I may need to offer an apology… if I am to toggle between puzzle and non-puzzle projects to maintain status quo, it seems that I have to either migrate (across from LJ), or fabricate 30+ non-puzzle projects… though I also have a swag of puzzles posted on LJ still to be introduced here.
While my old man and I were not the besties, I can still admire the talent that uneducated Hungarian labourer had. He had a way of working his hands… and not always just across my bum when I “misbehaved”… misbehave quoted as his version and mine were on the opposite end of the misbehave spectrum.
Nevertheless, this is a tribute to these “picture-holders/boxes” he always used to make in my early childhood... later on, mum and I rebelled as we were just the slave masticators to the master… and mum got full dentures... production promptly ceased.
This project was initially published at LJ on 20th April, 2017 and while I asked if anyone had a name for this method, I didn’t get any definitive answers. If anyone here has a name, I’d appreciate it… and RC, “bun in the oven” has already been rejected.
'scuse the pictures... they are not out of focus but laden with decades of dust... a significant proportion of my life was spent single... and for the WOKE, I do believe that dusting is an unisex operation... pun intended, before and after any either directional surgical operation.
Unfortunately, the ages have taken its toll and it is just too brittle to properly dust... even with a fine brush or soft air.
----------------------------------------- ooooOOOO From LJ OOOOooooo ---------------------------------------------
Boys and Girls,
For all you who may have read some of my articles, know I rabbit on and this may be no different other than I do sincerely believe it is a touching tribute to a talented man and a little more worthy read than the others.
In 1949, I was born the son of a Hungarian fern cutter. We were poor, as there were no ferns in Hungary and the unemployment dole system was yet to be invented.
We escaped Hungary in 1956 when my old man was accused of pointing a loaded weapon at several country invading personnel and maybe taking the liberty of uncontrollably manipulating it's trigger in a somewhat unorthodox fashion. Mum and I followed thefugitiveacross the border, and once I shed the tag of Dr. Dickie Kimble's son, we eventually migrated to Australia, did the rounds of immigration camps and finally settled in a country town of Warragul in Victoria.
To eke out some additional income, the old-man used to make these "picture holders" that he sold for far too many shekels less than they should have been worth. The gallery pictures was his bread and butter (no pun intended) design, however, he also made a lot of heart shaped picture holder for all those tragics waiting for Valentine's Day, to be immortalised to the chagrin of all of us males.
I remember mum and I sitting over about 20-30 loaves of white bread, removing the crust and chewing the bread to a doughy consistency and spitting it out for the replacement of another slice of "raw" bread. Now back then blood alcohol meters were just a mere 40 years from invention, however, the old-man could detect incorrect spittle and bread consistency down to 5 microns and threatened us with incarceration if we didn't rectify our masticating practices.
Anyway, the old-man took this doughy regurgitation and mixed it with some powdered colouring and rolled it out into various shapes. He also made a leaf template out of wood that he used to squeeze some green dough onto and cut around the edges to make and shape the leaves.
He then flattened a heap of pea sized red dough and formed them into the shape of a rose.
He then continued to roll out the "dough" shape and eventually let air dry for several weeks. I believe he may have applied some lacquer but being so young back then, I went to bed early so I didn't see all he did (mum said… thankfully.. wink, wink).
I vaguely remember raiding our local farm barns for the straw he used to accentuate some of his patterns (and for our backyard chooks… hey we're talking 1958-9… eggs still came out of chook bums and not neat packets). The old-mad got rid of all of his creations, except for this one in topic which was the first he made at that residence.
Somehow it followed me through drunken teenage parties, university, mid 1960's Vietnam demonstrations (hey they offered free beer to all participants), many early job dismissals and my coming of age (not necessarily in that order). Just kidding… it was initially domiciled in my first marital residence in 1975. After that, it has followed me around since, taking a back seat somewhere in one of my display cabinets, closets and/or shelves.
Anyway, recently SWMBO asked me to reign in my dust-collectors and I came across this sad piece covered in glad wrap.
I removed the glad wrap
only to find this item covered in near 60 years of dust and bulging at the seams much like my midriff.
I had a closer look and admired the family with their deft use of blue-tac in attempts to prevent total deterioration and holding some of the flaking pieces together. However, this makeshift repair was only to the picture frame so I must admit the rest have stood the march of time… not too shabby for loaves of bread after 60+ years.
Oh yeah, that gorgeous gosling is a picture of this Ducky taken far too many years ago than I care (or can) remember.
You can detect the hair-pin if you look close… mothers never thought of their kids' future back then… this world can be cruel.
For anyone interested, the timber used was "migrant camp reject" circa 1958. The old-man raided the camp's rubbish tip for resources and carried it with him.
I have been spurred on to get off my rrrs and make a display cabinet for it. I really hope I can do it justice and post my results in a not too distant future.
Thanks for listening with your eyes.
PS. Everything was hand…. and TEETH made.
----------------------------------------- ooooOOOO The End OOOOooooo ---------------------------------------------
Don’t be crafty Craftisians,... SHARE your craft!
If your first cut is too short... Take the second cut from the longer end... LBD
Those could be pink boots P, B&W photo you know.....
Doesn't quite make me want to regurgitate bread, that's what winged fowl do, but the story is great and certainly this deserves some long deferred lovin'
Mum though white was befitting a formal picture, however, when it came to personal taste, I thought pink boots was a chick magnet even pre revolution, (even in B&W)...
If your first cut is too short... Take the second cut from the longer end... LBD
If only SWMBO's still giggled at the stupid things you used to say when you first met... now it's a moonslap to the back of the head... or worse, a padlock on the vino pantry.
If your first cut is too short... Take the second cut from the longer end... LBD
Corelz125 .... You're father was quite a craftsman
He was into everything... Our front yard was nicknamed theSpringvale Crematorium, which back in the 60's was renowned for it's "concrete junge" and rose gardens. Our front yard with home made concrete and rose bushes, At 10 yo, I was the motor for the manual concrete mixer in our front yard, while all the kids were playing kiddie things in the road outside our commission house.
If your first cut is too short... Take the second cut from the longer end... LBD
any man that appreciates a rose is alright with me ! hey if he didn't keep you busy your vino lifestyle would have started in the 2nd grade ! about the time grandpa introduced me to whiskey !!!! wait maybe it was kindergarten ?
working with my hands is a joy,it gives me a sense of fulfillment,somthing so many seek and so few find.-SAM MALOOF.
any man that appreciates a rose is alright with me ! hey if he didn't keep you busy your vino lifestyle would have started in the 2nd grade !....
A rose is OK, but a fricking whole yard full is just a TAD overboard, 2nd grade be buggered, it started 3 years before., when we crossed the Austrian border inn '57.
If your first cut is too short... Take the second cut from the longer end... LBD
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