Unbeknownst to almost everyone, I have continued to follow the Creative Every Day website and post on their page.  Every month Leah (it’s her website) has a theme to encourage people’s creativity; give us a little nudge, as it were.  However, she makes a big deal about the fact that you should not feel compelled to follow the theme.  And I have not followed the theme in a very long time.  Perhaps it’s been a year. Who knows? Passage of time is ephemeral.

But – this month’s theme is BLUE!  Of course I want to do BLUE blogs since I focused on blue during our Morocco and Spain trip in March.  I’ve been thinking about blue ever since, and I fashioned a book called

on the Blurb website.  It’s really nifty how you can view the book and turn the pages.  It’s for sale but do I expect anyone to buy it?  No way.  Because to make even $15 off a sale I have to charge a hideously high price.

Anyway, to the task at hand.  I took a little trip to Pismo Beach by myself after my mom’s memorial.  I just wanted time to think about her and remember her life.  Get things fixed in my mind.  I have to concentrate on that because things are becoming unstuck all the time now.

I had my camera but just didn’t feel like taking photos at all.  I walked and walked on the beach without camera in hand.  But apparently I did take a couple of photos from my room balcony, so here they are – all focused on blue.

View from my Kon Tiki balcony

Kon Tiki is the hotel I stayed at.  I focused in on the pier and now I am remembering why I grabbed the camera.  I liked the could formations and colors.

Pismo Beach Pier

I looked straight out and saw a blue umbrella all by itself.

Little Blue Umbrella

I looked farther and focused on the ocean.

And soon I drove home under a blue sky

Today I was looking at our pond and saw a blue dragonfly.

This guy was impossible to photograph because he wouldn’t stay still.  However, an orange dragonfly rested for a moment on a reed, and this one did stay still.

Dragonfly

Why am I finishing up the blue post with orange?  Because the background appears to be blue.

There.  I did it.  I posted to the theme.  It’s going to be a BLUE month.

It’s the LAST DAY of Art Every Day Month.  Tomorrow I don’t have to post!  Wahoo.  About now you’re probably saying, well you didn’t have to post every day anyhow. It’s been a bit excessive. In some ways, yes, of course.  But it’s been a self-challenge and a form of self-discipline to decide to do something and stick with it.  I’m sorry I haven’t been in the studio but that’s the way it is.  I’ve focused on photography and photo essays.

But for this last post I’m going to do more Christmas decorations because, as I said yesterday, they qualify as art.  So here we go.

First, Nikolai and the angel.  My mom made these.  Over the years I’ve debated whether to keep them or not.  I never was that fond of the angel, and Nikolai is getting sort of ragged.  But I’m so glad I still have them.  Because I don’t have my mother in the real sense of the word.  She’d never be able to create anything now, and she probably wouldn’t remember she had done these in the past.  She’s well, she’s happy, and she doesn’t know that she doesn’t remember.  When I take Nikolai and the angel out of the box I can see my mom – how she used to be, the interests she had, the love she had for the family, making a Nikolai for all of us four kids.  I’m getting a little choked up writing this so I’ll move on.

This isn’t any better because my mom made the snowman also,  A few years ago – I say a few but it’s probably 10 at least – she did a “tune up” because snowman was coming apart.  He’s still shaky, but I’ll keep him until he dissolves or otherwise disappears.

My sister gave me this silver tea pot.  I think she bought it at By the Water Tower Antiques in Exeter.  We like to go up there periodically and Cris and I both admired this.  She bought it, and  being my generous sister, she gave it to me.

The snowman plate is from a student, Ries Murphy.  I’m telling you his name because I want you to remember it.  He’s graduating from college this year and he’s enlisted in the Marines – but what Ries is, is a writer.  I knew it immediately in the seventh-grade.  I told him he was a writer.  He went through various stages throughout junior high and high school – he was going to be an architect, he was going to be a priest, etc. – but each time I told him no, in fact, he was a writer and he wasn’t going to be able to not write.

I was right, as Ries finally acknowledged.  His university degree is in creative writing.  I’ve read some chapters from the book he’s working on and it is brilliant.  He is brilliant.  I had many brilliant students in their own ways, but Ries as a writer, and William as an artist – well, writing and painting chose them, they didn’t choose writing and painting.  Sometimes you cannot escape your destiny nor should you try to.

I’ve had these little guys around for a while now.  These little figurines are something I would have avoided at all costs for most of my life.  I have an abhorrence for things that are “cute.” Somewhere along the line, that changed.  I love my little mice and the snowmen and actually purchased them – they weren’t given to me.  We have a “thing” in our family with us three sisters.  We like small things – little animals and so on.  Old broken ceramic animals.  Little figures destined for the junk heap.  We rescue them from the thrift stores. We give them homes and don’t want to break up the family.  We have them in curio cases and little shelves all over our houses.  Old printer’s type drawers make particularly good shelves.

And finally, we are at the North Pole.  Besides the Dickens’ Village, I collect Dept. 56 from the North Pole collection.  I started this because it’s the sort of thing that I, as a child, would have been delighted with.  I would have been enraptured and stories would emerge about the little village coming to life.  Since I have grandkids, I started collecting so they could similarly be transported to magic places.  Unfortunately, they did not seem to enjoy them so much.  Until last year. Annabelle was thrilled. She wanted to touch every piece and she looked for a long time.  Thank you, Annabelle. I expect Cooper to be similarly enthralled.

So here, in the back on the right, you have Tillie’s Tiny Cup Cafe.  Elves need a place to hang out and get a cup of coffee after all their hard work.  In front is the Hot Chocolate and  S’mores stand for a quick treat on the go.  Even people that live in snowy climates like ice cream, so the ice cream vendor is beginning his rounds.  And the Kris Kringle Elementary School is in session.  A lineup of elves is carrying some glitter garland through the snow because it’s time to decorate.

The gum drop tree in the back needs some help I’d say.  It makes me want real gum drops – I love gum drops but you don’t see them so much anymore.  Or maybe I’m not in the right places.  Reindeer Flight School is in session, while various elves rest on the candy cane benches.  To the left you can just glimpse the movie theater playing Babes in Snowland.

The Elf Spa is just the place for tired elves with sore muscles.  If they’re too tired to walk, they can take the polar bear taxi, who’s motto is “they will bear you anywhere.”  In the back, Santa surveys the entire scene from the bridge above the perpetually frozen pond.  It is a magical place indeed.

So that’s it although I should add one note.  After last night’s post, I went online and ordered Cratchit’s Corner, Bob Cratchit holding up Tiny Tim in the classic “God bless us, everyone” pose, and some carolers to annoy Scrooge as he tries to suppress all Christmas cheer.  It’s about time I added to the Dickens’ Village.

As we say goodbye to November and Art Every Day Month, I wish you the joy of decorating, if indeed you do decorate.   I usually say I’m not going to put out the villages this year, or not decorate but I always do because each decoration tells a story.

Up at our cabin we have a dining room table that was a cast-off when we took it.  It couldn’t have gotten much worse, so I decided to paint it. Then I decided to put the name of each grandchild on the table? Why? I don’t know but it sure seemed like a good idea.  This is what it looks like.

Some of the family is coming up here for Thanksgiving, so I needed to make the new addition to the table.

Half of the Bakersfield Six will spend Thanksgiving with the Colorado Four – grandkids, that is.  We’ll miss them.  For anyone checking in on this blog for the first time, I just returned from Paonia, Colorado, where I was helping as Samuel, my 10th grandchild was born.

I’ve been writing about the show that opened tonight at the Younger Gallery in Bakersfield.  Well, it looked great!  Beautifully hung, wonderful poetry and photography.  I feel more than lucky to have been included, especially since it was invitation only.  I’ll post a couple of photos from the show and one more poem and photo.

I took the photo in the Alta Cienega Motel in Los Angeles.  That’s where Jim Morrison stayed most of the time he was in L.A.  and I went down there with William Jordan, a former student who was enamored of The Doors, so we could hit all the area Morrison landmarks.  William is the boy in the photo and we’re in Morrision’s room.

The poem, Signs of Morrison, is written by Nick Belardes.

One night in Paris

or Toulouse it happens.

Somewhere in a city

where dreams of artists

get trapped in motels,

or up in the clouds of neon signs

and then down around ankles

like bunched pants, it happens.

Somewhere, in a black and white sky,

in a doorway,

or just near a doorway,

there’s a man.

He’s looking into a camera

and wondering

just who he is in that mirror,

and where he’s going.

He hums a song,

smiles at the nearby radio

and at the roads

curving over distant muddy hills.

He’s passing through.

Just passing through.

Morrison is topical again since Florida Governor Charlie Crist is working on pardoning him from the indecent exposure charge long ago in 1969 during a concert in Florida.

The next two photos show how the show is hung.  If you live in Bakersfield, do come visit the gallery.

Tomorrow Reflections: image + word opens at the Younger Gallery, sponsored by the Arts Council of Kern.  I have seven photos and two poems in the show and I can’t wait to see it hung!  I love the concept.  So for today’s Art Every Day Month post, I’m giving a little preview of the show with a photo of mine and poem by Nick Belardes.

Journey of the Brown Beetle  by Nick Belardes

Flip it over!

No! That’s mean.

Ay! Cabron!

Let’s just watch it crawl, dimwit.

To the highway?

Even across the highway.

To the barrio?

No way! Not the Barrio. Johnny One Eye will eat it.

Where then? To the desert?

Of course to the desert.

Past the dog bones?

Through the rattlesnake graveyard.

That’s a scary place. Indian spirits.

And up Miner’s Hill.

Into the valley?

And all those shrubs in Jesus Valley.

Where the old saints live?

Where they suck the cactus.

And that old hermit who drinks Coors like grandma?

And wears the same makeup.

Wow! He’s strange.

Most of the Saints are.

It will never make it.

It will die when it gets there.

Then can we flip it over?

No. Let it dry up where it stops.

But the shell will break.

No it won’t. It will last forever.

A brown shell in the desert?

Forever.

Forever?

Forever…

Art Every Day Month Day 16!  Wow.  I’m going to post a photo that is currently hanging in the exhibit Heroes at The Foundry in downtown Bakersfield at  1700 Chester Ave.  The exhibit is still hanging for anyone who wants to drop by and see it.  I recommend it.

I titled my entry Seguendo le Orme di Papa – Following Papa’s Footsteps.  I took it in Sorrento, Italy a couple of years ago.  We set out to see the town and came across a parade – it was Italian Veteran’s Day.  Representatives from all sorts of regiments paraded by – some had elaborate plumed headgear, others had intricate uniforms, and they all carried the banner for their divisions.  And then this little guy came along.  I barely had time to capture the shot but sometimes you get better photos on the fly than you would have had you had all the time in the world.  So here it is.

Sailing into the second half of Art Every Day Month, I’m going to post about an exhibit sponsored by the Arts Council of Kern ( on this link you can find the show poster and view it) that opens Friday here in Bakersfield.  It’s called Reflections image + word and features three photographers and three poets.  I’m one of the photographers and I also have a couple of poems in the show, but I wouldn’t dare to call myself a poet.

Here’s how it works.  The six of us assembled, talked, and then submitted poems and photographs to each other.  If someone felt pulled to a particular poem, that person would submit a photo.  If a poet felt pulled to a particular photo, that person would submit a poem.  The curator, Nicole St. John, chose the final entries and the show opens Friday.  It’s a wonderful concept and I think it’ll be a terrific show.  I won’t give the whole thing away, but I’ll post a couple of the poems and photos.

The first photo is by LisaAnn Lobasso.  She called it Another Farm Gives Way, but I put my own interpretation on it with the poem I wrote.

Usable

Usable by Susan Reep

Old, rusted, antique, as useless as typewriters.

Cast off but not discarded.  Yet.

Is that what happens to old things? To old people?

Her skin was trim, her body thin, but it wasn’t new.

Does old come when your body starts to sag?

If so, she was ok.  For now.  In image.

Being naked and feeling naked are different.

Being naked filled her with exhilaration, excitement, freedom.

She stood straight and proud.

Feeling naked exposed her from the inside out.

It all rose to the surface. Insecurities and doubts.

Her stride would break; she’d want to wrap her arms

Around her body to keep everything in, private.

Would it feel different to be walking in a new tractor store?

It may have been a bad idea to come out here seeking

The freedom of open spaces, the confidence of solitude,

The comfort of the farm.

It might have been better in spring when everything was new.

Well, not everything.  She’d still be in the midst of old,

Rusted, antique cast-offs.  Worse, they weren’t even important enough

To cart off.  Just cast off. Obsolete. A warning.

What good was her trim, thin body that would someday sag.

Better that form follows function.  It’s the use, isn’t it?

Being usable, not used up. Contemporary, not contemplated.

The new was sleek, smart, fast and firm,

But it didn’t tell stories.  The stories were in

The rust, the uselessness, the age.  The antiques.

What stories they could tell if they could speak.

Seeking freedom on the farm, the solace of solitude.  Not so bad

After all.  Because she could speak. She could speak for now.

She could even speak for others. She could speak for the future.

She could speak for the past. She could speak for her body.

She could speak with her body. Her new body, her slim, trim body,

And the saggy baggy body yet to come.

The one that would be full of stories.

Used up, maybe. But usable.

Little Girl with a Baseball

I submitted a photo that  Nick Belardes liked it so he wrote a poem.  The photo is one I took years ago and kept in the back of my mind, knowing someday I wanted to use it for something.  I think I’ve posted this before, but it never hurts to do it again.  Anything about baseball deserves a second posting, especially with such a poignant poem.

LITTLE GIRL WITH A BASEBALL by Nick Belardes

She will taunt you

When you’re ten years old,

And she’s three.

She’ll hold your baseball

Like it’s a mystery orb

And won’t give it to you

When you want it back.

When she’s fifteen,

And you’re Twenty-two,

She’ll only watch you

If you’re winning.

“It’s just a game,” you say.

You know that isn’t true.

And she never believes you anyway.

When she’s twenty-three

And you pitch your first game in the majors,

She’ll finally say you were meant to be

a ballplayer.

But she still won’t write you letters.

Or tell you you’re the best she ever saw.

When you start coaching AAA,

She’ll remember all those games

You once played.

You will call her up,

And she’ll say what you looked like

From the stands.

When she’s fifty,

She will hang photos

you didn’t know she had.

Like the time she had that magic orb

When she was three.

After the show opens, I’ll share some more.  If you’re in the Bakersfield area, the details are on the poster in the link.  I think you’ll recognize the photo on the poster.

Art Every Day Month relentlessly plows on, surges forward, propels me along this trajectory of produce! create! do something! anything!  So I did something with…

toothbrushes.  My daughter in Colorado had toothbrushes for the kids that stood on the bathroom counter with suction cups.  Every time I went in the bathroom after the kids had brushed their teeth, the brushes were in a different configuration – and they looked like they were having conversations.  Sometimes they were friendly, sometimes confrontational, sometimes one toothbrush ganged up on the others.  It really tickled me – I started positioning them, playing around, and when we were at Wal Mart I bought some.  Two for $1.00.

Tonight I started playing around, took a picture, and made a journal page using the photo, art paper cutouts, watercolors and pastels.  It’s just a fun whimsical little journal page.

The blue cow?  I bought that in Hotchkiss on the visit before this last one.  Ostensibly it would be a gift for a baby boy, but really? I just liked it and wanted it for myself.

Fair warning – as I washed my hands after smearing around paint and pastel, I noticed that the soap dispenser was having a conversation with the dish soap.  I’m going to be seeing conversations everywhere!   Watch out…

So many cities struggle with public art – how to afford it, do they want it, how to choose the art, the artist.  Should there be nudes? Grand Junction, CO seems to have this figured out.  In a perhaps three-block section of main street, there are at least 30 public art installations.  And they’ve been there for at least five years, which is when I started visiting Colorado.

I’m simply going to post photos and you can look or not.  But I do think it’s interesting to see the kinds of art other cities are displaying.  Grand Junction seems fairly sophisticated in it’s choices, from whimsical to classical, from nudes to families.

There are many many pieces and I’m putting them all in  one post for a reason: to show the profusion of public art in a small area of a small town.  If it can be done in Junction, it can be done anywhere.

I have a strange perspective on the above sculpture.  It’s actually rather small.

And there you have it.  Thirty pieces of public art in one small space.  Plus the ones I didn’t photograph!

As I rummaged through my luggage in the Grand Junction hotel room, I found I had more than glitter glue.  I had fabric markers! I’d forgotten that I didn’t leave them with my daughter.  So I opened my art journal and found a rather pathetic lotus blossom I had begun to paint.  It’s not surprising that it was rather pathetic because, of course, I’m not a painter.  So I turned it into a doodle of squiggles, dots and swirls.  It’ll do.  It just felt good to be doing something, anything.