Crucible For Melting Gold
Crucible for melting gold : Gold cross men : Gold from scrap.
Crucible For Melting Gold
- Crucible is an album by the band Halford released in 2002 (see 2002 in music).
- A place or occasion of severe test or trial
- A crucible is a refractory container used for metal, glass, and pigment production as well as a number of modern laboratory processes, which can withstand temperatures high enough to melt or otherwise alter its contents.
- A ceramic or metal container in which metals or other substances may be melted or subjected to very high temperatures
- a vessel made of material that does not melt easily; used for high temperature chemical reactions
- A place or situation in which different elements interact to produce something new
- Change (something) to a liquid condition by heating it
- Become liquefied by heat
- Melt something, esp. a metal article, so that the material it is made of can be used again
- thaw: the process whereby heat changes something from a solid to a liquid; “the power failure caused a refrigerator melt that was a disaster”; “the thawing of a frozen turkey takes several hours”
- liquescent: becoming liquid
- (melt) reduce or cause to be reduced from a solid to a liquid state, usually by heating; “melt butter”; “melt down gold”; “The wax melted in the sun”
- An alloy of this
- made from or covered with gold; “gold coins”; “the gold dome of the Capitol”; “the golden calf”; “gilded icons”
- A yellow precious metal, the chemical element of atomic number 79, valued esp. for use in jewelry and decoration, and to guarantee the value of currencies
- A deep lustrous yellow or yellow-brown color
- coins made of gold
- amber: a deep yellow color; “an amber light illuminated the room”; “he admired the gold of her hair”
crucible for melting gold – Pre-Melting Kit
Robert Cremean: Gula/Gluttony from STUDIO SECTION 2005-2007, The Seven Deadly Sins and Three Diptychs from The Winter Notebooks
Colored pencil, modeling paste on wood panel
Below is a transcription of the handwritten words of GULA above:
Nothing fills me, satisfies me, binds my need. I hang bloated, an inflatable sack of gaseous inconsequence. Self-pity, self-loathing and disgust swell my perimeter. I consume everything and exhaust nothing. I have cannibalized all desire and packaged myself expandable. I am greed without anus. That which my sibling, Avaritia, cannot retain, I cannot expel. I am a single-holed hunger, a swollen toothless bladder of vast proportion My skin is moist with shit. I boil with the blessing of my punishment. Pity me. Pity me as I pity myself, with love and understanding. Let me devour your love. Afford me the sweets of your acceptance and loving understanding. Do not judge me repugnant and without merit. Enlarge me with your lack of judgement. Forsake punishment and retribution. I hang helpless of defense. Is there not some beauty in my dedication? A certain admiration for my capacity to retain? I have always been and will always be. As you swell my enormity with repetition, I will devour you generation upon layered generation; a vast compaction of obfuscation, a conspiracy of ignorance. Through your insatiable hunger and my infinite capacity, we will devour the earth. I require no change of diet. Repeat is the fare of the day and of all of the days. I am putrid with it and exalt in its exhilaration. The perfume of blood and shit expands my girth, gives measurement to my wastefulness. To eliminate unwelcome surprise or unpalatable experiment, let me list the menu: War—Only war—all else is a potpourri of surrogates and stuffing. Greed feeds me, expands my perimeter. I devour what he acquires. What he cannot retain, I contain. I am the reticule of avarice. Nothing escapes me save the stench of layered repetition. I hang heavy with it, crucified by consumption. Pity me. The menu never varies. I have no taste for it, but can stomach no other. In symbiotic stagnation, I serve my purpose with passive accumulation. Though what I hold is never used, the very weight of me is proof of our existence, our triangulation. Gula, Acedia, Avaritia. We three, in symbiotic triangulation, illustrate the entelechy of mankind; but it is I, only I, Gula, who is passive. I hang and I hold, absent of anus in constant and tractable expansion. A balloon of infinite compaction. My layered weight and weighted expansion is shaped and molded to the contours of war. I am what I eat: rape, torture, horror, suffering, torn flesh, burning flesh, rotten flesh…I am full of it, suppurated by it, hanging and twisting like a fragrant pudding. I am the right flank of Acedia, sloth, follower of dogma, ritual, and recipe, sleeper of dreamless sleep. It is Acedia who scribed the menu adding, perhaps, subtle variations depending on shifting taste and available condiments. Avaritia stuffs me like a goose’s gullet. Generation after generation after generation I have been crammed with the rot and spoils of war: Like carrion, works of art, raped and pillaged, putrefy my core. Screams and wailing waft my bowels. Base laughter and jeering fill the leaded chambers of my heart. I reek with piety and deceit, the stench of hypocrisy. I am stuffed to bursting—and yet I do not burst. My expansion is infinite—or so it seems. Acedia sustains me. In passivity I accept all things given. In suspension I hang heavy with the nothingness of belief. I accept all things. I accept all things save one: Absence. Absence is never proffered, never interred or contained. My expansion is secure. Contradiction hinders not my dedication. My crucifixion is assured…the ecstasy of my torment, self-hatred and pity, assured. What Avaritia feeds me suspends me, increases me, intensities my hunger. Greed feeds me and so I hang, swollen with self-satisfaction and contempt. All precious things are artifacts, man-made, artificial, indigestible—. I hang heavy with them. Precious ideas, precious objects, precious dogmas and manifestoes. I contain them all. Layer upon layer of them. Millennium upon millennium, I am bloated with their flatulence. Avaritia stuffs me with his plunder…Gods and rituals, jewels and gold, paintings and sculpture. Boundaries. Things. Manufactured values. Realities, gaseous and pervasive. Beliefs, metaphors, poetry. Greed feeds me, over-feeds me, stuffs me with illusion. I hang heavy in duplication. Stuffed with pretense, superstition, and lies. Only compassionate history forgives this gluttony, for it, too, lies within me. It is in me and of me and is me, for only history can contain the weight and volume of this layered repetition, this gluttony of repeat, this unchanging menu of greed. I am what I eat, the rotting spoils of masculine entelechy. But there are certain divertimeni, certain unexpected interludes of frivolity and license that lighten my bowels of the heavy wheat and potatoes of war. Though the menu never changes, the
Metal Cart, Mohenjodaro, Indus Valley Civilization
Mohenjodaro, Harappa and Lothal are the three major sites of this civilization. At Lothal in the state of Gujarat, two types of kilns have been excavated, One, a circular kiln that measures 1 metre in diameter, that was most probably used for smelting copper ingots; the second, a rectangular kiln measuring 75 by 60 cms. with a depth of 30 cms. This is believed to have been used for casting tools.
The many metal discoveries at Lothal include figure, amulets, pins in the shape of a bird-head, miniature figures, and tools such as a curved or circular saw, a needle with an eye at the piercing end, and a bronze drill with twisted grooves. This last is by far the most important find of ancient tools because this single item led to an unparalleled precision at the time, and is widely regarded as the precursor to modern machine tools.
The above-mentioned tools are exceptional in the entire Indus Valley civilization, and neither do they bear resemblance to Harappan tools. Indeed, Lothal was already a prosperous town prior to the arrival of the Harappans sometime around 2450 BC and till 1600 BC.
crucible for melting gold