Oyster Shell Messages

About four this afternoon, it occurred to me that I could write on oyster shells and then place them by the half dozen on the oyster plates I bought in Seattle last spring. Funny how ideas just spring from thin air. I keep going out to the oyster pile behind my studio and bringing handfuls of shells into the kitchen sink to scrub. I am loving them and know that I'll use them in many more ways than simply banked against the Bayou, Bay, Beach table at Second Seating. I am really loving them.
What if we actually found messages in oyster shells after we'd eaten the oyster?

A Little Progress

Went into the studio this afternoon to work on two different projects. I cut some of that Hurricane Ike damaged velvet to patch on to one of two chairs that will sit on either side of the Bayou, Bay, Beach table. Actually it will rest among the thousands of oyster shells that are now drying and smelling up the area behind my studio.
Love the fabric because the dye ran when it was soaked with flood waters so it fades from light grey blue to dusty mauve. I'm finding it's perfect for covering the current herringbone upholstery on these chairs.
Also began to work on a montage of dozens of wallet sized East End images. Got out a big sheet of black and white checked paper that I've had forever. I think I'll use it for this montage. I've arranged the photos six or eight times so far, trying to find something compelling. I may add another paper like that intense Chinese red wrapping paper. Or may layer the images. I'll mix and match until it looks like something.Haven't gotten to painting labels for text yet. Maybe this evening? And though I made a ruffle for the fabric chandelier, I didn't pin and sew it in place. What is holding me up on that thing? Really needs to leave my dining room table.
Must say though, that one cup of Chinese black tea sure turned this day into one that's been productive. Probably should take a break, go to bed and watch Netflix tonight.

All of a Piece, What's Happening Now

Sometimes it's good to go back to the start of something, to remember how it was near the beginning. The second post on this blog ties in with the very things I am working on now. It's been slow and steady progress from day one.
Those oysters that my daughter Jeanne and her husband Dan and my grandchildren Kelan and Lauren and my sister and brother-in-law Denny picked up along a stretch of beach in the Pacific Northwest have been grilled and eaten. I boxed up the empty shells and sent them to Houston. Now they sit on a tabletop with dozens of silver plated scallop shells for Seating Seating.
Every day I take a giant Rubbermaid tub to a seafood restaurant and trade it for one full of oyster shells. The smell in my car is awful and the pile of shells by the side of my studio is growing. when those shells have been eaten clean and bleached in this hellish Houston summer sun, they'll surround the table as will these chairs which will be covered in more of my Hurricane Ike flood salvaged fabrics.
It is all of a piece, what's happening now.

Oyster Shells on Saturday

Two photos. One 'before' and one 'after.' The before is the oyster shells when we first dump them fresh from the tub and the flies feast for a day or two. There are hundreds of flies at this feast. Fortunately, all this takes place away from anyone's house and the flies and whomever else comes at night sure are efficient.
The 'after' photo shows the shells that we dumped four days ago - clean and just needing a good rain and more sun.
I pick up a tub of shells every 36 hours or so and will continue for as long as this seafood place is willing to fill and exchange the tubs. All these shells will make a heck of a Second Seating tableau in September.
Tomorrow I should probably take my scale outside and weigh a colander of shells and then calculate how many pounds I have and the number of days it's taken to collect them. This is from one restaurant. I can compare these numbers with other numbers of oysters harvested and eaten. I've read that 100 years ago, folks sat down and ate dozens and dozens before soup , stew or salad. The dozen we order seems tame in comparison.

Thursday

Brought home another tub of oysters shells. That makes four tubs and more to come. I go each day now to pick up more. The shells are all off behind my studio (which was my garage) and I don't think the stench or the flies are bothering anyone. I'll pour a little Clorox water on them from time to time and let the sun and heat and bugs take care of things.
Catarina was over today to sew on the banquet chandelier. I hardly know how to describe it or photograph this piece. It is so bizarre and yet it seems to work. Here's a photo of it but really needs to be hanging against a simple background. Have no idea what kind of light bulbs I'll use with it.

I did get more light bulbs for the oil pipe drilling parts that I had made into lamps. I them them and not sure whether they'll be on the floor or on a table during the exhibition. They come in series of one, two or three all linked together with transparent wires. The idea was a good one.

Also baked some more dishes today. They'd been 'drying' on the kitchen counter for a day after being written or drawn on. Can't remember where I found those two painted red compotes, but I like them and drew with gold all over them. They looked gorgeous in the oven.
Have to get busy on the invitation postcard next. I am meeting with the folks at Diverse Works tomorrow and that's a good thing.

Reflections on Second Seating, The Blog

What was I thinking as I wrote yesterday’s post? The words seem formal, giving information, yet holding back the names of the artists that I’ll be working with as well as the East End companies that will, with luck, support the making of fantasy table dinner tables that incorporate their brand, be it coffee, milk or cake. As I said, in time all will unfold. The first post was an attempt to give a ‘word picture’ of what is essentially, at this moment, a concept. There is so much more inside my head - images and bits of text, potential donors, promotional ideas, contact lists.

There is a whole lot outside of my head too that includes a growing cache of random dinner plates from garage sales, tables and funky chairs from resale shops, blue wine bottles, coffee mugs, a stack of twenty white tablecloths from a friend in Minnesota, candelabra, varied vases and bowls and an expanding trove of photographs that hint of things to come. I am seeing great swaths of tablecloths hung across the ceiling, reflecting projected images of dinner past. I see enormous chandeliers made from dozens of tin and aluminum cans, shells and broken pottery.

I’ve been mulling ideas for this installation for almost a year now. I am no longer sure of just how or when the original spark of an idea occurred, though my original word document on the subject is dated November 30, 2007 and is overrun with stream of consciousness verbiage that, upon rereading, now simply adds more ideas to my mental file cabinet.

Suffice it to say that on this bright morning that calls to me, “Go walk before it is too muggy and ozone-y,” that my autumn days will be well filled with preparations for ‘Second Seating.’ I consider the process to be similar to preparations for a great feast, a visual feast and with any luck, a thought provoking feast. For the last week or so I’ve focused on oyster shells and for good reason.

The McGrady’s and I gathered fresh oysters in Lilliwaup little over then days ago. And a big box of oyster shells and styrofoam popcorn is somewhere in the mail between Seattle and Houston. I couldn’t leave the shells behind. No, I see those oyster shells piled high on a heavy laden dinner table. The oysters themselves have been consumed. They are gone.

The table is beautiful, overrun with silver scallop shells, empty too and resting among the spent oyster shells. Silver candelabra no longer cast light on iced and quivering oysters or on the diners who enjoyed them. The dinner is over, for real and metaphorically. The message of the empty oyster shells? Well, the fate of our oceans. Tuna is tainted, species near lost and seas are rotting with poison run off. The table is beautiful, but at what cost?

The message of this dinner table is a long way from Lilliwaup, WA, where we shared a warm family time and the oysters were gathered by three generations. That pleasant afternoon encourages a call to action for our oceans. I’ll be visiting with the Galveston Bay Foundation and other groups so that this ‘Second Seating’ dining table will be not only beautiful, but will offer us responsible and perhaps uncomfortable answers to our dilemma with the oceans.

This is the table I am thinking about today.