PB Cohen Creations

I'm taking a casting class this semester at the Ann Arbor Art Center. Many years ago I took a one-day workshop in casting, during which I learned one thing, and one thing only: wax carving is hard! (I no longer have the weird silver blob that I created that day, or I'd show it to you. I wonder what happened to that...?) So this time around, I'm concentrating on carving the wax, and casting a few things. No serious thought on what to do with the finished bits, no worries about designing around cast pieces — just the wax carving. Still working on it. This is my first attempt at carving a bird-like creature out of wax:

To be more precise, I'm doing reasonably well at carving tiny things in wax, but I'm definitely having a hard time seeing in three dimensions. This is my first time at any sort of sculpture (that I remember, anyway), so I guess I'm doing okay. But still, it's not quite right. This little fellow isn't finished, but I got stuck on the right side of the beak — which is the left side on this photo. You can click on these pictures for bigger versions, and I was hoping the extreme close-ups would help me, but they didn't. Truth is, I took away too much wax from that side, and am stuck with it. I tried adding a little blob of sticky wax there, and am currently trying to shape that, but the sticky wax doesn't really carve. It's possible a well-placed file will do the trick, but I'm not sure yet. I might try casting him in bronze (much cheaper than silver) just to see what happens. In the meantime, I've started working on a few more little wax sculptures. We'll see what happens. Slow, slow, slow. But if I can figure it out, it'll be fun! (And now that I've stopped dreaming that I'm carving up my wrists, things are going much better!)

I keep doing birds, but I think I should try some monsters, or fantasy creatures — since if I don't get them "right" nobody will know but me! The other thing I might be able to do is cut my sculptures down the middle, to create two "halves." Sort of a bas-relief treatment. That way if the two sides don't match each other, or if the whole thing ends up too wide (two of my current problems) it won't matter.

I dropped off some of my hearts today at the Ann Arbor Art Center's Gallery Shop. I was a little surprised when I started making these last year — I never celebrate Valentine's Day myself. But they've proved to be popular with the customers, and they're fun to make.

What's so fun about them? you ask. Well, I'll tell you. First, there's the fact that they're not your perfect, shiny heart. Plus, there's the fun of putting twisted little sayings on the back. Then I get a chance to play with different textures on the front. And finally, I like to give them just a little bit of shape. All good things.

The ones at the Art Center a more on the traditional side, but I have others as well, and take requests. Look at me being in time for a little holiday!

Gallery Shop
The Art Center
117 W. Liberty Street
Ann Arbor, MI. 48104

My Esty Shop

I don't usually "do" New Years' resolutions, but I've decided on two this year. The first is to start some exercises targeted at getting my arms stronger, because lately I've really gotten into using chasing and repoussé techniques.

Of course, I also need to stop the whole Death Grip On The Punches thing, and find a better height for the table I'm working on. But I also figure I'd better get some hand strength, and upper body strength if I'm going to continue whacking metal for a few hours at a time.

My second resolution is to eat more artisanal cheeses. Just because.

I will not show a photo of my bench, in part because I do a lot of work away from home, and in part because my personal space is way too messy to even work on right now. So sad. Part of that I can blame on photography, as I am ONCE AGAIN trying to solve that puzzle. Siiiiiiiiigh. But I can't blame all of it on the collection of five (5) lamps currently gathered around the light box (with one more about to be corralled into the fight). Mostly, I just can't seem to get myself organized these days. Too bad I'm the kind of person who appreciates a relatively clean surface on which to work.

Still, I take pretty good care of tools, and tend to put them away when I'm finished using them. Except for four general types of tools, which I use often enough (and because I'm a lazy slug) to just leave out all the time:

1) A ruler, obviously. I have a six-inch (15.24 centimeter) steel ruler that makes me very happy. Don't laugh at me.

2) Sawing tools, obviously, even though I bonk my head on the bench pin almost every time I add a new lamp to my Photography Command And Control Center. (Um, the power strip is under the bench.) Bench pin, saw frame, saw blades.

3) Files, obviously. Very course flat, course half round, and a half round needle file. Usually.

4) A sheet metal gauge (pictured). Yeah. This one doesn't seem obvious to me at all.

Unless, maybe, you keep watching the price of silver. Have you seen the price of silver lately? Siiiiigh. Truly, I love thick metal, but that doesn't always make sense for the piece you're working on — either the size or the technique. And I also try to use thinner metal when possible, since that makes the finished piece a little less expensive. How thick did I make that one? How thick is this one? How thick is it now? (Notice how you don't say "thin" in this context?) (Well, I don't, anyway.)

I guess I'm also a bit of a measurement geek. Our names for measurements are so arbitrary, and so interesting. (For example, the "common cubit," one of the earliest measures, was the length of the forearm from the elbow to the tip of the middle finger. Whose elbow? Whose middle finger?) Perhaps the more I measure the thickness of my metal, the neater my desk will appear?

The next few items on the list of tools that get left on the bench are just as likely to be put away, so I'll keep the official list at four. But they include, in no particular order, drafting templates with different shapes (circles, ovals, etc.), dividers, a drafting compass, and pliers of various types. I suppose pencil and paper could be included, but they're in a category I usually consider "so likely to be left out on the bench that they're invisible." Don't laugh at me.

* NOTE: Although I briefly considered trying to photograph my own gauge, I decided against it as a small step towards preserving my sanity. I'm afraid I don't remember where I found this photo, which shows what I consider to be the "back" of the gauge, since it depicts an equivalent to the B&S numbers, um, probably in inches. Hey, I don't care about inches (or millimeters, or whatever it is) when it comes to sheet metal, I care about the B&S number, which is one of three major internationally-agreed-upon standards for measuring the thickness of wire and sheet metal. Click on the image for a bigger version. And then convert 24 gauge to points — a unit for measuring type — which, since 1886, has been exactly 0.3514598 millimeters, or 1/72.27 inch. Exactly!

Remember the "Relic" rings?
(And yes, I originally called these "Julia" rings because I made some for my niece. But I've started calling them "Relics" since that takes less explaining.)

I made a big one ("man-sized"), and realized I'd created a weak spot. See where the end of the arrow comes to the edge of the ring band? Click on this mediocre photo of the ring before final polishing and a patina to see a bigger version. I was pretty sure that even regular wear could break that spot, since the single layer of silver is only 24 gauge thick, tops. Rather than make a repair after it broke, when it was bound to be harder to do (since the break probably wouldn't be clean), I decided to repair it before anything untoward happened.

This mediocre photo shows the inside of the ring, where I soldered a small patch of silver right against backside of the arrow's shaft. Lots of sanding made it smooth.

Again, click on the photo for a bigger version. Still no patina or final polish.

I bought this ring a couple of years ago at an outdoor art fair. I'm not showing you the whole thing, because I have a complaint about it, and I don't mean to give the artist a negative review. I love many things about this ring, including an aspect of the very thing — I'm pretty sure — that has me complaining about it. So I won't identify the artist, or even show you the whole thing, so that I don't give you the wrong idea.

As you can see, the ring shank is made out of square wire. (You can click on the photo for a bigger version.) The sides have a nice random line texture, but the inside and the outside were left smooth. The artist had a range of ring sizes available at the show, but if she didn't have one that fit exactly, she'd take a slightly small one, pop it onto a steel ring mandrel, and tap it evenly with a small hammer to stretch it out. What a great way to size a ring on the fly! And this would really only work with square wire, since round or half-round would lose its "round" from the hammering.

The problem I have with the ring is — I'm pretty sure — that the corners of the square wire ended up getting a little sharp from the stretching. As I recall, she ended up stretching the ring quite a bit — and apparently enough to leave sharp edges on the square wire. I keep meaning to "fix" is, all it would take is a few minutes of gentle sanding or filing. And then I'll love everything about it.

Probably. Truth is, most of my rings are either wide, or have shanks made out of larger gauge wire. So maybe I'm just used to wearing differently-shaped rings.