Archive for October, 2009

Birdhouse

Wednesday, October 14th, 2009

Bird House

some flickr friends say that this piece calls to mind “Make a Birdhouse in Your Soul” by the group They might be Giants which I had never heard before

Here are the lyrics

Im your only friend
Im not your only friend
But Im a little glowing friend
But really Im not actually your friend
But I am

Blue canary in the outlet by the light switch
Who watches over you
Make a little birdhouse in your soul
Not to put too fine a point on it
Say Im the only bee in your bonnet
Make a little birdhouse in your soul

I have a secret to tell
From my electrical well
Its a simple message and Im leaving out the whistles and bells
So the room must listen to me
Filibuster vigilantly
My name is blue canary one note* spelled l-i-t-e
My storys infinite
Like the longines symphonette it doesnt rest

Blue canary in the outlet by the light switch
Who watches over you
Make a little birdhouse in your soul
Not to put too fine a point on it
Say Im the only bee in your bonnet
Make a little birdhouse in your soul

Im your only friend
Im not your only friend
But Im a little glowing friend
But really Im not actually your friend
But I am

Theres a picture opposite me
Of my primitive ancestry
Which stood on rocky shores and kept the beaches shipwreck free
Though I respect that a lot
Id be fired if that were my job
After killing jason off and countless screaming argonauts
Bluebird of friendliness
Like guardian angels its always near

Blue canary in the outlet by the light switch
Who watches over you
Make a little birdhouse in your soul
Not to put too fine a point on it
Say Im the only bee in your bonnet
Make a little birdhouse in your soul

(and while youre at it
Keep the nightlight on inside the
Birdhouse in your soul)

Not to put too fine a point on it
Say Im the only bee in your bonnet
Make a little birdhouse in your soul

Blue canary in the outlet by the light switch (and while youre at it)
Who watches over you (keep the nightlight on inside the)
Make a little birdhouse in your soul (birdhouse in your soul)

Not to put too fine a point on it
Say Im the only bee in your bonnet
Make a little birdhouse in your soul

Blue canary in the outlet by the light switch (and while youre at it)
Who watches over you (keep the nightlight on inside the)
Make a little birdhouse in your soul (birdhouse in your soul)

Not to put too fine a point on it
Say Im the only bee in your bonnet
Make a little birdhouse in your soul

Dumpster

Saturday, October 10th, 2009

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we have a gigantic dumpster outside of our home because we are remodeling our master bath room which is the size of a small bedroom. Floor, walls, tub, shower, everything.

It occurred to me after reading a post by my thoughtful friend Maripat who is cleaning her office which she has not been able to use due to the piles and piles of stuff which she says is a reflection of her state of being. I have always thought that clutter is an indicator of a cluttered mind and a cluttered heart.

I thought about this weekend and how having that huge dumpster outside triggered a whole lot of cleaning. The hub and I spent time cleaning and purging crap from the back yard, I have a lot of potted plants and enjoy gardening, so stuff and growth accumulate. We threw away a pile of wood that we have had for five years thinking every year that this year we will burn it in the fire place but we never do. (And tossing it meant we also got rid of a great big black widow and her egg sacks).~~ I realized I was acting a bit like a hoarder by saving pottery shards. I suddenly saw all the bits and parts of broken pots that I save to use to cover the drainage holes at the bottom of clay pots when transplanting because the soil will come out. This is a very good reason but I really only need to keep one small pot worth! Its like hoarders who save bits of newspaper. 🙁 The backyard is reorganized and clean, in my effort to not waste having a dumpster. The master bedroom is as clean as it was when we first moved in, because I had to empty it. The work on the bathroom created so much dust the surfaces and wood work had to be cleaned. wow it feels good!! So good that we are spending a little time each day of this week chipping away at the garage. The three car garage that currently only fits one car. There is a lot of big furniture pieces and tech equipment, art stuff and packaging material (I hate to pay for card board boxes) and I go through phases of selling a lot of art online or having to mail stuff out for shows. But it can all be paired down and re-evaluated.

Any way the whole point of this post is to draw a parallel between the dumpster, the purging and cleaning of our home and the purging and cleaning of emotions. okay don’t snicker. Back to my wise friend Maripat whose post about cleaning her office was succinctly tied into "loss". And it made me think about and try to understand why people, including myself hang on to stuff. Saving, keeping, clinging, holding on. Holding on because letting go can be painful. For anyone who has experienced loss, you know it is painful. Now I am a little closer to understanding how hoarders may feel. Understanding the root of something can help a person to process their emotions and take them to a closer place of healing and moving on rather than holding on.

Maripat says"I believe that for many, at the root of depression is unprocessed grief, and the inability to name the losses that led to the grief. Loss comes in all sizes, shapes and colors. What is loss for one person is just a minor annoyance for another. One loss triggers reliving other losses when one is not mindful of being in a state of grief. The experience of a loss is not a one time thing, grief is part of being human. Every loss is unique to the individual.

In some cultures it is believed that knowing someone’s name gives you power over that person. I suppose that may be true. I see the verity of that in being able to name the losses that wound us. Sometimes we hesitate to name out loud the losses that we feel, fearing the judgment of others who might see us shallow, or their lack of understanding of the depth of our loss, dismissal of our loss as insignificant."

So again, I was thinking of that big dumpster and how it can serve as a metaphor for purging junk or useless or needless material stuff. One might imagine having an emotional dumpster with an artery from the heart. Unloading the stuff that is clogging the artery to the healthy heart. Purging negativity, stress, allowing oneself to let go of sadness due to loss, because letting go of grief does not mean you loved the person any less, its allowing for a period of sadness and then letting go so the heart can heal. The artery from the brain, equally important. Peace of mind stills the heart to a healthy beat.

Reflecting each day by by journaling, and naming out loud that which needs processing, so that the walls will hear you. And the furniture and the clothes, the clocks, the floors, that space that surrounds you.

After that dumpster goes I will continue practicing the purging and the cleaning. 

And, I see that my neighbors are too 😀

note: I’m not advocating throwing away good stuff or re-cyclables.

Berceuse

Friday, October 9th, 2009

Silence Widens like the ocean;
Here in silence let her drown
Love, and stripped of all emotion,
Like an iron ship go down.

In weariness the storms have died,
Anger now has left her free;
Anquish was an icier tide,
Sorrow was a saltier sea

Than this cool and tranquil billow
Where, so insecurely dead
And longing for a stonier pillow
Deeply now she sinks her head

Marjorie Allen Seiffert

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Love has a Hem

Thursday, October 8th, 2009

Love has a hem to her garment,
that reaches the very dust.
It sweeps the stains
from the streets and lanes,
and because it can, it must.
(author unknown)
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The Unicyclist

Thursday, October 8th, 2009

The unicyclist

The Ballad of the Unicyclist

I met a man upon one wheel
who was idling away his day
I asked him just how hard that was
but he declined to say
Instead he smiled and hopped the curb
and swiftly rode away.

One time I saw him in the park
on a uni 8 feet tall.
Wobbling to where the people stood,
straight down we thought he’d fall.
But rather torches he produced
and juggled to our frantic call.

He once was spied deep in the woods
As quickly he sped by
We thought on only just one wheel
We’d catch him by and by
Yet through the trees we hiked and searched
And no uni could we find

Five hundred miles, a thousand e’en
to him they were a stroll
Valleys, hills and endless plains
His wheel rolled and rolled
The weather it was all the same
Whether hot or whether cold.

He was a clown and athlete, too,
he laughed and ne’er would tire.
He rode the rough, steep mountain side,
and along the thin taut wire.
The children and the bicyclists,
all swore he was on fire.

His name? Watts, Peck and Bolton
he truly was all three.
Endurance, balance, humor, grit,
and much agility.
Without them all it must be said,
the unicyclist couldn’t be.

For each man rides the thing he loves
by each let it be seen.
Some ride two wheels and some ride four,
from three the child is weaned.
But he who uses only one,
it’s he who rides supreme.

Tis sweet to ride a two wheeled bike
for bicycles can be merry
A fast new car is sweet as well
As is a lazy ferry
But tis sweeter still on just one wheel
to refuse to be ordinary
__________________

eerie and the creepy and the crawly

Wednesday, October 7th, 2009

I often wonder how creepy images fit into the whole art scheme of things. It seems so often that for many people if the art isn’t about beauty or have some deeper spiritual meaning its not credible or valued or taken seriously.

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I’ve never wanted or even considered locking myself into an accepted form of aesthetics and have always believed that even the darkest subject matter can teach something. Would I hang a very dark image in my own home, well yes I would. As far back as Goya artist’s have been depicting dark subject matter. One of my all time and maybe my ALL time fav painter is Francis Bacon who’s work is so raw and visceral it resonates life’s angst in the most profound visual way. I could easily live with Bacon’s work in my home and never tire of it. But then I’m not a pottery Barn kind of person. Things don’t even have to match in my home. I love antiques for this reason, they carry a history with them and are interesting and unique. Have you ever seen antiques Road Show. I never get tired of hearing the history behind all those trinkets, chatch kees, furniture and artwork and I’m equally amazed at the people who retain it all in there head.

Anyway, I have gotten off on a tangent.

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So this latest work is a bit challlenging for some people and most of the comments which come from other communities I participate in are basically that its “creepy” and nightmarish. Well okay, but can anything else be appreciated about it. I mean as a sculptural form its quite intricate. Its also very surreal. Its intriguing. Just offering up some thoughts that maybe opinions don’t have to be so automatic and pre determined and dismissive. Isn’t there something to be valued about this kind of art?

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I didn’t make the bones, grateful to a great artist for sending them to me all the way from Canada

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Halloween Show

Tuesday, October 6th, 2009

Body tribe

In Progress

Tuesday, October 6th, 2009

in progress
fragments
In some ways I’d like to leave them just raw, they have such a touchable look to them.

baby bones

Monday, October 5th, 2009

bone and paper clay

Baby Bones

baby bones

clown

Saturday, October 3rd, 2009

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