- Published on
How Strangely Still
How Strangely Still
oil on canvas paper
19 x 12 inches (plus a small border for framing)
How still,
How strangely still
The water is today.
It is not good
For water
To be so still that way.
- LANGSTON HUGHES
oil on canvas paper
19 x 12 inches (plus a small border for framing)
How still,
How strangely still
The water is today.
It is not good
For water
To be so still that way.
- LANGSTON HUGHES
The thing about chaos and unrest and dis-ease is this: when it is calm for a moment, you no longer trust the calm. Even the stillness feels threatening; the quiet malevolent. I think that's where we are in all the madness circumnavigating the geopolitical globe.
I saw a post by a friend this week noting that she felt depressed, saddened - even though the problematic situations in her close perimeter were all resolved. And I feel a bit of this as well. No matter how much I accomplish, how beautiful the day, how peaceful our home life and how rested and nourished I am, there is a sense of dread.
It feels unfair. Unfair to the people forced into bomb bunkers. Unfair to the detained and deported. Unfair to the marginalized, to those stripped of identity and rights, to those who are hungry or houseless or ill. What have I to personally be unsettled about? Is it fair for me to feel this?
Ah, yes, well my peace-loving, community- seeing self says this: we are all connected. And the more we lean into that connection, the more we allow ourselves to notice the strangely still water and allow ourselves to be wary and disturbed, the faster our response will be when our voices and actions our needed. We should feel ill at ease. Our global community hurts, and so must we.
Ah, yes, well my peace-loving, community- seeing self says this: we are all connected. And the more we lean into that connection, the more we allow ourselves to notice the strangely still water and allow ourselves to be wary and disturbed, the faster our response will be when our voices and actions our needed. We should feel ill at ease. Our global community hurts, and so must we.
About the art: a piece of gesso'd canvas paper; and artist with paint and a palette knife - what now? Ready? Set? GO! Draw a high horizon line. Begin laying in rectangles of color. See the light on the water. See the necessary dark, hidden troughs. Move the knife on its flat side with big arm strokes in a sky of mottled paint - moving upward and diagonally for movement. There. Walk away. Stop fiddling with it. It is done.
Watch and listen on YouTube!
And here's a little malarkey to start your week!
- Published on
Ignore The No Trespassing Signs
Ignore The No Trespassing Signs
(a diptych)
oil on paper
each 9 x 9 inches (plus a small border for framing)
This pair is unmounted and unframed.
(click on the image tp purchase)
Confidence ignores "No Trespassing" signs. It is as if he doesn't see them. He is an explorer, committed to following his own direction. He studied mathematics in France and still views his life as a series of experiments. The only limits he respects are his own. He is honest and humble and very funny. After all these years, his sister still doesn't understand why he still ice skates with Doubt.
- from The Book of Qualities by J. RUTH GENDLER
I've been thinking about creating inside and outside of "the box."
The art we collect here at Malarkey Central is mostly well outside of all the boxes (unless it is actually a box, like the enamel boxes of Marianne Velis Goodell or the assemblages of The Enchanted Museum Shop. And I am drawn to those who push the boundaries of the box - the peculiar, the emotive, the immersive, the quirky, the odd.
But creating outside of the box is something else altogether, because it opens the artist (writer, sculptor, quilter, etc) to all that judgment, which pairs nicely with a helping of doubt.
(a diptych)
oil on paper
each 9 x 9 inches (plus a small border for framing)
This pair is unmounted and unframed.
(click on the image tp purchase)
Confidence ignores "No Trespassing" signs. It is as if he doesn't see them. He is an explorer, committed to following his own direction. He studied mathematics in France and still views his life as a series of experiments. The only limits he respects are his own. He is honest and humble and very funny. After all these years, his sister still doesn't understand why he still ice skates with Doubt.
- from The Book of Qualities by J. RUTH GENDLER
I've been thinking about creating inside and outside of "the box."
The art we collect here at Malarkey Central is mostly well outside of all the boxes (unless it is actually a box, like the enamel boxes of Marianne Velis Goodell or the assemblages of The Enchanted Museum Shop. And I am drawn to those who push the boundaries of the box - the peculiar, the emotive, the immersive, the quirky, the odd.
But creating outside of the box is something else altogether, because it opens the artist (writer, sculptor, quilter, etc) to all that judgment, which pairs nicely with a helping of doubt.
As it is with many of our most fearsome concerns, the only way out is through. And so from the very beginning of my art life I have created self-portraits every year. This year I challenged myself to create another self portrait without a smile and to use color pairings I do not really enjoy (red and green, in this case). I often pull off the annual self-portrait and feel pretty good about it , but this year I got lost in the weeds.
However, as I have learned from my lovely friend Dotty Seiter, cutting up a piece of art is as much fun as painting over it, and so I doubled my fun on this one and dove right into an abstract in two pieces. Oh YES! Confidence boosted, I will go back to the drawing board and begin a second self-portrait. This time leaving the box wide open.
About the art: beginning with an oil painting on paper, cut into two equal squares, I grabbed a palette knife and worked with bold stroked and saturated darks. Moving away from an obvious landscape but keeping the general composition of one, I buillt up lights and whites for resting the eyes, then cut through the composition with diagonal lifework (using the edge of the knife) to break up the "landscape" and add movement. Voila!
Watch and listen by following the YouTube link!
- Published on
Sometimes We Walk With Others
Sometimes We Walk With Others
oil on paper
14 x 19 inches (plus a small border for framing)
This item is unmounted and unframed.
(click on the image to purchase)
sometimes
the rescue
is
not
heroic.
sometimes
it's simply
another human
sitting beside you
refusing
to let you
fight
your war
alone.
- instagram.com/REVIVEYOURROAR
oil on paper
14 x 19 inches (plus a small border for framing)
This item is unmounted and unframed.
(click on the image to purchase)
sometimes
the rescue
is
not
heroic.
sometimes
it's simply
another human
sitting beside you
refusing
to let you
fight
your war
alone.
- instagram.com/REVIVEYOURROAR
This week I have another story for you.
Wonder Mike and I were walking this past weekend and came upon a woman sitting on a nearby street corner. Her head was in her hands and she was sobbing.
I stopped, crouched down and asked if she was ok. She said no, she wasn't - that she was so sad. I asked if I could sit with her, she nodded, and so I sat on the sidewalk. I asked if she needed anything, and she replied just someone to listen. I could do that, and so I did for much of the afternoon.
I could share her story here - her impending homelessness, her trauma, her life of struggles, her loss of love and employment and school. Instead, my thoughts keep going to the people who pretended we were not there: a big truck that parked, running, tailpipe in our faces for twenty minutes despite my attempts to wave it off to idle somewhere else; a lady who decided to mow the lawn all around us, grass flying everywhere; a dozen passersby who never acknowledged us at all.
I thought this is what it feels like to be invisible in our society. This is what this woman feels like every day.
Wonder Mike and I were walking this past weekend and came upon a woman sitting on a nearby street corner. Her head was in her hands and she was sobbing.
I stopped, crouched down and asked if she was ok. She said no, she wasn't - that she was so sad. I asked if I could sit with her, she nodded, and so I sat on the sidewalk. I asked if she needed anything, and she replied just someone to listen. I could do that, and so I did for much of the afternoon.
I could share her story here - her impending homelessness, her trauma, her life of struggles, her loss of love and employment and school. Instead, my thoughts keep going to the people who pretended we were not there: a big truck that parked, running, tailpipe in our faces for twenty minutes despite my attempts to wave it off to idle somewhere else; a lady who decided to mow the lawn all around us, grass flying everywhere; a dozen passersby who never acknowledged us at all.
I thought this is what it feels like to be invisible in our society. This is what this woman feels like every day.
It is hard for me to sit and listen without leaping in to offer advice, solutions, opinions, consolation. But sometimes people just want to be seen and heard. So I listened, occasionally reflecting back her own resiliance, her big-heartedness, her long period of suffering, her loneliness, her pain. And I waited, solutions and advice in my pocket, ready to rescue. In the end, when she was no longer crying and was calm, she said she had pills in her bag and had been ready to take drastic measures.
Oh.
My heart.
Instead, she thanked me for listening, asked me for a hug (which I willingly gave) and decided to go meet a friend and try life again. She just needed someone to listen.
Once again, I learned not everyone wants money, not everyone wants a heroic rescue. People want to be seen and heard. I can do that.
I also re-learned a lesson from long ago: the bystander has power. The power to do harm by walking by and the power to help by engaging. This is true in a small neighborhood, in a city, in a country and in the wide world.
I leave you with this quote from a big-hearted human being who happens to be a dear, wise friend:
It's part of our work as artists and writers to walk with others who make us uncomfortable, who we want to help who we can't help, who we can't help. - THEA FIORE-BLOOM
Oh.
My heart.
Instead, she thanked me for listening, asked me for a hug (which I willingly gave) and decided to go meet a friend and try life again. She just needed someone to listen.
Once again, I learned not everyone wants money, not everyone wants a heroic rescue. People want to be seen and heard. I can do that.
I also re-learned a lesson from long ago: the bystander has power. The power to do harm by walking by and the power to help by engaging. This is true in a small neighborhood, in a city, in a country and in the wide world.
I leave you with this quote from a big-hearted human being who happens to be a dear, wise friend:
It's part of our work as artists and writers to walk with others who make us uncomfortable, who we want to help who we can't help, who we can't help. - THEA FIORE-BLOOM
About the art: often, when I get a concept sketch just right, I enlarge it and create a stencil. This helps me remove the anxiety about reproducing the sketch without losing the parts of it I really like. I did that for this piece, creating a mask of the composition and painting a loose background layer around the mask (outside-in). Next I began building the layers of the face (inside-out). After the face took shape, I moved to the hair, hand, clothing and finally the sweet companion bird on her shoulder. By this point the initial background layer was thoroughly dry, so I darkened and cooled the color with a heavy layer of paint. Finally, I grabbed my favorite small rubber wedge and carved in texture to the wet paint, adding movement and highlights.
The audio and video to this blog is on YouTube!
Also a little animation to see the art come to life.
- Published on
Let Me Keep My Distance
Let Me Keep My Distance
oil on paper
13.5 x 19 inches
This item is unframed.
(click on the image to purchase)
Let me keep my distance, always, from those
who think they have the answers.
Let me keep company always with those who say
"Look!" and laugh in astonishment,
and bow their heads. - MARY OLIVER
oil on paper
13.5 x 19 inches
This item is unframed.
(click on the image to purchase)
Let me keep my distance, always, from those
who think they have the answers.
Let me keep company always with those who say
"Look!" and laugh in astonishment,
and bow their heads. - MARY OLIVER
It is becoming a habit to mindfully curate whose voices (actual voices, words, images, songs) I allow into my little world.
Somehow it feels extra critical right now to keep tabs on what gets in, then sniff out and banish what isn't helpful.
Somehow it feels extra critical right now to keep tabs on what gets in, then sniff out and banish what isn't helpful.
I like to think there is an ejector seat button right here at my fingertips - and I use it liberally. Mute? Yep. Block? No problem. Delete? Yes please. Invite? Carefully. Accept? With caution. The rain barrel of my psyche is close to full with all the things it can handle with grace. And I know all too well what happens when that barrel overflows - it ain't pretty.
I've noticed many of us asking "how do I?" with respect to the world situation (and how that situation trickles or pours or floods into our towns and neighborhoods). Perhaps it is different for each of us, what works and what does not. Here is one article I found helpful: https://www.bbc.com/future/article/20260312-nine-tips-to-help-you-cope-during-turbulent-times .
I'd love to know what is working (and what isn't) in your world, dear readers - maybe our combined compassion and kindness can come up with a plan?
I've noticed many of us asking "how do I?" with respect to the world situation (and how that situation trickles or pours or floods into our towns and neighborhoods). Perhaps it is different for each of us, what works and what does not. Here is one article I found helpful: https://www.bbc.com/future/article/20260312-nine-tips-to-help-you-cope-during-turbulent-times .
I'd love to know what is working (and what isn't) in your world, dear readers - maybe our combined compassion and kindness can come up with a plan?
About the art: beginning with a gesso'd sheet of printer paper (the kind used by artists, not copier paper) I roughed in a basic composition with a brush laden with thinned oil paint. Darks added next to refine the composition (ourside-in) and then the colors on the inner sections (inside-out). Lots of drying time. Then layers (and layers and layers) of progressively thicker oil paint. I used a palette knife to add texture to the rocks, the water, and the sky, and a rounded stiff-bristled brush to define the clouds. A mysterious landscape from a place I've never been, but might want to hide in from the wild, wild world.
For those who prefer to listen and watch the weekly blog, here is a YouTube video just for you! :)
- Published on
The Huge Beating Genius Machine
The Huge Beating Genius Machine
oil on gallery wrapped canvas
18 x 36 x 1.75 inches
This item is unframed but ready to hang
(click on the image to purchase)
I like the lady horses best,
how they make it all look easy,
like running 40 miles per hour
is as fun as taking a nap, or grass.
I like their lady horse swagger,
after winning. Ears up, girls, ears up!
But mainly, let’s be honest, I like
that they’re ladies. As if this big
dangerous animal is also a part of me,
that somewhere inside the delicate
skin of my body, there pumps
an 8-pound female horse heart,
giant with power, heavy with blood.
Don’t you want to believe it?
Don’t you want to lift my shirt and see
the huge beating genius machine
that thinks, no, it knows,
it’s going to come in first.
HOW TO TRIUMPH LIKE A GIRL, by Ada Limón
oil on gallery wrapped canvas
18 x 36 x 1.75 inches
This item is unframed but ready to hang
(click on the image to purchase)
I like the lady horses best,
how they make it all look easy,
like running 40 miles per hour
is as fun as taking a nap, or grass.
I like their lady horse swagger,
after winning. Ears up, girls, ears up!
But mainly, let’s be honest, I like
that they’re ladies. As if this big
dangerous animal is also a part of me,
that somewhere inside the delicate
skin of my body, there pumps
an 8-pound female horse heart,
giant with power, heavy with blood.
Don’t you want to believe it?
Don’t you want to lift my shirt and see
the huge beating genius machine
that thinks, no, it knows,
it’s going to come in first.
HOW TO TRIUMPH LIKE A GIRL, by Ada Limón
There are efforts afoot to make us all feel disempowered. To liquidate our confidence. To mash our energy and hutzpah into a pulp. To run our hope through a meat grinder. To create a nation of people throwing up their hands and admitting defeat.
No, I say. HELL NO!
Limón's words fill me with vigor, get my heart pumping and my feet ready to go. My lady horse swagger needed this infusion of gritty tenacity and bold self-belief. This huge beating genius machine of mine (and yours, too) is going to win.
No, I say. HELL NO!
Limón's words fill me with vigor, get my heart pumping and my feet ready to go. My lady horse swagger needed this infusion of gritty tenacity and bold self-belief. This huge beating genius machine of mine (and yours, too) is going to win.
About the art: a fresh canvas with a nice coat of gesso to begin this piece - no murdered underpainting! I began with a sketch of the form in thinned oil paint and roughed in the first layer of the background to refine the form. A long drying time. Beginning with the face and hair, then moving to the dress, leaving the hands and arms untouched until the initial layers on the rest were dry. A slow and thoughtful mark making with thinned oil paint to create the designs on the skin. Then the real fun! A wide, flat brush laden with paint moved with big gestures to create movement in the fabric - ooh la la! Building darks over many weeks. A final coat of paint on the background, a looooong drying time and then the varnish. She's a big girl, and a powerful presence. I am smitten!
For those who prefer to watch and listen, here's a link to this blog on YouTube!
Watch to the end to see an animation of the art
OOOOOH LA LA!
- Published on
Mistaking Whispers For Earthquakes
Mistaking Whispers For Earthquakes
oil on gallery wrapped canvas
24 x 48 x 1.75 inches
This item is unframed but ready to hang
(click on the image to purchase)
Chasing the blood on the back seat
The in-crowds have taken you far
Making your eyes to the windshield
You play the lover and I′ll play the liar
Waiting for someone to hold you
Or handle your heart in the rain
Mistaking these whispers for earthquakes
You play the martyr and I'll play your game
- from NIGHT BELL - ARIZONA by KERALA DUST
I have an uncanny history with hotels.
It wasn't until very recently that I could recongnize the origin of this history in my simmering anxiety near hotels that looked a certain way. The mind and its defenses are wondrous (and, well, mysterious)
It wasn't until very recently that I could recongnize the origin of this history in my simmering anxiety near hotels that looked a certain way. The mind and its defenses are wondrous (and, well, mysterious)
And so.
Knowing the only way to the other side of this strange phenomenon is straight through the middle, I am taking back hotels. To reclaim them as a source of travel adventure, "good" mystery and evidence of a full life, I painted a CROWTEL (crow hotel) with all of its inherent wonkiness.
And why, you ask, does this matter in the world of art? We have a job, you and I, fellow creatives. To bring to light the things that need examining; to help others access the challenging, difficult, tumultuous and the fear-inducing events of today. Write it, paint it, pull it from the shadows.
If we cannot do it, how can others hope to? Off you go, courageous human. You have art to make. xo
Knowing the only way to the other side of this strange phenomenon is straight through the middle, I am taking back hotels. To reclaim them as a source of travel adventure, "good" mystery and evidence of a full life, I painted a CROWTEL (crow hotel) with all of its inherent wonkiness.
And why, you ask, does this matter in the world of art? We have a job, you and I, fellow creatives. To bring to light the things that need examining; to help others access the challenging, difficult, tumultuous and the fear-inducing events of today. Write it, paint it, pull it from the shadows.
If we cannot do it, how can others hope to? Off you go, courageous human. You have art to make. xo
A note about the quoted lyrics: Kerala Dust has some surreal lines in their songs, which get stuck in my head and loop in fantastical ways. Mistaking whispers for earthquakes is a perfect analogy for panic attacks (the amaygdala making mountains out of molehills), and thus became attached to the art. Another of the lyrics, the wind is a thistle, frolics in my thoughts. I wonder where it will go?
About the art: Are you wondering? You are correct! Another reinvention of a murdered painting. The underpainting was acrylic for this piece, so a nice coat of gesso over the top obliterated the original. A fresh white canvas, with a little added texture thanks to the original piece. Beginning with the background color in a thin wash, then "drawing" the design into wet paint with a rubber wedge. A long, LONG drying time. Working outside-in and inside-out to refine the drawing, straying from expected architecture into a bit of the wonky/unexpected/whimsy by allowing lines to become askew and the building to make little sense at all. What freedom! The focus for this piece was deepening darks, building shadows and reflections, creating texture in the sructure and the background. The final touches were the signage and the crows, followed by a thick layer of varnish. Plenty of room at the crow hotel! "You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave" (The Eagles)
Blog and blogger are heading out for a wintery vacation, so I'll see you back here in two weeks.
Thanks for reading!
Thanks for reading!
Want to watch and listen instead of reading?
Click on the YouTube link - enjoy!
- Published on
Home Is Where I Want To Be
Home Is Where I Want To Be
oil on canvas
12 x 16 inches
This item is unframed but ready to hang.
(click on the image tp purchase)
Home is where I want to be
Pick me up and turn me round
I feel numb, born with a weak heart
I guess I must be having fun
The less we say about it the better
Make it up as we go along
Feet on the ground, head in the sky
It's okay, I know nothing's wrong, nothing
Hi yo, I got plenty of time
Hi yo, you got light in your eyes
And you're standing here beside me
I love the passing of time - THE TALKING HEADS
oil on canvas
12 x 16 inches
This item is unframed but ready to hang.
(click on the image tp purchase)
Home is where I want to be
Pick me up and turn me round
I feel numb, born with a weak heart
I guess I must be having fun
The less we say about it the better
Make it up as we go along
Feet on the ground, head in the sky
It's okay, I know nothing's wrong, nothing
Hi yo, I got plenty of time
Hi yo, you got light in your eyes
And you're standing here beside me
I love the passing of time - THE TALKING HEADS
So the other night we were rounding up dinner (late, because that's how we roll - dinner around 9 pm) and we hear a knock on the door. It is a houseless. man, carrying a backpack, politely telling us how much he loves our yard signs (FIGHT POVERTY, NOT THE POOR and other expressions of our activism in the world) and he asks if we have any food he could have? And of course we said yes and put together a sack dinner for him and stuffed some cash in the bag.
As my husband handed the man the bag and explained what was inside (a sandwich, some fruit, a beverage, dessert and some money) the man reached into the bag, pulled out the cash and handed it back, saying "thank you but I can't eat that, you keep it."
And I was floored.
Because I had made an assumption - that what he really wanted was money (and who could blame him for that?) But all he wanted was what he asked for, and our yard signs let him know we were safe to approach. Whoa.
Now, you might be thinking, Lola, what does that have to do with art? I am fixin' to tell ya!
That moment of realization - where I saw something I did not expect to see, made a connection I didn't know I would make, felt things I was suprised to feel - that changed me. And that, that is what we hope to do as creatives. To make a moment like that when someone interacts with our art, our words, our writing (dancing, singing, sculpting, sewing, knitting - creating!) - that's everything.
The man taught me something profound. And I am deely grateful.
Because I had made an assumption - that what he really wanted was money (and who could blame him for that?) But all he wanted was what he asked for, and our yard signs let him know we were safe to approach. Whoa.
Now, you might be thinking, Lola, what does that have to do with art? I am fixin' to tell ya!
That moment of realization - where I saw something I did not expect to see, made a connection I didn't know I would make, felt things I was suprised to feel - that changed me. And that, that is what we hope to do as creatives. To make a moment like that when someone interacts with our art, our words, our writing (dancing, singing, sculpting, sewing, knitting - creating!) - that's everything.
The man taught me something profound. And I am deely grateful.
100% of the proceeds from the sale of this painting will go to the Portland Food Project
About the art: another murdered painting becomes reborn into something completely different! With this piece, I felt the urge to create a spontaneous abstracted forest-scape; something reminiscent of our hikes. I didn't think, didn't plan, just began. Once the basic underpainting was completed, I let it dry for a couple of weeks. Coming back in with a palette knife and a couple of brushes, layers were added, texture built up and colors deepened. A simple glimpse of a place maybe my feet have walked. Very satisfying.
Watch and listen to the blog on YouTube!
At the ending is a video of how the murder was committed. Oh oh OH!
- Published on
The Time That Is Given Us
The Time That Is Given Us
oil on wood panel
11 x 14 x .25 inches
This item is unframed
(click on the image to purchase)
I wish it need not have happened in my time, said Frodo.
So do I, said Gandalf, and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.
- J.R.R. Tolkien
I spend a bit of time thinking about, well, time.
The older I am, the faster it goes. The faster it goes, the more precious each day becomes. The more precious the day, the less patience I have with the state of things in the world. And that very impatience distracts from the decision still within my hands - what do do with the time I have in the times in which we live.
And so in this moment, dear readers, I want to thank you.
Thank you for the gift of the time you spend reading, listening, watching and commenting. Those moments could be spent doing anything - and yet you spend them here with me. That is a huge gift, and I so appreciate you . xo
The older I am, the faster it goes. The faster it goes, the more precious each day becomes. The more precious the day, the less patience I have with the state of things in the world. And that very impatience distracts from the decision still within my hands - what do do with the time I have in the times in which we live.
And so in this moment, dear readers, I want to thank you.
Thank you for the gift of the time you spend reading, listening, watching and commenting. Those moments could be spent doing anything - and yet you spend them here with me. That is a huge gift, and I so appreciate you . xo
A quick shout out to my friend, the artist Carl Stoveland, whose blog just experienced a rebirth! His experience, wisdom and voice is another great gift in the world. Take a read! A worthwhile place to spend some precious time.
About the art: In pursuit of an abstracted portrait with a limited color palette (I sometimes work best with one metaphorical hand tied behind my back) I began with a Notan of my own face highly simplified into light and shadow. I chose reds and yellows as my primary colors, and began blocking the darks in with red over a piece of gesso'd wood panel. The goal was to keep things loose, resist over defining and allow the addition of a small amount of cool tones to set the piece off. In the end, I embraced a more geometric approach (following the paint) and worked wet into wet to achieve the various shades of warm tones. The impact is punchy! Yes!
For those who prefer an video of the weekly blog post,
click on the YouTube link!
- Published on
The Great Transmutation
NEW! WATCH and LISTEN to the blog by clicking the YouTube link above.
The Great Transmutation
oil on cradled wood panel
24 x 36 x 1.5 inches
This item is unframed but ready to hang
(click on the image to purchase)
The Great Transmutation
oil on cradled wood panel
24 x 36 x 1.5 inches
This item is unframed but ready to hang
(click on the image to purchase)
may the wind deal kindly with us
may the fire remember our names
may springs flow, rain fall again
may the land grow green, may it swallow our mistakes
we begin the work
may it continue
the great transmutation
may it continue
a new heaven and a new earth
may it continue
may it continue - DIANE DI PRIMA
may the fire remember our names
may springs flow, rain fall again
may the land grow green, may it swallow our mistakes
we begin the work
may it continue
the great transmutation
may it continue
a new heaven and a new earth
may it continue
may it continue - DIANE DI PRIMA
I find myself seeking solace in mantras.
Chants, of a sort, which my mind can fall into, soothing in their familiarity and rhythm. A pattern of words to return me to my breath, to the present moment, to calm. Di Prima's poem is a grand piece of rhythmic words to refocus on the things we long for and the things we wish to abolish. A reminder of what is good and what is the line in the sand.
Following Dotty Seiter's practice of noticing is a real game-changer for me. A daily morning walk over the same old bridge, across the same vast river, toward the same tall buildings - and yet. And yet with practice there are new things everywhere; good things, bad things, neutral things, but things. Observing is a practice. May it continue.
Chants, of a sort, which my mind can fall into, soothing in their familiarity and rhythm. A pattern of words to return me to my breath, to the present moment, to calm. Di Prima's poem is a grand piece of rhythmic words to refocus on the things we long for and the things we wish to abolish. A reminder of what is good and what is the line in the sand.
Following Dotty Seiter's practice of noticing is a real game-changer for me. A daily morning walk over the same old bridge, across the same vast river, toward the same tall buildings - and yet. And yet with practice there are new things everywhere; good things, bad things, neutral things, but things. Observing is a practice. May it continue.
About the art: 'tis the season for revitalizing murdered paintings! Here is yet another brutally bludgeoned piece in which the pattern of the paint-over became the impetus for a new abstract. Following the paint tool me way, WAY out of my usual style and into something dreamlike and surreal. Heaps of layers and glazes on this one. Getting those dark, dark, DARKS was the goal. Oooh la la!
- Published on
Burn The Map
LISTEN to the blog by clicking the DOWNLOAD link above
Burn The Map
oil on wood panel
18 x 24 x .75 inches
This item is unframed but ready to hang.
(click on the image to purchase)
burn the map. lose the compass. I don't think there is a path out of here. maybe we aren't meant to find an exit to this grief. maybe we are meant to be in relationship with it? - JOHN ROEDEL
I've been looking for a map. A way out of this mess. The path forward. A shortcut around the chaos. The fast bridge over the wide, racing river. Beam me up, Scotty - I am ready to get off this ride.
But that isn't how it works, is it?
And so.
And so.
Um, and so - what then?
Turn and face the monster. Don't stop there!
Invite it to sit down.
Offer it a cup of coffee.
Maybe chat, ask questions.
Maybe don't - silence is ok, too.
One thing is for sure though. We are living in the time of monsters. And the path is thorny. Hiding won't help. Slowing down my hurry to get out of this mess might at least let me do some good along the way.
I'd love to know - how are you dealing with the monsters these days?
And so.
And so.
Um, and so - what then?
Turn and face the monster. Don't stop there!
Invite it to sit down.
Offer it a cup of coffee.
Maybe chat, ask questions.
Maybe don't - silence is ok, too.
One thing is for sure though. We are living in the time of monsters. And the path is thorny. Hiding won't help. Slowing down my hurry to get out of this mess might at least let me do some good along the way.
I'd love to know - how are you dealing with the monsters these days?
About the art: another piece created on top of a murdered painting! For this one I had a composition and palette in mind which allowed me to utilize the underpainting colors to create layers and depth. Roughing in the basic concept over the original art, I allowed the new washes of color to dry thoroughly. New layers added over time, with liberal use of a small rubber wedge to carve back into the paint to keep the lines and geometry of the piece intact. The buildings were created in quick motions with a large brush, resisting the urge to go back into them with small brushes and detail. A final layer of varnish after a long, LONG drying time makes all the colors and darks really sing.
