Tag Archives: wood

Some of my father’s work waiting to be catalogued

Waiting to be catalogued

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21/365: Chinking

I was invited to the Exchange Place in Kingsport to do a presentation of my work. I had never been there and the seventeenth century log cabin construction was so beautiful. The old wood and the chinking are incredible.
Chinking

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16/365: Old Beech Trunk

I love the form in this rotting wood as it returns to the earth

Beech

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14/365: there are miracles in the small things

Today on my walk there were so many tiny miracles everywhere. Every juxtaposition of color, of texture, of light is a beautiful tapestry that is ever changing.
Miracles

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Split

Oak

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Accomplishment.

Accomplishment.

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My father noticed the detail in all the small things.

He is with us when we notice them too and with every kind and loving word to family. Love you, Dad

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I finally felt as if my eyes were opening on my walk yesterday.

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Having fun splitting a stump while I wait for the dye pot

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Color

Rowboat keel

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I love stacking wood and am proud of this stack

Woodpile

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Wood and fringed polygala

Sculptures that my dad created over a period between 1987-now, and fringed polygala. You can read about polygala here. My last walk with my father, we searched for and found fringed polygala on Squam Lakes conservation land. He loved the land and the earth and his work and life were testimonials to his belief in preserving natural conservation lands.

Dad's studioFringed polygala

 

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Ken LeBaron, 89, Sculptor, Musician, Nature Lover

Dad

Contributions in LeBaron’s name can be made to contributions to the Squam Lakes Conservation Society.

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This was once a tree.

Once a tree

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I get to share this wonderful father

Posted today by my brother Jim.

Our father retired from a dentistry career that he didn’t much enjoy at 60. For the three decades since, he’s been sculpting in wood. This was a very special moment for me where he was reflecting on his life’s work. I didn’t want to interrupt to await the perfect pose or fiddle with settings, so this is what I gleaned from an unobtrusive click.

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12 of 12 for July 2011

This was a quiet day at my folks house in Sudbury, just enjoying their company and doing ordinary things.

Setting up for computer tutorial, teaching Mom Mac OS and Microsoft Dad built me a beautiful cover for my pot. It is marine plywood. This is one of my chosen sculpturesDad's sculpture studio is the coolest place in the house except for the basement. He does direct carving in wood. Its four hours later and Mom is still studying, working on the church archives The hundred degree heat blasts the hollyhocks Cant get too far with packing. Its too hot. Looking at the items in the archives as Mom works on them. What a sense of place, there are boxes with three nails....from 1815, nails from the steeple. I went to get my laundry after supper. The light on the daylilies was lovely and just a hot moon over the house across the street. When I came back in, the dishes were done!

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Birthday Twelve of Twelve December 12

I began my December Twelve Birthday in front of the fireplace, painting the wood pile I can see a snow storm is brewing looking out the front door. We are hunkered down. Just a little melted snow from the last storm in the side yard. The rain came first you can see the clouds behind our new house we will be renting We went up to check the water pipes and this is how it looks from up there I like the yard of the new house and feeling close to the storm clouds. We went to the wood pile at the shop and loaded up the truck. Plenty of wood to keep warm! this is what I was drawing. Snow began around midday. This is the back yard from the back porch.10.jpgEarly evening but it is dark with the beginning powdering of snow. Dan cooked us Steaks for my birthday dinner in front of the fireplace on the little grill.

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12 of 12: A breathless morning in August

Twelve of Twelve. A breathless morning in August for August twelfth. Work to be done, work in progress, the work of living, things growing, close to the earth

This mushroom is six inches across Wood waits to be cut and split Stacked and drying, ready to go into the cellar The lush growth down in the holler. Things grow when you turn around Black walnut dye has fermented for two years A writing spider built a web on the clothesline Tomatoes ripening Zucchini tiny and growing Laundry waiting to be hung The corn is taller than Nora's head crabapple graft is ripe for apple jelly The Panzer and the lawn tractor waiting to do their jobs

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June 12 of 12

The June 12 of 12 theme is the collapsed relativity of time. My guises, thoughts and perambulations

Mom and dad continue their intellectual voyagesa hand made imitation of a dugout canoe by American(probably Algonquin)materials from the old outhouse will be incorporated into the walk waydan is deep in thought and measurementsLow tech and high results. What you can do with a fifty dollar electric chain saw!the inspiration wall for the lily pads to remind me for this summers dyeingand the dog paws to stitchtracks left behind from rescued greyhoundssoon to be shaped and stitchedwhen it rains on the lake it is time for introspectionand Emily is busy working at her new grad school program. how time does flyhard to believe Reilley is three now, and I will see him day after tomorrowthe home place the day before I left, I hear it is a drought and 100 degrees there now

 

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Fruitlands Museum

Yesterday, we visited Fruitlands Museum. What an interesting place. It was the experimental farm of Bronson Alcott.

Our family has always been in Mass and my mother visited with her book group last week, and liked it so much she brought my father and I yesterday. It was amazing, something for everyone. A museum full of Hudson River school paintings, an on site artist, the home of Bronson Alcott, a Shaker house, an Indian museum…amazing.

 

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I am having fun posting pictures from my week vacation.

Here is my outdoor setup where I was dyeing

Dyeing

And here is the work on the table inside my studio

Work in progress

I also moved a lot of wood!!! Excellent weight bearing exercise for my bones

Woodpile

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