Mother’s Day is coming soon, and I have a new design that would make a lovely gift.  But it involves a small bit of work on your part, and I thought I’d give you a little head’s up in case it was helpful.  Besides, I’m terrible with surprises.

The long version:

I buy metal in full sheets, and have it cut into the sizes I most commonly use.  There are always bits and pieces left over at the end (the fractions, if you will).  Usually just slivers, but sometimes bigger pieces that I stack neatly until I find the perfect use for them.  I often have a random assortment, so they usually end up as part of a larger collage (like the Letterpress piece).

But right now I have a lot of 3×5 inch pieces.  And it dawned on me that 3×5 is the size of an index card.  And index cards are used to write recipes.  And what sweeter way to capture the memory of your mother or grandmother than preserving her handwritten and butter-stained recipe card in a permanent form?

An etched metal recipe card ~ in mom’s own handwriting

So that’s the idea.  Your recipe, word for word, stain for beloved stain, preserved in the original handwriting on copper or zinc and displayed on a mini easel.  I know it’s early.  Mother’s Day isn’t for like a month.  But if you celebrate Easter, you’re likely flipping through those sentimental favorites to find recipes to prepare for the holiday.  Once you’re done cooking and baking, set the card aside and email me a scan or a photo.

* If you want to get a jump on it early, email me your image before April 1st and I’ll offer you a discount in exchange for a sample photo of the finished piece.  You’ll be able to preview before you purchase. *

Want to wait until later?  No problem ~ stay tuned!  I’ll be back in touch with more info as it gets closer.

Take care, and hug your loved ones ~

Chris

Quick Peek: COSE Awards

Hello all!  Thought I’d give you a quick peek at one of the projects I just wrapped up — a set of four awards given to outgoing members of the COSE Board of Directors (above).  I’ve made awards for COSE in the past, including the ones below:

   

The challenge was to make something that felt consistent with previous years, but had a fresh design.  So I added the red color and photo transfered words related to business & entrepreneurialism.  (For those of you unfamiliar, COSE is an organization that advocates for & assists small businesses.)  I’m really pleased with the design!  The color is beautifully rich and deep, and the combination of the red & copper was quite striking.  And, as anyone who has ever befriended an artist knows, the current project is always the favorite ;)

Life will give you lemons, if you’re lucky…

In other news, I bought a lemon tree!  This has nothing to do with art or copper or anything else, other than it makes me smile.  January has been cold and wet and downright icky, and I decided it was perfectly rational to combat all the crappiness by mail ordering a citrus tree.  I like to think of it as making lemonade the “slow food” way.  After being crammed into a box and drop-kicked onto my doorstep, it is now living happily in my kitchen.  It is almost up to my shoulder ~ although around here we measure things in “nieces”.  (Almost Abby height, btw.)  Supposedly it will fruit sometime in the spring.  Will keep you posted!
Take care, and have a great week!

Chris

January Stillness

Hello all, and Happy New Year~

The rush of the holidays is now over, and the houses are covered with a blanket of snow. The world lacks color right now. The little pleasures of life are smells and tastes, rather than sights. Outside the smell of crisp, cool air is quickly replaced by the sweet sap of burning firewood and the spice of a warm cup of tea. The days are short and the darkness long. It is a time of stillness, of rest, of recovery.

Here at Copper Leaf Studios it is a time of planning and organizing, of dull administrative necessities, and of full body exhaustion, no longer content to be ignored. The holiday season builds to a frenzy I cannot fathom at any other point of the year, and sometime during the week between Christmas and New Years the cup gets depleted. (Somewhere around this time emails are answered “You don’t need it til February? Oh thank GOD.”)

But the stillness doesn’t last for long. The hot little embers of ideas start to spark, and pretty soon a warm excitement fills the air. Downtime will do that to you. It is a precious commodity, indeed.

This will be a year of excitement, and challenge, and wonder. It will be a year of long-term projects, and major installations. Of trying new techniques and streamlining others. It will be a year to create the single largest piece I have ever made — 28 feet! — until someone surprises me by wanting something even larger. A year for dreaming big! And to doing big, because it is not enough to dream. And for taking a deep breath, to exhale the tired and worried and anxious and to breathe in the fresh scent of possibility.

Here’s to 2013 ~ and to sharing the journey.

Until next time,

Chris

Cleveland Museum of Art

Surreal.  That’s how it felt when I got a call from the Cleveland Museum of Art asking if I would be interested in having some of my work on display.  (“why yes, that would be lovely!”  er, how does one respond to that sort of question, exactly?)  The CMA has always been a source of pride around here, but this premier art museum also just happened to recently undergo a $350 million expansion, which has given it even more attention and grandeur as of late.

The centerpiece of the renovation?  The Ames Family Atrium, a stunning five-story space that connects the “old” and “new” museums with one grand glass structure designed by NY architect Rafael Vinoly.  And within that space — bamboo gardens, a massive performance area, the Provenance Cafe (under the guidance of chef Douglas Katz), and the brand new Museum Store, which will now showcase local artists and exclusive merchandise.

“We’d like to feature your work at the debut in October.”  “Sure,” I stammer in my professional voice.  “That would be fine.  Can you email me your consignment agreement?”  “If it’s okay with you, we’d prefer to purchase the work outright.”  <choke> Yeah, that’s good too.  Sixteen pieces, my friends.  Not that I kiss and tell.

The manager and I played phone tag on the day that I dropped off the work.  It occurred to me as I was stopped at the front door by security that we had never really clarified where we were to meet.  I was informed upon entering that they don’t let so much as an envelope in the front doors, let alone a chica stacked with boxes.  But a little walkie talking and I was led into a massive glass room covered in brown kraft paper.  ”We had to cover the walls because so many people were peering inside,” he tells me.

I asked if there would be any sort of opening — yes, he tells me the date… he may as well have said “a little shindig, nothing fancy”.  The weather was lousy; parking was horrible.  We almost didn’t make it.  I had no idea the reason why we couldn’t find a place to park was because half of Northeast Ohio was inside celebrating.  Performances included Taiko drummers, Indian dancers, giant puppeteers, stilt-walkers… over 40 different cultural performances.  It was like Parade the Circle indoors.

We made a beeline for the shop.  ”I wanna see your work,” Alan insisted, dismissing the African drummers — “they’ll still be here.”  We walked through the whole shop twice, not there.  I tried to be diplomatic, but there was a twinge of disappointment.  It wasn’t until we gave up and went outside that we realized it was featured in the display window.  

Okay, yeah, I’m beaming like a little kid.  Still.  As a young writer, Neil Gaiman said he was given one piece of advice: “You should enjoy this.”  And that, my friends, is just what I shall do.

Thank you for sharing this journey with me, and have a great week :)

Chris