tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21747415540233110662024-03-04T20:24:29.211-08:00ArtWordsTeaBits & bobs of my life as an artist, bricoleur, mythologenist, logophile, reader, thinker and tea-drinkerP.M.Lawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14850350168127996036noreply@blogger.comBlogger153125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2174741554023311066.post-48051691171886945992017-02-01T19:33:00.000-08:002017-02-01T19:33:24.772-08:00Puny ProtestI get odd things in the mail from time to time. Old cookie tins of buttons, bags of feathers, a bag full of shimmering pieces of mica originally meant for making 1970's chandeliers, you get the idea. Several months ago a box full of small, bisque-fired ceramic, stylized skulls arrived from a friend. She had won a very large quantity of them in some sort of giveaway and offered them to anyone who wanted them. I put up my digital hand and so they appeared on my doorstep. I had no idea what to do with them but had faith that when the opportunity arose, they would find their purpose.<br />
That purpose was revealed mid-January.<br />
They became the bases for my puny protests.<br />
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Each is transformed with a bit of orange paint, a tuft of fake-fur, a permanent marker, and a desire to make a small but persistent protest. I began placing them around my local area, always on public property. Three weeks later I began to document them.<br />
Last week I began to take one with me when I go outside of my neighborhood.<br />
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Here is one awaiting its tuft of hair.<br />
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They have evolved a bit visually. The slogans on the back vary but the basic sentiment is to love the USA and resist Trump.<br />
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You can follow my puny protest on Instagram @artwordstea<br />
Love the USA, resist Trump.<br />
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<br />P.M.Lawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14850350168127996036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2174741554023311066.post-25575274793418964932016-12-22T13:32:00.000-08:002016-12-22T13:32:02.501-08:00All Dressed Up and Nowhere to Go.When we make plans, the gods laugh.<br />
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Of the two holiday markets I planned to participate in- (and to mop up at, ah the hubris;) -One was very poorly attended. The other was cancelled due to a winter storm. I was all prepared for it to be one of those non-events where the promised snow never arrives, but this time the forecast was accurate. We got slammed with snow. It would have been foolish if not down-right perilous to go out.<br />
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However, that left me with a bunch of my Mail-Order Bride pieces; all dressed up and no where to go. I have dispatched a number of them to <a href="http://www.shahinianfineart.com/" target="_blank">Albert Shahinian Fine Art</a> in Rhinebeck, NY. Several more to <a href="http://www.graficasgallery.com/" target="_blank">Graficas Gallery</a> on Nantucket. The remainder have been posted to my recently resurrected Etsy shop, <a href="https://www.etsy.com/shop/pmlaw?ref=hdr_shop_menu" target="_blank">"Loose Ends."</a> Click the new button in the sidebar-<br />
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Also, the run of my exhibit, "Means of Attachment" at HERE Arts Center, has been extended for a few weeks until January 15th.<br />
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So, talking of loose ends- this is where I find myself. But I am slowly finding my way through a new project that is a bit out in left field. More to come on that. And starting to sort out my live/work space preparatory to a move back to the country. More to come on that, too.<br />
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So, lots of future, not so much present... and hopefully, not much for the gods to laugh at.<br />
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No matter what days are holidays for you- I wish you joy on the days and all the days of the coming year.<br />
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<br />P.M.Lawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14850350168127996036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2174741554023311066.post-6699170104561485422016-11-27T16:09:00.000-08:002016-11-27T16:09:06.444-08:00It Helps- a BitMy world has been upended, how can I make sense of it?<br />
The day after the most disastrous election in the history of our country, I had to load my car and drive in the rain down to NYC to hang my the exhibit of my work that I had been dedicating all of my creative energies to for the past year. I did all this with half-a-heart. But I got it done.<br />
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The next day, I returned to the city for the opening. A few friends showed up who said kind things about the work. I was pretty hollowed out with exhaustion and shock. We went to supper at a very noisy restaurant- inside I was screaming for quiet and surcease, outside I was putting one foot in front of the other. I spent the night with friends in Riverdale and then the next day took the bus back home to Kingston after a walk to Wave Hill and a much-needed reminder that nature and friendship abide and heal. And tea, lots of cups of tea.<br />
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I went back to work at the nursery to help close it up for the season. Closing up despite weather that implied that there was no need for this effort- the seasons had been suspended. Each of us would stop our tasks and try to talk through our disbelief and sadness with our friends, then coming to no conclusions, we went back to our labors. I would come home and collapse, sleep came fitfully and never seemed to help.<br />
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The nursery was finally put to bed. I woke up the next day with no schedule and sort of drifted for a few days. Read a lot, saw a movie (Arrival- highly recommended,) napped, puttered, petted my cat, drank lots of tea.<br />
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In the past, after big events, my creative well had run dry for a while- sometimes for a distressingly long while. I was expecting the pattern to hold and to have no drive or desire to go back into my workroom for a bit. But then I got an idea. This would be the second time I have been so smacked by my muse and I know better than to ignore it. I had signed up for a holiday market and been planning to have copies of the book and some pieces of original art from it and that would be that. But this idea hit me between the eyes and I have been making small pieces with a singlemindedness that surprises me. I am finding the process to be an anodyne and respite. They will go with me to the market, and then, I hope, to new homes.<br />
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I am using postage stamps from a "small" box lot I won in an auction several years ago. An 18" -on all sides- box filled with stamps for 5$. One day, I was bored so I started sorting them by color, filling small plastic bags with stamps. (That task is not anywhere near complete, but I did fill many bags.) These sat on the shelf for another year or 2. Then suddenly my muse came and dope-slapped me, directing my attention to these colored bits of printed paper. "Do something with these!" was the command- so that is what I am doing.<br />
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The series is "Mail-Order Brides" They will go for $100 each- there is a history attached to that amount that I will retell next time. Nine done so far, I have 19 days to go.<br />
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<br />P.M.Lawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14850350168127996036noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2174741554023311066.post-50130407516165215932016-11-01T07:03:00.003-07:002016-11-01T07:07:16.798-07:00Up in the AirToday has been a study in handling disappointment, nothing major but just enough to gnaw away at some of the confidence I need approaching the installation and opening of my solo exhibit at HERE Arts Center in NYC in 8 days.<br />
I know I don't handle endings well and even though we still have a lot of work to do putting the nursery to bed for the year, today was our last official open day. From now until the end of November, the days will get shorter and quieter and grimmer- an object lesson in entropy. So I am a bit down about that. Then I got the notice that I did not get a residency I had applied for. It was a long shot- a very prestigious residency, and I am not a high-flier in the art scene.<br />
And then there is my deep, abiding anxiety about the upcoming election, the building I rent in is on the market (reliving the foreclosure of 8 years ago...), I feel that there is little solid beneath my feet.<br />
Then I remind myself of the solidity I have found in these years- the astounding knowledge that I have friends; my successful Kickstarter campaign and subsequent publication of my book: "The Word Project: Odd & Obscure Words- Illustrated; my month as AIR at Grand Canyon National Park; the growth of my work- including representation in 3 galleries, the upcoming show at HERE; the possibility- just a possibility as yet- that I may be able to rent a cottage in the countryside with quiet, dark skies at night, room to work, and room for a garden. I am blessed.<br />
The only curse appears to be my own fears. And fears are not facts.<br />
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"Tempest VIII," bricolage, MMXVI, ©PMLaw</div>
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<br />P.M.Lawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14850350168127996036noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2174741554023311066.post-17604616243566684442016-10-22T16:18:00.000-07:002016-10-22T16:18:07.474-07:00ApaceFraming continues apace. The upcoming show consumes many of my waking thoughts and energies. So much so that I am recycling an old image and not writing about art.<br />
You may not know that my second life is that of native-plant nursery manager. A year ago I was walking through Central Park on a day-trip to the city, and I spotted an absolutely spectacular Actaea pachypoda, common name- Doll's Eyes. This plant is one of those that takes a few years to make its statement and this lovely example has obviously been around for many years. Based on the seedlings we sell at the nursery, I did not know why anyone would go out of their way to grow this plant. After being bowled over by this stand with its fruit clusters larger than my fist with their signature cherry red pedicles and pristine white berries, I have added it to my list of plants I want to grow if and when I have a garden again.<br />
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<i>Actaea pachypoda v. alba, White Doll's Eyes.</i><br />
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P.M.Lawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14850350168127996036noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2174741554023311066.post-49659622665475939862016-10-17T16:35:00.000-07:002016-10-17T16:35:26.134-07:00Art & Words- a shotgun wedding.Art & Words: Today I had to spend some time writing materials for the public relations person at HERE Arts to use to promote my upcoming solo exhibit, "Means of Attachment." I had to write about myself/my work. I would rather have been asked to write about the effect of Brexit on the economy of Lichtenstein- I know equally as much about these two subjects; and I have no personal stake in the latter. I have a difficult time thinking about my own work much less writing about it. In my view, writing about my work is dissecting it, and to dissect something you have to kill it first.<br />
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When I am working, I am not thinking beyond a few simple rules I learned in school about composition or color- and I usually break them anyway. Mostly I am trying to make the thread that thrums between my gut and my brain vibrate pleasantly. When a piece is working, I feel happy- and I am not thinking. When I have to solve a problem, I am looking for that thrum- and I am not thinking. My brain is abuzz with inchoate hums and fizzes, colors and textures- I am not thinking. Occasionally, my upper brain will chime in- "you could use the stencil with the branch texture, it's over there in the folder." "Mmmmm, ya, ya, ya," the thread vibrates back, "color, color, nice, nice, happy..." and so it goes until all the vibration is happy enough and the piece is done.<br />
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I have a dear artist friend, <a href="http://www.christiescheele.com/" target="_blank">Christie Scheele</a>, who writes extensively and speaks about her work- and the work of others- with great insight, grace, and thoughtfulness. Another friend, <a href="https://clivehicksjenkins.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Clive Hicks-Jenkins</a>, also writes deeply, poetically, about his art. Their art is very different one from the other but I read their lovely, erudite words with bafflement and a bit of envy. How can they write so well about their work and still do their work so prolifically and beautifully? Why do I feel so tongue-tied about one of the most important things in my life? Is my silence really necessary? Time for a brooding, non-verbal cup of Tea...<br />
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"Storm Tossed," MMXVI, ©PMLaw</div>
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<br />P.M.Lawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14850350168127996036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2174741554023311066.post-75972417658177271942016-10-10T18:00:00.000-07:002016-10-10T18:00:31.415-07:00Post or DieA good friend has told me that there is little on the web sadder and more reputation smudging than a neglected blog. She suggested I either post on a regular basis or just pull the plug on this blog. I have opted to breathe some life into this space. So...<br />
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Art: I am currently preparing for a solo exhibit at HERE Arts Center<span class="_Xbe">. The exhibit opens in exactly one month. I have stopped making new images and have started building frames. This is the most tedious part of my process and you may think it is merely a utilitarian chore, best left to framers. I see building the frames as the coda to my art making. I can look at the framed piece and know I built it all, it matters to me. I also have to admit that I began building frames as purely a way to save a lot of money when I was preparing for my first exhibit of the art from my Word Project 7 years ago. I had over 100 pieces to frame and it was impossible for me to afford custom box frames for that much art. Purchasing a router and a chop saw, lumber and glass were the only options left to me. So I made a virtue out of necessity and got to work. </span><br />
<span class="_Xbe">Along the way, I extended the connection between the handmade/craft aspects of my work to embrace frame making.</span><br />
<span class="_Xbe">More about the art itself and the new directions it is taking soon. </span><br />
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"Tempest VII," ©PMlaw/MMXVI<br />
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"Means of Attachment"<br />
New art by Polly M. Law<br />
HERE Arts Center<br />
<span class="_Xbe">145 6th Ave, NYC</span><br />
<span class="_Xbe">Nov 10-December 29, 2016</span><br />
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<span class="_Xbe">Words: New words for the second volume of "The Word Project: Odd & Obscure Words- Illustrated" have been politely tapping on the edge of my 'bran pie' for a while now. Once the exhibit is up and the opening is over, I expect that tapping to escalate to a more insistent knock. My seasonal day-job will be over for the year and the next few months will be there to be filled with art making. I have been promising a second volume for a while.</span><br />
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<span class="_Xbe">The first volume is available through me directly or at <a href="https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=the+word+project%3A+Odd+and+obscure+words+illustrated" target="_blank">amazon</a>. </span><br />
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<span class="_Xbe">Tea: Gallons of iced tea with lemon, sweetened with stevia, drunk this summer. Now, with the advent of cooler weather, I have begun to drink decaf Lady Grey tea with or without milk during the day. Also, for the occasional treat- chai sweetened with stevia and a good slug of milk. I recently found my uber-tea mug. I will post a picture of it soon.</span><br />
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<span class="_Xbe">Okay, there is life in the old blog yet. So, are you happy now Michele?</span><br />
P.M.Lawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14850350168127996036noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2174741554023311066.post-1711576553000456912014-11-27T15:26:00.000-08:002014-11-27T15:26:06.570-08:00Last minute hoo-ha, no insightsIn less than 24hrs, I will be leaving the Grand Canyon after my 3 week residency. The sky is clouded over, for the first time since I've been here. What had been shocking, vibrant blue is now lowering and grey. It is still warm- in the 60's and will be tomorrow too. When I was emailing back and forth with the person in charge of the program she had said that some years they spent Thanksgiving in shorts & tee shirts, other times in full polar gear. There was no predicting what the weather would be, so I packed everything. It ended up that 3/4 of what I packed, I never needed. If I didn't have to drag my suitcase up and down all those flights of stairs, it wouldn't be an issue. Ah well.<br />Today, I spent my morning at the laundromat. I was surprised that there was anyone else there, but there are many tourists here for whom today has absolutely no cultural resonance, so why not get your clothes clean? Then I went for a hike. I took the shuttle out to the visitor's center/Mather's Point and then walked back to the Ranger Hqtrs to drop something off for my supervisor. I had burned out the tea kettle in the apartment and dropped off the funds to replace it.<br />
The area around the visitor's center was full of people so it was good to get away from that area and just walk and enjoy the majesty of the landscape for one last time. Too many people taking endless selfies. Too many people talking about anything but the Canyon on their cell-phones. Too many whinging children. There is always somewhere to go hike or walk in the Park for an introvert like me- trails that are too far or not paved, away from the main overlooks and points. And since I am an acrophobic introvert to boot, there are enough of these quiet trails on the plateau. But I must say that the constant exposure to these potential plummets has lessened my acrophobia. Still not going to go stand out on the edge but I am not constantly getting the whim-whams anymore.<br />I had my Thanksgiving meal at the fanciest of the restaurants in the Canyon, some butternut squash soup and eggplant parmesan over polenta. I got a nice seat by a window. and pulled out my kindle to keep me company… but I had forgotten my glasses. I increased the font size drastically- maybe 20 words on the screen- and was able to read with just a little squinting.<br />
Now I am back at the apartment and starting to pack up in earnest. What can I take down to the car? What won't I need tonight? Will I want to do some work? I just don't know. I wrote my Thanksgiving gratitude list yesterday, perhaps I will just meditate on that for a while- after all, I have time.P.M.Lawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14850350168127996036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2174741554023311066.post-42001365954013531632014-11-24T20:48:00.001-08:002014-11-24T20:48:08.409-08:00Better LateHow do you know when something is not working?<br />
How do you know when it has righted itself?<br />
I have a limited time here at the Grand Canyon. My residency is only 3 weeks and almost 2 weeks in I was struggling. I could not get a grip on the immensity that is the Canyon, the depth of time, the depth of the history of this place. I felt sure my puny mind was not equal to the task. I had produced two pieces that left me very unhappy. They were appreciated by those that saw them but to me, they were half-assed, trite efforts. Why had I thought I was up to the challenges?<br />
Then, when I thought that I had made a shambles of my residency, and would have to return home with nothing but some failed pieces as a record of my squandered opportunity; a spark formed somewhere in my mind and slowly forced its way to awareness- an image was appearing of a piece using the starkly beautiful, powerfully geometric black and white patterns of native pottery I had seen at the Museum of Northern Arizona.<br />
It also brought to mind the many fantastically contorted trees that dot the plateau. All in shades of grey, shadow and texture, line and volume. <br />
I cannot deal with the rich reds and ochers, the saturated blue of the sky, the multicolored record of the eons of erosion and deposition as the Colorado River and the winds carved their way down to sea level. Too much color, too much confusion, and also too much of a trope- available printed on a multitude of items in the many gift shops here in the Park. Black, white and grey with hints of underpainted color would be my palette for these new pieces. <br />
So that is what I have done, am doing. The smaller piece was completed quickly and without internal struggle- it created flow. Blessed flow. Creative crack for artists. I finally have done something true to myself and my mission here. Another, more complex piece- inspired by the tree forms- is nearing completion. My world has righted itself and now I feel the press of time. I have to pack up on Thursday, as I give thanks for the abundance in my life. I leave Friday morning early to begin the 4-day drive home. I will while away some of those highway hours sketching in my mind the works I hope to achieve over the winter in my studio.<br />
Do I wish I had reached this place earlier in my time here? Yes, Of course I do. But that isn't the way it happened and I am just very grateful- and relieved- that it happened at all.<br />
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P.M.Lawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14850350168127996036noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2174741554023311066.post-21277594968750334392014-11-19T14:50:00.000-08:002014-11-19T14:51:36.939-08:00The ViewI have been taking lots of photographs but have not had the time or patience to go through them, adjust for size, etc and then post them. But here is one:<br />
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This is the view from one of the windows here at the South Rim. I have a little balcony- actually part of the roof but it is flat, accessible through a large door, and walkable- just off the sitting area of the AiR apartment.<br />
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Here is the only montage I have put together so far: <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX9EpicGCRuaQaHiMl5jNOzHF9vFWu32B6-ViS6T4llkushETFW2-gcS0ykGuLVxAi224V_Wq1ayoT8-7OvITm-5C08qxiwTbu1yczcp46FUC1GOcaqSjRGiiSJpqNn6d4_GprWoSS6DE/s1600/montageA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX9EpicGCRuaQaHiMl5jNOzHF9vFWu32B6-ViS6T4llkushETFW2-gcS0ykGuLVxAi224V_Wq1ayoT8-7OvITm-5C08qxiwTbu1yczcp46FUC1GOcaqSjRGiiSJpqNn6d4_GprWoSS6DE/s1600/montageA.jpg" height="224" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">South Rim, near the Bright Angel Trailhead.</td></tr>
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I will post my photos after I have returned to NY and have had a chance to go through them- I promise. <br />
<br />P.M.Lawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14850350168127996036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2174741554023311066.post-3198068475906986052014-11-19T07:48:00.000-08:002014-11-19T07:50:09.437-08:00Week II<br />
Our story continues. <br />
Sunday was a day in Flagstaff, a very pleasant small city a little over an hour south of the Park. I had a number of errands to run- which I did. One of them included a stop at a craft store to buy some feathers. What? haven't I found lots of feathers lying around the Park for me to incorporate into my work? No, I haven't and if I did I couldn't use them anyway as per Park rules. I assume any feathers that are molted (too late for that) or shed in any other way are either blown away- it is always windy here- or they are gathered by other wildlife. It is a hardscrabble life for both plants and animals- any source of additional warmth, protein or fat will be quickly found and used. So, I am using dyed chicken feathers to stand in for crow/raven, etc. Such is life.<br />
I went to the Museum of Northern Arizona and thoroughly enjoyed their exhibits of both Geology and Ethnography. I saw a lot of glorious, ancient black & white pottery- designs that will show up in later works of mine. I am puzzled by the notion that every design painted on a pot has to have some deep, complex, spiritual meaning. Why is it somehow derogatory that a craftsperson might have created a design that he/she just took delight in making? It was done just to be pretty. Or different than all those designs the other potters were making. It also stereotypes the makers as some sort of perpetual holy people who just happen to have clay on their hands. Living in this area had to be tough, sometimes you just need a little beauty to soften the edges a bit.<br />
I drove back from Flagstaff in the dark, made myself some supper and settled in for the night.<br />
Monday was one of those days when nothing gets done easily or smoothly. Not a day for the record books. Ah well.<br />
Yesterday, I got a good walk in the late morning. From the South Kaibab Trailhead to the Visitor's Center, where I got the shuttle back to the Village. I had thought I might try part of the South Kaibab Trail but once I got there I realized I wasn't up for it, so I walked the Rim Trail. I like the combination of the intimate landscape of the rim on one side and the jaw-dropping and precipitous grandeur of the canyon on the other. And it is easier on my wonky hip. A part of the landscape I walked through showed signs of recent fire and sure enough, it was the result of a proscribed burn in 2004 that went wrong due to a unforeseen windstorm that blew up out of nothing in seconds and swept the blaze over a huge area stopped only by the rim itself. The landscape is much more open and dominated by forbs- the wildlife have benefited by this. As they say, it is an ill wind that blows no one some good. (Wags may insert pun about oboes here.)<br />
I came back to the apartment and got some work done in the studio. I have been documenting my process while I worked on this piece. I am giving a talk about my work on Thursday evening and this will be part of it. Here is the finished piece.<br />
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Last evening I went to hear a talk about the animal/plant relationships in the park. It was enjoyable in and of itself and I got to see where I will be speaking on Thursday.<br />
Today some friends from Poland Seminary High School via Sedona will come up for the afternoon. I am tidying up the apartment, working on my talk, and catching up on some correspondence and research.P.M.Lawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14850350168127996036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2174741554023311066.post-14576982727855448952014-11-14T09:10:00.000-08:002014-11-14T09:10:58.480-08:00The Residency Begins<br />
I have not posted a full blog entry since I arrived at the Grand Canyon on Sunday afternoon, so a bit of catching up is in order.<br />
I arrived at the Canyon and the Verkamp's Visitor Center, where I am being housed in an apartment on the top floor. The ranger who is in charge of the program, in an interim assignment after the founder of the program, the estimable Rene Westerbrook, moved on to another assignment in Portland, Oregon, was out of town so not here to greet me. I was handed a key, told where I could park and that was that. Welcome! I was nervous about the whole undertaking and nothing had happened so far to calm my anxieties. And when I get anxious, my automatic reaction is to get angry at every little thing. Fortunately, I know how this is and was largely able to set my feelings of petty grievance aside and get on with unloading the car and distributing my stuff around the apartment.<br />
I spent the rest of day walking around the rim (but not too close to the edge) and trying to take in my situation. Alternating thoughts of "What the Hell am I doing here?" and "Thank you for bringing me here." I made myself some supper, read some of the materials/details left in a binder for AiRs, and went to bed. I was- and still am a bit ahead of my time as my body is just now catching up to the time zone change; so I hit the hay at 8:30pm (10:30pm my body was insisting.) <br />
I did have some moments- of course I had some moments, I was still in petty grievance mode. I can hear everything that goes on below me in the visitor's center and that includes the flute music on a loop that plays all day… It got dark outside and the flute music did not quit, I heard no more visitors downstairs and the music did not quit. I had a horrible feeling that the music was not going to be turned off at night. Then, blessedly, at 7:45 the music stopped. There were the noises of the shop being closed down for the night and then silence. The moon had risen by then and the whole canyon- did I say I am living right on the rim and have a spectacular view of the canyon out of my windows, well I do- was limned in silver and shadow. <br />
The next morning, I woke up early- body still on eastern time- and puttered around, fixed breakfast, totally missed reading my NYTimes while eating my oatmeal. (And no, reading it online is not the same at all and eats up a ton of data- which is very dear here, so I am foregoing that pleasure until I get home.) Also, no NPR! (Streaming not an option.) No TV other than DVDs- thanks to my brother, Chris's extensive DVD collection and the local library for the loan of a lot of DVDs. I am more of a media junkie than I had thought and am going somewhat cold-turkey. <br />
Walked to the local market and got some supplies- I must say cooking for myself is a treat after so many meals eaten in restaurants while on the road. Finding meals that fit my dietary restrictions was a challenge on the road. For the return trip I will be better prepared.<br />
Took another walk around the rim, unpacked art supplies, trying to stave off feelings of purposelessness and being lost with gratefulness and trust that all would be revealed sooner or later. Started on a piece, blindly but I just had to work. Woke in the middle of the night with the moon still riding high and bright and got dressed and went for a walk in the moonlight. I stayed on the rim, and was not alone, several others were out marveling at the night landscape.<br />
Another day, started to work in the workroom- the lighting is abysmal so tried to jury-rig some decent lights. Walked the upper portion of the Bright Angel Trail- no railings- about a mile drop to certain death- but I managed it and even enjoyed it a bit. I find the scale of the Canyon so daunting, my work and preferred view tend to be more intimate, the Canyon is almost incomprehensible to me. Later that evening, I attended an evening of performance as part of the Native American Heritage Month program. Flute playing (!!!!!) and Apache dancing were on the program. The dancing and the regalia were fascinating and inspiring. <br />
On Wednesday, I finally got to meet the ranger in charge of the AiR program, SuZan Pearce. A great relief- someone to help me figure out what I was doing there, set up the 3 public programs I am obligated to provide, introduce me to Park staff relevant to my residency. I had finished the piece I had started- inspired by the night sky over the canyon- so I took it along to the meeting as a way to explain my techniques. She had set up a meeting with Jan Balsom who has the unenviable task of keeping us AiRs from tromping on cultural toes and I had already used some language in an email to her that sent up some red flags. She gently reminded me that the history of the native tribes was not mine to tell or interpret- and that some of the motifs I might see and want to incorporate might be proprietary- and that I should run my ideas for future works by her office to make sure I was not going to transgress. For instance, in the piece I had just completed, I depicted a Hopi maiden floating above a moonlit canyon strewing stars in her wake. If I had put the figure of the maiden in the canyon, that would have been offensive to the Hopi- women of childbearing years never go below the rim of the canyon. Dodged that one- purely out of ignorance but gratefully.<br />
In a way, however, I found the talk and the learning curve frees me up a bit. I was afraid I was going to be restricted by the cultural needs of the native tribes. Now, as long as I stay in my own head- inspired by the culture, but not attempting to be part of it- I should be okay. I still need to run things past Jan, though, just to make sure. I can live- and work- with that. <br />
Yesterday, I met the rest of the Interperative staff rangers- the AiR program runs under their auspices. I met the Park Librarian and got a tour of the Park library. I will be spending some time there going through rare books of the history of the Canyon, ethnography reports, etc. Walked, was interviewed by the editor of the Canyon newspaper, and met up with a good friend from back home for a bit. I started a new piece based on my own reflections on some of the native flora yet inspired by local art forms. It was a lovely day- I feel like I am getting the hang of this process.<br />
That brings us to today. I sent an image of the what I am working on to Jan for vetting. I don't do sketches per se. I use a set of figure templates and just riff on them. I have an image in my head and a set of ideas I want to convey, but beyond that, it is largely all process. I cut out the blank figure pieces, I arrange and rearrange them, finding the correct gesture, the correct center of gravity, the colors and patterns that fit and then go from there, adjusting as I go. Then I do the background, mount the figures and there we are. So, if what I have done so far does not pass muster, I will adjust if I can, redo what I must, or put the offending piece aside. We shall see.<br />
Later this evening I am attending the opening event of a workshop on archeology in this cultural landscape. Tomorrow I will go with the group to a dig and to the Desert View Tower. One of the perks of the residency is that I get invited to and can audit any program or event here in the Park. <br />
Onward.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqo4y81KIwbgES1ecHl4KAyi5luy9CrQ_qh682zTK0wW0zaargkREqc3CkzBWruWTr8dBkWQZearypVmc-tYFb4-eMnWG-7v1Z2dHsrTVyLFkDfY2BmdYfoHJfFlemmpb4R2o8E4fjdPU/s1600/starbringer72FB.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqo4y81KIwbgES1ecHl4KAyi5luy9CrQ_qh682zTK0wW0zaargkREqc3CkzBWruWTr8dBkWQZearypVmc-tYFb4-eMnWG-7v1Z2dHsrTVyLFkDfY2BmdYfoHJfFlemmpb4R2o8E4fjdPU/s1600/starbringer72FB.jpg" height="331" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Canyon Dreams: Starbringer," Bricolage, 24"x20", 2014</td></tr>
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P.M.Lawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14850350168127996036noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2174741554023311066.post-21963733262922212242014-11-09T14:22:00.001-08:002014-11-19T14:53:23.332-08:00Denver to SedonaI don't think I have words to describe the drive from Denver, where I stayed with a friend from high school; to Albuquerque; and then to Sedona, where I stayed with another friend from highschool. The hard, plain-spoken poetry of the Nebraska plains gives way to the Homeric epics of the southwestern landscape. Every kind of geology was evidenced. Mesas, red rocks, plateaux, ridges, chimney rocks, extinct volcanos, snow-capped mountains, canyons. The colors of the landscapes ranged from bleached, pale golds to brasses, bronzes, coppers and dark iron. If you stuck the earth, it would probably ring like a bell. Rocks tinted with the murrey signal of Manganese. Soft sage greens to astonishing bright turquoises against the pink dirt. No, the gold dirt. No, the white sandstone.<br />
I met up with my friend in Flagstaff, and then we drove on to Sedona through the Oak Creek Canyon. That drive in itself was a religious experience. I expect that my head will explode when I get to the Grand Canyon.<br />
<br />P.M.Lawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14850350168127996036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2174741554023311066.post-44736376252666404502014-11-09T14:09:00.000-08:002014-11-19T14:52:33.425-08:00The Tiny Terrors of Roy, NMI had stopped in a little hardscrabble crossroads in Roy, NM to use the bathroom in the hamlet's sole business, a gas station/convenience store. There I found out that Hades was missing its guard dog, the three-headed Cerebrus. That is if Cerebrus had split itself into 3 tiny but fierce Chihuahuas. Their sole focus being harassing any one who dared to set foot in Roy. Guy on bicycle? Chase him for 100 yards, barking ferociously. Guy on motorcycle? Surround it and bark ferociously. Woman in Subaru who desperately needs to pee? Block the door to the loo, barking ferociously.<br />
I stepped over the dogs and into the lavatory, I did my business to a nonstop chorus of barking. Got into my car with the barking unabated. Left Roy, NM with my escort following in my wake. Eat my dust you little buggers, eat my dust.<br />
<br />P.M.Lawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14850350168127996036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2174741554023311066.post-32131384026327043682014-11-06T17:10:00.000-08:002014-11-06T17:10:26.807-08:00Nebraska, ColoradoGoodbye, Lincoln.<br />
Heading out into the wide open today. Seemingly endless fields, broken up by a farmhouse here and there. Many large cedars dot the roadsides along with what might be Jack, Pitch or Red pines.<br />
I stopped at the Crane Conservancy site and took a walk on one of the trails over the wetlands. I heard that unmistakeable call and looked up. 2 loose skeins of cranes flew overhead heading south. I think, I hope, they were Sandhills. Alas, they do not stop over in the Nebraska Sandhills on their migration in the winter; they kept flying and calling off to warmer climes. I feel very privileged to have heard their calls and to have seen them fly over.<br />
My drive through the rest of Nebraska was uneventful but I did notice the terrain becoming hillier and cattle replaced corn fields the closer I got to Colorado. Public radio finally gave out about 100 miles from the border, not even classical music to keep me company.<br />
Once in Colorado, the terrains really changed. Sagebrush appeared, hills upon hills, the earth no longer seems like a plate with long horizons; it was closing in upon itself a bit. The big sky lost a little around the edges.<br />
I saw a train on a siding that was conveying windmill blades, again I was struck by their sculptural shapes and their scale. They were nose to tail, tail to nose and onwards.<br />
Another new thing in Colorado, the feedlots and their attendant aromas.<br />
I am ready to get to the Canyon and pick up the business of my residency. Even though the landscapes are fascinating, the driving is beginning to pall. I want to unpack my supplies, make myself a cup of Earl Grey, and get to work. I tried to work in my motel room in Lincoln, but the lighting and seating were not good, finding the supplies I needed was difficult- I had packed for ease of transport, not ease of access, the simplest task was difficult, and the whole enterprise frustrating.<br />
Only 3 more days and I can get to work, I do not have access to my Photoshop so I can't make my little graphic but here is my state of mind:<br />
35% exhausted<br />
60% excited<br />
5% homesick<br />
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<br />P.M.Lawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14850350168127996036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2174741554023311066.post-43877577916950645412014-11-05T07:02:00.000-08:002014-11-05T07:02:55.152-08:00Illinois, Iowa, NebraskaLincoln, Nebraska.<br />
Things horticultural that I saw as I sped along rte 80-West: a species of cattail I had not seen before. Common Cattails, Typha latifolia is common throughout the northeast, Slender Cattail, T. angustifolia is also found but not as common. There is a questiona s to whether T. angustifolia is a native or not. As to those two species, I personally prefer the slender form. The Cattails I saw in the roadside ditches here was a form between the robust and gracile. There is a southern species found here that appears to be this intermediate form. This is probably not so exciting to you but it kept my brain entertained for more than a few miles.<br />
I also was happy to see some large, old Osage Orange, Maclura Porifera, trees in a well established hedgerow. Again, entertainment for a stultifying brain pan.<br />
The third botanical event of note was long stretches of nascent hedgerows planted exclusively with red-twig dogwood, Cornus serica. Hundreds of feet of thickly planted dogwoods making a deep red broken stripe edging the duns, buffs and umbers of the harvested fields. And only on the fields on the north side of the roadway.<br />
Then the highlight of the day's journey. I drove through 2 massive wind farms. All day I had been seeing semis pulling trailers loaded with single, enormous windmill blades. They looked like the remains of pleisiosaurs from some rediscovered Cretaeceous sea. Then, cresting a hill, I could see a hundred windmills marching across the rolling landscape. They were still distant and their scale somewhat graspable. Getting closer, they appeared more and more uncanny. They seemed to swell and enlarge, their huge blades gracefully sweeping through the air, their clean white surfaces unreal against the stubble and freshly plowed black earth. I began to giggle and then laugh uneasily. I was reminded of the tripods of the War of the Worlds. They marched on and on, fading as they rolled toward the horizon. I was shivery with awe and a mixture of fear and delight. I was an ant passing through the city of our robot overlords. A shrew in a world where Chixchulub never happened, scurrying around the feet of giants.<br />
Then they were receding and I could only glimpse them through the rear view mirror, then they were hidden by the folds of the earth. I drove on through the bright day, trying to regain my sense of proportion.<br />
.........<br />
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On a less philosophical note, I stopped for lunch in Des Moines. I also stopped in at West Side Salvage, a salvage depot featured in a series on cable TV. They had many nice things but unfortunately too many of the pieces had been "improved" by the shop with faked antiqued paint, etcetcetc. But I was not in the market for furniture, although I did find some nice lighting fixtures salvaged from an old church, so I was able to pass through wallet unscathed.<br />
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I have been making too good time, and am ahead of my schedule. So I will dawdle today and tomorrow head to Denver to reconnect with a High School friend. I will take some time today to make some art perhaps. The long day giving me the opportunity to drag my supplies in from the car.<br />
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P.M.Lawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14850350168127996036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2174741554023311066.post-14605199342532340562014-11-03T13:05:00.001-08:002014-11-03T13:05:29.884-08:00On my wayI am officially on my way to my residency at the Grand Canyon. I left the Hudson Valley very early in the morning on Sunday, amidst the remnants of the Wild Ride still blowing through the trees. Talk about a dark and stormy night! Okay, a dark and stormy early dawn. No matter, I left on time heading west towards Ohio.<br />
I've made this drive many times, I grew up in northeastern Ohio, and my family is still there. But I have not been back for too many years. Up and over the Poconos section of the Appalachians, the forest lining the highway is loaded with Rhododendron maximum and a scattering of Kalmia. The road cuts, especially just east of Loch Haven in PA, are dramatic and the views are lovely. I did pass a number of dead porcupines by the roadside and later wished I had followed my instincts and stopped to pull some quills, ah well, perhaps on the way back. I stopped for lunch in Lewisburg and strolled around an antiques mall I remembered, but the small family restaurant I remembered was gone. I picked up a few small, old, wooden boxes for more pieces for the "Portals" series.<br />
I spent my first night on the road at my younger brother's home after having had a nice supper of Thai food with my whole family minus 1. Missed you, Chelsea! I even met one of my nieces for the first time, she is 9 years old. The food was entirely secondary, however, my real sustenance came from being with my family again after such a long absence.<br />
I hit the road again at a reasonable hour this morning and kept going west. The landscape across PA was typically rolling and forested. As I drove west, suddenly the landscape opened out and flattened, corn fields replaced oaks and rhodies. The first drive was a somewhat grueling 10 hrs, today's drive was a more leisurely 6 hours. I am in a decent motel in Joliet, Illinois. May spend some of my evening starting work on a new Portal. I'll let you know.<br />
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<br />P.M.Lawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14850350168127996036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2174741554023311066.post-29034780957625592482014-10-22T16:21:00.000-07:002014-10-22T16:21:43.838-07:00Preparing & Procrastinating12 days and counting. Putting things together, knocking tasks off my list.<br />
Latest work- now I have to stop making new work and frame the recent pieces. I have an exhibition opportunity coming up- while I am away- so I need to have the works together for the curator to choose from.<br />
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"Rude Mechanicals: Mechanism on the Alchemical Catenary Between Desire & Action, " Bricolage w/ various inclusions, 18"x24", 2014<br />
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<br />P.M.Lawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14850350168127996036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2174741554023311066.post-58443007989645594322014-10-09T07:03:00.000-07:002014-10-09T07:03:40.749-07:00Getting the Rust OutI am coming back to my blog in preparation for a grand adventure this November. I am going to be spending three weeks at the Grand Canyon (yeah, that Grand Canyon) as Artist-In-Residence. The focus of my work will be the creation stories of some of the local peoples. <br />
I will be posting as things go along, especially once I hit the road and once I am there.<br />
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Speaking of rust, here is a new piece from the series, "Portals," small discarded drawers, wooden boxes, etc that open to other places.<br />
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P.M.Lawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14850350168127996036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2174741554023311066.post-24351926154211259842011-05-11T05:24:00.000-07:002011-05-11T05:24:29.202-07:00Spring, 2011When I was growing up in a small town in the northeast corner of Ohio, every spring was welcomed with a miracle. The forest floor in the municipal forest erupted in a glory of wildflowers. Much of the forest is floodplain, beech and sycamore predominate, on higher ground large stands of conifers. The wildflower carpet was composed largely of Virginia Bluebells (Mertensia virginica) with Trilliums (T. grandiflorum, erectum, cuneatum and a few others,) Hepaticas, Spring Beauties (Claytonia virginica,) Marsh Marigolds (Caltha palustris,) and other ephemerals. I first learned to love native flora there and have carried the memory of that landscape in my heart and mind's eyes ever since.<br />
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I got an email from an old friend who has moved back to our hometown to care for aging parents. She is involved in a fund-raising art auction to support the forest. I was immediately thrown back to the sensations of wandering the paths through that explosion of color and abundance. A balm for a flagging, apartment-bound spirit.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsnx5CWGYwWTUsSjb7XW3d1OwSSDX27EDAHQx-1D5qvksFNCnhoSlA8hl7CIxlnHLWkGXWaslRjOTI-iL0mzRRpOg3zed8vKpvoZOxrDvrSONG8Ub8McJ1BeAw_oNav6M6-EbjTfmJe6E/s1600/trilliumgrandiflorum72B.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsnx5CWGYwWTUsSjb7XW3d1OwSSDX27EDAHQx-1D5qvksFNCnhoSlA8hl7CIxlnHLWkGXWaslRjOTI-iL0mzRRpOg3zed8vKpvoZOxrDvrSONG8Ub8McJ1BeAw_oNav6M6-EbjTfmJe6E/s320/trilliumgrandiflorum72B.jpg" width="171" /></a></div>Here is the piece I did to contribute to the effort to keep the forest safe- a small bit of debt-repayment to the earth. (Trillium grandiflorum, ©PMLaw/MMXI)P.M.Lawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14850350168127996036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2174741554023311066.post-68331506466406030422011-04-25T19:28:00.000-07:002011-04-25T19:28:37.778-07:00From Ulster County to Kings County<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">From 1984 till 1991 I lived in the Carroll Gardens</span> <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">neighborhood of Brooklyn. I used to walk to the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens, my path taking me across the bridge over the Gowanus Canal. Now, my odd, bricolage paper-dolls and I are going back to my old stomping-grounds. I am one of twelve artists from Ulster County to participate in a show at the <a href="http://www.brooklynartistsgym.com/brooklyn-art-events/twelve-artists-from-ulster-county/">Brooklyn Artists Gym</a>, opening May 14th and running for 2 weeks. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I was utterly stunned when I was asked to part of this group- in the company of some of the best artists in the area, people whose work I have come to admire and their friendship to cherish.</span> <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of my works chosen for the exhibit: "Greenwoman"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>P.M.Lawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14850350168127996036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2174741554023311066.post-72809458790428256572011-04-02T15:38:00.000-07:002011-04-02T15:38:56.519-07:00Blindsided<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I know I have no control over my emotions but sometimes I am just blindsided by them. For a weekend at the beginning of March and now this weekend, I am taking part in a professional development workshop run by NYFA (New York Foundation for the Arts.)</span> <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">It is for visual artists who need a jumpstart in their careers- as I certainly do. Today's program is over and I am here just feeling like I want to cry. Nothing happened today that was emotionally fraught- as far as I can recall. We considered web sites and social networking- topics I deal with often as a web-designer and networker for my various projects. Yet...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Maybe it is just the immensity of the vision/project before me: to be able to once again live in my own house with room to work, dark skies at night, quiet except for natural sounds, land for gardening, time to be an artist. Oh and be able to sustain it. How am I ever going to achieve that? I know that the lesson from the loss of my home/studio/garden</span> <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">is that it takes more than wishful thinking- or delusions- to have that life but I just see this incredibly long road ahead of me and I am bone-weary already after only 3 years.</span> <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Today I saw how much more I should be doing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">All I can do is just keep putting one foot in front of the other.</span>P.M.Lawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14850350168127996036noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2174741554023311066.post-55183274770636010552011-03-26T18:18:00.000-07:002011-03-26T18:18:57.807-07:00The Word Project Steps Out<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I am so excited- my book, "The Word Project: Odd & Obscure Words- Illustrated" has been featured on the blog: <a href="http://www.brainpickings.org/index.php/2011/03/25/polly-law-the-word-project/">Brain Pickings</a>! I am so chuffed about it that I am having a cup of tea (decaf Earl Grey) and some toast (Rye.) Some folks just know how to live.</span>P.M.Lawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14850350168127996036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2174741554023311066.post-75812880728101198352011-03-21T07:53:00.000-07:002011-03-21T07:53:49.321-07:00Bundle Boy<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnTKfW7eK1wBace5eHmWALMQgMRb4KqjdBJ0k-Q62mxrghADRrz-goGDtd2qEZMTvhRqROGiuq7QllPTU95DIBj0ZjnABn3cTYnHda0zqSR8vM8uB-B6sR3C23O5uI_8GvTwSiJo8GBDo/s1600/Bundleboy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnTKfW7eK1wBace5eHmWALMQgMRb4KqjdBJ0k-Q62mxrghADRrz-goGDtd2qEZMTvhRqROGiuq7QllPTU95DIBj0ZjnABn3cTYnHda0zqSR8vM8uB-B6sR3C23O5uI_8GvTwSiJo8GBDo/s320/Bundleboy.jpg" width="237" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bundle Boy (1995-2011)</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">My dear old boy, Bundle, died this morning at 2:20. He was a good cat and I will miss him. When I lost the house, etc. I had to have his 2 fellow cats, Pixel and Twyla, put down. They were both old and had a myriad of problems and the upheaval of the move was very hard on them.</span> <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">So</span> <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">my dear boy</span> <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">was the only cat who came with me and helped sustain me during the past 3 and a half years I have lived here</span>. <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">He helped keep my heart open when all I wanted to do was shut down.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">He was a good boy and struggled mightily against the ravages of time. As much as I will miss him I am glad he no longer has to struggle so.</span>P.M.Lawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14850350168127996036noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2174741554023311066.post-64962228152241329322011-02-26T14:56:00.000-08:002011-02-26T15:27:20.315-08:00Flickers<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRnp9bQ2buTenTfajRuYWv-ubs_ez8CJTCLEYWoinDaxLFytl1hGwVdjPqVso5k11sPUh5wRNHPA4X-_q-YeWLNGNxyUygwNb3PFL9yDu18LZ81JaSc7YG35VXtW1PJm3Se4BuAfvBP10/s1600/swatchBlog.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRnp9bQ2buTenTfajRuYWv-ubs_ez8CJTCLEYWoinDaxLFytl1hGwVdjPqVso5k11sPUh5wRNHPA4X-_q-YeWLNGNxyUygwNb3PFL9yDu18LZ81JaSc7YG35VXtW1PJm3Se4BuAfvBP10/s400/swatchBlog.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578143134228632562" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">In an earlier post, I wrote about having lost the desire to nest in the rental I which am currently living. I keep it livable but I haven't wanted to decorate or improve it. Chalk it up to having been deracinated almost 3 years ago...<br /><br />But, it is never too late. I have been feeling flickers of desire for things- creature comforts, the self-expression of decorating, the semiotics of a home. I have been experiencing visions, day-dreams, reveries of a home for me. I can see it in my heart's and mind's eye- the colors, materials and surfaces in my kitchen-to-be; the fabrics and textures and lighting of my future bedroom. I can picture myself painting the walls- a beautiful wax-bean yellow/green, installing the cork tiles on the floors, hanging the old light fixture rescued from dust and grime and restored without losing its begruntled charm. I can see my furniture placed just so along with pieces added as they come. I can see the home evolving in its style that I have come to call "Mahoning," meaning to me: rust-belt/rural. Midwest Wabi-Sabi.<br />Have I suddenly come into the money to accomplish this vision- no, not by a long-shot. But to me this awakening of desire is a miracle. I have started collecting information on materials, processes, making sketches. I will start keeping them in a folder and I will create an icon for this vision and hang it on my vision-tree in the place of the little book icon I had made to represent my vision of my Word Project book- a vision that has miraculously been accomplished.<br /><br /><br />It must be an intimation of Spring...<br /></span>P.M.Lawhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14850350168127996036noreply@blogger.com0