Craft-talk!
Tuesday, 6 March 2012 10:30![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
flint_garouAn idea, and then some.
6 March, 2012
The moon is in the waxing Full (Ahroun) Moon phase (90% full).
The workshop is not empty, nor is it quiet. Ishmael stands at one of the work tables, arms folded, before him a half-finished pair of work gloves he seems to be in the process of hand-weaving with the help of some convoluted-looking machines and tools. For the moment, his thoughts are clearly lost amidst the melodies of classical violin atop heavy dubstep bass; the music is loud, beautiful, and like a fog that permeates the room. The primordial soup of creativity. Or something.
Flint has been busily in and out of the tenement, barely seen and then barely looking up from the computer in the day following being given the task for his rite of passage, but he's made his way to the workshop now, a piece of paper sketch in one hand. "Hey," the cub calls out, loudly enough to be heard as a voice over the music if not necessarily intelligible. Flint drums his fingers on his leg to the beat of the music as he moves over to come into Ishmael's field of vision, trying not to surprise the other Walker.
Ishmael glances up slowly from the gloves, brows raising slightly. His arms unlace for a moment so he can grab the remote to the stereo; the volume is promptly reduced so they can both be heard. "Hey Flint. What can I do for you?" He asks, setting down the remote with a hollow sound.
Flint moves over to set the piece of paper on the table to one side, though doesn't show it yet. "Want to check an idea with you? See if we have the stuff to do it, and such?" There's a faint hint of nervousness in the boy's voice, but there's also a confidence in his posture as he stands there that's been previously unseen. "I still. Need to show my idea to Kavi-rhya and Mouse-rhya, but I." Silence after that, as the boy half-glances at the Theurge.
Ishmael's normally casual demeanor and posture remain. "Sure," he says, simply; it's unlikely he's missed the slight change in Flint, but obviously sees no immediate reason to call it to attention. "S'what I'm here for. Whatcha tryin' t'build?"
Flint unfolds the piece of paper. "Memorial installation," he says, simply, twisting the paper—which has two sketches—so that Ishmael can see it. "Well, right now I just need to think of it and get it ready to propose to Kavi-rhya and Mouse-rhya. But I'd kinda like to build it after all of this, if they'll let me." The first sketch is a very simple view of the wall of the breakroom which the computers are on, with an arrow pointing to the wall above them, currently empty. The second sketch, taking up more of the page, is that of what half looks to be a piece of modular artwork, variously organic and formed with shapes of the city, with some claw-glyphs carefully sketched across it as well. "See, this is in pieces, made from wood, and it'd get mounted to the wall there, above the computers, where everyone would see it."
Ishmael idly scratches at his chin as he looks over the proposal, quietly noting Flint's intent and purpose. "Gotcha," he says, turning away for a moment to grab up a sketch pencil and a broad pad of paper. Roughly, he outlines the intended area above the computers, and then glances again at Flint's work again. "Just an idea," he says, drawing a line for the city-horizon, and then pencilling in a few building and city-shapes upon it. Several phases of the moon are then drawn in an arc above the skyline, rising and setting. "Could silhouette the glyphs over various phases of the moon to honor the auspices however you like. An' then, each addition to the cityscape could represent someone or something in particular. I'm a fan of mixed-medium art, so I think your worked pieces atop some paintwork would look cool. Also, I know I'm adding work, but making each piece out of some different kind of material might be more representative or symbolic as well." All of this is briefly illustrated for the cub upon the sketchpad. "Everything you'd need for that is here. And I'm a resource, too, if you need any help to get things done in however much time they gave you. Obviously, the bulk of the work would be yours, but every big project usually has multiple artists and assistants working on it anyways."
Flint grins widely, tracing with his finger the ideas that the Fostern has laid out behind his own, and then nods. "Hadn't thought of painting," Flint muses, "but I was never very into art class. Preferred the shop classes when they'd let me in." Nonetheless, the cub seems very pleased with the suggestion. "And yeah, I was hoping to incorporate metal, and maybe some a good amount of found materials into the individual pieces, and they'd be set up such that in the future, additions mesh well with the original piece." A small nod follows, and then he looks at the sketch that Ishmael has done. "Can I keep that sketch for now?" comes the question.
"Yeah," says Ishmael, nodding as he rips the sketch free and hands it over to the cub. He manages a brief smile. Craft-talk! "We got several different kinds of metal in storage you can work with. Some of which is salvage, so that's easy. And if you're concerned about the paintjob, just give me a rough outline of what you want, and I can do that part. It's just background to the worked elements anyways. You can focus on those."
Flint smooths out his own sketch, and then takes the one that Ishmael hands him, clasping the two together and bouncing on his heels for a moment. "Awesome. Thank you, Ishmael—" and then the boy firmly shuts his mouth, swallowing back the suffix and getting an internally distracted look, followed by outright talking to himself 'toldyouitdon'tmatter' for a moment, with a sheepish glance upwards. "I was hoping to be able to use salvage wood, too, at least for the very basic parts, and the building on that with inlays and such," he says, head tilting to the side. "But, I gotta take this to Kavi-rhya and Mouse-rhya, first. And I gotta go see about who I can talk to, and get the stories, before that." Half of the explanation of what he has to do also seems to be talking to himself, or at least not directly to the theurge.
Ishmael doesn't seem perturbed. And then thumbs in the direction of the bawn. "No small supply of wood. Just got to make sure you talk to the Groundskeeper first. They might want you to do some chim to the trees or somethin' before you take anything." The sketch pad and pencils are then replaced. "Sounds like a good idea, though. Doable. Meaningful. Don't see why either of them would have an issue with it, offhand." He shrugs a single shoulder. Chill.
Another grin comes in response to what Ishmael says, with the continuation of the look of taking mental notes, before Flint ducks a nod. "Right," he acknowledges, folding the two pieces of paper together carefully. "Seeya, then?" he adds, waiting partially for permission to turn and go now that they're done. "Prolly pretty soon."
Ishmael waves the cub off. "Yup. Just come bug me whenever you've got an idea of whatcha need. I'm always around. And now I've got a satellite to go fix," he adds, taking a breath and picking up a flame-torch he had set to the side. He then grins. "But hey, excuse to use a torch. Can't complain."
6 March, 2012
The moon is in the waxing Full (Ahroun) Moon phase (90% full).
The workshop is not empty, nor is it quiet. Ishmael stands at one of the work tables, arms folded, before him a half-finished pair of work gloves he seems to be in the process of hand-weaving with the help of some convoluted-looking machines and tools. For the moment, his thoughts are clearly lost amidst the melodies of classical violin atop heavy dubstep bass; the music is loud, beautiful, and like a fog that permeates the room. The primordial soup of creativity. Or something.
Flint has been busily in and out of the tenement, barely seen and then barely looking up from the computer in the day following being given the task for his rite of passage, but he's made his way to the workshop now, a piece of paper sketch in one hand. "Hey," the cub calls out, loudly enough to be heard as a voice over the music if not necessarily intelligible. Flint drums his fingers on his leg to the beat of the music as he moves over to come into Ishmael's field of vision, trying not to surprise the other Walker.
Ishmael glances up slowly from the gloves, brows raising slightly. His arms unlace for a moment so he can grab the remote to the stereo; the volume is promptly reduced so they can both be heard. "Hey Flint. What can I do for you?" He asks, setting down the remote with a hollow sound.
Flint moves over to set the piece of paper on the table to one side, though doesn't show it yet. "Want to check an idea with you? See if we have the stuff to do it, and such?" There's a faint hint of nervousness in the boy's voice, but there's also a confidence in his posture as he stands there that's been previously unseen. "I still. Need to show my idea to Kavi-rhya and Mouse-rhya, but I." Silence after that, as the boy half-glances at the Theurge.
Ishmael's normally casual demeanor and posture remain. "Sure," he says, simply; it's unlikely he's missed the slight change in Flint, but obviously sees no immediate reason to call it to attention. "S'what I'm here for. Whatcha tryin' t'build?"
Flint unfolds the piece of paper. "Memorial installation," he says, simply, twisting the paper—which has two sketches—so that Ishmael can see it. "Well, right now I just need to think of it and get it ready to propose to Kavi-rhya and Mouse-rhya. But I'd kinda like to build it after all of this, if they'll let me." The first sketch is a very simple view of the wall of the breakroom which the computers are on, with an arrow pointing to the wall above them, currently empty. The second sketch, taking up more of the page, is that of what half looks to be a piece of modular artwork, variously organic and formed with shapes of the city, with some claw-glyphs carefully sketched across it as well. "See, this is in pieces, made from wood, and it'd get mounted to the wall there, above the computers, where everyone would see it."
Ishmael idly scratches at his chin as he looks over the proposal, quietly noting Flint's intent and purpose. "Gotcha," he says, turning away for a moment to grab up a sketch pencil and a broad pad of paper. Roughly, he outlines the intended area above the computers, and then glances again at Flint's work again. "Just an idea," he says, drawing a line for the city-horizon, and then pencilling in a few building and city-shapes upon it. Several phases of the moon are then drawn in an arc above the skyline, rising and setting. "Could silhouette the glyphs over various phases of the moon to honor the auspices however you like. An' then, each addition to the cityscape could represent someone or something in particular. I'm a fan of mixed-medium art, so I think your worked pieces atop some paintwork would look cool. Also, I know I'm adding work, but making each piece out of some different kind of material might be more representative or symbolic as well." All of this is briefly illustrated for the cub upon the sketchpad. "Everything you'd need for that is here. And I'm a resource, too, if you need any help to get things done in however much time they gave you. Obviously, the bulk of the work would be yours, but every big project usually has multiple artists and assistants working on it anyways."
Flint grins widely, tracing with his finger the ideas that the Fostern has laid out behind his own, and then nods. "Hadn't thought of painting," Flint muses, "but I was never very into art class. Preferred the shop classes when they'd let me in." Nonetheless, the cub seems very pleased with the suggestion. "And yeah, I was hoping to incorporate metal, and maybe some a good amount of found materials into the individual pieces, and they'd be set up such that in the future, additions mesh well with the original piece." A small nod follows, and then he looks at the sketch that Ishmael has done. "Can I keep that sketch for now?" comes the question.
"Yeah," says Ishmael, nodding as he rips the sketch free and hands it over to the cub. He manages a brief smile. Craft-talk! "We got several different kinds of metal in storage you can work with. Some of which is salvage, so that's easy. And if you're concerned about the paintjob, just give me a rough outline of what you want, and I can do that part. It's just background to the worked elements anyways. You can focus on those."
Flint smooths out his own sketch, and then takes the one that Ishmael hands him, clasping the two together and bouncing on his heels for a moment. "Awesome. Thank you, Ishmael—" and then the boy firmly shuts his mouth, swallowing back the suffix and getting an internally distracted look, followed by outright talking to himself 'toldyouitdon'tmatter' for a moment, with a sheepish glance upwards. "I was hoping to be able to use salvage wood, too, at least for the very basic parts, and the building on that with inlays and such," he says, head tilting to the side. "But, I gotta take this to Kavi-rhya and Mouse-rhya, first. And I gotta go see about who I can talk to, and get the stories, before that." Half of the explanation of what he has to do also seems to be talking to himself, or at least not directly to the theurge.
Ishmael doesn't seem perturbed. And then thumbs in the direction of the bawn. "No small supply of wood. Just got to make sure you talk to the Groundskeeper first. They might want you to do some chim to the trees or somethin' before you take anything." The sketch pad and pencils are then replaced. "Sounds like a good idea, though. Doable. Meaningful. Don't see why either of them would have an issue with it, offhand." He shrugs a single shoulder. Chill.
Another grin comes in response to what Ishmael says, with the continuation of the look of taking mental notes, before Flint ducks a nod. "Right," he acknowledges, folding the two pieces of paper together carefully. "Seeya, then?" he adds, waiting partially for permission to turn and go now that they're done. "Prolly pretty soon."
Ishmael waves the cub off. "Yup. Just come bug me whenever you've got an idea of whatcha need. I'm always around. And now I've got a satellite to go fix," he adds, taking a breath and picking up a flame-torch he had set to the side. He then grins. "But hey, excuse to use a torch. Can't complain."