Metalcasting in India–the video

So many thanks to American Corner for providing a cool place to think and work while it’s 108 F in Ahmedabad. Thanks to Ratilal Kansodaria for providing the space and materials to work with. Thanks to Sheth CN College of Fine Art for the studios and fine students to make this trip the enormous success it is. Thanks to the people of Ahmedabad and Nagrik Society for their friendship; to Bandish Soparkar for the fab room in a fab apartment & Namrata Deol for her gentle kindness & infectious laugh. So many more went into the piece but this is the beginning  of a narrative of eight months in India, unfunded. It was a dream that became a reality.



It is the witching hour
All must go back to the beginning
of time
time when the cogs & wheels,
nuts & bolts, the true & false
of your existence
drips long magenta sludge
to the bottom of the
holy vortex

You stop to cry out
words form, are heard,
then disappear
Quick like a bunny
down through the hole

It is the desperate hour
your nature unravels
flaxen-haired onto
the resting place
of some unknown head

Who is that man?
What do I owe now?
Bring on the enforcers
fear is so subjective

Death creeps near the doorway
unannounced as shrill-voiced women
accuse, try to define things they
do not understand
Here you go boys, here’s a hand
women against women, now that’s
a barb to the side of the altar
mixed messages, socio-economic differences
Rubber burns in the background
fire in their eyes, singed hair,
a flip flop by the road

Will you ask no questions, have no care
for understanding past histories?
You cannot begin to understand
the hunt for present circumstances
without a compass, without a map
Can you not see?
We shirk all internal combustion
to arrive at an answer we do not heed;
to move in a circle we cannot engage
War is made of such things as sirens sing
off color & tone to the deaf of the world
Who can be given a jest such as this
surviving on vagrant morsels
Kolkata whispers in your ear?

You have come to this place
in the middle of bad returns
Heal me, once again, heal me
If there ever was a need so strong
it has come to these shores at this hour
Feel the weight of vaporization
It is heavier than you think
Light fingers spread fairy dust
birthing another portion of yourself
feather-like, filigreed, feminine
spit out the goddess within
undetermined, unpegged, not a
pigeon hole in sight

You were born in a tin pot
on a back burner
So what of it?
Golden dreams dance

Where, oh where, have I been?

No one may be asking that question but I will answer. In India, Ahmedabad, currently in Ambavadi off Bhudarpura Road. Since the end of August 2016. See my Facebook page to fill in the blanks with images, words and such:, or my Flickr page for images of the artwork and process: I will start posting more since it has been 100 degrees Fahrenheit this week. I’m holed up in Navrangpura at the American Corner, where there is a fine library, a bright and shiny place to work with wifi, ac and good company when needed. 

I work on my cast pieces in Chandlodia at Ratilal Kansodaria’s foundry/studio. It is a marvelous place. I’m waiting for the welder to finish some jobs so I can attach rings to attach chains to metal clasps to the folded books that go with each bronze zodiac sculpture (size: approx. 3-inches circumference.) I’m funded by myself, my brother, and At present I am learning the ropes on WordPress. I have a professional website to add once I figure how to make it right. Stay tuned.


Pisces  – first round of polishing before link welded as a chain connection


Save Ourselves from Trampland

Revive your forgotten blogs, spread the news however you can. We have a problem in the White House. Jingoism, anti-education, racist, misogynistic with absurd  new legislation knocking out Obamacare, NEH, etc.

POTUS (???) Donald Trump, the unfettered tramp of gold and private female parts grabbing, has our country in his reigns and it does not look good. Read, compare, contrast, decide for yourself. Then do something. Is this the world we want?

Below, with a new score by The New Pollutants, is an allegorical, or metaphorical, film made in 1927, but very current in a uneasy way. It’s a bit hokey and male predominant and registering the manufacturing era, but a case can be made for parallels in our most inappropriate presidency.

Metropolis directed by Fritz Lang: