Brian Fisher Print, Paint and Sculpture Blog

Threshold Guardians , new steel garden stakes Today is the 1st day of the 2012 Vashon Spring Studio Tour .  I am hoping for sunny weather and many visitors to share my new work with! Threshold Guardian,  The Minotaur

The Labyrinth Zeus, Zeus himself could not undo these nets Of stone encircling me.  My mind forgets The persons I have been along the way, The hated way of monotonous walls, Which is my fate.  The galleries seem straight But curve furtively, forming secret circles At the terminus of years;  and the parapets Have been worn smooth by the passage of days, Here, in the tepid alabaster dust, Are tracks that frighten me.  The hollow air Of evening sometimes brings a bellowing, Or the echo, desolate, of bellowing. I know that hidden in the shadows there Lurks another, whose task is to exhaust The loneliness that braids and weaves this hell, To crave my blood, and to fatten on my death. We seek each other.  Oh, if only this Were the last day of our antithesis! Jorge Luis Borges, translated by John Updike My Monoprint The Labyrinth is 30 x 22.5 in.  I have done four Monoprint variations around this theme and image.  I used this image on my invitation for the Vashon

The Deeds of Jason   Rust Print  (9 1/4 x 27 3/4 in.) In many a song my past deeds have been sung, And these my hands that guided Argo through The blue Symplegades, still deeds may do. For now the world has swerved from truth and right, Cumbered with monsters, empty of delight, And “midst all this what honor I may win, That she may know of and rejoice therein, And come to seek me, and upon my throne May find me sitting, worshipped, and alone. From "The Life and Death of Jason" by William Morris My Rust Print The Deeds of Jason was made by rusting cut steel plates to muslin. 

Achilles by Carol Ann Duffy Myth’s river – where his mother dipped him, fished him, a slippery golden boy flowed on, his name on its lips. Without him, it was prophesied, they would not take Troy. Women hid him, concealed him in girls’ sarongs; days of sweetmeats, spices, silver songs … But when Odysseus came, with an athlete’s build, a sword and a shield, he followed him to the battlefield, the crowd’s roar, And it was sport, not war, his charmed foot on the ball … But then his heel, his heel, his heel … Carol Ann Duffy, Britain’s Poet Laureate 2009, composed this poem on the occasion of  footballer David Beckham’s injury to his Achilles tendon. Achilles Heel is my Monotype Print (30 x 15 1/4 in.) created for exhibition in my studio during the 2012 Vashon Island Art Studio tour.

Jason and Chiron    (22 x 29.5 in.) When Jason, the son of the dethroned King of Iolcus, was a little boy, he was sent away from his parents, and placed under the queerest schoolmaster that ever you heard of. This learned person was one of the people, or quadrupeds, called Centaurs. He lived in a cavern, and had the body and legs of a white horse, with the head and shoulders of a man. His name was Chiron; and, in spite of his odd appearance, he was a very excellent teacher, and had several scholars, who afterwards did him credit by making a great figure in the world. So Jason dwelt in the cave, with this four-footed Chiron, from the time that he was an infant, only a few months old, until he had grown to the full height of a man. He became a very good harper, I suppose, and skillful in the use of weapons, and tolerably acquainted with herbs and other doctor's stuff, and, above all, an admirable horseman; for, in teaching young people to ride, the good

While priming "Oceanus", my cut steel garden art this afternoon, I was excited by the white on almost white background and took this photo. In Greek myth Oceanus was the personification of the world-ocean and the Titan son of Uranus and Gaia.  My version of the world ocean is a perfect square! You can see and purchase “Oceanus” during the Spring 2012 Vashon Studio Tour , the first two weekends in May, 5-6, 12-13.

The mythic Phoenix is a wonderful symbol of self renewal. There is ever only one Phoenix.  It leads a singular existence.  After living a long life, five hundred years, sustaining itself by eating frankincense and fragrant gums, it builds a funeral pyre  and self incinerates. The story of the Phoenix, it's long life, death in cleansing fire and rebirth from the ashes, appears in many cultures. Perhaps because it affirms a circular story of the individual soul’s regeneration. At left is my Rust Print “Phoenix” to be exhibited during the upcoming Vashon Studio Tour.   It is 30 x 20 in. and mounted to wood panel. “Let me not wander in a barren dream, But when I am consumed in the fire, Give me new Phoenix wings to fly at my desire.” John Keats