of the Dismal toward Caesar's Head.
Tuesday 17 November 2009- Most portraits reveal much more about the painter than about the sitter.
Wednesday 18 November 2009- Spent the morning sawing up windfalls (below left) for a friend to fire the hearth at his daughters's wedding. If anything gratifies more than gathering your own warmth, it is warming your neighbor.
Thursday 19 November 2009- In a sheltered cove here and there, a hardy maple still holds onto some color (below right). Though last joys are saddest, they are better loved for their scarcity.
Wednesday 18 November 2009- Spent the morning sawing up windfalls (below left) for a friend to fire the hearth at his daughters's wedding. If anything gratifies more than gathering your own warmth, it is warming your neighbor.
Thursday 19 November 2009- In a sheltered cove here and there, a hardy maple still holds onto some color (below right). Though last joys are saddest, they are better loved for their scarcity.
Friday 20 November 2009- I had consigned this little piece of persimmon (below left) to the firewood pile, but realized this morning that it fits to that strange little sketch from a week ago (see 12 November). I hadn't planned to be carving just now, but what do I know?
All day, bees were rioting in the big eucalyptus by the gate (below right). One last feast before winter.
All day, bees were rioting in the big eucalyptus by the gate (below right). One last feast before winter.
Monday 23 November 2009- The rain ceased in the wee hours before dawn, and as soon as it seemed the weather was lifting, we were off. After we crossed the Middle Saluda in Jones Gap (below left) we met no other humans the whole way. By noon (below center) we were high up on the ridge above Cox Camp Creek, where we stopped for lunch (below right) at the foot of the cliffs about a half mile below Rainbow Falls.
Tuesday 24 November 2009- Frost in the forecast, maybe even a hard freeze- the first time this year we've felt the breath of winter. The azalea by the wall, now well past it's season, has mustered a solitary defiant blossom (left). May I be so brave, when my own soul's winter comes to bring me down to earth, and my shriveled, blackened flesh is composted in the service of younger, better lives. May I greet the Last Day joyously, with a shout in praise of Light.
Wednesday 25 November 2009- Within a ten-mile radius of the point where Matthews Creek crosses from North Carolina into South Carolina (below) and falls off the Blue Ridge Escarpment, there is world enough to explore and wonder at for a human lifespan. I wish I'd spent more of my own allotment of years tending to that task.
Wednesday 25 November 2009- Within a ten-mile radius of the point where Matthews Creek crosses from North Carolina into South Carolina (below) and falls off the Blue Ridge Escarpment, there is world enough to explore and wonder at for a human lifespan. I wish I'd spent more of my own allotment of years tending to that task.
Tuesday 1 December 2009- Who's afraid of December? Not Dandelions (below), though perhaps they should be. I'm not afraid of December, either, though maybe I should be. JE and I are off this morning for a walk across the mountain before the rains tonight. We'll do our work when the weather's not fit for anything better.
Wednesday 2 December 2009- Off to the mountain yesterday with Jane Ella and an old friend from a former life, who is, like me, a recycled preacher. Wound up again at one of the thinnest places I know, Rainbow Falls. To be sociable, I go to the Meeting in town. This is where I go to worship (left).
Walking is like prayer. One may begin with some notion of a destination, but it is the journey that enlivens and transforms.
Walking is like prayer. One may begin with some notion of a destination, but it is the journey that enlivens and transforms.
LEFT:
Rainbow Falls
Mountain Bridge Wilderness
South Carolina
BELOW:
Crossing Cox Camp Creek
on the trail to Rainbow Falls
Mountain Bridge Wilderness
South Carolina
Rainbow Falls
Mountain Bridge Wilderness
South Carolina
BELOW:
Crossing Cox Camp Creek
on the trail to Rainbow Falls
Mountain Bridge Wilderness
South Carolina
Thursday 3 December 2009- Whatever way you choose, eventually you come to a place where you must either cross the stream or turn back.
One of the things that draws me to assemblage ("constructions") is that there are no liknesses. Every element in a work is what it is. Nothing is representative of anything else. I don't understand why that seems important to me, but it does.
Friday 4 December 2009- It's all Jane Ella's fault. She's led me off up here enough so that I'm through and through spoilt for towns and crowds.
BELOW:
Cleveland Cliffs
Mountain Bridge Wilderness
South Carolina
One of the things that draws me to assemblage ("constructions") is that there are no liknesses. Every element in a work is what it is. Nothing is representative of anything else. I don't understand why that seems important to me, but it does.
Friday 4 December 2009- It's all Jane Ella's fault. She's led me off up here enough so that I'm through and through spoilt for towns and crowds.
BELOW:
Cleveland Cliffs
Mountain Bridge Wilderness
South Carolina
Saturday 5 December 2009- Vessels. They have been lurking in my head for a year or so. I've actually made one or two. Vessels intrigue me, not merely as utilitarian objects, but as pure sculptural shapes. A vessel is not a likeness. It is a self-defining form. It is a metaphor for the soul, with it's constant tension between it's interior and exterior form. It's material contour is expressive of it's immaterial presence. Vessels are fundamental to human endeavor of all sorts. Even a "non-functional" vessel has powerful ritual potential. It is a form beyond magical. I have a pile of seasoned wood that has been on hand for years, and needs to be used for some good purpose. I plan to spend the winter carving vessels from wood.
RIGHT:
"Vessel" (work in progress)
oak
20x32x27 in.
"Vessel" (work in progress)
oak
20x32x27 in.
Sunday 6 December 2009- Went to the church in town today to hear Jane Ella sing with her choir. Three surprises: The first was to see a crucifer leading a procession in a Baptist church; the second, to hear a Baptist choir singing in Latin. The third surprise, to realize the translation. "O great Mystery, wondrous Sacrament; the animals see the new-born Lord lying in their manger!" In the Gospel Lesson for today, Luke points out that it was not the sheep, but the shepherds who were frightened by the angel. When I mentioned this to Jane Ella, she said, "The animals know."
Monday 7 December 2009- Jane Ella and I walked with a friend up around the base of Cleveland Cliffs today. A day of contrasts, cold along the river, but warmer when we climbed up far enough to meet the morning sun. Ice in the shadows, and violets blooming among the southerly facing boulders.
GreenvilleHD.com has several videos on the Mountain Bridge Wilderness. Click on the picture below to see one, and get a glimpse of the old sculptor.
GreenvilleHD.com has several videos on the Mountain Bridge Wilderness. Click on the picture below to see one, and get a glimpse of the old sculptor.
Sunday 13 December 2009- A cold rain all night long and through the day. The temperature stayed above freezing, though, so no ice. If the weather breaks tonight, we may head up along Cold Spring Branch tomorrow. There is a standing stone up there (left) about four miles in from the Jones Gap trailhead, where we hope some younger soul than us will scatter our ashes, along with our dogs', when the last of us is loosed.
