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As long as there’s duct tape, we’re good…


2010
10.02

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The Creative Every Day theme for October is earth.  Leah, who runs this blog challenge, has a theme every month and tells us all to feel free to ignore it and do what we want.  So far this year, I’ve been outstanding at ignoring the theme.  For October, I wanted to get back into it because my creative life has been stalled for so long now.  We moved in March? Yes.  And that was the end.  So I want to get working again regularly.

Get ready for November when we are supposed to post every single day!  That’s when I joined in last year, and I did it – somehow – in spite of being in Colorado for almost two weeks.  I’ll be there again this November while my daughter has the new baby.  But I WILL do Creative Every Day in spite of taking care of three kids six and under.  Fair warning.  You will be inundated!

For now, however, I am going to try hard to stick to the October theme of earth.  Except that this post is about duct tape.  I suppose there must be a petroleum product somewhere in duct tape and that comes from the earth.  Let’s go with that.

As everyone in the world must be aware of now, our duct tape is not our parent’s duct tape.  One of the things my granddaughter Sophie wanted last year for Christmas was duct tape in bright colors, and as usual I overdid it.  I gave her rolls of duct tape from neon brights to tie-dyed.  And plaids.  Last week, I gave her a couple of rolls of animal print duct tape.  The duct tape people must be overjoyed as their tape moves into dimensions as yet unknown.  It seems to have no limits.

The bunk beds at the cabin now have bright blue duct tape cell phone holders.  Sophie’s made all types of wallets and such, but now she’s into clothing.  I understand there are patterns on the web, but Sophie says they’re too hard to follow, so she does her own.

The dress and belt.  Notice the hair ornament.

The shoes.  She wore them to school.

And the hat.

I can’t wait to see what she makes next.  I should be able to exploit this somehow, but being the most un-entrepreneurial person on the planet, Sophie is safe.  Except I want to talk to her about Christmas…or Thanksgiving.  I’m seeing placemats.

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The Story of my Father and the Bird: Carving the Turkey


2010
09.28

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It’s almost Thanksgiving again.  Which means, if you are going to have a turkey, that it must be carved.  My dad, who is 92, is already reflecting on the art of carving a turkey.  The older he gets, the more like a bulldog he is.  He gets a hold of an idea and hangs on to it, shaking it back and forth, up and down, while the idea gets bigger and bigger.  Usually, the idea holds imperfections of some sort which are magnified.

The turkey-carving idea started years ago.  My husband carves the turkey, or his nephew Kent, or maybe our son-in-law Matt.  In my dad’s mind, they are all one person and the carving job they do gets worse with each telling.  During today’s visit we (he, really) talked about it again.

The conversation was precipitated by my sister asking Dad if he’d carve the turkey at her house this year.  Bless her heart.  Something he takes great pride in.  But Cris, if you are reading this – do NOT let anyone take anything from the platter until Dad is completely finished and the platter has made it to the table in the grand old tradition of the Thanksgivings no one had.  Because last year, someone started eating before the dark meat had been properly arranged.

The Thanksgiving no one had

Seriously, look at Grandma in that picture.  She’s just placing that turkey in front of Gramp so he can do the manly job of carving, but who’s got the real strength? Grandma isn’t even breaking a sweat as she lightly places that 30-pounder in front of gramps.

George Bush had it right when he served turkey to the troops in Iraq.

Is it real, or is it Memorex?

That’s right, this was not a real turkey – it’s a cardboard picture of a turkey platter with a convincing curve in the middle.  Because, really, who can stand there holding a turkey like that?  It’s hard enough getting it out of the oven.

Because my father is an artist, carving a turkey is an art.  Everything must be aesthetically pleasing.  The white meat should be sliced in big, but thin, slices and fanned around the outside of the platter, which should be oval for the best impression.  In a smaller inner circle, slices of dark meat taken from the thigh should be fanned out.  I think a drumstick may go somewhere in this presentation, but I was not told and I did not ask.  Perhaps I did not listen. But the platter must be just so, even if no one special is there to view it.  It might look like this.  Something similar anyhow.

To tell the truth, I’m a little tired of hearing about slicing a turkey.  Carving a turkey.  We’ve all been hearing about it for several years but it seems to have taken on the ferver of a crusade.  Today, Mark/Kent/Matt – this person that has morphed together -  got ripped to shreds for their turkey-carving skills.  Their past efforts have been magnified to the point that they are larger-than-life.  I don’t think the word “skills” figured into it because they don’t carve a turkey – they rip it to shreds.  The description my dad was giving, and the ferver with which he told it, belonged in a horror movie.  You got the impression of chunks of turkey being flung about the room as they were pulled from the carcass by some monster of devastation.  My mind saw fangs shredding this meat as it landed on the platter.  The dark meat never stood a chance. It’s a wonder the turkey wasn’t raw, such was the description of  the melee that ensued when this morphed monster approached with the knife.

It may have ended up something like this.

Somehow, we survived this doomsday turkey carving and found the bird tasty and yummy.  I don’t believe a one of us was lamenting the presentation of the meat.  Take it back – there was one.

So today I listened – and believe me – I am not exaggerating.  I AM wondering, trying to parse out this whole thing as if it were parts of a sentence that could be ordered.  How to make order of an aging mind? Why are certain things rising to the surface over and over again, seemingly meaningless things like carving a turkey?  What does it really mean? I don’t think that near the end of life, carving a turkey could be a big concern.  What could it symbolize? Maybe being the best could be a concern.  Had you been the best?  Would others realize you had been the best? Have you appreciated the finer points in life?  Fulfilled your duties as a family man adequately?  Or better than adequately?  Who the heck knows what carving the dang turkey really means.  Dad probably doesn’t know.

But we listen.  Again and again. Telling ourselves that we will be equally insufferable at times should we made it to 92.  That our kids will go home saying, “I can’t believe she talked about that again.  Why can’t she just let go of it? It’s not important anyhow.”  And then they may contemplate the symbolism of a seemingly trivial matter.

Because we would really like carving the turkey, or whatever it is we are going to talk about over and over, to be symbolic of some deeper meaning and larger idea, not just the complaints of an old used-up person.  Sometimes it’s better to live the fantasy than know the truth.  Because a turkey, after all, is probably only a turkey.

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Poetry and Photography, a preview: Little Girl with a Baseball


2010
09.27

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The Arts Council of Kern will be mounting a show toward the end of October.  The working title is Poetry and Photography, and it’s a really cool concept.  Three poets and three photographers were asked to collaborate, matching poems to photos or vice versa.  I’m honored to be asked to participate.  The other two photographers are amazing, and the poets are knock-your-socks-off fabulous.  I have been needing an infusion of new ideas and ways of thinking so this came at just the right time.  I’ll have two poems in the show as well as photos, and I wanted to share one collaboration that is close to my heart.

My granddaughter Annabelle is six now, but  I took a photo of her at her second (or was it her third?) birthday party that I’ve always wanted to do something with.  I loved the way she was looking at the little boy, and he was looking back at her,  as if it were a stand-off of sorts.  Or a dare.  Abbo had his baseball.

I love baseball.  I love the poetry and the ballet of baseball.  I love watching the diamond just as the batter steps up, the pitcher winds up, lets go of the ball, the batter swings, and the infield and outfield move as if choreographed, one way or the other, like a corps de ballet.  It’s just so beautiful to see it all happen.  Besides Star Trek, baseball is one of the things I love best.

I put the photo out there, and one of the poets, an honest-to-goodness published author (look him up on Amazon and buy his books), Nick Belardes, snapped it up.  The poem is so romantic and wistful, so full of hope and heartbreak, and so full of promise that it captured me immediately.

I don’t want to ruin the show so this is just a teaser, one little teeny part.  It’s nice to put it out before baseball season is over.  The boys of October are but days away, the Padres are six games away from the wild card, and since the Dodgers are bums this year, I’d like to see the Padres win something, finally.  Giants fans, sorry, can’t do anything for you.  You’re still the enemy to those of us who bleed Dodger blue.

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.

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You know? July was a hell of a month. Plus, Earth is a Mighty Vessel. Art!


2010
08.09

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Gotta say it.  Ever have those months that when you look back, it seems completely surreal?  I just have to get it off my chest, and of course I know everyone wants to know about MY month – so here it is.  For a preview – this is what I felt like at the end of the month.

I felt like this chopped up pile of wood I found by our cabin. I was broken down, fragmented, and needed to be put together again.

It started with me going to L.A. for a couple of days to help my friend Michael. He’s in India now and was in the process of getting ready.  Sort of like closing out one life and starting another.  He now has no apartment and no job in the United States.  I’ve got his financial stuff to take care of, so he is free and clear to step through the looking glass.  Michael is a sign-language interpreter, and he’s interpreting for a recent grad school grad (grad school grad?) who’s Indian.  He’ll be there for at least six months.

Buying a computer with Michael

I remember back in 1971, Mark and I did the same thing.  We joined the Peace Corps. Put all our stuff in storage and set out for Morocco.  Took two-year-old Jennifer with us. Both sets of parents were horrified – how could we do such a thing? How unsafe it would be.  What about Jennifer? Could we get jobs after being out of the country two years? Looking back, it was pretty brave – walking into Oujda, Morocco, with only basic language skills and having to find a house to rent and furnish it with a PC volunteer salary, but it wasn’t foolhardy. We were young, when, of course, you do things you’d think two or three times about now.

So Michael is taking a big risk – stepping into his new life in India.  I’m happy for him to have this adventure because after living in a foreign country, life is never the same.  It’s fuller, richer, and everything around you takes on more relativity.  If we didn’t have nine grandkids with number ten on the way, we’d be right back in the Peace Corps.

Anyhow – I was in L.A. helping Michael and he woke up one day with strep throat. Not good. So I zoomed back to Bako and left for Florida on July 5.  I’ve written lots of posts about that – I’m sure no one wants to hear the words “heat” and “humidity” once more!  But it was all that and more.  Nothing has ever tired me out as much as that trip, but had I known in advance, I would have still gone. I was simply unable to pass up the chance to visit The Wizarding World of Harry Potter.  Would I go back in July? Given the choice, no.  Never.  But I wouldn’t have to – I’ve been.

Frazzled parents on the soccer field in Palm Beach

Breakfast at Three Broomsticks at Wizarding World of Harry Potter

Then came the pathetic 24-hour return trip to California. One day home. Off to the cabin with all nine grandkids and two daughters.

Grandkids at the cabin

Now, would you like a laugh? Because you are going to get one. I was so frazzled that I made the absolute most pathetic cake in the universe for Jen and Karen’s birthdays at the cabin.  It was all I had so I had to use it.  Get ready for a ROFL moment.

The most pathetic birthday cake in the history of mankind

Two days home.  More stuff with Michael including a mad-dash day right before his flight replacing everything in his lost wallet! This is not a good idea, losing your wallet the day before you embark on a new life.  Yet maybe it was symbolic – starting again.

Straight to Costa Mesa for the Adam Lambert concert, which I also wrote about.

Then up to Pismo for some days with my friend Pat.

Me with Patty Cake

Then the road home.

If I was home 5 days in July I’d be surprised.  But I can’t check my calender definitively because my computer, and therefore outlook, is kaput.

First week of August: the air conditioner broke in our house, my computer crashed and is still absent (working on the macbook), lots of running around to get the cabin ready for renting. New bank accounts, web site, ad infinitum.  Fasting lab work.  I’m happy to report that my lipid panel and my cholesterol levels are on the low side.  One victory for August!

Did I mention the dead bird and the frog in my closet? That the cats – I suspect Tiger, really – have/has been urinating in the closet and my room? That’s solved now, but I think it was too much for me to be gone such a long time.  I got pherenomes from the vet to spray on the spots, and I have happy cats now.  Calm cats.  I am giving them both plenty of attention.  Maybe Tiger will stop being so crabby.

Oh my, there is more. But I can hardly remember. My parents of course.  Yesterday I wrote the story about the keys.

Ah – I forgot the mammoth trip to IKEA (1 1/2 hours away) and putting together bookcases, beds, mounting televisions, etc.  And worse than almost anything was a horrible phone call to Direct TV to get it installed at the cabin.  My head was spinning – it was the highest pressure sell I’ve ever experienced, and when I was hanging up after probably  ONE HOUR, the sales guy still wouldn’t stop selling.  I had to say, “Thank you. I’m not ordering your product. I am hanging up now. Goodbye.”

But I did order it because it’s the only service available in Alta Sierra.  HOWEVER I ordered it in a bundle though Verizon and it was a very civilized procedure.  Have to zip up there Thursday for installation.  And on Friday my sister, her husband, and my two nephews from Juneau are coming for the annual summer visit.

OK, it’s off my chest. It’s a wonder I’m still sane. I do not want to go anywhere for a long time.

SO finally I had time to produce some art this weekend.  In fact, I had to because the deadline for the museum show this year was today! The theme is Vessels.  I worked on a collage for two days.   I decided to meet the theme head-on and wrote a poem about vessels which  I’ll put it in here because the words probably won’t show on the screen, and then I’ll put in the picture.  There is a lot of intentional symbolism in this collage.  I wonder what people will see, since they can’t see inside my mind.

Earth is a Mighty Vessel

Earth is a mighty vessel, bountiful,

Impersonal, arid.

We rise with this vessel, higher.

We leave this vessel when we can swim.

Except those who sink.

We laugh with riches from vessel Earth.

Our bodies become vessels,

Adorned as Earth adorns herself.

Earth is a bumpy vessel with which

We float, rise, paddle, dive.

Earth’s buoyancy brings us back.

Except those who sink.

Accept those who sink.

Earth is a Mighty Vessel

And now we move forward.

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New Collage for Latination and a Peacock


2010
06.27

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I finally finished the collage I was making to submit for a show at Metro Galleries called Latination.  It has to be Latin-themed in some way, even loosely.  If you click on the link you can see more about the show, and if you click on the Gallery Info tab and then click artists, you will see me!

Anyway, here’s the collage.  It took me a long time to get this right.  It was the bottom right section that was troublesome but I think I have it.

Materials are paint on canvas, vintage fruit crate labels, and my own photos of the sky.

And just for fun I did a small painting.  It’s only the second one I’ve ever done, and considering I don’t know how to paint, I think it’s pretty good.  As art, it’s pretty bad.  But I had fun.  I copied a picture I took of a peacock.  If you click on the “My Photos” tab at the top, then enter the Animal Gallery, you’ll see the photo – it’s number G1-14.  You can also enter the Photo Gallery on the sidebar.

I am under no illusions or delusions that I’ll be a painter.  But since I’m not trying to be, I guess I can do what I want, no matter how crude it is.  I was just thrilled to get the color right and actually have it resemble a peacock!

That’s all, folks.  It’s hot in Bako now – we’ve had a good run this spring of wonderful, mild temps, but now we are in Bakersfield summer mode – over 100 degrees.  Funny how draining that is even when the house is air conditioned.  I’m not complaining, though.  I have a house and I have air conditioning, which probably puts me in the top tier of comfort around the world.  And I have the time to do things like try to paint.  It may all collapse on us one day, but for now I’m very grateful.


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Did you see the MOON? Plus art, cell phones, and phonographs


2010
06.25

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I’m going to save the best for last – the MOON

Cell phone update

The saga of my cell phone has  gotten ridiculous.  Time for husbands New Every Two, which really means Discount Every Two unless you want a toy phone.  I used the New Every Two as my husband has a new phone.  I got the Droid Incredible which I loved to pieces until I found out I could not put my bluetooth in my ear and say “Call ____.”  Sent back.  Credit received. Got the Blackberry Bold. What a clunker! Heavy, hard to navigate the icons – shame on them!  Sent back.  Credit received.  Decided to stick with Blackberry Curve.  Ordered the lavender one.  Started to program it but I couldn’t find the keys.  Ah – the keys were lavender too!  My current phone is a pink Blackberry Curve and the keys are not pink.  They are silver and black and I can see them without my glasses.  But lavender on lavender?  Can’t see with my glasses.  Sending it back Monday.  Down to one choice – the black Blackberry Curve.  I am waiting to order however.  Can’t take anymore of this.  And they better not charge me the $35 restocking fee for the Droid or the lavender Curve.  Now I will take deep breaths and continue this post with

ANTS

I need more deep breaths.  I watered and cleaned up outside today.  There were no ants.  There are now ants swarming all over the patios and lawns and everywhere.  I must have disturbed a nest or something.  I put a call in to pest control having made a command decision to damn the frogs and hire pest control if that’s what it takes.  Seriously, I hope Adam can find a way to not made the pond toxic.  We had such a bad infestation at our old house once that we had ants coming out of switch plates, and once I found my snake Jake covered with ants!  I grabbed that snake and put him under the kitchen faucet hoping he wouldn’t have a heart attack from the sudden change of temperature.  So I’m not waiting to see ants coming out of switch plates.  I hope Adam calls back even though it’s Friday night and we haven’t hired him yet.  Let’s talk about something more pleasant that won’t raise my blood pressure, which would be

Phonographs and Memories

Do you ever wonder if things you remember about your childhood were really like that? I have fondly told the story of how I would wake up every day and put a record on my phonograph first thing – the same record every day.  My parents awoke to “The King of France had 40,000 men; they marched up the hill and then marched down again.” My phonograph was hand-cranked.  I’ve wondered lately if I made that up, however.  I didn’t.  Because in the move I looked through old photos and there I was in my bedroom with the phonograph and you can see the crank!

Nice to know I remembered that correctly.

Watercolor

Watercolor is hard. I did a watercolor up at the cabin and I have no idea what it is.  I was trying to replicate a journal page but it’s not quite the same.  I don’t even want to learn watercolor – phew! My dad got a lifetime achievement award from the National Watercolor Society.  They don’t give that out very much.  I so appreciate his skill as an artist – a lifetime of work.

So here’s what I did.  Miss Know Nothing trying to learn from the website watercolor.com.  However, I don’t even think I held the brush correctly, although I did remember from time to time to try.This is my masterpiece.  It’s colorful, I can say that, and I used water, that much is true.   However, putting the water and color together is amazingly difficult. So, someone tell me what it is so I can explain it to others as if I did it on purpose.

I’m going to take out that yellow and reddish column.  Would it make any sense to all it Windows?

Now for the MOON

Oh my goodness gracious you should have seen Bakersfield’s moon last night.  My husband, who goes to sleep at 9:00, got up to use the restroom at about 11:15 and just happened to look out his window.  He came in my room and startled the heck out of me – I was doing something on the computer.  (Yes, we each have our own rooms.  It’s called snoring.) “Look at the moon,” he said.  Clouds, almost-full moon, I stuck my camera on the tripod and took 81 photos.

I’m only going to show you nine, and I don’t need to comment.  Just look.  Wish you had been here to see it in person with me.  The third one I want to title “The Mothership has Arrived.”

Goodnight, moon.


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Finally. At last. Summer has come to the mountains. Bliss.


2010
06.23

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Finally, at last.

Snow is beautiful.  It’s most beautiful when you have magically been deposited into the cabin with all your stuff, so you can look at and appreciate the stillness and beauty.  It’s not so fun when you have to trudge through the snow, knee-deep, ferrying stuff up the stairs because you can’t get your 4-wheel drive car through the sort-of plowed road.

Bliss

I remember that Creative Every Day Month’s thene for June is Bliss.  This is bliss – the forest in summer.  That is why I am ecstatic that summer has come to the mountains.  The best part is sitting on the balcony watching the blue jays, who ask for peanuts incessantly and I of course provide them. Once in a while I spot woodpeckers and yesterday saw a white-headed woodpecker for the second time up here.  The hummingbirds come to the feeder after trying to drink from our Chinese lanterns, and the nuthatches go up and down the trees looking for insects.

I was so excited I did an art journal collage page called Finally. At last. (click to make larger)

A walk in the woods

Went for a walk to see what was new out there.  Not much was new, so I had to do something to make the photos interesting.  I took out the color.

In the next photo, the electric and phone lines are crossed.  I used to think how ugly that was and why couldn’t it all be put underground.  Probably I thought that out of ignorance and because my parents were always so critical of anything not esthetically pleasing.  But now that we have a place in the mountains, the lines mean electricity, phones, internet, television.  Plus, I realize the difficulties of doing things up here.  Wires here are good. I like them.

I found an interesting tree- loved the shape.  What I didn’t expect was the background – it looks a little like snow in summer.

I passed a stump.  Then I went back and took three photos.  It’s a good example of point of view – everything depends upon your point of view.  The first looks like a stump, an obstacle to pass.

A few steps further, and a new perspective, it becomes a passage, a way through.

And yet a couple more steps, the same stump becomes a shelter.

The perspective of the passage narrows and you can just imagine taking refuge here.  If you were small.  I used to use examples like this when I was teaching point of view – I miss that part.  The teaching and the kids.  Don’t miss anything else about it.

Finally, I passed a little house that had so many patterns on it and a colorful barrel in front.  So of course, I took a picture.

When I got back to the cabin, I found Tiger and Lily doing what they do best.  (I brought the cats with me this time.)

Yep.  Sleeping in the sun.  For the cats, a blissful activity.

And – since the theme of Creative Every Day month is Bliss, I think you could call these photos bliss.  In fact, just the whole adventure of being here.  Bliss.


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Cock-a-doodle-doo: a new collage and still life for Latination


2010
06.21

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Roosters. I have roosters on my mind. Why? I’m getting ready to submit some pieces to Metro Galleries for the Latination show this fall. The art has to be somehow connected to a Latin theme, even if only in color. Don’t know why roosters came to mind but they did, and so I worked on a new collage and a four-part still life.

The collage was different at first, but I wasn’t satisfied. I had flowers on it, but I took them off and added the thin translucent strips on the bottom. Now, however, they are gone. It just finally didn’t need anything else. So here it is the old way.

And here it is the new way:

I like this one much better.  I painted the background, then used vintage crate labels for the sun(flower), rooster, oranges, mission and hills.  The sky is from various cloud photos I took this year.  Trust me, in person, the version without flowers looks much better.

So then I felt like doing a still life.  I used this collage as the background, added some scarves and real flowers as well as a feather rooster we have, and photographed it in four positions.  I had the photos put on canvas so it’s a “four-tych” – whatever that would be.  The process is confusing I know – between painting, collage, still life, photo, and then back to canvas.

I will probably do one other piece for submission. Hopefully, at least one will be accepted.

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World Cup as Art


2010
06.14

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Waaayyyy too early (My granddaughter puts lots of extra letters in words these days. It’s the style.)

My first World Cup adventure was going down to Sandrini’s Bar at 7:00 AM to watch the opening game.  I admit, it was lots of fun, but it was waaayyyyy too early for me.  I’m usually lucky to be ready to leave the house by 10!  But I wanted the experience, and I wanted to watch South Africa play on their own turf.

United States and England

However, we turned on the United States/England match at a more civilized hour, and the first thing I noticed were patterns.  It was amazing.

I guess the lighting was just right to cast those shadows.  I could barely watch the game, I was so intrigued with this.  The players look like they are on skis.  Crossed skis going up and down the field.

I knew the shadows had to stick with the players, yet I still expected them to stay behind when someone moved.  I’d never quite noticed what a unit a person and his shadow is.

You see why I have the photos. I bolted for my camera and tripod because I didn’t want to miss anything, and once I started – well – I could have shot the entire game on the television.  Even the poor resolution was interesting – because the players look like they are outlined – an effect I think they offer on photoshop.

The most amazing things happen by accident.  The players are almost in a semi-circle in front of the semi-circle. Don’t you just love this? I haven’t seen shadows like this on any of the games since.

These were great – with two players so close, their shadow skis criss-cross.  I was still waiting for someone to walk out of his shadow – my mind still wanted it to happen while knowing that was ridiculous.

Reminds me of a photo I had fun with of my granddaughter and grandson looking at the Kern River, which I called Shadow Skiing.  I loved their shadows.  I think it’s in my art gallery.  I have to say, I am not a photo shopper.  I’m quite sure I could not recreate this.

I think I captured one of the big moments in the game by accident…

…judging by the look on this spectator’s face.

I put the camera on black and white to check that out.

It almost looks like a moving tick-tack-toe game.

Another double cross, and the guy on the left standing on the circle has one of his shadows obscured.  Well, I could go on ad nauseum, like I do with the clouds, pointing out how each shadow is different from another – but I won’t.

Commentators

The English commentators are so interesting.  I don’t watch soccer on television (I’ve watched plenty of soccer on the AYSO fields) so I don’t know what commentators usually sound like. I’m used to them practically screaming commentary in great excitement, like in Olympic skiing.  But these guys are more measured.  And they have a better vocabulary.

In saying something about the Paraguayans, the commentator called them “obdurate Paraguayans.”  Have you ever heard a sport’s commentator say the word obdurate?

They described the play of the Italians in the European cup: “They looked like dinosaurs.”

After Paraguay got the first goal today, all the players were jumping up and down, and the commentator said, “the Paraguayans are absolutely frothy.”

One more – the television focused on a fan in the stands in some sort of outfit – a mascot maybe.  The commentator said, “It’s not mandatory to come to World Cup matches in disguise.”  It’s worth watching the matches for the commentary, even if you don’t like soccer.

Leaving you with shadows

End of post.  Shadows and patterns.  Can’t wait for Portugal and Ivory Coast tomorrow – with Cristiano Ronaldo, one of the best in the world playing for Portugal, and Didier Drogba, an amazing player and humanitarian playing for Cote D’Ivoire.  At least I hope he plays – he has a broken arm.

I’ve posted these shadows before, but apropos of nothing, here’s a little Robert Louis Stevenson poem along with grandchildren and their shadows.  But you’ll notice that they are about to leave their shadows behind.  Stepping our from behind their shadows.


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Looking for hair in all the wrong places… (and a couple of odds and ends)


2010
06.07

Tags: , , , , , , , ,
Posted in Art, Photography | 2 Comments »

I wanna talk about me

Wanna talk about I

Wanna talk about number one

What I think, what I like, what I know, what I want , what I see

Wanna talk about hair.

(So Toby Keith doesn’t say the hair part.  Sorry, Toby.)

Let’s talk about ME first: the odds and ends, before I get into the distressing subject of hair.

Odds and Ends One: the Kaiser Show

Kaiser Permanente asked the Arts Council of Kern to hold a juried show, and from the works accepted, Kaiser would purchase some to hang in their new building in downtown, Bakersfield.  I almost didn’t enter, then thought photographs printed on canvas would be a winning combo.  And it was!  They purchased all three of my works- hip, hip, hooray!  Gosh it feels good to sell something, even if I barely recouped my costs.  I think this was fantastic of Kaiser to do for the community.

I did a triptych of poppies:


I cropped this poppy into a square and then flipped it.  So each end had a poppy leaning out of the triptych, and in the center there was a similar poppy but straight up.  They looked phenomenal printed on canvas.

Then I submitted two that were about 18×30:



Odds and Ends Two: Etsy

I don’t know about Etsy.  With so many wonderful hand-crafted articles out there, it seems awfully hard to carve out a market share.  I’ve sold a few photos, which is nutty because they look gorgeous printed on Velvet Fine Art paper, especially for the price.  So I’m trying something new – note cards.  I had some made for a trial run and they’re quite nice, so if they don’t sell, I’ll have some note cards.  If you want to take a look, there’s a link on the sidebar.  If you have any Etsy advice and are willing to share, please do!

And now, for the main event:  Wanna talk about HAIR

And I’m not talking about the musical.  I’m talking about us, in particular, women of a certain age. I’m talking gray. This is a vexing issue.  First, let’s just dispense with the dye question.  Without whatever color it is my stylist puts on my hair (it gets a lot of compliments), I’m quite sure I’d be gray.  I don’t think I’m ready to be gray yet, BUT…I’m starting to wonder what it would look like instead of rejecting the idea out of hand.  That must mean something.  I’d save so much money ($85 every four weeks), and I wouldn’t be putting chemicals on my head, close to my brain, so often.  Chemicals can’t be good.

Looking for hair in all the wrong places: Cue music (and apologies to Waylan Jennings)

I was looking for hair in all the wrong places
Looking for hair, on my head, not my face
Searching with my eyes, looking for traces
Of what…. I used to have on my head.
Hopin’ to find some growth and some color
God bless the day I discover
A thick head of hair…on my head. (end song)

Yes, the hair on our heads gets thinner as we age.  Can’t just pull it into a ponytail without artfully arranging it, or else bald spots will show.  Best to just wear it down.  BUT the ultimate insult is, while we are straining to fine enough hair on our head for some sort of style, it’s growing everywhere else! In all the wrong places.

This was demonstrated to me the last time I had my eyebrows waxed.  I mostly keep them up myself, but once in a while a wax is in order.  So I’m lying there, and the esthetician approaches me with scissors! While my head of hair is thinning, my brows are growing longer.  Great. I suppose men with bushy eyebrows are acceptable, but I can’t have them sticking up all over the place.

So now I have to trim my EYEBROWS.  And buy eyebrow wax to smooth them down.

Magnifying mirrors are a must.  Now and then, a stray hair will grow on my chin, under my chin, or at the side of what I suppose I need to call a moustache.  Sometimes it’s white, sometimes gray, always bristly.  Every morning I inspect my face for stray long hairs where they oughtn’t be.  Those suckers grow fast.

Finally, oh my, the esthetician waxed my moustache AND my NASAL hair.  It gets longer too.

This is some kind of perverse joke on us.  Hair growth goes haywire.  Hairs Gone Wild might be a popular video for the over 60 crowd.

There you have it.  Hair. In all the wrong places.




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