Welcome

Ahoy Matey, and Welcome to REPTIRE, an intermittent ‘ship’s blog’, chronicling the slow rise in the South Easterly skies of Reptire Designs; a studio that designs and crafts always artful, and sometimes useful THINGAMABOBS from old Indian Cucachou, aka ReTired Rubber.

Down Below, Ye shall find a permanent 'flagship post' marking the Maiden Voyage of Reptire Designs.

And below that, in the ‘hull’, can be found more recent posts chronicling the daring new adventures of Reptire Designs, dashed with small bits of whimsy, spotted pickerel, local color, and lizard lore..

In fact, on the right, in pale purple, ye shall find the Captain's Log’s Table of Previous Posts, which ye can peruse by year, month, and title to ye hearts content.

If ye haven't gotchyer sea legs yet, My Pretty, Ye can take a gander at our website at www.reptiredesigns.com, to get a proper Landlubber's Introduction.

Thanks for stopping in, I do hope you enjoy your visit aboard this ship! HARHARHARHAR.......

Sincerely, Travius Von Cohnifus

Captain, Founder, Indentured Servant, Rubber Alligator Wrestlor Extraordinaire a' this here ship.

enter the treadknot

Welcome
On September 26th, 2006, I launched my tire art/design business, Reptire Designs, with a solo exhibition of my artwork in The Green Gallery at The Scrap Exchange Center for Creative Reuse, in Durham, NC. For many reasons, it was a night that I will always remember, and I am grateful to Laxmi (my girlfriend at the time) and Edie (my mother, still) for dutifully documenting while I shmoozed, so that I may now shmare a taste of the evening with anyone who was not able to attend...



On a cool but lively autumn night-before-Center Fest, a stream of friends and curious strangers trickled (like pebbles through a rain stick) through the forest of odds and ends (that roost at night in The Scrap Exchange), out into the warm light of the back savanna, a scene utterly glopped with bizarre rubbery hybrids. Tentative and curious, the visitors craned their necks, nibbled, pecked, stood back, moved in closer. From the walls, glassy mirror eyes gazed back through black unblinking eyelids, while beneath the visitor's feet, in a steamy drainage cistern, a mortal drama unfolded. Primordial forms, with no eyes at all, sat puckered on stoops. A cascade of glittering steal droplets formed a curtain, to which clung a colony of tiny tire knotlettes.

Vito D., a long-time collabator down from the Asheville area, caressed the warming air with his Strange Little Folk music. I bobbed and I flit, and at an increasing clip-someone must have opened the faucet a bit....for soon I was swooning, I just about lost it! As the evening progressed, to my delight and amazement, 'family' from Durham, Chapel Hill, Pittsboro, Hillsboro, Siler City, Asheville, and Fresno all made it! From the Cohn Clan to the Steudel Clan to the CFS Clan; from the WWC Clan to the Duke Ac Pub Clan to the SAF Clan; from the Bike Shop Clan to the Ninth St. Clan to the Scrap Clan... and every one in between, guys, they were all appearing before my stunned, blinking eyes. While I spun and I splayed, Vito now played-CHURNED- up a torrent of gritty ditties; while a staff volunteer (Brandon's a photographer, I swear) whipped up pitchers of Mango Lassies. And The 'Scrap Exchange girls' worked the door, the counter, and the floor, going "cha-CHING!", cha-CHING!","cha-CHING!".!.



By the end of the night, hundreds of friends, acquaintances and had-been-strangers had poured in, poured over the work, and partaken in, what was for me and my art, a monumental communal feast. And on top of it all, I got to place many of my preemies in hands that I love and trust, and in several instances, hands that fit them like gloves. What a privilage to be able to connect with people this way. Heading into the turbid seas of small business, I can confidently say that if I drown tomorrow, I am at least blessed today with the memory of (as Vito later put it) one authentically good Durham night.



Thanks to all of you who were there; in body and/or spirit.





Reclaimed-wood Builder and Reptire Collector Howard Staab enjoying magwi knot at the Scrap Exchange

Reclaimed-wood Builder and Reptire Collector Howard Staab enjoying magwi knot at the Scrap Exchange
I can't think of anything more rewarding for an artist than to see someone interacting with their artwork. Photo by Laxmi Haynes

Sammy and Dannette contemplate

Sammy and Dannette contemplate
Photograph by Laxmi Haynes

Cascade Colony of Knotlets

Cascade Colony of Knotlets
They would go with your jacket, would they not Claire?

Laxmi Resplendent

Laxmi Resplendent

Mavis In The Mist

Mavis In The Mist
Photograph by Laxmi Haynes

Tire Amazement

Tire Amazement
Photograph by Edie Cohn

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Wren Out On A Limb

Well,
  That cute peeping has quickly become non-stop-squawking. For the past several days, there has been a non- stop blaring barage of a birdy alarm system, alerting me that I am an intruder in my own studio..ey.

Now, in addition to the two Parent Wrens, those deftly flying darts, shutling spiders back and forth from the abandoned Hair Salon behind my studio, we have the arrival on the scene of three different bushy eye-browed, sleepy headed, awkward as all get out little yapper/crappers, who each look like a mini Grandpa Munster. Actually, they look more like unhappy, awkward teenagers who just woke up from a nap.. 

They have been spending a lot of time hopping around on my tire sculptures though, particularly the Tirespheres and other tire constructions of the Great Balls of Tire series, with their arching bows..
I was able to borrow a camera from Chana Meeks, as mine is broken :( sorry.

Where are Ma Dukes Wren and Pa Dukes Wren during all of this? As far as I can tell, they have decided that their job is over! "So long Sucker!" they said, as they hopped and soared out the window, towards canada for the Summer, leaving their peeping pups, with this beleagured sculptor, in the wake of a festival.

So I am left with these things...how is it?

Well fortunately for an unlikely surrogate parent like myself, it turns out that baby wrens grow up fast, like in about the course of an afternoon...

I found one perched on the edge of the stair landing, contemplating his plunge into adulthood...
Don't do it! I said. I ran to borrow Chana's camera, and by the time I got back, he was a Real Bird!

Of course, all this meant was that he was clinging pitifully and bat-like to the wall of the barbershop in the alley way below, eyeing me sort of both sheepishly and suspiciously, as if to say "......What?!"
Ah yes, Independence. I was reminded of a few short lived running away from home journey's of my own childhood, all the way down to the neighbor's house on the corner...(as they say "Just because you get out of Dodge...")

He let me pull a few of my studio's cobwebs off of his feet before flying on towards his Bird Destiny, whatever that will be...

One down, two more to go.

I found another clinging to the outside edge of a window that I leave cracked open, two stories up, above a busy street. This was quite pitiful. I didn't try to catch him, as I didn't want to scare him into doing anything stupid like flying down into the street.
So I just left him to figure it out, and eventually he was gone...

So finally there was just one little bird left, who sat perched on the handle of a closed window, crying to no one who cared, pretty much all day yesterday.

When I found him early this morning, in the exact same place, I resolved that when I got home from my  tutoring job, I would help him find the door.
However, when I returned this afternoon, it seemed that he has found his own way also.

And thus, the din has subsided, for the time being, and I can get a little badly needed work done.