A Weekend of Faces

On Friday, John and I decided to experiment with casting a face.  He had spoken with me about his desire to make a Halloween mask for his son based on his son's own face, and this inspired us to experiment along those lines.  I volunteered for the assignment, since it was important that one of us know what it is like to endure the process of casting the face.  It was claustrophobic, blinding, and at times I felt like I was at a loss as to where my next breath was to come from.

But in the end, I was able to relax long enough for John and Reservoir Sculpture distinguished guest, Keith Mendak (see tatoos below), to finish covering my face in alginate.  If that were not enough, I also had to endure the wait for the mother mold in plaster bandages to be made and cure.  In retrospect, not such a bad thing.  But as a newbie I found that this process required some amount of emotional composure.

Keith has a long history of expertise in this area, and picking his brain was a wonderful experience.  We talked of press molds, casting glass, and fun ways to use Styrofoam to extend the volume of alginate.  More than anything else, I found in Keith an enthusiasm about process that I wish were more pervasive.  If this were so, the world would be a better place to toil.

But there was one thing that Keith turned us on to that bears special mention -- the value of casting in wax.  It is a brittle medium, but one that can be incredibly workable at the right temperature.  Any positive made from life is bound to have imperfections that stem from the mold-making process.  Working a first positive in wax allows the artist to chase away all of these errors prior to the manufacture of a more lasting and perfect mold.  I look forward to exploring this with John.

Speaking of John Gonzalez, see his son, Kai, above.  He is seven years old and volunteered on Sunday to have his face cast too.  John was meticulous in his preparation.  He had Kai immerse his head in water so that his ears were covered, gave him some tubes in his mouth to breath, and covered his face with paper towels so as to simulate the pressures of being encapsulated in a mold.

They worked out a rudimentary sign language so that Kai would be able to keep us abreast of his needs and concerns.  And in the end we found that this little seven year old boy was more courageous and "zen" than I could ever have been.  Kudos to Kai, and to his little brother, Quinn, who took all of these great photos with his dad's camera. 

The end result speaks for itself!