Hell Bent on Breaking Glass

On Sunday Janice and I were back at Big Dogs Pottery in Marshall, this time to have a go at fused glass.

We were decorating panes of glass in lanterns, a lantern is always a good thing to have with the frequent power outages we get, and this is something I've long wanted to have a go at. I proved to be pretty useless at glass blowing and din't enjoy the glare or intense temperatures, but fused glass seemed to be a more comfortable craft to pursue.

There wasn't much instruction and it seemed a few of the class were decorating their second or third lanterns, but it seemed easy enough. We just had to be creative with our designs. We were using small pieces of glass that we could cut ourselves, and a substance called 'frit', glass powder or a gravel consistency and even thin glass rods. I managed to drop a container of these and was mortified to see them scatter on the floor, but thankfully, only one piece broke, and the pieces could be still used.

The lady next to me was creating an abstract montage on her 4 panes of glass while Janice set to laying out flowers on stalks, a dove and even a golf course scene. Some were doing the 4 seasons but I was stuck for an idea, eventually coming up with a dandelion theme. I wanted to do dogwood flowers since I have these glorious trees about Meadow House, but didn't have the confidence or knowledge on how to do this. Or the time. Our class was for 2 hours, after which I had to race home, take care of Kota and Rosie Lee, and then charge off to meet Steve and Marc for a concert that evening.

I watched the more experienced ladies for a while and then started on mine. I didn't draw out anything first or plan it, I just steamed ahead, hoping for the best. We used a brush and tweezers to move the frit about on our glass so we didn't leave fingermarks. We'd been supplied with gloves but I struggled with those, then dispensed with them altogether. Others had done the same when I looked around.I enjoyed this craft immensely and look forward to more sessions. It was very satisfying to create a picture using fingertips, especially when errors were easily eradicated by simply brushing away the offending grains of glass. I'm hoping my pieces will improve once they've been in the kiln, as I assumed the hard edges of the glass shards I'd used would soften and blend with the powdered frit I'd sprinkled on top. We'll see.

As we completed each pane, we sprayed the piece with hairspray which would help to keep everything in place when it went to the kiln, that job would be done by Lisa, our instructor, and we'll pick up our completed lanterns in a week's time. I was reasonably pleased with my first attempt at this but would have liked more time to titivate. We were allowed to stay longer than the 2 hours if needed but my time was short so I scurried off after having a quick peek at the other masterpieces that were taking shape around me. I'll definitely be back for more of these glass classes. Lisa does a nightlight class and she's also planning on another where we'd be decorating glass dishes. Next week I'll be spending a evening there painting a pet portrait.
Just a couple of hours later Steve, Marc and I were bombing down to DC for our concert which was at DC's brand new music venue, The Anthem, situated at the newly revamped wharf. The old wharf was unrecognizable as we walked along the boardwalk, brand new restaurants, bars and condos having sprung up by the water. We stopped at Kirwan's, an Irish bar, where we managed to snaffle a table outside. The evening was warm and the sun still shining, huge crowds of people strolling back and forth, many in concert t-shirts or with black leather jackets and denim cut-offs, obviously attending the Judas Priest concert like us. We supped on craft beers and all 3 of us enjoyed the best lamb burger we'd ever had, possibly even the best burger, period. A huge juicy lamb patty sat on a brioche bun, with goats cheese, slices of apple and mustard piled up on top. It was the best thing I'd eaten for a while, and a shame I didn't think of taking a photo until afterwards...But the memory remains, and I'm licking my lips as I recall the wonderful flavors.

The venue was outstanding. Easy to access and impressive inside, the interior decor and ambience reminded me of the 9:30 Club, which is also in DC. It only opened in October last year with a performance from The Foo Fighters and it's been getting great reviews. We were standing in the main auditorium so it was a little difficult to see the stage but I could see most of it if I leaned from side to side.
There was a first band who's name I don't recall, not impressive in the least, but then it was time for Saxon. This is a British band that I loved from my biker days, they've been around since the late 70's. I hadn't heard them since leaving England and they didn't disappoint. The crowd loved them too, jumping up and down, arms waving and I joined in. That was my workout for the day. I could feel the bass throbbing through my internal organs, my insides jostling with the rhythm. Got to love heavy rock!

And then Judas Started their intro. The melodic start of Guardians lulled the crowd into near silence and then as the guitars and drums came in the fans erupted and began yelling the lyrics along with Rob Halford. The air was electric and it was impossible to do anything other than nod or tap some part of your body, or simply leap up and down as some members of the audience felt inclined to do, especially one large guy in front of us, resembling a bouncing baboon, as he jumped and head butted the air each side of him, causing two women behind him to move a good 3 feet back. But it was all good, nobody minded. I couldn't see one person standing still and a fair amount of beer went airborne too, as owners momentarily forgot they held a plastic cup in their hand and then stared mournfully into the empty depths of their containers as they realized their mismanagement.
It was sad that Glenn Tipton wasn't playing but his replacement, Andy Sneap, went down well with the audience.

The next hour and three quarters flew by, it felt like 5 minutes. I had sore feet from jigging and bopping, stretching and jumping, and also from the sheer physical force I'd had to use to separate my boots from the beer soaked floor, so stickily adhesive that it had been like standing in wet tarmac. But it had been a great concert, even though I'd been too short to see Rob ride his Harley on stage for Hell Bent for Leather. The set list and some videos from the concert are here.

On the way out, I looked up and saw cymbals hanging from the ceiling. I later found out that it was a 'sculpture' by Dan Steinhilber called Untitled Polyrhythm using 150 Sabian cymbals. Pretty cool but I could've made that..

School's Out so Keep on Truckin'

On Saturday I set off early to drive down south to Cartersville, where I'd be meeting some urbexing friends to photograph an old school. After nearly 2 hours I neared my destination and just a few miles south from home nature was already proudly displaying her first colors of spring. I passed yellow forsythia and pear trees were exploding with bright white blossoms, like clouds of confetti. Yellow trumpeted daffodils lined the edges of the roads, trimming peoples' front yards and I spotted branches with tightly squeezed pink buds, waiting for a few more degrees of warmth before spreading their petals.

I stopped at this old bridge, built in 1884 and used to cross James River until Hurricane Agnes swept away the center in 1972. VDOT wanted to tear it down but it was saved as a historical marker, although it's sadly apparent that no restoration work has been done.

Just down the road was this fabulous cockerel atop some hay bales, appearing to be crowing for attention, and immediately across the road was the Hamilton School which we were photographing. It was easy to find, there was little else here in this tiny community, only one store combined with a gas station and very little traffic. I noticed the absence of engine noise and relished it.

Opened in 1910 to replace the small one room school, funds were raised by parents and locals. It had 112 students on its first day with 7 instructors. The auditorium and another 2 classrooms were added in 1914 with a home economics and also an agricultural building added in 1930. It's now just used for storage with the annex having been converted into a home of a lady who's now the custodian of the school. It was her that Eric had arranged today's explore for a small fee and we had the run of the place. I chatted with her before going inside the building, suggesting she should set up photography days for groups from Virginia and DC but she had no internet so had no way of reaching out. She also mentioned her lack of cable TV but it was clear she wasn't missing any of the modern technology. I admired that. A huge Great Dane peered over the fence, trying to join in our conversation. He'd been barking furiously when I arrived but our docent had soon hurried out to greet me and assure her canine guard that I was friend and not foe.

I was the first to pull up at the school and wasted no time in grabbing the opportunity to take photos with no others present. It was colder inside than out and as I stood trying to work my fingers to move the camera dials I stared at this staircase. In this light it appeared hauntingly imposing. If I had stood any longer I'm sure those doors would have started slamming on their own or a ball would plop slowly down the stairs, just like in the 1980 horror movie, The Changeling. I walked back outside again and was pleased to see another of our crew had turned up.

There was some visible decay in the building. Part of a roof had fallen in, a few of the higher windows had been blown out by the recent wind storm and a door on the side of the auditorium seemed to have suffered the same fate. The lower rooms were filled with old furniture, but none of it appealingly antique, it looked more like an exhibition had been put on for passers by. It wasn't authentic to the use of the building so I didn't take photos of any of it. The rooms upstairs were empty,

We did find a cupboard filled with old books but the blackboards had been daubed with irrelevant messages. I was intrigued with the water fountains in the hallways but had soon explored the school and taken all the photos I wanted to take. It seemed most of the group were thinking like me as we found ourselves spending most of our time in the auditorium.

This was a fabulous room with superb lighting and almost pristine chairs. We strolled back and forth shooting from every angle, a pretty little cat following us back and forth, and clearly enjoying our company. She was s chubby little thing, obviously well fed, we found her food and water bowls in the hallway, but I felt sad she didn't have a warm bed. But she didn't like being picked up for cuddles although a stroke was enjoyed so I guess she was content with her lot. At least she had shelter.

We had to pose for some group shots but didn't hang around for too long since it was cold. It wasn't until this point that I realized I was the only girl present today. I traipsed through the dusty corridors for once last look and then we bundled out of the old school, and on to our next stop.

The next place was a short car ride to what we all call The Truck Farm. I've been here twice before, as had most of the group, but we wanted to shoot it one more time as we'd heard that the owner had died. This was sad news, he had been an amazing old man, still working at 93 years old when I last saw him, and I loved listening to him talk about the old trucks and how he'd acquired them all but never got around to restoring them. We were worried that the land would be sold off or left vacant, paving the way for vandals to come in, smashing glass, stealing hood ornaments and spray painting the old vehicles with graffiti. It would have been like desecrating a graveyard. We spoke to some guys working in the garage and were relieved to be told that they planned to carry on as normal and there were no plans to close down in the near future. Thankfully, we pulled out our cameras from their bags and set to photographing these old wrecks, which have been resting here for countless years, their paint and rusting bodies aging beautifully with each season of snow, rain and burning sun.

I recognized many of the vehicles as I walked around but also noticed that some I'd photographed before had gone, which made me wonder if they had been carted off for restoration or if someone had just wanted an old antique car resting on their property as an attraction. The light wasn't at its best, and we had decided we'd come back in the spring or fall to capture the sunset and do some light painting so I was struggling to get creative as I strolled between the silent hulks, new bramble shoots grasping the bottoms of my jeans. But as I walked through one of the sheds, a turn signal lens caught my eye and for the next half an hour I was absorbed in catching the light shining through the old colored glass.

Andrew had brought his light sticks along to play with but it was too light so our enthusiasm soon waned, but it had been lovely to see the old trucks again, and reassuring to hear that they'd be there for a bit longer. We left, happy to know we'd see them again and went in search of a very late lunch.