The Winter Beach

On The Winter Beach

I walk on the winter beach
from here to there
and beyond where the beach ends
past indifferent sea gulls
over beached kelps
over bleached sea shells
to the sound of crushing waves
to the call of ebbing memories
I walk on the winter beach
I shall go
I must go
alone
beyond where the beach ends

Suchoon Mo

Glenn and I recently returned from visiting his sisters, cousin, and niece, at a seaside house on Crystal Beach, east of Galveston. I love the beach in winter, the sand clean and bare, the air cool and bracing, and the sun casting diamonds on the pewter ocean.

 Carol brought their new dog, Wiley, along, a frisky adolescent standard poodle, who could chase a ball forever.

 There were even cows in the field next door.

We took the ferry to Galveston and back one afternoon, and I loved standing on the bow of the boat, rather than sitting in the rows of cars on the deck. It recalled my childhood travels on ocean liners, even if only for a 20 minute hop across the bay surrounded by departing cruise ships and hard working tugboats pushing barges as long as a football field.

Meanwhile there was fresh red snapper to be grilled:

And many rounds of Skip Bo to be played:

And selfies to be taken:

And thanks to Becky Cooper-Rezek for reminding me of this poem.

As if the Sea should part by Emily Dickinson

As if the Sea should part
And show a further Sea --
And that -- a further -- and the Three
But a presumption be --

Of Periods of Seas --
Unvisited of Shores --
Themselves the Verge of Seas to be --
Eternity -- is Those --

A Hundred Cups of Coffee

I like my coffee like I like my art: dark, bitter, and full of rage. Ooops wrong artist. I must have been thinking of Francis Bacon.
Possibly fueled by caffeine, instead of rage, I have set myself a new project to be shown at some upcoming First Friday Art Trail. (Still need to approach my local coffee shop about using their wall space, but how can they refuse an homage, nay an altarpiece, to the beverage that draws in their business).
Let's just say it started with a few photos of my coffees on Saturday mornings at J&B. A moment to admire the artwork until it was swallowed up:

 

From there I began my homage to the steaming cup of Joe. A mug here, a cup there, until I wondered if I could make 100 artworks of my lovely lattes, my java jump starts, my mondo mochas, my bean bonanza.
Here are a few for a sneak preview. I have about 85 more to 'grind' out.  Yes, I said it.....

Of course, I also enjoy a nice cup of Earl Grey tea......but that's another challenge.

The Art of Cozy

Winter looms. A freezing rain is falling, the coffee has been drunk, the ingredients for Mexican Chicken Soup are lined up on our counter, and I don't intend to go anywhere today.
Enjoy some of my winter arts and crafts.

Loose Threads

Sometimes I have piles of little experiments with no place to go. I practice stamping a design I have carved on a piece of scrap fabric, I try out a stitching pattern, I do a tiny little collage, I have a leftover quilt patch, or I just layer a few things and run them through the sewing machine because I like the combination of colours and textures. Eventually I have a little pile of little designs, and as it is my penchant to make little books and journals, I then created this fabric journal.
The cover is a butterfly I painted on Lutradur (like a very thick dryer sheet) then stitched and embroidered to fabric, adding beads and more paint. It is attached to an old piece of a lace collar from the 1980's, and a piece of Asian fabric I started to make a bag with but never finished. The rest of the book is like a little sampler of fiber art experiments. Enjoy.

Marigold Month

October is the month of the Marigold.

Here's what I now know about this sunny little flower:
It was originally found in the Americas from Argentina all the way to New Mexico. The Aztecs called it Zempasuchitl. I am using this spelling because I also found about five other variations so I picked the one I liked. The Spanish brought it back to Europe where it spread rapidly. It was often called Mary's Gold in honour of the Virgin, and was associated with the sun and creativity.
In Mexican and Southwestern U.S. culture it is a part of the Dia de los Muertos celebration, often found on their altarpieces, which usually contain each of the four elements. Marigolds represent the earth.
 When Naomi and I were at the Santa Fe farmers market the summer of 2012, we found someone selling garlands of them strung together so I had to have one.

Later I used the garland as inspiration for one of my paintings, "Death and the Maiden".

This year for a local Dia de los Muertos exhibit I am submitting a painting of a marigold simply called "Zempasochitl". It can be associated with death and grief so I added some darkness, some sense of transition, in the smaller flower images and the incomprehensible letters. I also shadowed one side of the large image to convey the passage of time, the journey of the sun across the sky.

I had great fun with all those lush yellows and oranges.
Oh and this is a wonderful little film:

Photos by Naomi

Normally I am cautious about putting others' artwork on here, never without their permission, and always aware of privacy issues or the artists' creation being re-used without their knowledge. This goes doubly for my daughter. Naomi has done some beautiful photography but she protects it very carefully, unless it is for a specific purpose. In this case I get to show off her work because she did this series for Flatlands Dance Theatre and the images are already up on their website, plus have been re-posted on Facebook by many of the subjects in the pictures.
Each image has her signature (watermark) in the corner of her photo, formed from her initials, N.E.H.

We were secretly let into an abandoned warehouse in the arts district by someone with a key, and then everyone just played for the camera for a couple of hours. It was hot. No electricity so no air conditioning, and no way to run the fan I brought, or music from my iPod and dock after the battery ran out.
There were some nice textural walls, and the great diffuse light through the dirty, clouded windows. There was also lots of broken glass and dirt and cobwebs, but the dancers were troupers. It took about three people to hoist each dancer up on the narrow, dirty window ledge to poise, then quite a bit of balance to stay there and look graceful rather than frightened of falling.
Some of the best images:

There were almost 100 photos taken, in the end, and these are just a few.