Art is Life is Art: Susan Reep Photo Art

Creative Every Day has a theme for March:  Stories.  I’m going to tell some true stories I’ve been working on and I think it’ll motivate me to get going and do more.  The first one:

Terror in the Classroom

The incident gave me the first jolt of pure terror in my classroom. I had a python – Jake the Snake.  He’d been in the family for a long time, sometimes living with me and sometimes with my daughter.  It boiled down to whoever was sick of buying mice every week and asked the other to take over for a while.  It seemed like a great idea to have Jake in the classroom because I was going to be a really cool teacher and what could be cooler than snakes?

So in the corner of my busy classroom, and by that I mean a classroom not just with busy students but also with busy walls, sat Jake the Snake in his terrarium, waiting for his mouse.  Every Monday I’d bring a live mouse and during silent reading time, the snake monitors would clean the terrarium, change the water, and send the mouse to his maker.  Plus, a group of students could watch Jake catch and eat his prey.

It was imperative that the room be silent because otherwise Jake would be distracted and not eat.  You can’t leave a mouse in a snake cage for long because as they become accustomed to each other, the snake fails to eat the mouse and sometimes the mouse will even gnaw on the snake.  Really.  And then Jake the Snake would become Jake the Snack – which was how some of my weaker spellers already described him.

The fateful Monday arrived.

“Adam, Alex, you’re the snake monitors this week.  Time to get busy.  And the blue group, it’s your turn to watch Jake eat.  Come on up and remember to be perfectly still and silent.”

Alas, it wasn’t destined to be a silent Monday.  Before I could act to quiet the kids, Jake acted.  The mouse was in the jaws of death, the kids made too much noise and movement; Jake dropped his lunch into the water bowl, lunged after it, and voila! The mouse was again in the jaws of destruction.  But, agitated by the commotion, Jake had him crosswise, not head first, and he couldn’t disengage his jaw to drop the mouse and start again.

Crimany, snakes I was ok with but mice gave me the creeps.  Think.  Alex and Adam were boys; they wouldn’t want to show fear or squeamishness, so they could handle this.

“Blue group, sit down.  Boys, one of you is going to have to hold Jake and open his mouth while the other one removes the mouse.”

“Cool dude, that’s awesome.”

They both were excited. And Alex pried open Jake’s jaws while Adam removed the mouse, which then exploded.  And there was blood.  We – they – got it cleaned up, the day went on, I went home and started to worry.

Alex didn’t really have a family so no problem there, but Adam’s mom was involved.  And she was big.  Not fat, just really big and solid.  Tall, imposing, scary.  What if she got upset? What if she started worrying about salmonella?  Isn’t that what you could get from handling reptiles?  Why did I ever bring Jake to school?  Maybe she was scared of snakes and would go to the principal about this irresponsible thing I’d done, exposing her son to illness and snakebite and mouse poisoning.  Or talk to other parents who would talk to the principal because every Friday everyone in the room got to touch Jake when the snake monitor carried him around, and salmonella would reach epidemic proportions.

I worked hard at calming myself down since other stupid things I’d done had turned out ok in the end.  But the next morning right before class started, the office secretary called to say Adam’s mom had come to see me.  My fate was sealed.  My first year of teaching would come to an ignominious end.

Adam and his mom entered the room, I greeted them calmly, on the outside at least, and she asked me a question about his writing. So far, safe.  I still had a job, but I was waiting for the bomb to drop.  And it did, but it was a dud.  As we were finishing, she said, “By the way, about the snake yesterday? That was a really cool thing.  Adam told me all about it and how exciting it was.  Thanks for giving him the experience.”  As she exited, somehow, I remained standing.

NOTE:  The art journal image is actually one of my former 5th-grade students holding Jake the Snake.  Jake now resides with Josh, my daughter Karen’s former boyfriend.  Karen and Josh had many reptiles when they lived together, and he was happy to give Jake a home until one of us might want him back.

TRIVIA: A note about the student, Cristina.  I had pictures of all the presidents in the back of the room, and one day Cristina put up her hand.  “Yes, Cristina?” “Why are the presidents all old white men?”  I thought it was a brilliant observation and I keep meaning to stop in at Walmart, where Cristina works while going to college, and ask her if she remembers that remark. Because of course it is no longer true.

That would be Glambert day.  Two days to go until the big Palm Springs adventure.  (the Adam Lambert concert that I’m going to with my twitter friend from Oklahoma) Didn’t realize quite how long the drive was – four plus hours.  I’ll be fine if I sleep.  Last couple of nights I’ve been getting up at midnight or 1:00 am and going down to the studio to do a couple of journal pages.  Been too long since I’ve been in the studio and it’s bottling up.  Too much happening too, what with our unexpected purchase of a house.

Who watched Idol Tues. and Wed?  I had a feeling that the season would be flat without Adam.  He was so exciting that we can’t expect anyone else like that to show up.  But really – the song choices were so drippy and boring.  Out of the thousands of choices available, this is the best they could do?  Casey is the boy standout, and not just because he’s so darn cute.  He puts his soul in his work and his image fits his song choice.  Other than him, where’s the stage presence?

Girls – Crystal and Lilly were the only stand-outs as far as I’m concerned.

And yes, I miss Paula; and no, I can’t get used to Kara.  I keep trying but just can’t warm up to her.

So here are the journal pages I did the last two nights.  They don’t mean anything in particular: my constraint for journaling still is watercolor background and collage material from a few National Geographics I have laying around.

This is The Blues.  The next one is Electro Pop.

Full report with photos coming after Palm Springs.  However – the Casino says we cannot take cameras into the concert.  And how is this stopped, what with cell phones and all?  We’ll see.

Glambert Alert

I’m going to the Fantasy Springs Casino and Resort in Palm Springs to see Adam Lambert in concert!  It’s no secret that I am a fan – and I’ve found other fans on Twitter.  One is named daxtonsnini.  Huh?  I have a granddaughter named Daxton, so I asked daxtonsnini, “What’s up with your name?”

Daxtonsnini’s real name is Nita.  But she has a grandson named Daxton who can’t say Nita and calls her Nini.  Well, that was instant bonding.  We had Daxtons in common as well as Adam.  Turns out daxtonsnini is a teacher and curriculum specialist in her district in Ada, Oklahoma – and I was a teacher here.  She’s been married 40 years; I’ve been married 41.  And she’s the sweetest person I’ve ever met – yes, I do feel as if I’ve met her.

That’s why, when this concert was announced, I pounced and got two tickets as well as a room at the resort.  I asked daxtonsnini – I can call her Nita – if she wanted to come.  No she said, Daxton had been sick and she’d taken days off work to take care of him so she didn’t want to miss more.  Ok.

Wait – I asked her why she couldn’t fly to Palm Springs on Sat. and back to Oklahoma on Sunday.  After all, I told her, I went to Switzerland once for four days.  Next thing, she had the ticket, I added a night to the reservation so I could pick her up at the airport in Palm Springs Saturday morning, and we are set.

Almost set.  What’s a 63-year-old pudgy Glambert (that’s me) to wear?  Something totally inappropriate of course.  Black leggings rouched at the ankles, a gold sequined top, and boots.  I mean it’s all for fun, right? And in case that’s not enough, I have some antennas that twinkle, all glittery, and a black and purple feather boa.

I don’t think anyone will look too closely at me because we’ll all be in a state of high excitement, probably with a few drinks under our belt.  Heck, we’ll all look good in that state!  So let’s just go along with the fun and no one tell me I look like Men in Tights or anything.  I can’t wait for Adam and to meet Nita.  Life is such a great adventure!

I’ll report back when I return and have pictures, I’m sure.  Oh – and the resort has organized a Glamily Reunion so fans from all over can meet!  And I mean all over – there are people coming from as far away as Thailand.

For all you on the East coast and in Texas where it shouldn’t be snowing

When I posted the photos of the almond orchards the other day, (the fateful day when I found our new house without even looking), many of you said you had weeks to go before you saw any green.  So I did a journal page for you with a Japanese poem.  I don’t know the author so can’t attribute correctly, but here’s the poem:

One solitary plum blossom

and the whole world has spring.

We have a new old hotel in town and Bakersfield is all atwitter.  The Hotel Padre has been remodeled and is open for business.  Why is this a big deal?  Do check on this link and read the colorful history of the Padre.  I’ll add a couple of things -  Spartacus Miller didn’t want to comply with the building code that fire sprinklers be put on all the floors, so he simply closed them.  For many years, no one went above the second floor of the 8-story hotel.  The “EL” on the hotel sign was burned out, so we always saw the Hot Padre rather than Hotel Padre.

Here’s a look at the old Padre:

You can see the Alamo sign on top and the “ston” of tombstone.  Also note that this Hot Padre offered television!

I wish I had a photo with the missile on top, but then back in the 80s or 90s, when I took these pictures, using actual film, I never thought about the Hot Padre without the missile and the Alamo Tombstone sign – they were just always there!

It’s pretty cleaned up today.  (We had a nice sky today when I took these photos.)  See the blue and the striped awnings on ground level?  This is what they looked like in the old days.

Like the article I linked to says, the Town Casino was quite the place.  I loved that bar.  If there was ever a place where everyone could be comfortable, this was it.  You could come in wearing a business suit, or a man could come in with a bra on top of his shirt (I saw that one), and no one blinked an eye.  The fake girl in the bathtub was on kind of a shelf-type thing up near the ceiling.   Ernie was playing the piano, the place was full of smoke (which, somehow, that was the only place I could tolerate that), and you could just relax, have a drink, and maybe another drink.

Talk about dated – here’s a photo of the tile work in that photo above.

I love it.  I adore kitschy things from that era.  But that is gone and today we have a brand new Hot Padre with some equally interesting decor.  It’s being established as a boutique hotel with character.

Not as much character as the Hot Padre or the Alamo Tombstone, but nice enough.  Ready to walk through the doors?

The doors on the other side have valet parking!  That’s probably how they got around the decided lack of parking spaces for guests.  The green arches in the back are windows of the Belvedere, a restaurant.  Want to be a guest?  Let’s check in.

Gotta say, I love this cowgirl. While we wait for our room, let’s have some coffee in the Farmacy and enjoy the ceiling.

Have to go downstairs for the restroom.  But men and women use the same sinks which makes so much sense.

Women are on the side you can see.  Then if you’re hungry you can grab a quick snack at the Farmacy, get a meal in the Belvedere, something more casual in Brimstone, or a drink in Prospect.  Come spring, you’ll be able to enjoy the Prairie Fire – a patio with fire pits.

It’s great to have the Padre open again.  It’s a beloved Bakersfield landmark and we’re so excited that we’re actually staying there on Saturday night!  A group of Bakofolks have booked rooms and will be having dinner together.  I expect a few martinis will work there way in – gotta try the new specialty – something with the words blue and lemon in it I think.  I’ll report back after I’ve had one.  Golly it’ll be cool.

On Saturday night, we’re going to put the HOT back in the Padre.

Thinking about home.  Thinking about art.  Realizing that for so many of us, home is where the art is.  Yesterday I wrote about chasing the cobwebs out of my mind by getting the space around me in order.  I spent lots of time ordering the studio and I posted pix of that yesterday.  Whollyjeanne made an interesting observation about that post – she says she has a notion that physical space is often a reflection of inner space.  I’ve never thought in those terms exactly, but it makes sense of course  – because if we are lucky, we arrange our physical space to be that in which we are comfortable observing and existing.  It goes even farther than that however, because I think our physical space can be a reflection of what we would like our inner space to be – or perhaps how we would like our outer life to reflect our inner space.

Our house has always been full of art – my dad’s art (he’s actually a famous artist), my mom’s art (quilting), and then whatever we could afford.  Which wasn’t a whole heck of a lot.  But honestly, our walls have no blank space – art is everywhere.  Yet there was none of my art because I wasn’t making any.  I was generating an income however I could for years, then teaching seventh-grade, and when I was 60, I retired. (Thank goodness my husband is still working because becoming an artist is expensive.).

That’s when my inner space synced with my physical space.  The art was always in me I guess.  Photography always, for sure.  But all of a sudden my inner space started erupting with creativity and I started creating collages from my photos.  The whole art thing is so exciting that I ran off in all directions at once, but recently realized I have to pull in and create using my photos, which is where I am strongest and where my “artistic” roots are.

So, yes, home is where the art is.  Here are two of the latest things I’ve done.  When I was snowed in at the cabin I finished these, but with the sadness of the last week I haven’t had time to post them yet.  At least I’m pretty sure I haven’t since I came home to all that turmoil during which photoshop decided to quit, etc.  In fact, these are not the best scans of these canvases because I have been having scanner problems, photoshop problems, computer problems, phone problems (not that that has anything to do with art), missing tripod-part problems – in other words, it’s been a messy week.

I posted a small study I did in my art journal but I knew it wouldn’t be the final form, and indeed it wasn’t – this is.  Most people don’t like this.  I do.  I forgot to put a second coat on the background (acrylic) so I rubbed pastel all over it and then put omni-gel over it all.  I took the photo of the cans in a little country store, the Twin Oaks General Store, in Twin Oaks – a very small community on Caliente Creek Road in Kern County.  Had never seen Popeye spinach and it just captured my fancy.  The orange circle, the bowl of peas, and Plenti Grand are from vintage fruit and vegetable crate labels.

The background photo for this collage is a stop along Interstate I70 - and the giraffe I actually took eons ago at the Santa Barbara Zoo.  I found this photo during the infernal and still unfinished photo-organizing project.  So I thought I’d move the giraffe to an unfamiliar location – his inner space and physical space are no doubt suffering a  disconnect.  Perhaps he’s longing for the familiar.  Then I added some art paper embellishments but I don’t like the way the pink meets, or maybe I do, so I’ll either fix it or I won’t.  How’s that for decisiveness?

So that’s it for Home is Where the Art Is – and I made a completely ungrammatical decision to capitalize the last I!  This construct of Creative Every Day and monthly themes is proving most productive – nice to give a direction for thoughts to roam.

Talk about a body!  What better way to end Creative Every Day’s Body-themed month than with Adam Lambert.  I’ve got two tickets to see him at Fantasy Springs Resort and Casino in Palm Springs in February.  It wasn’t easy – I do not know how to be the first on those phone lines or on the internet!  But I’ll be there.

This guy is as gorgeous inside as he is outside.  And his voice is indescribable. But I divert.  Easy to get diverted by Adam Lambert.

This will no doubt be my last post for January so I thought I’d put in a few things I’ve done up here at the cabin.  The photos are very bad, however.  I had to crop so they would be straight and lost a little of the art.  Contrary to usual patterns, the plate to my tripod did NOT show up after I ordered new ones.  So much for that theory.

Besides writing a poem and a few stories, I did an 11×14 of the Shadows study in my workbook.  It’s less crowded on the bigger sheet, and at first I wasn’t sure about it.  Now I like the simplicity.

For those of you who didn’t see the post, these figures are my grandchildren.  I took the photo so long ago, and it was during the infernal photo-organizing project that I rediscovered it.  Which reminds me that when I’m home Sunday, I have to finish that project up.  Anyway, you can see the original post here.  And the original shadow.

I did a quick journal page with a photo I plan to use today in a full-sized work.  But it’s not going to be like the journal page.  Years ago I was driving Caliente Creek Road and stopped into Twin Oaks General Store. This Popeye can was on the shelf.  I didn’t know Popeye graced canned food, but I loved it.  So of course I took a photo.

Maybe I should call it Spinach?

The last one I did was hard.  I couldn’t get it to work at all until I spattered paint on it as water droplets from the wave.

The wave and the people in the boat are from that Japanese Print book we were discarding.  The fire is a photo I took at an oil well blowout in Coalinga years ago.  And the eagle is a photo I took at the San Diego Wild Animal Park carousel.

So it goes.  I’m going to finish up my last day up here with another story and another collage, as well as uploading photos to my flickr page.  Flickr seems to be productive – I’ve had two photos put in tour guide books because they were found on Flickr – one from the San Diego Wild Animal Park, one from Stanley Park in Vancouver.  Important to put those tags!  Some of the same photos plus more from Vancouver and the Wild Animal Park on on my web page in the gallery.  They are in the flower gallery, a sub-gallery under nature/travel, and in the animal gallery.

For all you Creative Every Day folks, see you in Feb. with HOME as the theme.

I’d finally warmed up yesterday after Tuesday’s freezing trek through the snow into my 39 degree cabin.  The sun was out so I ventured out also – but only onto the balcony.  I got caught up in the footprints I’d left from the day before.  Footprints as a record of our body’s movement and footprints as possible art also.

I found myself studying this random pattern of my footprints.  There seem to be three in a row heading toward the railing.  They are so close together and appear to be the right foot – where was my left foot?  Immediately I thought of how we try to fool people by pretending a one-legged creature has been there. Then there are the two that form an upside-down V.  How did that happen?  I know I wasn’t practicing first position in ballet.

I got interested in this pattern – it’s as if I were walking in two directions at once, met in the middle, and then turned and walked off.  I was loving this footprint thing.

I won’t be surprised if this one ends up in a collage somehow.  The left one especially reminds me of Planter’s Peanuts – anyone old enough to remember those? Maybe they still have them.  But I think there was a cookie with a waffle pattern like that.  Maybe there still is.  It’s been a long time since I’ve been in the cookie aisle – if Trader Joe’s doesn’t have it, I don’t have it either!

Funny, isn’t it, how us artists get obsessed with details and observation?  Because the next thing I focused on was my own reflection in the window.

Since January is drawing to a close, which means the Creative Every Day theme of Body is drawing to a close, I suppose I was reflecting on body.  I took a photo of myself looking into the cabin and merging with my art materials (above).  Body art.  Body as art.  Body making art.

Body in motion.  Looking dejected.  Walking away.  From what?  Or, with the divider in the sliding door, a  body going from one reality to the next.

Just thinking about a simple photo reminds me of all the ways in which almost anything can be interpreted, and how we interpret according to our own understanding and mood.  That’s something worth remembering, because another thing we do is jump to conclusions which are often wrong.

I realized, somewhat obviously, that I was on the outside looking in.  Did I want to get in?  Was I being left out?  Or just idly curious about what was going on.  I realize I was just taking my own picture, but it made me think about all the ways we can be on the outside looking in.

I like this photo a lot.  I was on the outside looking through.  Did I have to go inside but wished I didn’t?  So was I planning an escape out the other side?  Or was I blocking out something unpleasant about going in, or not being able to go in, so was looking past it?  Or was I just looking ahead.?  So many possibilities!

I took a photo of these two tree trunks, shadowed by the sun.  It was bright and beautiful.  And I went inside.

I’d been working on some watercolor exercises for practice, since I’ve just now started using watercolors.  It’s all such a mystery, too, since I can’t paint!  Doesn’t stop me from trying.  And then I looked outside.

In those few moments the sun had disappeared to be replaced by fog – no tree trunk shadows now.  It’s quite amazing to see such a rapid change – exciting too.  Today is all sun all the time, with snow melting and falling off the trees in big chunks.  So I finished off what had become a study of reflected bodies, which in a way reflects what’s inside our bodies – in terms of thoughts.

Because if we can be on the outside looking in, we can also be on the inside looking out.  That evokes its own kind of longing.

I like this photo a lot because I’m on the inside looking out but becoming one with nature.  I also notice that when I was on the outside looking in, it was all in color, and when I was on the inside looking out, it’s black and white – mainly because of the fog, but doesn’t that give us something interesting to reflect on?

The whole point is to think, isn’t it?  This stuff makes me think, contemplate, end up knowing myself and the world just a little bit better.  At least from my own perspective.  On my webpage, in the About section, under My Approach to Photography, I talk about seeing beyond the surface and finding the unexpected.

TRIPODS

The plate that attaches my camera to the tripod has been missing since my last visit to the cabin.  I remember putting it somewhere – not in the usual place – so telling myself to remember where it was. I did the same thing with my iPod Touch and never did find it.  Also at the cabin.  Well, it’s PREDICTION time because I’m about to find the missing plate.  How do I know?  Because I finally ordered a replacement.  Two replacements, in fact.  We all know that means that within the hour I’ll find the missing part.  And then I can take some decent photos of work I’ve been doing for tomorrow’s post.

Cabin in winter cocooned in snow,

Visiting brings it to life.

Inside heat melts outside snow

Creating new creaks and sounds.

Would’ve been scared as a kid.

Settling in, finding a rhythm

To being alone in the woods.

Wandering mind loses focus,

Don’t care, not concerned.

After all, it’s only me.

Cocooning in snow, waking the cabin

With books, canvas and paints.

Crashing through silence, ideas tumble.

Thoughts focus in images and words.

Sleepiness scares them away.

Alone in the woods, finding a rhythm

To thinking and writing with paint.

Everything quiets, urgency flees

To return on another’s day.

Today, it’s only me.

I love being at the cabin alone.  But I almost didn’t make it.  We knew there had been four feet of snow last week (we’re at elevation 6,200 ft.) but the guy in charge of our “snow plow collective” said the road had been plowed a few days ago.  Maybe he was dreaming.  Anyway, my husband drove me up because I knew we’d need the chains and I don’t seem to be able to get them on.  So we got most of the way, and here was the “plowed” road.

Time for chains.

We still couldn’t get up – first the snow tires failed us, next the chains.  We could just leave the car there and carry everything to the cabin – SO MUCH because I take all my art stuff!  And food.  But we did it.  I did the first trip only.

There was the stair rail, but where were the stairs?  Under four feet of soft snow.  We became trail breakers, sinking in past my knees with each step.  At one point I fell down and sunk so far into snow that I figured I’d just stay there until snowmelt.  But no, finally I maneuvered myself flat on my stomach and figured out a way up.  Camera hanging from my neck the whole time.

So that’s why I did the first trip only.  By now, I was willing to call my husband my sainted husband.

Without the stabilicers I wouldn’t have made it at all.  These are ice shoes with crampon things on the bottom and they strap over your shoes with velcro.  I won’t set foot in the snow and ice without them.

Even if the road had been somewhat plowed, our lower driveway sure hadn’t.  We have four foot high flexible things with reflectors on the top, mainly so I can stay on the driveway as I back down and not go off the edge.  Can you spot one?

We made it.  Mark left to go back to Bakersfield and he’ll get me on Saturday.  I won’t be setting foot outside the cabin except to the balcony – maybe.  But everything worked.  Internet is spotty but working.  Water works.  Hot water works.  And furnace works, even if it did take several hours to get from 39 degrees inside to 68.

It was pretty darn cold so I sat snuggled in a blanket and caught up on my newspaper reading, finally getting enough energy to make dinner.  As far as I can tell, I’m the only one up here.  That’s what prompted Cabin in Snow, the poem I started with.  I was almost snowed out.

We’re still in Creative Every Day’s Body month.  Last night, during this ever-lasting photo-sorting project, I came across a wonderful photo of the Bakersfield Six less One (Xavier was just barely born). That’s what I call my six grandkids who live in Bako.  We were at the beach in Ventura in 2000.  More reflections on body sprung into mind – the physical body, yes, but the spiritual body also.

I started thinking shadows.

Have you ever noticed that wherever you go, your shadow goes too?  Duh, of course, you say.  Anyone ever tell you after you’ve been ill that you look like a shadow of your former self? Did you ever try to run from your shadow?  Have you been told to step out from behind your shadow? Is Robert Louis Stevenson’s poem My Shadow one of your favorites?  It was one of mine.

Lots of negative connotations in shadows: escape from your shadow, run from your shadow, shadow of your former self, shadows of their eyes.   I played around with the photos a little.

How about life?  We can move so fast that we (and our shadows) are a blur.  No time to think about where we’ve been or where we’re going, let alone concentrate on the present.  Moving so fast that our shadows become indistinguishable from ourselves.

Besides reflecting on shadows themselves, I just liked the image so much – the expression in the five little bodies – the twins on the left, obviously relating to each other somehow, the two oldest on the right with Ali pointing out something to Sarah, and Dax in the middle.  All of them seemingly unconcerned about the approaching wave although it appears they aren’t in swim suits.  So I decided to do a journal page as a small study of something I may turn into a bigger collage.  Instead of using a negative connotation, I turned it around into stepping out of one’s shadow into embracing your own body and self.  I’ve spread the kids out to give them more independence.

Photos are full of stories, both real and imagined.  I’ve talked about that a bit on the “About” page of my webpage, as well as a former blog post on how to photograph people.  And Taking Better Photos of People, Part Two.

Thanks for reading Putting Your Body on the Line

Before I begin today’s post, I want to say thank you to everyone who read and forwarded my last post - Putting Your Body – and Life – on the Line.  Over 300 people have clicked on the link to the video in just a few days – I don’t know if they’ve watched the entire 10 minutes, but they’ve at least looked.  And maybe a few donations will have trickled in to the Fannie Lou Hamer Statue Fund. I know it’s a tough time to ask for money, especially when we’ve all just donated to Haitian relief.  I sent a donation to Doctors without Borders, an organization that is already established in Haiti and certainly critically needed right now.  But I think we can all squeeze out just a little bit more, especially with the stark reminder Haiti has given us of just how lucky we are.  Tomorrow morning Ali and Allie, the two seventh-graders who made the video (they are now in tenth grade) will be showing it at the Martin Luther King Community Breakfast and later at the youth luncheon.  I’m really proud of them.  Especially in this photo, which was on the last post:

Mississippi Civil Rights Veterans with Ali and Allie

They are centered in this photo taken in Mississippi at the Mississippi Civil Rights Veterans Conference.

Pants on the Ground

One more item before today’s post.  Did everyone watch Pants on the Ground?   The American Idol audition of 62-year-old “General” Larry Platt who wrote this little ditty because he was tired of seeing kids with their pants hanging around their knees?  It turns out he’s a civil rights veteran who marched with Martin Luther King and others!  I love this guy.  We’re all going to be singing Pants on the Ground, and there are some terrific remixes out there already.

Graceful Bodies, Bodies of Water

We finally made it to today’s post!  Still working with the Creative Every Day theme of Body, I extended the theme a bit to bodies of water.  Leah said we could interpret it broadly!  I’m fascinated with water – the patterns in water, colors, and I’ve been wanting to do a collage using water.  One thing led to another, and I came up with this.

I painted the background on canvas using acrylic paints.  The rectangles and squares are from photos taken in Mazatlan, Pismo Beach, Cambria (both in California) and a fountain at Disneyland.  Most of the paper is glossy but some, such as the long strip on the bottom, is Epson Velvet Fine Art Paper (I do all my printing myself).  I got all that arranged to my satisfaction – after several days of looking, walking away, changing something, etc. But I needed a focus and grabbed that Japanese Print book we were discarding.  I have a feeling that a whole series of collages is going to come out of this book.  So I found the perfect images in color and shape, and they lent such grace to the collage.  So we have Graceful Bodies, Bodies of Water.

I am particularly fond of this because it reminds me of some of the quilts my mother has made.  Hers from cloth, mine from water (figuratively).  It’s very poignant to think of my 86-year-old mom and her quilts as she still goes out to the studio and moves around blocks of cloth, but her memory isn’t there anymore and she can’t sew or quilt.  None of us are sure, but I don’t think she realizes that she doesn’t actually quilt as she’s moving around cloth and planning what to do next.  So in the best scenario, she’s still getting pleasure from it.  For the rest of us, it’s quite poignant.