In gratitude for our bountiful harvest and in contemplation of the food we are about to enjoy I offer this poem by Judith Morely from the book Earth Prayers.
By what miracle does this cracker made from Kansas wheat, this cheese ripened in French caves, this fig, grown and dried near Ephesus, turn into Me? My eyes, My hands, My cells, organs, juices, thought?
Am I not then Kansas wheat and French cheese and Smyrna figs? Figs, no doubt, the ancient Prophets ate?
Orca Mandala ~ Reproduction from Original Watercolor by Peggy Sue McRae
This holiday card was designed by me to sell at The Whale Museum (hence the requisite charismatic megafauna). I placed the Orca inside of the Tao symbol of yin and yang thinking about their winter journey out into the ocean. The full title, Orca Mandala: Safe Journey Safe Return, wishes the whales well through their winter journey and looks forward to their safe return.
These cards will be available at The Whale Museum starting next week or you can purchase them directly from me. From me they are a $1.50 a card (with a $3.00 shipping charge if you'd like me to mail them to you). They $2.00 at the Whale Museum but when purchased at the Whale Museum they will help support Whale Museum programs. When purchased directly from me they will help me survive January and February when the Museum (my place of employment) is closed.
John Lennon must have been rolling, maybe even rock n’ rolling in his grave this week. It seems the Vatican has just now found it in their smug, patronizing, holier-than-thou hearts to forgive him for saying in 1966 that the Beatles were more popular than Jesus.
What Lennon said was, “Christianity will go. It will vanish and shrink. I do not know what will go first, rock n’ roll or Christianity… We’re more popular than Jesus now. Jesus was all right but his disciples were thick and ordinary. It’s them twisting it that ruins it for me.” This was said to a British journalist and friend. Months later the quote was picked up in the American Bible belt causing bonfires of Beatlemania. This on top of the frantic pace and screaming hysterical mobs led to the end of the Beatles live tours. Later Lennon wrote, “I always remember to thank Jesus for the end of my touring days."
Imagine ~ John Lennon with Yoko Ono
The Vatican condemned Lennon at the time but now say that Lennon’s comments were “showing off, bragging by a young English working class musician who had grown up in the age of Elvis Presley and rock and roll and had enjoyed unexpected success.” They dismiss Lennon’s comments as a youthful joke. But to anyone who has listened to the Imagine album as many times I have it’s no joke. As the title song says, “Imagine no heaven. It’s easy if you try. No hell below us. Above us only sky.”
So roll over Beethoven. Don’t underestimate the power of rock n’ roll. Lately I’ve been surfing the net to follow the exiled Tibetan Diaspora’s big gathering in India. The Dalai Lama’s “middle way” approach is not working because the Chinese see no reason to concede anything. What gives me the most hope was finding an emerging Tibetan rock scene including, among others, Punkanana (Punk Girls) an all girl punk rock band inside of Chinese occupied Tibet. Rock n' Roll can be a potent non-violent cultural force. John Lennon wasn’t on Nixon’s enemies list for nothing.
Punkanana (Tibetan for Punk Girls) in Occupied Tibet
Here's a song for Barack Obama and all who worked to get him elected. It is performed by Jake Shimabukuro, from Obama's home state of Hawaii. Shimabukuro is playing his Ukulele at Wrigley Field in Chicago.
On election night young Judy Moon Finn from Friday Harbor was dancing in the streets of Seattle with fellow students from the University of Washington. She told her Mom, my friend Therese, that as they moved out into the streets people came out of their houses, some people in pajamas, free drinks were liberally served and a whole crowd of people linked arms singing the Star Spangled Banner. Wow. It sounds a little bit different to me now.
When I’m in the process painting requires the same kind of concentrated focus that meditation does. When it is going well the passage of time disappears. The problem is that when I come out of my painting bliss state I realize, Oh shit! It’s past midnight and I never got around to that vicious to-do list that is still drumming its fingers impatiently and snorting.
The paintings I’m working on now are to enter in a juried art show celebrating Friday Harbor’s Centennial next year. They follow the criteria: Subject of the artwork must be within the historic district town limits of Friday Harbor.
Having lived and worked within the historic district of Friday Harbor most of my adult life my inspiration sprang unbidden from my working life. The paintings I’m working on are inspired by the Whale Museum, where I work.
The Whale Museum is in one of Friday Harbor’s historic treasures. The building was originally the Island’s Oddfellows Hall where my Dad was a member. What did they do here to attract all these whale bones? Without becoming a surrealist I’m looking for some of the Oddfellows mystique to come through in the work.
We tend to think of Van Gogh as the quintessential artist who was a total failure in his lifetime only to be vindicated by history. Mark Rothko is another. His name and work is all over the place now but in his lifetime, though he did have some success, he was almost as wretched as Van Gogh. I am reading his book The Artist's Reality, compiled by his son from collected notes. Here is a quote from the book under the heading, The Artist's Dilema...
"What is the popular conception of the artist? Gather a thousand descriptions: the resulting composite is the portrait of a moron."
White Center (Yellow, Pink and Lavender on Rose) Mark Rothko, 1950
Mark Rothko committed suicide in 1966. In May 2007 his painting White Center (Yellow, Pink and Lavender on Rose) sold for $72.8 million dollars at Sotheby's New York.
I was down to the wire working on my thesis show in grad school when I went into the campus bookstore to buy a tube of paint. The cheerful clerk at the cash register ask me if I was painting. I said I was and she exclaimed "Oh, how fun!" This shocked me and I think I mumbled something like, "Uh, its way beyond fun at this this point".
I am an artist. I have my MFA degree framed and hanging on my wall just in case I forget. And I do forget because sometimes I feel like I am a clerk, a house cleaner, a dog sitter, a dishwasher or one of the many other things I have had do to pay the bills. Is being an artist fun? If I were not an artist on my days off from my day jobs I'd actually have real days off. As an artist, what would otherwise be days off are windows of opportunity to pursue my "true calling". Sometimes these opportunities are wasted doing the things most people do on their days off like getting the dishes done or doing the laundry or having a social life. If I do these things I don't get much painting done. And of course, I spend a crazy amount of time blogging and reading blogs.
If I'm blogging less right now it is because I'm painting more. If I could just give up the notion that I am an artist I might actually enjoy my days off. But somehow, I just can't totally give it up. Painting is often not valued as real work because it is suppose to be fun. Whose crazy idea that was I don't know. It can be very gratifying when it is going well. It can be hell when it isn't.
The Restless Northwest A Geological Story by Hill Williams Exploring Coast Salish Prehistory by Julie K. Stein Looking at Totem Poles by Hillary Stewart Storm Boy by Paul Owen Lewis Frog Girl by Paul Owen Lewis The Pig War: Standoff at Griffin Bay by Mike Vouri Native American Wives of San Juan Settlers by Karen Lamb Jones Sacred Balance by David Suzuki Practice of the Wild by Gary Snyder The Future of Life by E. O. Wilson
Hand Print Turkey
