ICS installation, round 1

With the help of a very nice woman in the casting concrete class, I raised my tiles off the floor into a vertical position this evening.  It was SCARY!  Next time I’m laying them all out on a piece of plywood or sheetrock that can just be tilted into position and then removed after the hanging wires are in place.  I did it the stupid way, by lifting it from the support rods on the back one section at a time, about 6″-1′ at a time, then readusting the line connecting it to the steel cables above.  It was slow and there were lots of bad noises, but it worked, so I’m really happy.  I’m pleased with how they look in the space.  I was originally going to pull the tip of the triangle back toward the far wall so that the entire piece is at a slant, but I decided to wait to do that for a few days and think about it “as is” for right now.  Here are some pictures – I’d love to hear what you think about it.  The tentative title is, “This far you may come…”

sewing tiles together with wire

Here I am, sewing tiles together with wire. Good times. Right now I'm thinking, "Why, why, why did I come up with this idea? And why did I decide to act on it?"

translucent porcelain tile

Each tile only needed to be stitched together in 8 places... (there are 137 tiles total).

porcelain tile

"This far you may come..."

Herend porcelain tile

detail

Herend porcelain tile art

detail

Off to bed!  Good night!

Scribing My Procrastination: Shakespearean-Style

Well.

Midterm next week + statement to committee due tomorrow = birth of this time-consuming post.

Let us review these last few days in verse.

Oct. 10: A kiln! “Twas loaded snugly this cold morn.

11: Said kiln was lit and run while off ran I,

America-bound, a wedding to see.

12: Deep sleep one shouldn’t seek in Heathrow’s lounge;

but hugs abound when plane lands down in time

for wedding, showers, wine, and ropes course fun.

13-16: See twelve above with cow-boy boots and smiles.

17: To sleep, oh blessed sleep; eighteen hours is

just enough to sate this tired body,

and when it’s done more tiles to make and words

to write which stay unwrit,’ locked in fingers

frozen o’er keyboard mine, unsure of their

paths, lacking guidance. Whisp’ring, “Tomorrow

we will know which keys to press, as if by

magic, you’ll see. Pouring out by tens and

twenties, the words will come, you’ll see, you’ll see.”

18/19: They lie! These digits lie! The words don’t come.

And here sit I, with kiln alight once more.

The fingers fly, and words come ‘cross the screen,

but not the necessary words, oh no.

Those hide and wait for fear’s increase of strength.

until perhaps water hot and steaming

will shower away their dams of scheming?