Emotions of Red...

November and December could fall through a manhole, never to be seen again, and I wouldn’t miss them.  Difficult memories trigger melancholy autumn reveries ~ if I agree to them. Some years are better than others and some experiences hurt too much for words.

Grief was the national endowment this holiday season and, over time, we’ll each find a way to pay tribute and evolve meaning for a better world.

I live for 21 December ~ the return of light. The week between Christmas and the new year is a period of reflection, chalking up progress, metabolizing regrets, setting intentions for the next twelve months, reorganizing for maximum efficiency and sending less used items to goodwill or recycle. I reevaluate my priorities and cast ahead to see if

the path I’m on will lead me to the feelings I want to have over the next 365 days.

This is a self portrait from the dark days of the past quarter. In her opening remarks at a Doll Gardner Gallery exhibit, Karen Van Hoy stated studies show red elicits aggressive responses yet when tinted down to pink, the same color is the most peaceful. I found the concept fascinating and experimented with the idea. This type of mark making has been with me for most of my life. I’ve tried unsuccessfully to elegant up and decided raw, unadulterated interaction with the support and medium is how I am able to most fully express.

Self Portrait in Contrasting Shades of Emotion, 2012. Oil paint and bars on canvas, 30” x 24”.

Constellations...

I’m excited about a new series I’ve been working on for the past few months.


The work is a radical departure from previous efforts and combines my love of sculpture, photography, painting and drawing.

These posted images are of photo transfers and acrylic skins on steel plate. I’m working in copper, aluminum and brass, as well as dimensional formats. The “paintings” combine my current images of contemporary structures with my father, grandfather’s and great-grandfather’s photographic portraits.

The pieces give form to my interest in genetic memory and it’s impact on our beliefs and choices.

Friend and teacher, Corrine Loomis Diets, visited my studio recently. While she taught me the initial transfer techniques she remarked that she’s never seen anyone try color photo transfers or photo skins on larger metal supports. She was so enamored we took a field trip to my favorite suppliers so she could try a few for herself.

It’s always gratifying when explorative efforts spark creative dialogue.

Communion. Photo transfer and skins on steel, 18” x 12”.

The first larger effort and while technically this falls a bit short of my imaginitive mark, the communication of intent is satisfied. Communion combines my image of the Florence, Oregon bridge with a portrait my father took in the early 1950’s. 

No Clearance. Photo skins on steel, 18” x 12”.

Images of my father as a young boy (photographed by his father), and my father at the end of his life, illustrate the impact of self as observer in our lives. The structure is a railroad stop in Chewelah, Washington.

Suspending disbelief...

Oct 2012, graphite drawing

After two days, 860 pages (I’m always polite about reading the acknowledgments) and a struggle to learn the language, customs, geography and history of dwarves, elves, Urgals and dragons, I crashed landed back in reality this morning.

Suspending disbelief for an extended period is like a two week vacation in Neverland.

A bit more death and destruction than I prefer but I guess that’s the way it goes when you’re fighting an evil king-magician-spellcaster person who didn’t know for a couple of centuries what kind of pain he caused. The dragons hook up but sadly for the hero (and us) Eragon floats off into the sunset alone. Although, with a life expectancy of 1k years plus, he still has a chance to get the girl, or elf, or dwarf, or ….  Four books in umpty-dozen languages and a movie under his magic belt at age 27. A great start for Christopher Paolini author of “Inheritance.”

Suspending disbelief is a great tool for creatives.

Important Stuff ...

I forgot I was a blogger. 

            Life, sunshine, art, music - like a puppy down a rabbit trail, I’ve been sidetracked by anything that moves…or at least appears new and interesting. After a winter of hibernation, rest and rejuvenation, I’m off on the yellow brick road of one mini-adventure after another.

            I’ve written a couple of poems, polished up an entry for a writing contest, hung a small art show and took another piece in for framing to go up for the last week of the show. I’ve repaired some photographs, written the first half of a screenplay and performed with the orchestra in a pops concert with two more coming up. I’ve tried designing my own book of prose and images with marginal success.  I’ve spent time on the phone with my grandchildren. I haven’t used the new planner.  I’m having too much fun.

            Also, I ran out of things to pontificate about…well, not exactly.  A ramble about the energy words carry with them is waiting to be finished up…and an exploration of the way we create.  Pedantic subjects sounding as if they fill the measure of intention for this site. Not nearly as stimulating as sitting on the back step sucking in the scent of hyacinths until can’t recall why I went out there in the first place.

            I’ve dug in the dirt and succumbed to  the temptations of the garden store no matter how many years in a row I’ve promised myself I will not buy anything new before June. I sit in the rocker surrounded by color bursting out of plastic pots and feel like I’ve been given an intravenous injection of life. I’ve also been a captive in the cave of rain for so long I didn’t remember about sunburn.

            We put weed block down last year and the squirrels used it to line their condo so I have to pull up what’s left. I watched them poke the black cloth into their mouths until their cheeks were full and it hung down in front and they almost tripped taking weed block up the tree. I am consistently amazed at the sheer genius of the little beggars. Somewhere, there is a luxury accommodation for this year’s accouchement.

            It was comforting this evening to be sharing the twilight with birds back for the summer while I pulled weeds out of the rock wall. A blue jay lives in the Camilla. Somehow, I always pictured them as winter birds.

            When I took a break for a few minutes and sat under the Empress tree, I couldn’t figure out what the stuff was coming out of the sky.  Looking like black dandruff, it covered everything we’d so scrupulously painted white. A woodpecker was enlarging the nest from last year and throwing out miniscule chips. Sawdust changed to the gift of magic dust as it sifted down. Now, if I could just get him/her to clean my bathroom.

            In other words - no pun intended - while I’ve been enjoying the process of creative energy itself, and soaking up the imagination of nature in spring, I’ve forgotten to write about the important stuff.  I haven’t worried about whether or not my platform will hold up if the fairy godmother of all agents accidently stumbles over my blog or whether my work is strong enough to sustain scrutiny by the faithful writer friends who stop by to check the site - mostly to see if I’m still alive. They love me anyway and are used to, or becoming used to, my foibles.

            Speaking of which, I add my gratitude for those same faithful friends who move in and out of my life in their own seasons. They bring dynamite and blowtorches because candles and matches are too tame for all the big ideas we have. They stand solidly behind me with support and encouragement for impossible dreams. They shove chocolate through the mail slot on the bad days and deliver veggie platters to help recover from the chocolate binges.  I have wonderful friends.  And, I think I have spring fever.

The Planner

I’ve had a perfectly nice planner for some years now. Trim. Elegant. Professional looking with a luxurious red leather cover and inserts I buy every year to record the white rabbit experiences of life.

Last night, I bought a new one. An inexpensive department store variety. The kind a parent uses to keep track of the children’s activities. There’s a column for each day of the week and the bottom of each column is divided into four spaces. I guess any more children and two planners would be necessary.

Instead of inserting pictures of the kids under the plastic front cover, I slipped in my visioning pictures and inscribed my name beneath them. Not as classy as a red leather one. It does, however, have a certain energetic clout. Every time I pick up the planner, the photographs remind me of where I’m going with my life, spiritually, mentally, physically, emotionally and financially.

The four spaces at the bottom of each weekly column are labeled Child Weekly Plan. It gives me a space to track my “children”. The screenplay I want to complete by 1 May. The amount of time I spend on my health and fitness to enable investment in greater creative efforts. Daily visits with a spiritual discipline to return the harvest of peace and security. As I look at the visual space, the amount of time for mundania like day job appointments and haircuts is reduced by half. The balance of the space is wide open to receive my intention. Running three projects concurrently seems to be enough at one time.

I left one of the spaces for family and friends. The planner was a heads up to tend important relationships. Just as our goals and visions won’t come to fruition without persistent attention, our relationships will not thrive without care. I am reminded to connect regularly with the people who are important to me.

When I was at college, there was a professor whose home was an hour drive from the school. I went by his office without an appointment for clarification on some assignment and he reassured me by relating he built in an hour every day for such occurrences. He said someone was always in the ditch in the winter and dedicating an hour of his day let him know he had the time to stop and help on the way into work. If everyone managed to stay on the road he had even more time for people who dropped in. I’ve tried to implement his philosophy into my time management.

By checking in with myself and my goals on a daily basis I have the perspective to set or change priorities. Most importantly, I know when I need to build a space for myself to enjoy life. I know it’s important to set aside time to cultivate friendships or be available for an impromptu play date with my new neighbor. And remember the last time I did nothing to schedule more of it.

The best thing about this planner is that it offers child wisdom on each page. One of the pearls is: “Some people can tell what time it is by looking at the sun. But I have never been able to make out the numbers”. I think that is a great place to start in the process of “managing” our lives and our time.