Simplicity of Form

Paring down form- new ceramic work

2011-12-20T15:00:00.000-08:00

winter landscape/color photography

2011-12-10T08:21:00.000-08:00

Dec. 3rd Winter Market at the 1912 Center Moscow Idaho 10-2

2011-11-19T10:53:00.000-08:00

I will be participating in the December 3 Winter Market in Moscow Idaho at the 1912 Center http://www.1912center.org/index.phpfrom 10a.m. to 2p.m Directions are 412 E. 3rd street. Moscow Idaho
This is the only Holiday event I will be participating in locally this year. Hope to see you there

color landscape photography

2011-11-11T09:02:00.000-08:00

Entropy-poem

2011-11-11T09:00:00.000-08:00

cleaning up the dishes, the ones that never end- Hard work and effort turned into debris- birth and death- eating, cooking cleaning, -"Entropy is the tendency for natural systems to go toward a state of maximum disorder"- can't help thinking that this man in my life is playing a part here- that loaf of bread, now crumbs on the counter- I read that space junk is floating around, interfering with the space station- wonder what man left his junk lying around, even up in space?- a woman would never do this, she would package it and bundle it and send it to the sun for recycling- Oh but there is an energy exchange here- the Law of conservation of energy- the same man that drags the house down into disorder- is the one who keeps the car running by changing the oil-the energy changes location within our isolated system but it is neither created or destroyed-all in this perpetual motion machine called marriage - I trudge on, trying to keep up with it all- at the speed of light

Simplicity of Farm

2011-06-23T15:21:00.000-07:00

My farm is a little more along the lines of John Jeavons, permaculture style http://articles.sfgate.com/2002-04-13/home-and-garden/17541149_1_organic-gardening-farming-food-shortage , http://www.johnjeavons.info/ than Martha Stewart magazine style, at least for now. Besides Martha has staff, and for the most part it's just me with a little help from my not so interested in gardening hubby. For some reason, I'm guessing the volcanic activity in Iceland, and Chile this spring, we have had a cold rainy Spring and Summer so the veggies are a bit behind. I'm in a zone 4/5 so the raised beds not only keep tunneling creatures out(I drilled small drainage holes and put wire screen mesh on the bottom of the troughs)it also warms the soil. My dear friend gave me the troughs which I am eternally grateful for. I think she was surprised to see how happy I was over some old horse watering troughs but I'm the kind of person who gets more excited by second hand garden supplies than, fancy jewelry. So far, I have potatoes and peas growing in them. In the greenhouse I have tomatoes, peppers, tomatillos, eggplant, basil etc.., that I started from seed and in the other half of the greenhouse I have kale, lettuce, arugula, spinach, parsley and cilantro growing in containers which I have been able to harvest since April.I bought my greenhouse for a great price with a discount coupon at Harbor Freight in Spokane. For anyone in North Idaho, my greenhouse has held up well in the snows as long as I raked off the snow. I placed it out of the wind because around these parts, we get high winds from time to time. My husband and I cook with a lot of garlic so I grow garlic and onions which are what's planted directly in the ground.

I made some linen sun dresses from fabric I bought in the garment district in N.Y.C. the last time I was home visiting my family. My mom taught me the basics of sewing, in her own way, as she calls the sewing term"notches" the term "darts" because the notches look like darts. We took the train into N.Y.C. and she came with me as I proceeded to buy so much fabric that we looked like a couple of bag ladies wandering the streets and could barely squeeze onto the bus with all our stuff. Mom was very tolerant in helping me pursue my fabric obsession. The way our spring and summer is going here I just hope I actually get to wear them, perhaps with a homemade sweater at least!

photographic studies in color landscape

2011-02-05T19:00:00.000-08:00

black / white photography- striated

2011-01-24T20:16:00.000-08:00

winter landscape photography

2011-01-18T08:19:00.001-08:00

Abstract Expressionist Found Art Photography

2011-01-13T23:42:00.000-08:00

Abstract Expressionist found art photography

2011-01-06T17:19:00.000-08:00

simple-vessel-forms (2 separate forms)

2010-12-30T10:08:00.000-08:00

my handmade pottery - new work

2010-11-25T14:42:00.000-08:00

the Blackberry bush as economic metaphor

2010-09-06T09:55:00.000-07:00

I was picking blackberries recently down near the river. There is a bike path next to the area where blackberry bushes and other
fruit trees and bushes grow wild. I took the dogs with me and a backpack full of plastic bags. As we were walking and picking I couldn't help but see the metaphor of blackberry bush as economic model. All the old adages kept coming back to me about "low hanging fruit, going out on a limb,seek and yee shall find. I was struck by the nature and abundance of this plant. I walked in search of good berries and noticed that there were other people also looking for the fruit. I didn't panic or feel the tension of competition as I, knew that there were many more bushes with tons of berries on them. All I needed to do, was to walk in a different direction or look at things from a different angle and I would find enough fruit for myself. As I picked the fruit, the dogs ate the berries hanging in front of them. I started to ponder the number of people and animals that were sustained from these bushes. People picked the berries for their families, there was a blackberry festival, some people picked the berries and then sold them, the birds ate the berries, insects ate the berries particularly when they were rotting, bears ate the berries and I'm sure many more animals that I was unaware of were sustained from these bushes. As the people and animals collected and ate the berries the seeds traveled and spread. As long as there was water from the near by river, and sunshine,the right conditions, the plants thrived.

At first I just walked along trying to find the bushes with the biggest fruit on them. I noticed some of the best and biggest fruit was in hard to reach places, where I'd have to take a risk of falling into the sloping thorny bushes, or tumbling into the river to obtain it.I passed on this fruit but admired it from a safe distance. I wanted fulfillment with minimum risk. I then noticed as I bent down to pet the dog, that if I looked at the plant from a different angle, looked at the situation from a different perspective than most people, I found some lovely large berries hiding just out of site. I collected a back pack full of berries and thought of all the wonderful dishes I could make from the berries;cobbler, scones, pie, sauce jam. I realized that I had to come prepared to reap the abundance. I had to have the protective clothing, containers, good walking shoes. I had to be aware of the right timing to drive the 12 miles in order to pick the fruit when it was ripe. I had to have a strategic plan that entailed not going on the weekend when many more people would be in search of ripe berries, and I had to have enough time between the weekend and the next crop of ripe berries to ripen. So my free abundant harvest entailed some foresight and work to have a successful harvest, but the conditions were there if I paid attention to the details of attaining my goal. So in these turbulent times, I can't help but think that there is a way for abundance to flow freely, a way for people to find enough for themselves and others. Namaste

riffing - spring poem/ rant

2010-06-06T10:04:00.000-07:00

two months of what seems like
solid rain - yesterday sunshine, good moods, and smiles all around -
How lucky can I possibly get? - sunshine and a gorgeous Eileen Fisher sweater find at the Goodwill, for $5 - thank you universe, and whoever donated it - trying to play the glad game - I can be thankful that the weeds are easier to pull out with all this rain - thankful that we built a greenhouse - thankful that it didn't ruin the marriage, when certain said person accidentally let a wheelbarrow of heavy dirt go careening into the side of the aluminum frame,denting it - and other certain said person bit their tongue and refrained from letting loose the torrent of words, that seemed rather in order - thankful that some power watching over us, may have been dad's departed gardening spirit, saw to it that the damage was repaired and it now stands finished, as if nothing ever happened -
glad for my friends, classical music, and a new assortment of birds
that have come to feed and entertain, on the feeders we put up this year -
so I live with the rain, knowing that there is winter reading still, to catch up on,
wool to be spun and knit, and hot food to enjoy along with the fresh garden greens
until the sun and warm weather return

Dishwasher, the great white whale- humorous story

2010-05-26T11:37:00.000-07:00

So as a woman, I never really got the whole Moby Dick thing the great white whale, Ishmael, sleeping with a tatooed pierced guy named Queequeg, the tumultous waters and being tormented by a big whale only to have it take a piece of you but I do understand the nature of metaphor and that freakin dishwasher that generates it's own water and constantly opens it's wide silver mouth to swallow up bits and pieces of my daily endeavors only to spit them back out later practically exhausting me with it's constant demands- we cook from scratch which entails 4-5 loads of dishes a day, like what are we octupus or something? with a glass, fork or dish in every tentacle? for Pete's sake we are but 2 people in this household and still the great white whale sucks me in, clearing the decks of the counter tops, dragging me under in a fit of rage" why do you demand so much of me?" "I am part of your life force, "it replies. It lurches and rumbles and occasionally spews water out of it's hole all over the floor. I suppose I could give up the white whale and float with my little dinghy of a washtub but I prefer to wrestle with it for now. In my story, Quequeeg does not have long hair or tatooes.

strange things I've seen in Rural Idaho

2010-05-18T08:00:00.000-07:00

1) a man occasionally flies over my property in a Jensen Gyrocopter(like from the Road Warrior movie)

2) I found this piece of graffiti on a big rock by the side of a dirt road, It says "I hate science" I don't know whether this was written by one of the anti-evolution crowd or just a kid who flunked a science test

3)a friend who had a sick chicken that lived in her house, with 2 dogs and a bunch of cats, the chicken was house trained to go on newspaper and slept in a parrot cage in the living room

4) A foal with it's mother horse in distress at the vet school, so the foal was walking around in the very lovely living room on the oriental carpets with some sort of baby harness on it. I was told it hung out inside so it would be warm and not lonely

4) potato ice cream at a dairy store in southern Idaho, I had to try it, the name was better than the taste

Crazy Horse-poem from the contemporaryAmericanWest

2010-05-04T09:09:00.000-07:00

Crazy Horse

forty
crazy
second time around
the whorey horsey lady
whose farm you signed on to salvage
seeing only another fifty grand a year
truck payments
extended cab
extend your debt
why didn't it work out?
marriage after two months of intimacy
eight whole days at that
my dirt is drying up
hormone replacement therapy
whose 401k is it after all
let it fall
scrambling around on the floor
for change
the only thing left
after the bankruptcy

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crazy_Horse

white series-my pots

2010-05-04T08:24:00.000-07:00

My kiln has now been rewired. I have somewhat of a firing backlog so I'm showing a series of white pots I made a few years ago. I'm also building a new aluminum frame greenhouse as my previous greenhouse was taken out in a cannonball of snow last year when we had an inordinate amount of the white stuff. We had to stop at the stage of the skeletal frame in place or as my husband calls it -The Phillip Johnson Greenhouse- as you can see completely through it now, because although we had a mild winter this year, we are making up for it now. The past week we have seen walnut sized hail, tons of rain, snow, 50 mile an hour winds, power outages, sleet and everything in between. I play the "Glad game" from "Pollyanna" with my friends. Well, at least we don't have drought, or tornadoes. This is followed up by a knock on wood of course. I joke with my friends, well at least we can grow watercress and iceberg lettuce this year!

Modernist Dog Houses at our local animal shelter

2010-04-10T17:48:00.000-07:00

If anyone is interested in seeing the unique modernist dog houses made for our local no kill animal shelter by the Washington State college of Engineering and Architecture you can see more of them here on my other blog http://tailsfromtheshelter.blogspot.com/2010/04/modernist-dog-house.html

My handspun throw blanket and love of Japanese aesthetics

2010-04-06T12:25:00.000-07:00

One of the many things I love about Japanese aesthetics is their use of natural materials in their homes. I spun this yarn in a rustic manner, from a gray Romney and black Blue Faced Leicester/ Lincoln fleece. I then knit it on large circular needles. It is folded in half and then over again in the photo, so you are actually seeing 1/4 of it's true size.It will cover an average adult. I also have an affinity for Mid-century modern furniture and have quite a bit of it in my house.

a few of my obsessively simple bowls

2010-04-01T12:00:00.000-07:00

10-20-30- minutes philosophy

2010-03-26T10:00:00.000-07:00

I read this book once called 10-20-30- Minutes to Sew, which basically states that you can complete an entire garment even if you only have a few minutes here and there. Well I pretty much have adapted my life to this philosophy of late. I think it has something to do with what my husband calls my "grasshopper mind" or functional a.d.d. I start out blogging, take ten minutes to sew the edges of the pajamas I'm working on, then make a bowl of soup, then blog for a few, then start a load of wash, then out to the studio to set up a glaze session, then back in to the house to wash a tub full of wool, then knit for ten minutes, hang the laundry out to dry, set up the ingredients to make whole grain muffins, blog some more, finish trimming my pots from yesterday, etc.., the only time I really spend a lot of time in one stretch is in the pottery studio because once you put clay clothes on and start getting messy it doesn't make sense to stop every 5 minutes. When you think about it, it harkens back to the time frame segments of the old farm lifestyle; make breakfast, start bread, feed the chickens, collect eggs, feed other livestock, milk the cow, do the laundry, start the seeds. I'm starting to think that a.d.d. is not a dysfunction but an old lifestyle pattern, and that contemporary life is somewhat out of sinc with some our natural rhythms and need for movement and sunlight

Rusty Junk as found Art

2010-03-22T10:40:00.000-07:00

found paintings gray

2010-03-10T15:04:00.001-08:00

outbuilding remnant

2010-03-08T07:06:00.001-08:00

The ghost of Quentin Crisp

2010-03-01T11:51:00.000-08:00

Somehow in making my last post I made the youtube video of Quentin Crisp too large. I tried to remedy it by making it smaller, I had to re-post 10 times as I could not delete the first video and then could not reconfigure the smaller one. When I was finally able to reconfigure the video to fit it entirely on the blog in it's smaller format I noticed that my previous post on" my planters" was all changed around as well as a few older posts. The text had been moved and I was unable to reconfigure it to the original look of the post, no matter how many times I tried. I can come to no other conclusion, knowing the grand personality of the late Quentin Crisp, that it was his ghost, informing me that-" no he will not be made smaller, he is bigger than life and must remain that way and if I dare to diminish his image he will mess with mine!" So the legend of Quentin Crisp lives on. Kudos Quentin, you are still bigger than life!

and while I'm on this topic, has anyone else ever felt as I have, that the computer is some kind of Zen master teaching me the nature of non-attachment? When I compose an interesting comment and click to publish it and it disappears and the error script comes up and you have to start all over again, or when you are trying to put the lines of a poem in a certain order, and the blogger program wont comply, and you try and move photos around and the program simply moves them back? Is this what non attachment is all about or do I just need another program or better skills?

Bicycle man, N.Y.C. revisited-story fragment

2010-03-01T10:35:00.000-08:00

Bicycle man and I lived in a 3000sq ft ground floor loft in the East village in New york city.This was when rents were still pretty cheap. I worked as a bartender in Chelsea and he was a carpenter who scrounged around for discarded broken furniture that he would fix up and sell out of the loft on weekends. Bicycle man had a tandem bike that we would ride on with me in the back, all over new york at night, the whizz and whirl of traffic and colors and flashing neon lights coupled with the fear and danger of squeezing in between cars was exhilarating, and heightened the effect of the visual imagery that softened and blended together in a liquid manner that resembled a blurred painting.It was a Bohemian life we led, with a big picnic table for a kitchen table that all sorts of eccentric characters would stop in, and pass through, and chat away the evening over tea or beers. We both had our own eccentricities, I wore very brightly colored clothing in an attempt to brighten away my inner emotional deadness, my brightly colored clothing really bothered his environmentalist sensibilities, but we agreed to disagree. He was a vegetarian who fed his cats expensive premium tuna from the Big Apple Supermarket, and was so environmentally conscious that when he sent me out for coffee I had to bring his own mug for them to fill, and I was such an artist that I liked the Greek printed paper coffee cups and had to have my coffee in them or I wouldn't want it at all. He had a dog that he believed should be free, even though we lived in the city. He'd let it roam off leash and it once ate some kind of corruption and grew sicker and sicker and I told him "you need to take the dog to the vet" and he said it would heal from it's own natural healing powers, and I'd sit on the floor with the dog in my lap stroking it's weakened head, and he kept saying if it doesn't get better in the next few days he'd take it to the vet and it wasn't my dog or my decision and I was young and he was older than I was and the dog didn't get better and it died. We were two different people, roommates, friends, but we had a love for the bohemian life. There were improvisational music jams and dance sessions in the open room we had in the back . Other people would stop by, people involved in the Living theater and street performance and the jams were fun and took on a life of their own. Bicycle man new Adam Purple, an old man who built what he called "the garden of Eden" on a vacant lot in the lower East side. A huge organic vegetable garden complete with a yin yang symbol in the middle of it. Adam lived in a squat and we had to climb through a window to go into his apartment, and we were like kids going to a friends fort in the city.

I took a lot of dance classes at the Clark Center for the Performing arts and art classes at The New School. There was a Nuyorican poet guy who had kicked drugs and was hanging around a lot and couldn't understand the nature of the feminist art I was making and thought it was all hogwash, and I remember there was an artist at the time, who put a basketball in a fish tank and called it art, and I thought that that was a bunch of hogwash, and there were more people who lived in squats in alphabet city- lower east side. only we we went through padlocked doors to get into their apartment and they had some kind of unauthorized electricity set up and had to take baths in their kitchen sink and I don't remember much more about them other than they were a couple, and friend's of the bicycle man. At the time people were living in tents in Tompkins Square park and it all seemed so odd to me the nature of people and habitation in the city. There was a performance artist named Nam June Paik who spent somewhere's around a whole year living outside in New York as a performance art piece, and I wondered how in the world he got away with that.

There was an old vaudeville actor named Ben who the bicycle man felt sorry for and he'd sometimes let Ben crash out on a trampoline the bicycle man found and kept in the loft. We would drag the trampoline out onto the street at times and the Armenian priests from a local church,with their long beards, dressed in black frocks would come and jump on it and that was a site to behold. I remember seeing Quentin Crisp once in Soho. I was looking at him thinking "what an eccentric fellow that is with his hat with a feather in it, ascot, and colorful dress.I guess I sort of recognized a fellow eccentric only later to have it register in my mind who he was.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2VMljsgSK5M&feature=related

cow

2010-02-25T17:43:00.000-08:00

I like the colors and composition of this photo
that I took. If I was a painter I'd paint this.
If anyone would like to paint this, feel free to

my planters- (one hole for excess water )

2010-02-17T07:30:00.001-08:00

When I was a child I lived in a northern New Jersey suburb. The river flooded one year and spilled over it's banks,turning our backyard into a lake that approached the steps of our back porch. The road in front of our house also flooded, and my friend's sister fell into an open manhole cover but was grabbed out and rescued. A man came floating through our backyard on a wooden raft. He was wearing a beret and painting a painting. My mother asked him "can I help you?" He replied" Oh I thought this was the river" I tugged at my mom and implored her to invite him in for coffee. It's not everyday that such an interesting character floats through your backyard, but he just kept floating away. This was one of the first times that "the artist way of life" registered in my little child consciousness. I thought that he was fantastic and wanted to learn more about the interesting man. Instead all I have are memories of a surreal encounter with nature and a bold and adventurous artist .

http://www.etsy.com/shop/simplicityofform

gorgeous found art piece

2010-02-15T10:24:00.000-08:00

I like this rusty piece of junk,
It's very, Helen Frankenthaler

for more Helen Frankenthaler you can link directly here.
http://ameringer-yohe.com/index.php?a=21
Even the thumbnails of her paintings are amazing

Risk it or wreck it

2010-02-10T20:45:00.000-08:00

This is a little game I play when making my ultra thin wheel thrown pots. I suppose it can apply to lots of people in many different areas of life but particularly for certain kinds of artwork that one invests substantial amounts of time on. It goes like this. I'm close to what I'm after, at the good enough stage, but not the " oh that's it" pushing the boundaries to the very edge point. I have learned after wrecking countless pots by making them so thin they collapse, or I break through the wall with a tool, so I stop and ask myself "risk it?" after all, does the world need another mediocre pot? or am I willing to go for it but risk ruining it? I usually go for it but watch the danger signs. By staying alert and aware in the moment and applying proper procedures each step of the way which means; not rushing or fudging or keeping my fingers crossed and taking a reckless leap of faith, I've been able to have a higher success rate.I can still recycle the clay at this point and try again after reclaiming it so it's not a total loss if I fail, mere frustration as to time and energy expended. I suppose risk it or wreck it can apply to many aspects of life, jobs relationships, etc.., Just something to think about

neo-shakerism / my pots

2010-02-09T16:40:00.000-08:00

funny things I've heard recently

2010-02-08T10:01:00.000-08:00

1)I'm not Daniel Boone

2)stop blogging start crafting

3) I'm a brain because I seso (this is a bi-lingual verbal pun, say so/seso=brain in spanish)

4)those dogs won't breed together, they are brother and sister

Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?-poem

2010-02-06T18:18:00.000-08:00

Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?
(who will guard the guards themselves?)

id-ego-superego-computer ego

Farm stuff photos-gray tones

2010-02-05T09:51:00.000-08:00

Frank O'Hara poet reading his work

2010-02-01T09:02:00.000-08:00

my favorite Frank O'Hara poem "Why I am Not a Painter"

2010-01-29T09:03:00.001-08:00

this is my favorite poem by Frank O'Hara - "Why I am not a Painter" you can link directly to it here if you're interested in reading it http://www.poetryfoundation.org/archive/poem.html?id=171361 As for me, I have always loved painting, but find myself more skilled in the 3 dimensional arts of sculpture and ceramic art as well as writing. I greatly admire those who can paint, my spoofs on- junk as modern art- come from an admiration for modern art and inability to visit my favorite urban galleries and museums more often. They are in the spirit of paean to- rather than criticism of

Farm Junk as Modern Art

2010-01-23T10:15:00.000-08:00

property saga-poem

2010-01-21T09:28:00.000-08:00

Pipestone pass

or the continental divide

Homestake Pass

and the Hollywood screenwriters place

windswept,unremodelled

garbage pit full of

antique relics, garbage,

and God knows what else

large chunks of crystals

garnets and mica dust

rocks

dilapidated cabin by

the side of the highway

our dream place?

with the allready existent studio

like my studio

"there's hot geothermal water nearby"

"maybe on your land"

says the realtor

sweet as pie

hair piled a mile high

that greenhouse,so charming

in it's rundown state

belying the hailstorms

with busted out glass windows

"we're moving to a quarter million dollar house"

says the current occupants

as if quarter million dollar

with it's word million

had some fairy tale significance to it

your dream

my dream

subdivision vision

log shack by the side of the highway

"Butte's only 25 miles away"

in the summer

"why this community is nestled in the bosom of agriculture"

"that's right"

"it's rural living at it's best"

"with a real sense of community"

"Hey I got some unpatented mining claims to sell ya"

"reeeeeal cheap"

"Why, if you hold onto those long enough"

"you'll have yourself a goldmine all over again"

(written in 1995 while looking for property in Montana)

simple sculptural bowl

2010-01-18T12:02:00.000-08:00

This is one of my simple bowls. I threw it as one piece on the wheel and then carved away clay at the top rim. I see it as a scuptural vessel. The glaze is a textured matt white. It is not food safe because of the textured glaze but can hold non food items. It's one of my favorite's so I kept it for myself, but part of a series of larger sculptural vessels I'm working on.Barbara Hepworth is one of my favorite sculptors-see previous blog post. I love the simplicity of her sculptures. I feel her influence in the forming of these larger pots 5 1/2 "tall x 10 1/2" wide

Barbara Hepworth-studio of the sculptor

2010-01-15T19:05:00.001-08:00

http://www.tate.org.uk/stives/hepworth/

Peace

2010-01-14T11:13:00.001-08:00

Our hearts and prayers go out to the people of Haiti. Their cries for help will not go unheard.

Empty Vessel (poem)

2010-01-07T18:02:00.000-08:00

Empty Vessel

People with no boundaries
Beget,

people with no boundaries
Circle of friends
The glass is a bottomless pit
They reach in me and out of you
Never staying put
Cause pain's too big
Watching it implode on itself

With the enormous weight of others

photo credit http://www.buffalogirlsdesign.com/

fuego

2010-01-03T08:15:00.000-08:00

there is always some kind of burning longing in me
for what I no longer have
for what I could have had
for what could be
for what is there that I refuse to see
for something indescribable
for something unattainable
for something

darkness before the dawn

2009-12-30T13:03:00.000-08:00

one has to trust that the darkness will end and the days will get longer

pots in various stages

2009-12-30T12:55:00.000-08:00

getting back on the horse.going inward in winter, shutting down, reflecting on what I'm making why I'm making it does it need to be made. Stop... like pulling the cord on the bus or subway, going into the darkness sitting with it, and then reawakening with a fine tuned vision. I make these pots because I want to create a visual representation of peace, a place for the mind to rest. that Ahhh.., space where the mind is quieted.

czech circus (poem-a work in progress)

2009-12-28T15:23:00.000-08:00

the czech circus entails
standing on the highway with bags of presents and a pie
waiting for a ride
people stop to see if you're o.k
if you need help
no, I'm just waiting for a ride
are we saving gas? the environment? adhering to someone's time schedule?
no one really knows, it's all part of the directors vision
the czech circus entails the juggling of cell phones, who's calling? oh it's for you
can I borrow your cell phone? Bob's garage is calling, I don't know anyone at Bob's garage, oh it's the circus calling for you
the czech circus always has a large harlequin great dane in it that takes the place of a person in the car,
and speaks a language that closely resembles English
the czech circus involves the juggling of languages. starting out in one language, switching to another and ending up in a third language
it also involves the creation of new hybrid languages, at times resulting in fits of laughter such as after statements of the following; I got a bee stink, move the mouth on your computer, I was chopping at the bit after chopping my wood
the circus involves viewing life through artistic and intellectual refrence points such as;
re-enacting Wyeths Christina's world at an old house only to find out later you brought the film camera with no film in it
not the digital camera, that's why there are no photos
the circus involves visiting guest members with their own particular talents, and creative skills and improvisational input
the Czech circus involves multiple chineese firedrills and improvisational art skits like;
putting your giant wooden art installation piece on the roof of your car, and then failing to secure it,
and wondering what that stuff is that's flying past you on the highway
the czech circus involves the mysterious playing of circus music anytime a member is nearby or in contact
the Czech circus is ongoing with new and repeat performances and coming soon to a theater near you
Anyone can join the Czech circus
you do not have to be Czech to be a member
you should, on the other hand, have a good grasp of the directors vision,
as improvisational skits are easier to perform that way

milkweed

2009-12-22T18:33:00.000-08:00

we were like kids really
brother and sister
"you make a nice couple"
the old jewish woman said
at the Bronx Botanical gardens
friendship and creative collaboration
coming together easily
being scattered just as easily by the winds
Staten Island ferry ride
and you from Brooklyn
sharing the city together
from our own little cocoon
the harmony never really left our song
it was just played by different people
in other places

favorite places in the West

2009-12-18T11:51:00.000-08:00

Pioche Nevada

Butte Montana

Tuscarora Nevada

Mountain City Nevada

Rock Springs Wyoming

Helper Utah

Eureka Nevada

Silver City New Mexico

Bisbee Arizona

Terlingua Texas

Silver City Idaho

Atlanta Idaho

Spokane Washington

I don't quite know why I love these raw, nitty gritty places so much. They are real, with rough edges, not bourgeois fantasy lands or tourist traps. The truck photo was taken in Mountain City Nevada next to the Duck Valley Indian Reservation near the Idaho state line. I met an Indian there at the gas station. He had two scurfy cute cow dogs in the back of his old pick up truck. I said" those are some cute dogs you got there" He starts chatting with me and explains that their names are; Kimo and Sabe," too funny" I said. I really like this tiny little, rough spot in the road with a twisty, climbing, road out and hard scrabble landscape , old buildings made from local rocks,and people with a fun sense of humor. I could live in this place, at least for a little while. My soul feels content there.

email dream

2009-12-18T09:52:00.000-08:00

email from a friend to husband concerning a dream he had

"We were all in some cottage in some tiny medieval village and Lorena was yelling at me about the latest mark ups I did to her "Tails" narrative. You couldn't stand the argument and left the cottage wearing some strange fur vest to gather firewood for the goat we were slaughtering for dinner."

pots from my studio

2009-12-18T09:07:00.000-08:00

strange things men have said to me (in chronological order)

2009-12-18T09:05:00.000-08:00

1)"one of these days your going to have to get a job, and your going to hate it, and that's just the way it is"

2)"wake me up for Sadie Hawkins Day so you can tell em no"

3)" you are both wild and beautiful"

4)"where the hell are my socks? Why are you always losing my socks, you iniquitious woman"

life at the 45th parallel- psychological survival of the fittest

2009-12-18T09:04:00.000-08:00

I love this truck, it says-weathered by the elements- prepared for anything-

I am currently living on double espressos with cod liver oil chasers (for the vitamin D, silly)
someone once told me" winter is a time to go inwards, for self reflection"
You mean like how a bear goes inwards, sleeping all the time?
this person no longer lives here

mestre (poem)

2009-12-14T06:18:00.000-08:00

mixed bag
bare feet stomping on the wooden floor
tall black guy wearing his sweat jacket
with the hood up
drinking a beer from a paper bag
he kept on the windowsill

in the back of the room
some getting up
some coming down
drums pounding
berimbau, mysterious, haunting
playful porteuguese voice
flirting, taunting
legs flying higher
ginga, ginga.., ginga..,.
puerto rican girl with the pouty face
getting into it
spirit, floating in the air
grounded in a faraway recess
we all came for it
reconnecting to life
in the batizada
the chamada
this place called a dance class
spiritual initiation hall
to more than we could understand

(Loremil Machado 1954-1994 )

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BVuKnE7496I&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4s-M4QdlJyQ&feature=related

poem for Vito

2009-12-10T21:17:00.000-08:00

Vito was an old Italian portrait painter

who lived over our loft
on East 12th street

in n.y.c..
The one next to Physique Memorabilia,
a little hole in the wall vintage magazine shop.
He spent his days painting and listening to opera
which I could hear
penetrating the wooden floor boards that seperated the space between us
If we got too loud underneath him he would bang his pots and pans on the floor
and yell

"shud UUUUP"
I miss you Vito,

although I hardly even knew you
green party members coming in and out of our lives,
Roberto the Nuyorican poet
Ben the old vaudville actor sleeping on the trampoline we found abandoned in Jersey City
occasional sitings of Frank Stella on the street
and that trip to City Island,
Who were we?
then and now?

landscape as contemporary painting

2009-12-09T19:31:00.001-08:00

"nothing but an icy loneliness that fills the head with emptiness and the heart with sadness".
Erik Satie

the law of competing enthusiasms

2009-12-06T09:11:00.001-08:00

A friend of ours has a theory of his called "the law of competing enthusiams" which is based on only having enough energy to tackle a few interests at once. I have come up with my own version of this which I call my "law of competing anxieties" which goes like this- I have to get some clay work done, I don't want to glaze, it's messy, maybe I'll write for awhile, to work myself up to the courage to go and get messy, thus actually in a backhanded way getting writing done. When I get to the point where I'm blocked in my writing or I come to a standstill, and glazing seems easier than sending a manuscript off which touches off greater anxieties, then I get my glazing done. Get it? maybe it can work for you. So my advice is to have many irons in the fire and then you can hop skip and jump around according to your inner state, and get a lot accomplished despite your anxieties- or always have something else in the line-up that you want to do even less, like doing the dishes- Good Luck

I remember there was a quote about Jim Palmer the famous baseball pitcher that went something like this;" the guy's got complexes on top of his complexes"

favorite quote lately

2009-12-06T08:42:00.000-08:00

quote from my friend Mike, an Idaho native " Ice belongs in a drink" I went to a party last winter and my friend didn't have any ice cubes in her freezer to put in our drinks, so she went outside and grabbed some icicles off the roof and we had cocktails with our own individual icicle twizzle sticks. They were the coolest, no pun intended, drinks I ever had, Tincture of Icicle Margherita, Idaho haute cuisine!

http://creativecommons.org/ns#" about="http://www.flickr.com/photos/experiment33/402827060/in/photostream/"> rel="cc:attributionURL" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/experiment33/">http://www.flickr.com/photos/experiment33/ / CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

absurd contradictions

2009-12-03T18:06:00.001-08:00

just because your head is in the clouds, doesn't mean your feet aren't on the ground

With Scenery like this who needs modern art?

2009-12-03T17:37:00.000-08:00

places I have lived;
N.J, N.Y.C
California
Vermont
Washington state
Oregon
Idaho

places I would like to live in the future;
Chile
Argentina
Cuba
somewhere in Mexico
San Luis Potosi
the South of France

Favorite song lately

2009-12-03T13:05:00.000-08:00

"Tiger by the Tail" by Buck Owens

Favorite poem by Sparrow

2009-11-27T18:31:00.000-08:00

Muffin
The Earth is a muffin, still warm inside.

http://www.softskull.com/detailedbook.php?isbn=1-932360-86-7

pulling back, hunkering down, going inward

2009-11-24T16:33:00.000-08:00

closing off, laying low,
time for self reflection

winter brings it on

like a blanket of silence

patches of monochromatic colors

paths beaten down, then sealed in ice

animals taking on winter coats

glassy pools deep amber in shades

there is nothing and at the same time

there is everything

stillness, then

the abyss

2009-11-16T12:15:00.000-08:00

bowl image by bgd
birdhouse image by me

Doubling down

2009-11-05T10:31:00.000-08:00

It's showtime, Set up is in four hours. Clint Eastwood's squint eyed face and the quote, as I open up the kiln, comes to mind " are you feeling lucky punk?, well are ya?" 156degrees on the cool down. I can crack the kiln and look inside" whew" a few good pieces I can view on the top shelf. Nothing like running it down to the wire " get em while they're hot folks" too much New yorker in me. The top shelf bodes well for what's in store further down, good omens or at least a decent start. Always have something new, improved, moving forward. Over the hump and down the final stretch. My mantra on show days is "don't sit down until your done" No time for inertia or reflection, forces are gaining down the final stretch, the trumpet blares, "and we're off"

2009-11-04T11:36:00.000-08:00

Nature in nature out

2009-11-04T09:10:00.000-08:00

image by: BuffaloGirlsDesign.com

Am I drawn to the leaf and thus it inspires me in the studio or does the love of rich earthy colors draw me to nature? Some things are deeply ingrained in our souls, the love of nature, the love of the outdoor marketplace, harkening back to ancient times from every corner of the earth. Modern life progresses forward but we stay rooted in what grounds us

nature inspires glazing

2009-11-03T19:00:00.000-08:00

walking the resevoir with the dogs, the scenery is made to order. Two bald eagles, herons, osprey. The good company of a dear friend. It doesn't get much better than this. Stops along the way , for photos of inspiring shapes and colors; pale yellowy tans, rust, gold, brown speckles

the poetry of process

2009-08-17T15:03:00.000-07:00

holding the wool and silk in my hands
scrunching and folding
repeating over and over again
fingers inspired by the materials
look at the lovely essence of the silk
dancing together with wool
like Isadora Duncan
on stage
many tiny steps
until it is finished, complete

complexity of life

2009-08-05T18:35:00.000-07:00

One strives for simplicity, but often times has to deal with the complexity, the mess, the disorder that arises while one is searching for order. Cleaning out the studio, I feel like a bouncer at a night club- you, not you- are the decisions I have to make. Striving for perfection, there are little murky puddle areas along the way one has to contend with. What was I thinking? what am I striving for? Does the artwork come from within, or from some preconceived notion, a vision dancing like sugar plums in my head? I see it , envision it, way before it can come to fruition. Making pottery is like the birthing process, pots come through the wheel from some mysterious place, sometimes with their own will, other times mildly related to an idea I had. Keep going, cleaning up, honing the vision, perfecting. All in the stream of consciousness. Ta da..,

blue mood

2009-06-22T08:16:00.000-07:00

art vs. chach

2009-06-13T09:22:00.000-07:00

There is a difference between art that is well crafted,timeless, and made by a skilled craftsman, verses clever gimicky, product design. When you pick up an object and hold it in your hand, ask yourself this question"What does my soul feel?" I'm not saying that there shouldn't be a place for cute clever, gimicky objects, but one must consider; is this object timeless? will it look nice with other well crafted handmade objects by other artists because it fits into the catagory of art? Or is it like the furniture at the giant big box Swedish furniture store, looks nice when surrounded by all the like stuff, but not particulary high quality hand craftsmanship or sophisticated design, that will look attractive when brought into the home setting and displayed with other handcrafted artisan items of different styles for years to come.

landscape as art

2009-06-09T09:59:00.000-07:00

clarifying process

2009-06-09T07:36:00.000-07:00

simple, timeless, earthy yet elegant. good craft lasts through the generations. Paying attention to detail, being patient, it's all about the process, being present each step of the way. Mindfulness is a duty to oneself, one's work, one's community. Stay on the tracks, try not to get derailled.

photo credit: buffalogirlsproductions.com

the beauty of nature

2009-06-02T09:06:00.001-07:00

the beauty of nature thrives regardless. This picture was taken by the side of the road in tumultous economic times

sketchy patterns

2009-06-02T09:01:00.000-07:00

like a pencil sketch or charcoal drawing, nature needs no more

Up on the auction block

2009-06-02T08:34:00.000-07:00

charming starter home, move in condition

leg up in the world

2009-06-02T08:03:00.000-07:00

skyscraper

2009-06-01T19:32:00.000-07:00

A lovely home with a view, privacy abounds, sun infused rooms, great room has open feel

weather beaten old shed

2009-06-01T19:19:00.000-07:00

knocked off it's center, withstanding the elements, it is off kilter, yet still standing

2009-05-27T18:44:00.000-07:00

morning musings

2009-02-26T09:01:00.000-08:00

sitting in front of the woodstove, teasing apart wool in preparation for carding while my homemade rolls. Well, actually they are Georgene's fluffy rolls- a lovely african american woman from the deep south who's recipe for fluffy rolls everyone raves about.- are rising I'm pondering the nature of creativity. How one maintains a steady flow of energy, not overly excited only to burn out later, not stuck, not lacking, but that of the nature of the empty vessel, receptive to creative flows steady strong ready to recieve. The ideas are filling up in my mind, of what to do in the studio. The pots are also formed and finished in my mind, long before my body can catch up. I'm very excited by the kiln results from yesterday. Upon opening the kiln It was a bit of the feeling reminiscent of the spaghetti western" The good, The Bad and The Ugly" but enough of the good to keep the momentum positive and moving forward. Always the goal is to strive for that perfection,perfect results, no waste, utmost effeciency. but perfection is a goal to strive for and one is grateful for any success regardless. So back to the drawing board, back to the catalogging of results in my notebook. Onward, forward march