Just a few Images of fountains, and an associated video clip.
The fountain in the picture above is about 18 inches in height. There's a pump nested in the base pedestal- flow rate is adjustable.
The top vessel fascinates me. Exactly the same glaze on both sides... but differing levels of reduction. Raku is so unpredictable!
This is an alternate design (basal bowl rather than a pedestal). I have several alternate upper pieces for this model- see images below. The design above is a brook trout. The pieces below feature a Giant Pacific Octopus and the (highly endangered) Pacific Cod.
 For both fountain designs, I've integrated a planter into the rim of the base vessel. The idea is to plant some trailing foliage in the planter. If water levels are maintained, the planter will then be self watering.
I haven't installed plants in these specific pieces, but here's a fountain that we currently have in the front room of our house. The foliage is wooly thyme- an herb that seems to be pretty resilient in the face of variable water levels. Looks nice too... and you can even dust a bit on your pumpkin gnocchi if you feel the urge.
Finally- here's some video. I recorded this on my ipod, so the sound quality's not ideal... but you get the idea.
Well- I had a couple minor disasters emerge from the kiln. One fountain base oozed all over the shelf, It reminded me of some of my step-son's ill-advised experiments with banana slugs on Vancouver Island in '03. Another base (like the chalice base from the last entry) splintered. Big, gaping crack of doom just waiting for Smeagol. Still- I can't complain too much, given the overall levels of success over the past couple weeks. Without too much commentary, here's the current batch. All of these guys are riffs off my original prototype from about a month back. Although it's the best basic design I've produced, the one thing I'd like to work toward in the future is a bit more asymmetry. Nature is not a symmetrical thing. Rivers wander and purl off into odd little crooks and kinks.
I've got some ideas for designs that should be a bit less tight-laced... but that's something for another day.
In the meantime, the planters continue to propagate. Here are some examples...
This little guy (about five inches in diameter at the rim) is more representational (less abstract) than some of my designs. I tend to like designs that are pared down and exaggerated.
This- of course- is an example of the basic grayling design that I like to endlessly tweak. I was selling at our local farmer's market this weekend, and a vender who was selling North African food observed that the eyes 'looked Egyptian'. Certainly, they don't look like a biologists take on a fish eye.
I should know- I dissected a ton of the things while teaching comparative vertebrate anatomy at WSU this past fall.
 This, of course, is a flip back to the representational. Ling cod ( Ophiodon elongatus) are the most gloriously google-eyed, needle toothed little cutie-pies you're ever going to see outside of Sesame Street. They slither up from the depths looking like a snake hitched a ride on a frog's bum. I've never managed to get a good photo, unfortunately- my best mate Matt and his big rack of rockfish is the closest I've come. Check the late, great Kawika Chetron's website for a good image. I have caught a few of these, but always let them go. They're too bloody cool to eat. Actually, I almost feel that way about all fish. From here on, just images, no chatter.
OK- I lied again. I need to comment on this planter- which is reduced to the hilt... but still has that nice little streak of oxidized turquoise underneath the Mahi-mahi's belly. The whims of raku strike again.
 I'm placing some wares with a Seattle-area gallery. Thus, the past couple of weeks have been a bit of a crank session.
Our house isn't exactly swarming with free storage space. At the moment, I've got a whole pile of pots under the kitchen table. Our Slovenian visiting scientist friend Maja almost juggled a couple of these around midnight the other night. With her feet. I can be pathetically blase about the things that I make.
 The gallery is interested in displaying a range of my fountains... which is gratifying, as I've poured a healthy dollop of creative energy into the things. I already posted about the design on the right- (one image of a prototype on display in our house, the other an example from my raku run yesterday. For a multi-angle view of the upper vessel, see below.
 Here's a newer design. The base vessel is chalice-shaped, and holds the pump. The doughnut-shaped component is intended to function as a planter- while the upper vessel rests on a sculptural element with integrated wave shapes.
Definitely a few notches in complexity above your average bowl or mug... but that's a big part of the fun.
I haven't shot any video yet- but this one functions beautifully. See the page header for a full view.
 Here's a similar design, but with the base vessel modeled on a basin rather than a chalice. Again- lovely functionality. You could conceivably stuff a couple of goldfish or betas into the vessel. I believe that they're both nimble enough to avoid getting sucked into the intake- wouldn't want them to suffer the fate of the dude on the far right.
(That's an obscure Firefly reference for the geeks among us).
 I've also been grinding out a run of planters.
I've decided to stop making overflow trays for my planters using raky techniques. Not only does raku tend to be porous, but it all too frequently cracks in the fire. We've already suffered a couple counter-top blowouts.
The more I think about it, the more I believe that a neutral basal piece really suits a raku planter best- sort of a tabla rasa against which the planter itself can pop out.
But... let the viewer decide!
All hail the ceramic snowmonkey!! This is not what I had in mind when I started work on a new fountain the other day.
 There’s no creative endeavor that truly succeeds without a certain reckless abandon. I’ve probably experienced this type of insomniescent, manic energy more with pottery than with any other act of genesis… this includes song-writing, dabbling in fiction, essaying… and even science.
There are an almost limitless array of plans for fountains in my head at the moment. Fountains that support fish. Fountains with trailing wildflowers. Raku fountains. Massive, honking garden-sized fountains.
The problem is that reckless abandon is a chancy guide when you’re crafting a compound object that weighs in the neighborhood of 100 pounds.
 I’ve had a vision for a slightly asymmetrical, cascading design kicking about in my head for some time. Several early models failed because of mechanical flaws… or because the design was too fragile, and collapsed when I tried to move it into the kiln.
I think I’ve worked out most of the mechanical issues. Having a large basal catchment is key… I’ve also started using slabs as supporting trusses within the structure.
So- thinking that I was now primed to receive libations as the fountain god, I spent a morning bashing out the following components on the wheel…
- Basal pedestal
- Catch basin
- Slab (for structural, supporting elements)
- Two globes as water basins
- Two smaller globes, nested inside the larger, for water-loving, trailing plants
 Bit of a ramified process (which is part of the fun)
However, I was less Entish than I should have been (treebeard fans will follow the reference).
Thus, the final assemblage came out A) more symmetrical than I wanted, and B) a bit top-heavy.
 I really want a certain organic integrity in these fountains. Slate-carven riverbeds and urchin-etched tidepools are what I’m after. Frosty the snow-fountain misses the mark, I fear.
On the plus side, I think that this model should function beautifully. I’m hoping to plant watercress in the planters- maybe a few wayward plants will soften the aspect. A coating of glaze will probably help too.
Or… I could just plant a dwarf spruce or two and embrace my inner Burl Ives.
Anyhow, my resolution for future fountains is to never build without a detailed sketch. In many cases, in fact, I think I’m going to build maquettes (scale models… see the special features on the Lord of Rings DVDs for more information than you’ll ever be able to process).
Spontaneity is all well… but I think I’ll leave my extemporaneous work to objects of ten pound and under from now on.
 I had a nice little round of Raku this past week. Among other odds and ends, I fired three drums intended for my 'Last Chance to See' project. Just as a quick re-cap, 'Last Chance to See' celebrates a set of critically endangered species. I'm making twelve indigenous musical instruments from the natal countries of these beasts.For a general overview, see my original project overview. For some musings on the specific drums that I'll be talking about in this entry, go here.
 Unfortunately, one of the pieces that I was most excited about shattered- literally shattered- as I was lifting it out of the kiln. Always exciting to dodge shards of 1700 degree ceramic (especially when it's 90 degrees out, and your legs are bare).
Raku is a hit-miss sort of proposition, unfortunately, and some catastrophic losses are inevitable. This piece may have been structurally compromised because it was a composite vessel (two pieces joined together). It was also over three feet tall... and there seems to be a correlation between size and failure rate in raku.
It's too bad. I threw a couple chunks in the reduction chamber for giggles, and they came out looking quite tantalizing. The also offer an interesting perspective on the difference between reduced and oxidized raku glazes... note the contrast in the photo in the right.
Anyhow, it looks like I get to do more gorillas!
 Fortunately, one of my other drums (a conga with a white rhino design) came out looking pretty spectacular (if I'm allowed to say such things). I'm quite delighted with the balance of the design... it has a certain massiveness that evokes the organism.
Factor in the subtle interplay of color, and I think it's one of the nicest things I've done in Raku.
It also sounds staccato and brash, and plays beautifully.
 I'm a little less thrilled with the other conga... in part because I'm less pleased with the basic form, and in part because I think the proportions are a bit off. Oh well.
 On the whole, it was a very successful firing. I won't show all of the pieces, but I was particularly pleased with this planter.
Raku is infuriating, in that it sometimes yields serendipitous and wholly inexplicable results.
Why, in this particular case, did I get the copper flashing in the interstitial spaces between the carved lines? The effect highlights the design brilliantly, but I'm baffled as to how to replicate it.
 Just to briefly mention a few ongoing projects... I'm currently finishing an improved version of the fountain design I commented on in my last entry. Aside from being larger, this version features a broader basin (to better display rocks or other found objects). It also has a sharper, steeper lip for the pour-over from the top vessel, and should thus be more of a cascade and less of a dribbler.
Finally, my pop (who's a garage sale hound extraordinaire) found me a lovely coffee table for 15 clams. After taking out the 10-inch glass panels, I'm going to fire a set of tiles and grout them into the top. I haven't decided yet whether to make the tiles themselves in raku or hi-fire... I'll probably make four of each and them decide.Tiles are harder then you'd think. If you're not careful, they crack and warp like cane toad licking Australians. I've figured out that it works best to throw slabs on the wheel and then cut them to size. Updates as things move forward.
One of my favorite rambles in the world is the nine-mile Ozette loop on the west end of the Olympic Peninsula.
The wild Olympic coast is noteworthy for:
_
 - towering fangs of sandstone and granite riding the breakers, frozen amidst an eon-long collapse to nothingness
- shaggy hikers toting WWII vintage tents and fifths of Wild Turkey, hunkering like kobolds near smoky campfires
 _ My kind of place!
One of my favorite spots on the hike is a mid-sized sea stack perched in the intertidal zone. Somehow, the wave action (or maybe a stray trident strike from Neptune) has bored a perfect eyelet in the rock.
 _ I’ve been intrigued by natural windows in stone for years. Somewhere- perhaps filtered through the bottom of a Guinness glass, I was once told that natural apertures like this serve as a portal into another realm- the haunts of the ‘good-folk’, the Sidhe, Faerie.
I believe that a sevenfold passage under a newly risen moon may have been part of the equation.
 _ Incidentally- any online research into the concept of ‘Faerie’ pitches one into a bottomless potpourri-pit of new-age claptrap. Somehow, the adult market always gets it wrong. One needs to dive into George MacDonald or Mollie Hunter for the good stuff. (Heck- just read ‘The Haunted Mountain’- it’s a classic).
 _ Needless to say, there’s a pretty active stew of mysticism bubbling under the Darwinian façade I wear while working my day job. I pay full honor to quarks and Higgs bosons… but the idea of crawling through that Ozette eyelet under a rising moon still... intrigues me Opportunity has yet to present itself, mind you. There are probably only a couple days out of the year where that beach isn’t socked in. The trifecta of a moonrise, clear skies, my presence seems like an elusive target.
 _ So… I thought I’d do a little research to see what I was setting myself up for. There’s an enormous body of information about ‘Holey’ stones on the net. Many ancient examples are carved, and tend to be extremely enigmatic. For instance, the Great Pyramids at Ghiza, contain a series of odd ‘ star shafts’, tunnels with twin sealed ends and no apparent destination, with unfinished, graven windows in the stone that seals one end.
 _ As another example, the Mnajdra temples on the island of Malta display a series of ‘oracle holes’… possibly used as portals for sacred communications (although one wonders if they might also have been rims for some archaic version of basketball). Still- when it comes to natural apertures in stone, I’ve found nothing that directly mirrors my notion about passage into some alternate realm.
 _ Certainly, there are multiple legends about ‘holey’ stones serving as some sort of scrying device, allowing one to ‘see into faerie’. I haven’t made it all the way through the ‘ Spiderwick Chronicles’ (bad C.G.I. makes my teeth twinge)… but the ‘holey stone as a lens’ idea was certainly central to that flick. These are mostly depicted as small eyepieces, however, and it’s not clear whether a massive rock tunnel would function the same way (or if the viewer would need an eye that was proportioned to scale). The Mên-an-Tol in Cornwall is perhaps the closest match I’ve found on the web. This ring-shaped artifact is said to be a natural feature (although it certainly looks carved). At one time, people would pass their children through its eyelet- either three times or nine times. This was supposed to be a sovereign cure for rickets, scrofula, and other maladies with ghastly medieval names.
 _ More ominously, local legend suggests that a woman can impregnate herself by passing through the eyelet seven times backwards under a full moon. It’s not clear what the agent of this quickening might be. The Sidhe? Leda's swan cavorting amidst the silver gleam?
 _ The whole question is complicated by the fact that numerous Celtic artifacts in the area include perforations as a suitable height for the ‘ritual insertion’ of certain appendages. See ' Ireland and the phallic conundrum' for more information than you probably wanted. ‘Let us draw the curtain of charity over the rest of the scene’, as Mark Twain would say. Overall- research suggests that a certain restraint might be in order.
 _ Nonetheless, I’m considering the idea of incorporating passageways and eyelets into some of my fountains or lanterns.
And… if any of you have images or descriptions of natural passageways and windows from your own rambles, I’d love to hear about it.
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