Tom Holland's Workshop

Wow! It's been awhile! But I've been busy - I finished up the Commemorative Beads for Bead and Button (more on that in another blog posting) then turned my attention to cleaning the studio for Tom Holland's visit. Here are some pictures:

This has been a wonderful first "Visiting Artist" experience! Tom was a terrific teacher and a fantastic guest. We had a chance to tool around Narragansett, eat "lobsta's" that Ted bought from a lobsterman right off the boat, and we had time to examine old beads and even visit the Sackler Museum at Harvard to see artwork from the Chinese Warring States period.

Tom demonstrated all sorts of stringer work, how to make folded beads, how to bend beads - our heads were about to burst by the time Sunday evening rolled around. My dear friend, Karen King, was able to come up from DC for this, so that was an added bonus. I'm looking forward to hosting more bead teachers in my studio - Jennifer Geldard being the next!

But now... time for taxes *sigh*

Signs of Spring

Spring can be very long in coming, here in New England, and by February I'm pining for open windows and bird songs. Any change for the positive in the view from the studio reminds me that I won't be sentenced to 365 days of below freezing temperatures. So yesterday, when I stood at the slider and looked at the river, the sign of receding ice was exciting! We've been deprived of our view of an animated river for several months now, and the static ice, with few waterfowl paying a visit, reminds me how lucky I am most of the year. It was fun yesterday to see the ice reduced to a thin covering that was moving to the south by several yards as the hours ticked by. The geese enjoyed taking turns floating in the water or roosting on the floe.

The birds are pairing up, too, a sure sign of spring to come! We've had a pair of swans down by our house, as well as the omnipresent geese, now finding their partners. By last night, we saw a double date out our back window:

After having a 2 1/2 week break from the studio, it's hard to get back into the rhythm of production, especially with the distractions out of the window. Maybe this familiar outdoor cycle will remind me that the spring shows are on their way and I can't be caught daydreaming much longer!!

Sterling H. Ivison, Jr.

Six months ago, my dear father died. I don't think he had an enemy in the world, such a gracious, generous gentleman. For the 5 years he was living in Narragansett, slowly succumbing to Alzheimer's, I was his pal, his support, his protection, his medical advocate. We developed a daily rhythm. He was able to spend the night by himself, in his own home 5 doors up from us. I would show up early in the morning and help out with breakfast, then go to the studio downstairs to work on my beads, always with an ear open for what he might need upstairs.

Dad's house, like ours, is on the Narrow River in Narragansett. He loved to sit in the living room, the TV turned to the Weather Station, his eyes mostly turned towards the river. In the spring and fall, he would enjoy seeing the URI crew team row by his house (he was on the crew with MIT as an undergrad). Year 'round, he loved to watch the birds and squirrels feed on his back deck. If the weather wasn't too cold or rainy, Dad would venture out for a walk, twice a day. He was a sailor and a Naval officer, a lover of maps, directions. He never lost that bump of location and always found his way home from his neighborhood walks. In the morning, he would head out in one direction, in the afternoon, he would head out in the other. He was never gone long - maybe 15 minutes of fresh air. I always kept an ear out for his return up the front steps.

On days when the weather didn't cooperate, I'd pop a Lawrence Welk tape into the VCR. Dad loved the old music, and I could hear him tapping his feet in time with it, and sometimes even clapping along. It always raised his spirits (and mine!).

When Dad moved up from his Washington, DC, home of 44 years, he'd been living alone, a widower, for 6 years. He left old friends behind, but he had an instant family with Ted and me and the boys. Most dinners were down at our house, Dad making the walk down the hill in time to keep me company while I worked in the kitchen. I'd take him home when Ted washed the dishes and would get him ready for bed and tuck him in. Roles reversed, both of us fine with that.

Dad's last months were hard on both of us. Moved into assisted living when I could no longer cope, and then to a nursing home, Hospice helped him make a dignified exit. It was time, and he'd long said he had had a happy life and was ready for the next step. But no matter how natural this cycle of life and death is, it leaves a hole in the heart of the one who's left behind. I love you, Dad. I miss you.

February 9, 2009

So today I'm starting a blog that has a more public domain - perhaps easier to find than one on my website (www.katefowle.com). I've been behind the times when it's come to learning computer skills, but I do have thoughts I occasionally like to share with students, past and potential, and pictures that I collect on my teaching gigs or just outside my studio. So here goes! Some pictures of Tucson to start with...