serendipity

feeling safe

 

 "It's not the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog."  -- Mark Twain

I've been thinking of getting another dog.  This past October my place was burgled twice.  Burglaries in Chicago don't take precedence with an understaffed, overworked police force.  My 911 calls were transferred to the non-emergency line where a report of what was stolen was taken over the phone.  A week or so later, the paperwork arrived by mail.  It didn't do much to make one feel safe and secure.

I've since changed the locks, added new outdoor lighting, reinforced all doors and will soon have some new windows, but still, I don't have that comfy feeling that should come with being home.  The first break-in occurred in my garage while I was at home working in my basement studio.  I didn't hear a thing.  Evidently, neither did Josie or Jack as they blissfully snoozed through the entire event.  The fact that I didn't hear a thing isn't too surprising given that my neighbor had his electric saw buzzing at full volume every few minutes, but neither of the dogs heard the garage door being smashed in.  And when I say smashed, I mean smashed.  The wooden door frame was in tatters.  It took some serious force to do it, which is evidenced by the footprints embedded in the door.

So I'm thinking about a bigger dog or at least one that is less inclined to roll over and beg for a belly rub from any and all.  Gerttie, the schnauzer of schnauzers was my faithful companion for 16 years.  When just 4 months old she awoke to sounds on my old back porch.  She stood at the door, barking and growling with all her might.  She didn't stop until the police arrived.  One break-in averted.  

Somehow she could always sense the good guy from the bad guy.  This capability extended to her opinion of my various boyfriends.  One fellow she disliked to the extent of pooping in his boot.  That's right, she shimmied her tushy over the boot's edge and left her calling card.  The next morning Gerttie dove under the couch just as the boyfriend was getting dressed.  I swear that dog was snickering as he hopped around yelling his head off. 

No dog could ever replace Gerttie, but I'm think of a giant schnauzer which would have the general tenacity of the breed, but also some heft.  They weigh in around 70 pounds.  I wonder if Jack's napoleonic tendencies could deal with another dog, especially one that could squash him like a bug.  You know those old film noir movies in which the big guy does all the dirty work while the short guy is the brains of the group?  Somehow I could see that being the scenario in this household.

Art Make Place Lecture

 
If you are in the Nashville area, this event promises to be great.  The focus of discussion will be on socially engaged art.  It is being held in conjunction with the exhibition of Art Makes Place (AMP), a year long series of community-based projects taking place in the Nashville area.   AMP projects address the artist’s role in society and how artists help to create a sense of place and identity within a society. Each project began with a lecture/workshop with public school students, continued with participation from Vanderbilt University and the larger Nashville community, and resulted in a temporary artwork presented in public spaces throughout Nashville.   

 
Aspects from each project are now on exhibit at the Nashville Public Library.  Look carefully. Several garments from my piece "Gift of Connection" are displayed on the back wall.   AMP artists include the socially engaged Let’s Re-make Collaborative, sculptor Mike Calway-Fagen, muralist Michael Cooper, interdisciplinary artist Bonnie Fortune, public artist Mel Zeigler and sculptor and installation artist Adrienne Outlaw.

nerve splice

 

 "Health is the greatest gift, contentment the greatest wealth, and faithfulness the best relationship."  

--  Buddha

Nerve Splice has sold!  It was the first of to be made in a series started in 2004 and will be finding a good home at Barnes Hospital, St. Louis.  The purchase gives me both cash in the bank and hope in the recovery of our economy.  A big thank you to curator Sara Colby for facilitating it.

Meanwhile, I am trying to figure out how to operate these guys via remote radio control.  Can't you see these little viruses zooming around a gallery?  Much is in the news about the H1N1 virus, more commonly known as swine flu, but not all viruses are evil little buggers.  Some are actually being used to kill certain cancers!  

 
    

toys

 

"There are toys for all ages."  -  French proverb

A few pics from a workshop on felted toys that I taught this past weekend at Lillstreet Art Center.  Santa's elves couldn't do better.

   
  

ragdale

 

 "Keep your love of nature, for that is the true way to understand art more and more."  

-- Vincent van Gogh

   

 
  

ragdale week 1 / day 2

 

"The artist must create a spark before he can make a fire and before art is born, the artist must be ready to be consumed by the fire of his own creation."  -- Auguste Rodin

Day 2 at Ragdale 

I am loving these little needle felted cell studies.

The image on the far right is the latest addition to this series of gouache paintings.

The view from my studio is lovely.  Tomorrow, pictures of the prairie. 

 
 

mom 2009

 
" A mother is the truest friend we have, when trials, heavy and sudden, fall upon us when adversity takes the place of prosperity when friends who rejoice with us in our sunshine, desert us when troubles thicken around us, still will she cling to us, and endeavor by her kind precepts and counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness, and cause peace to return to our hearts."
    --Washington Irving

One year ago today Mom died.  When she died, the bottom of my world dropped out from under me.  She was my mom, but she was also my closest friend.  Her death was a double loss.  

A few months after Mom's death, a friend reassured me that the day would come when the crushing weight grief would suddenly lift.  Oddly, today was that day.  Initially it felt odd.  Shouldn't I be sad?  I thought I should feel sad given what day it is, but instead, I just feel a deep sense of love and gratitude. Mom taught me well.  Her wisdom lives on within me.    

I  am in a good place, a wonderful place, full of art and nature.  I'm doing something for myself that Mom had been encouraging me to do for years.  I am at an artist-in-residency focusing on just me and my art.  It's been well over a decade since I've had such a luxury.  I have spent the entire day painting with gouache, making little felt sculptures and sketching in my notebook.  I don't want to go to bed. Too many ideas are zooming through my head.

Thanks Mom.  Miss you.

a dog's life

 

"My little dog - a heartbeat at my feet." 

-- Edith Wharton

Remember summer?  I returned from St. Louis to days of rain followed by a bone chilling blast of cold.  The dogs love it.  It gives them an excuse to curl up close, though truth be known, any excuse would do for them.   

Josie, the above featured pup, is tiny enough that she can run laps on my bed.  I don't have a huge mattress, just a full-sized one, but it's perfect for her ladyship.  She leaps over my chest, runs to the end, flips midair, jumps over Jack the Pomeranian, to land dead center on the pillow next to me, panting with a big ol' grin.   Jack rolls his eyes in disgust.  Mind you, he's a wise 10 year old to Josie's 3.

Josie's gal pal is Natalia, a neighbor of the same age.  All summer long they run, chase, and flop on the ground with happy exhaustion.   Jack sticks close to me, to oversee the serious business of my gardening.

With the early freeze the other night, I picked the last of the vegetables in the twilight.  The next morning Miss Josie looked befuddled.  Where was her squash fort and green bean teepee?  Jack was equally disconcerted.  He no longer had tomatoes to steal. He loves tomatoes and tulips.  He doesn't eat either, simply plucks them delicately to later deposit at my feet.  My little Casanova. 

where to start?

 

”You can't cross the sea merely by standing and staring at the water.” -- Rabindranath Tagore.

Friday marks the one year anniversary of my mother's death.  Rather than return to St. Louis and attend a church service, I am honoring her by attending a two week residency at Ragdale that begins later this week.  It's been 15 years since I had uninterrupted time in the studio.  Mom knew how much I have been craving studio time.  She'd been encouraging me to take time off to focus, but I hadn't found the means or the way.  

I love my family and home, but I need to turn off the Mom Radar.  I need to walk away from my garden, the laundry, daily emails, and all the other little things that beg for my attention. I need the space to just think.  Ragdale is only an hour away, but for two weeks I will be able to let go of all the daily chores and just make.  The thought is exhilarating and incredibly daunting.   

I know it's time for my work to move in a new direction.  How radical a direction?  I don't know.  I have to find out.  I applied for the residency with a specific concept in mind which will be completed while there, but I am carving out time to experiment - hence the book on French beaded flowers.

Beaded flowers have been used since the Middle Ages to honor graves.  I have this desire to create a beaded installation of a garden in honor of my mother and all other family and friends I miss.  The word bead translates as prayer, so I guess you could say that I'd be saying a zillion little prayers for hope and peace as I string and twist each bead into place.  The book is to get me started.  The possibilities seem endless.  Ragdale itself has five acres of open prairie from which to sketch.  Do I include a bead embroidered backdrop?  

Time will only tell.

art as a positive force

 
 "Worry never robs tomorrow of its sorrow, it only saps today of its joy."  --  Leo F. Buscaglia

Once again my place was burgled.  That makes the 4th time at my current address.  Nothing was taken, but I was shaken to the core by the brute force and violence used to breakdown my garage door.  Did I mention that I was at home when it happened?  The lock was destroyed and the door frame lay in splinters.  And of course, it took the police 3 hours to arrive.  Sigh. This follows on top of two drive by shootings this summer and a slew of arsons.   

I don't want to live in a fortress with alarms, bars and quadruple locks, but I am being forced into such a position.  The alarm is now always active.  I'm reinforcing the door frames with steel.  I'm adding extra deadbolts.  Worst yet, I have to add tall wooden gates to both ends of my garden, separating me from the rest of the world.  I hate it.  It makes me so *!@&(*#@$ angry.  

Last night I couldn't sleep.  I woke to every sound.  I was so jumpy that my dogs were getting nervous.  I'm hoping the extra protective measures will give me some peace of mind.  

Meanwhile I seek refuge in art, my own and others.  Knitting works out the kinks and worries.

 
I loved this simple, graphic mural at the Regional Arts Commission of St. Louis (RAC).  It says it all.  I think it should be the slogan for the National Endowment for the Arts, don't you?  

I returned with a splash to my home town of St. Louis last month.  The Red Thread Project occurred at the St. Louis Artists' Guild, as did the exhibition "Head to Toe" that I was asked to jury.  I also was in the group exhibition "Singing the Body Electric" at RAC.  What a show!   The space is incredible, filled with light.  I loved how my work was presented.

 
 

The exhibition was curated by Sara Colby and included work by Julia Karl and Jennifer Wilkey.  Jennifer's work is obviously medically related.  As she writes, "While enclosed in a hospital room, life in the outside world continues and, in a sense, passes the patient by." How true!

 
 
 Julia's work addresses the ills of society, the daily dose of negative news.  She twisted and knotted the headlines into one beautiful installation.  I appreciate her work even more given yesterday's break in.  My stomach is in knots with worry.  I long ago stopped reading the newspaper as I couldn't take the constant telling of disfunction and violence.  I rarely even bother with the news on radio and television.  So much physical and psychological loss.

 
 

So, I take my daily dose of art, hoping to create a better world.  Idealistic?  Sure.  But I can't let today's worry turn into tomorrow's sorrow as positive change would never occur.