Sunday, April 29, 2007

For Great Uncle Bill

"February Song"

Where has that old friend gone
Lost in a February song
Tell him it won't be long
Til he opens his eyes, opens his eyes
Where is that simple day
Before colors broke into shades
And how did I ever fade
Into this life, into this life

And I never want to let you down
Forgive me if I slip away
When all that I've known is lost and found
I promise you I, I'll come back to you one day

Morning is waking up
And sometimes it's more than just enough
When all that you need to love
Is in front of your eyes
It's in front of your eyes

And I never want to let you down
Forgive me if I slip away
Sometimes it's hard to find the ground
Cause I keep on falling as I try to get away
From this crazy world

And I never want to let you down
Forgive me if I slip away
When all that I've known is lost and found
I promise you I, I'll come back to you one day

Where has that old friend gone
Lost in a February song
Tell him it won't be long
Til he opens his eyes
Opens his eyes

-Josh Groban (a bit more easy listening then my usual but it fits, my uncle has cancer and it cannot be treated)

Saturday, April 28, 2007

Winged Hours

Each hour until we meet is a bird
That wings from far his gradual way along
The rustling covert of my soul, -his song
Still loudlier trilled through the leaves more deeply stirr'd:
But at the hour of meeting, a clear word
Is every note he sings, in Love's own tounge;
Yet, Love, thou know'st the sweet strain suffers wrong,
Full oft our contending joys unheard.

What of that hour at last, when for his sake
No wing may fly to me nor song may flow;
When, wandering round my life unleaved, I know
The bloodied feathers scattered in the brake,
And think how he, far from me, with like eyes
Sees through the untuneful bough the wingless skies?

Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Friday, April 27, 2007

Rejected, and I am surprised? For a moment I had hope and I wore it around my shoulders like a shawl. Artist, artist, yes.... but of course the letter came later. Declined, how polite of them. Ah, well I am used to such an easy hurt, I hadn't carried hope in some time. It's weave felt good as it drifted around me. I was brave like in the old days before I had been ripped down to nothing. I wish he could have seen me then before I sunk back down to what I have become. I was so free once and believed as the young do, that everything was within my reach.

Thursday, April 26, 2007

Mallard Hen

One reason for this could be that the mental image we form of any three-dimensional object takes the viewpoint which presents the maximum amount of information. To recall any other view requires a special and conscious effort. Birds, quadrupeds, and fishes reveal most of their salient characteristics from the side. Insects and other arthropods reveal most of theirs when seen from above. Molluscs or their shells may be viewed in various ways because they have such varied and often asymmetrical shapes. The most evocative image of any species is the one which provides the most information.

-The Art of Natural History -Animal Illustrators and Their Work- by S. Peter Dance

Wednesday, April 25, 2007

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Monday, April 23, 2007

I am not the fish

Isn't color subjective?
No one should dare tell you how to paint your work.
This is not a collaboration and if it was, he would not even be considered, I have far better choices.

The space is all askew, well welcome to my life. If it were all so simplistic wouldn't it become formulaic? Why do you crave me repeating what is done over and over? ...instead I smile, simply nod and watch him try to catch the fire of the sun. Lucky for me, I have a good set of wings. Caw Caw

Sunday, April 22, 2007

Saturday, April 21, 2007

I had a recent conversation with some younger people on jobs. Here is a list of some of mine:

Paper girl
Fast food worker (yes it was horrible)
Retail Sales Clerk
Front End Manager
Mailroom Girl
Art Teacher
House Sitter
Cocktail Waitress
Pub Waitress
Market Research Interviewer
Assistant Night Manager
Operational Manager
Nursing Home Activities Assistant
Animal Trainer
Graphic Designer

Friday, April 20, 2007


The warm weather is working it's magic on me. Going outside and looking at the plants pushing up and seeing the birds returning home always lifts my spirits.

A huge Tom Turkey was on the median at the grocery store. For some reason he targeted my car and did a full display. I slowed to look at him and he promptly jumped down in order to better attack the front of the car. Everyone was laughing in their cars as he held up traffic. He eventually gave up and moved back into the little grove of trees nearby. He was really gorgeous, but I didn't think to bring my camera on a grocery store trip.

Thursday, April 19, 2007

Wednesday, April 18, 2007

Unfortunately this coot has swallowed fishing line and it is wrapped around his foot. I could not catch him.
So much stress and when I got home my face wanted to just slide down to the earth. Sometimes it would be nice to have a moment that is uncomplicated and comforting to the core. Today is not the day to discover such things. I pull myself up, take a breath and put on my usual mask. Hopefully no one will notice that the features are a bit more etched.

On a lighter note enjoy some hummingbird courting

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

I dreamed I had wings.
They were an earthy red and I could literally feel their weight on my back. In my dream I was fascinated so I flexed them over and over. The sensation was so vivid I could still feel it for hours into the day. It was by far the loveliest moment of another gray day.

Monday, April 16, 2007

‘I will not be clapped in a hood,
Nor a cage, nor alight upon wrist,
Now I have learnt to be proud
Hovering over the wood
In the broken mist
Or tumbling cloud.’

-From "The Hawk" by William Butler Yeats

Sunday, April 15, 2007

Reach a hand to the crescent moon grab hold of the hollow
if she sits in the palm of the left that moon will be fuller tomorrow
If she sits in the palm of the right that moon is on the wan
and the love of the one who shares your bed
will be doing just the same.

Won't you come with me she said there's plenty of room in my iron bed
you're looking cold and tired and more than a little human.
I know I'm not part of the life you had planned
but I think once your body feels my hand
you're mind will change and your heart will lose its pain

Out among the fields gently hipped beneath the corn
Assiniboine bones beneath the highway
he stood there and thought of home
A finger traces the path of a satellite
you're drawn to a distant copse of trees
a voice as sweet as mares tail clings to the prairie breeze.

Do I reach for you when I know you're on the wane
Do I sense you when I know you're not around
Do I search for you when I know you can't be found
Do I dare to speak your name

Raise your eyes to a moonless sky
and try to wish upon a rising star
search all you want for her blessing
but you won't find her sparkling there
Now cast your eyes to a part of the sky
where nothing but darkness unfolds
and watch as all around you
she reveals the brilliance of secrets untold

-Crescent Moon -Cowboy Junkies

Saturday, April 14, 2007

Words from today:

K Bird
Notch #3
Beautiful Lady Peregrine
Giving me his middle primary

Friday, April 13, 2007

My break ends, and I am a mess tonight. I just had so much that I thought I could accomplish and I just could not.
I go work work work

Thursday, April 12, 2007

Come with me

Come with me today, put on your warm waterproof coat. We can spend the day in each other's quiet company. Walk with me, through the cool rain that echoes on the hoods of our jackets. I pull my hood off as we walk revealing my red hat, so I can see better. It is so silent here, the birds are even hushed in the morning rain. I want you here with me, we can speak of the things we see in low tones.

The earth sucks at our feet as we go. Every once in a while it will smack like we are in a vat of pudding. I would laugh with you at that, the sound would carry.

I am comforted by the cold wet air that catches my breath and transforms it into steam. Your words would have water weight here with me. They would rise from you in waves as the heat does escaping us.

Look at this tree, wrapped in spikes. We are surrounded in wet muted colors. The rain saturating the red bushes glowing against the pale dead yellow grass. Carefully we inspect each pine tree. You have to gaze up through the branches to find the owls. Long-Eared Owls sit up high flush to the trunk, Saw-Whet Owls are low at eye level. At any moment we may encounter them.

We could gaze at the green pine boughs, heavy with rain that follows their line and then slowly drips off of them. For some moments we will be just us, free from titles. Just two souls silent in our own separate contemplation as we crouch through the high woody shrubs.

Time is slow now, just the heavy pulse in my ears that speeds up when you glance back at me. I will follow, a little reluctant to leave that tree. I am still searching for that owl, but instead we startle a crow. They are hunted here and he is wary.

Then we both see it. A small "Oh" escapes from my mouth as he flies off from the tree we are standing under. Let's share that vision. He flies with no sound at all with undulating wing-beats.

I will try to take a picture of him, but for a moment I am just content to have seen him at all. We could take a moment to let it sink in. I share my feeling of connection with the owl as he looks into my face. I manage to get a picture although it is blurry ghost like as he is.

Share your dreams with me, here in this place. We are both getting soaked now and after the owl my hands feel colder. Tell me your stories of what drew you here. What are your regrets and fears? You see me warming my hands against my mouth.

We go further on the trail. I love the connection I always feel when I walk in the woods. For me all of the walks I have ever taken blur together and come forward in my mind. I can remember other times in my life when I escaped to the woods. Some of them have even been here. It helps me to know that these troubles will pass away with time.

You can't break what is already broken. I know this and would relate it to you. See, we are just acting on what already is. I imagine a time far from now when I may again find myself here. I would speak to those people of the future and when they ask me why I was willing to take such chances, I would tell them. I loved you best and that is all.

The sky begins to clear. I hear the calls of a cardinal and see his red streaking before us on the trail. The robins warn of our approach. A group of black-capped chickadees whistle their songs as they feed in the bushes. A fox sparrow watches me in through the branches. I see in his eye a singular reflection.

Wednesday, April 11, 2007

A little Victor Hugo tonight:

"They are souls that have senses. They sleep together in the stars."

"Was he spurred on? Yes, certainly, by his misery. Did he have wings? Yes, certainly, his joy."

"Love, yours is the future. Death, I use you, but I hate you. "

"When two mouths, made sacred by love, draw near each other to create, it is impossible that above the ineffable kiss there should not be a thrill in the immense mystery of the stars."

-From Les Miserables

Tuesday, April 10, 2007

"Every tree like every man must decide for itself- will it live in the alluring forest and struggle to the top where alone is sunlight or give up the fight an content itself with the shade. "

-Ernest Thompson Seton

Monday, April 09, 2007

If anyone asks you
how the perfect satisfaction
of all our sexual wanting
will look, lift your face
and say,
Like this.

When someone mentions the gracefulness
of the nightsky, climb up on the roof
and dance and say,
Like this?...

When lovers moan,
they're telling our story.
Like this.


Sunday, April 08, 2007

It is so cold here, not above freezing and the wind is creating a big wind chill. I am more then halfway through my break, sadly. It has been good so far, but the weather is making me crazy. I wanted to get outside and rake my garden at least, trim the plant's old growth down. Instead I paint and do other work. It has also been sporadically snowing for days. In honor of the hope of spring and the various major religious holidays of this time I am going to post some flowers.

Saturday, April 07, 2007

Friday, April 06, 2007

A paper in the UK about climate change here

Otherwise a truly excellent day, a call from a dear old friend was the topper. I had a chance to discuss art with like-minded people, who are in similar places in their lives and it was just generally inspiring. Such a complete change from earlier this week, I am utterly motivated to work. I am going to kick ass and take names, look out.


Thursday, April 05, 2007

disappearing polar bear

So I was recently in the company of some younger women, perhaps at least 10 years younger. In our conversation we got around to climate change. Global warming sucks, we are all just going to die was the attitude they subscribed to. No talk of creating change, no discussion of all that could be lost, just a self-centered hopeless apathy that enables the transfer of blame. I wanted to shake them, come on what happened to trying to make a difference? What legacy will you leave on this earth? It is just so important and you are all just shrugging it off. I wonder if art can really create change or if it is just a cultural commodity?

Wednesday, April 04, 2007

I was seduced by flowers today, although outside it was cold and snowing...endless winter and I have not gotten everything done that I need to, ah well.

Tuesday, April 03, 2007

In Yellow Grass

In the yellow grass
each gathers with its own kind-
and the lion-beauty cuts that invisible pen,
the bright wires trampled or leapt.

So, love, it will be with us, both
lion and prey- our mouths so deep in richness
only the wild scent of earth will be left
to tremble, after.

-Jane Hirshfield

Monday, April 02, 2007

singing amazon

from Antonia's blog, apparently I am a:

Take the test yourself

Sunday, April 01, 2007

Into the night of the heart
your name drops slowly
and moves in silence and falls
and breaks and spreads its water.

-Pablo Neruda