I-Park artist residency experience

My residency experience is presented herein reverse chronological order

2011-02-05T09:47:00.000-08:00

Use Blog Archive buttons if you wish to navigate in chronological order.

Day 2 -- meandering return trip through the beautiful Allegheny region (June 24)

2010-07-05T20:54:00.000-07:00

but seriously, i am missing my studio at i-park

even the simple view looking back toward my studio windows, i miss these things...

and all those crazy, bowling, hardworking, and playing artists who taught me more about the nature of human kindness--Tony (below in the thralls of bowling a strike), Nathaniel, Shireen, Jeannie, Margaux, and Lalie.

and obviously, i miss the the nest at the pond i acquired for the month

i try to focus on today; there are good things--traveling with my dad, seeing his old stomping grounds, entering the Allegheny national forest where my dad spent the summers of his youth...

the bridge at the end of nebraska road that they use to cross to get to the place

the lake that resulted from the dam he watched being built 70 years ago as a kid

>

the Kelletville site of their old summer camp; where the day after school let out, they would drive the stakes into the ground for the tents and stay all summer until school started back up each fall. the stories of sitting on the handle bars of Willis' bike while a friend peddled them down a hill and of the edge...flying into the river, bike and all...

and just the beautiful sites he grew up on

and of course discovering where i might have gotten my shutterbug finger from

and reuben sandwiches in a dive you would never expect to be good til you open the door and the place is full the locals of Tionesta, PA...these help me; as i travel the east side of the country, i try to focus on these wonderful things, unfortunately i am hugely unsuccessful today

Day 26 -- closes with leaving the reservation (and a "chatty Kathy" moment. be warned)

2010-06-22T17:09:00.000-07:00

goodbye. it was absolutely awe inspiring, healing, and just a plain dang good thing. the very thing I needed, at the precise moment i needed it.

again for the briefest of moments, I second guess my directions as I broach this narrow dirt road in my departure.

ahh. I make it to the little restaurant in Colchester I spied on an artists' grocery run.

Ahhhh. Red meat how I've missed you! The mushrooms and risotto were fabulous. My red meat...well, how do I politely say this? No way. Trust me this isn't gonna be pretty or polite. I am a Texas carnivore and I expect my cow to xxxxxxx (original content edited to protect my veggie friends). Perhaps this was a Connecticut medium rare? The balsamic drizzle sorta saved it and i am still too timid to return a well done steak when medium rare was ordered...seems wasteful and it makes me uncomfortable to send something back and then actually attempt to enjoy what they do send out (dysfunction i am sure). Bob the chef would be proud of the balsamic drizzle attempted recovery. To top it off, the waiter was wonderful and, perhaps, almost, barely, just 15 (no facial hair yet). He had that borderline still thin and small boned boy look, not quit teen-man yet. He'll do well at whatever he tackles. It's just obvious by his disposition, attentiveness, intelligent eyes and smile. I hope life is good right back to him; i think it will be. I liked my waiter so that probably really saved the meal and his rec of the tomato risotto. Of course the setting was beautiful on an old front porch protected from the light rain that brought a coolness to my evening (and a diverted plane and overnighter for my Dad in the Dulles airport) Ohhh, I am so full.

"chatty Kathy" moment edited away (mostly) for self respect purposes...if you didn't see it, too bad. it happens often with my blog and then it's gone.

Closing thought that opened my morning with some words from Thomas Keating that i have been pondering.

love can release another the obligations of indebtedness from a wounding, love holds nothing against another, but love cannot penetrate the presumption of pride. The false self does not want to be transformed. It wants to hide everything negative about itself and pretend it can run our lives or someone else's.

there are so many ways to think about this text, this idea, to understand it and learn from it. i will try.

Now I am done with my "chatty" Kathy moment...for the moment.

Day 26 -- last morning at the pond

2010-06-22T06:18:00.000-07:00

The bullfrogs withhold their dialog with stretched out moments too long to count of silence. The sun is shining but as yet she to holds back her sting of warmth upon my neck and the moon's chill has already dissipated with the dawn. The lilly's have eased out on the pond over the past weeks and near their full encircling of the artists' pier. They litter the lake with their upturned snow white flowered faces in their morning bloom. The faintest residue of pollen spent pushes gently cross the black calm pond riding the softest of breezes. The row boats red belly lays unused. SNAKE. no. One of the as yet still dainty turtles breaks the surface near, long is his pause at my presence. He is gone without a murmur or a whisper. As do I, finally, just as she begins to kiss the nap of my neck with her morning warmth.

Day 26 -- grief released

2010-06-21T12:20:00.000-07:00

i haven't finalized/realized the title yet, but i do know what the piece is about. it is a visceral manifestation of the uncontrollable nature of grief, the way in which it is a total reaction of mind, body, and spirit. its overbearing weightiness. its ebb and flow. it cannot be stopped even if others think one has no "right" to grieve. grief does not listen to the rules or expectations of others or even one's own mind. it just has it's way with you, all of you. the only way i know to survive it is to let it flow through me, letting it do its work in me.

i suppose i could try to deny this grief, as apparently is the expectation of some for me. grief is. it will run its course. i do not hold it, though for a time it holds me. it will flow through me if i let it. as it does, the weep holes will open up because it and i can simply not contain its force. the openings make room for relief; they allow in the light, like the dappling tree canopies allowing the light to stream into and onto the soft life filled forest floor; they reopen the soul. they let the grief pass.

i have accepted that this is the nature of it within me. the work is an expression of this.

i was comforted at the piece’s reception at the open studio event. several people quietly came up to me and spoke to me of how they connected to the work and their own lived experience of grieving. that meant a lot to me.

i believe that the nature of my work has historically connected with various visceral experiences not just that manifest in me, but that seem to be true for others. the works connect to the internal non-language based experience of living, knowing, and a depth of being. the work reads very differently in person than as a reproduced image (as is true of all my work, as is true of life).

Day 25 -- any questions

2010-06-20T18:07:00.000-07:00

OH YEAH! Ending night celebrating art man style!

2010-06-20T09:27:00.000-07:00

Day 25 -- round the beast

2010-06-20T09:06:00.000-07:00

Day 25 -- in the round

2010-06-20T07:47:00.000-07:00

I can see many things I'd like to add and adjust, but time says,
"done." :)

My favorite part is looking in through the mouths of the piece. And
when the sun comes out, the interaction of the light as it piercesthe
piece.

Day 24 -- almost done. a couple of hours in the morning

2010-06-19T20:53:00.000-07:00

and then i'll be as done as i am going to be on this trip.

Day 24 -- laying under the belly of the beast

2010-06-19T18:50:00.000-07:00

The view from down under. Think I should do a serious tick check tonight after laying in the pretty meadow under the hood of this piece. Just because the little mini meadow in the glade is pretty, doesn't mean I didn't roll around with the bugs and a bit of poison ivy.

Day 24 -- working. really!!

2010-06-19T13:27:00.000-07:00

Day 24 -- working.

2010-06-19T10:38:00.000-07:00

Day 23 -- yes i will be done! (enough)

2010-06-18T19:08:00.000-07:00

I love the patina of the fleshy surfaces of the tubes.

Day 23 -- ohhhh it was time

2010-06-18T10:42:00.000-07:00

They took my man toy back to do its real job...oh darkness!

Just kidding. I think. :)

Oh goodbye my sweet blue, blue, but now gone, man toy!

Day 23 -- dangling

2010-06-18T09:48:00.000-07:00

Wrapping and interweaving my legs round the outside bars of the cage, just as the monkey bars of years long gone by, I dangle out pseudo-freely...and sew, paying attention to not get to cocky since there is no back up system but my legs. And to facilitate Mason not being trapped up here while i stay suspended to sew from my temporary man toy, we have dragged a ladder up, up, with us. So off (or down) he scampered to get his work done. Now back to mine, which currently is sewing the neck of the fluted, sieved funnel-like suspended object back into a single unit from its move to this location. Just what every woman should be doing twenty five feet up in a forest glade...absolutely!

In my opinion of course!

Day 22 -- will finish enough by sunday but...

2010-06-17T15:28:00.000-07:00

I can just imagine a series of extension like the fluted section here spilling out a number of the orifices... OOo-awe. OK well at least for me. The parts you are looking at aren't finished yet so there are still awkward and incomplete sections. Should all be resolved end of day Saturday.

Day 22 -- vacation or work?

2010-06-17T13:47:00.000-07:00

Does an artist's residency count as work or vacation? I suppose it depends on how you classify that big French bike road race thingy Lance Armstrong rides in? Work or vacation? Or perhaps just a job he loves and has a few awesome perks. Hmmm a job I love with this nice I-Park perk. Oh yea!

i am not sure i can go back to a regular camera. i love just touching the screen on the object image i want the phone to focus on...it just jumps to macro, balances the light for that area. the no zoom is problematic. as a phone, iffy, but as a camera, gps, dictionary, blogging utensil, googling, and even a level (really, it even has the little bubble...you calibrate it with a real level and then wa-la), it rocks

Day 22 -- still inside the belly of the beast

2010-06-17T10:53:00.000-07:00

Day 21 -- the messy, limp, as yet to be completed, end

2010-06-16T15:12:00.000-07:00

Day 21 -- aaah a kazillion feet of number 9

2010-06-16T13:42:00.000-07:00

Just makes the mind race with possibilities. Ok well maybe not race but definitely ooo-la-la. Number 9 is a new discovery this month and boy will it make my hands tough!

And freshly bloomed today between my morning down at the pond and return. It seems a different strains bloom each day. Even the birds change. When I first got here there were robins out the wazoo. I rarely see them now but in their place are an assortment of much more petite birds--vivid yellow, I am looking at one now that is a soft brown with some muted red around its eyes and a dark crew top dew on top. All interesting.

My time at the pond never gets old. It also varies from day to day. As today, though the sun was out in fullness this morning there was a nip of chill and no morning kiss of warmth as there was yesterday. But beautiful as always. Wonder what it all looks like blanketed with snow--perhaps magical in a totally different way.

No Diana, the picture is right side up. :) That sky is but a mirror reflection in the still quiet waters.

I think i like me skewed view because it moves the image away from landscape and toward abstraction...in that unique place between the poles of representational and abstraction I find I notice more deeply the things of nature I might normally passby in my routine rightside up world. I see what is really there instead of seeing what I assume.

Day 21 -- I will find my way

2010-06-16T05:47:00.000-07:00

It just will look and feel so very different than I could possibly expect or imagine. Look i am here at i-park in Connecticut, have had 5 or so solo shows in the last two years, secured a visiting professorship, am making new friends, rekindling existing friendships. I am doing the necessary things to move forward, with the help of friends, my brothers, mom and dad, and that powers that may be. I know I am moving. Sometimes my process is so slow I feel stuck, but I know I am not stuck. Good things are happening. I need to continue doing the things that open me to life. I will and am.

Today I will find my way in art.

Yesterday I was working toward finishing out my piece more tear droppish. I saw last night that it wasn't working. So this morning I will reevaluate. I am thinking I will go back to finishing it more flute/funnel like...creating a pooring out. That is my plan at the moment. The tear drop thing is nice and the idea and method will be saved for another day and project.

Day 20 -- view from inside the belly of the beast

2010-06-15T15:12:00.000-07:00

Day 20 -- I've shown up

2010-06-15T10:17:00.000-07:00

...somedays that is as good as it gets. At moments like these I am daunted by the physical exertion that, is evident, will be required. I fidget about in preparation. Then get a bit overwhelmed and diverted...a walk to get a snack, a return trip to the house to get my keys to move my truck so i don't have to carry the tubes so far, then a blog and a book. Another diet coke. And again have a moment of grief. I just feel physically and emotionally spent. I know. I know. There is only one person who is responsible for choosing such a medium and feels compelled to work at such scales. It does make me question the why. Where does this compulsion or need come from to work this way? Almost every artist I know has certain compulsions, or rules they hold to in terms of their medium, process, or concepts. Even teachers have a compulsion (or preference) for their medium (p-k, elementary, junior or senior high, college, or adult) and method (subject)...as do doctors, lawyers and sales men. So this artist compulsion is not out of the ordinary, really, it just manifests quite differently than other jobs.

But I divert from the topic of why do I work at such a scale with such dang weighty materials. Why do I call it a compulsion? I suppose i classify it as compulsion because I do not fully know or understand the internal place from which it comes and because it requires a serious degree of physical umph that often results in real aches and pains.

Initially I thought I understood the source of my work, but I think that was a combination of denial and arrogance in thinking I actually comprehend the complexities of my life and the way it connected to others. It is obvious that this is not so.

But I do know that I don't want to return to Houston. I have discovered that since I have been here. I don't want my ruby red slippers (they don't work anyway). I just want my steel tip boots bearing themselves across the soft loam of the forest floor and clunking across an artist made peer. Making, writing, walking, basking, healing in this solitude.

---

Dead battery. Time passes. Lunch acquired. Consumed. Work accomplished. Blog post posted. Progress visible. Direction good. Maintain!

Phone left indoors ti charge with the bird. Nesting in my studio. Guess I should not hVe left the door open so many days in a row.

Location:Hopyard Rd,East Haddam,United States

Day 20 -- I've shown up

2010-06-15T07:48:00.000-07:00

Day 20 -- laddened with a glimmering dew thickened blanket

2010-06-15T05:20:00.000-07:00

It is my first in many days for the sun to again kiss the nap of my neck so early in the morn with her heat. Summer in Connecticut has re-emerge at the start of this day. She is much welcome and she is greeted with the perfect glimmer of thickly laddened liquid dew crystals sliding viscously with their weight towards the earth.

"because you are human, you are privileged and burden with the task of knowing. Our desire to know is the deepest longing of our soul; it is a call to intimacy and belonging...knowing calls you out of yourself. Discovery delights the heart. This is the natural joy of childhood and the earned joy of the artist. The child and the artist are pilgrims of discovery. When you limit your life to one frame of thinking, you close out the mystery. When you fence in the desires of your heart fixed walls... you dishonour the call to discovery. You create fields of "quiet desperation."... When you open your heart to discovery, you will be called to step outside the comfort barriers within which you fortified your life. You will be called to risk old views and thoughts and to step off the circle of routine and image. This will bring turbulence. The pendulum will fix at times on one extreme, and you will be out of balance. But your soul loves the danger of growth. In it's own wise trust, your soul will always return you to a place of real and vital equilibrium...either we are in the universe to inhabit the lovely eternity of our souls and grow real, or else we might as well dedicate our days to shopping and kill time watching talk shows..."
--John O'Donahue

Day 19 -- the shakes started about the time we reached the beach for dinner

2010-06-14T20:14:00.000-07:00

Which was delightfully hosted by Patricia and KevIn. It must be a new London/Lyme thing, but Patricia, in the most agreeable way shortened each of our names. Nathaniel became Nat, Kathy, Kat, Kevin, kev...and of course Bob became Bob:) anyway, it was done in that special friendly way, as when a close friend gives you a nickname as a term of endearment.

Oh back to the shakes, as I shut the little green Canadian chevy's backdoor and buckled my belt, double dog dang (polite verbiage for oh crap), I forgot my phone upstairs on the charger. Aaah I must exercise self discipline and not run to retrieve it. But it means no gps, no dictionary, no email, no vicarious social network, no google, and NO CAMERA PHONE! it was a good but distressing exercise. I missed my camera. I've grown use to it and rather dependent on it. Word without image...aaaagh!

Oh and I have been sewing thin rebar I've bent into rings into my piece. That is helping me create the tension I desire in the work. Though the work is meant to have a fleshy sense it is not meant to look flacide. So thin curves of rebar sewn in seem to be doing the trick.

Day 19 -- I am not really happy about this!!!

2010-06-14T12:58:00.000-07:00

Freshly pealed and slithered out of directly where I just had my bum
sitting there on the ground.

Day 19 -- talk about chatty

2010-06-14T10:49:00.000-07:00

The sun is shining, the first time in days, and the birds seriously have been deprived of all that they would sing and say, til now at this moment in the midst of this fabulously weathered day.

Day 19 -- tension beginning to reestablish

2010-06-14T08:39:00.000-07:00

Day 18 -- need more tension

2010-06-13T17:46:00.000-07:00

Equals lowes/home depot run to new london to get more clamps and cabling

Looks kind of small cause of distance, but see genie s-40 man toy in background for sense of scale

I would like to maintain the sense of floating. When I paint cables black, they literally disappear.

New route via google maps--a dirt road. I though for sure I had taken a wrong turn when I lost my phone service. But I finely popped out at the right spot. Such a pretty drive. I could so live here. Well the commute to SAM would be a bit rough. Come on captain Kirk! When are we going to get teleporters--we've got the doors that slide open when we approach and the tricorders. I want the food moleculizer and the teleporter.

I am out of any truly deep or healthy thoughts.

Day 18 -- tension

2010-06-13T10:13:00.000-07:00

When I move a piece, it is so maleable that the process moving and restringing creates a loss of tension. So I'll try to string to
restore tension then rework, refine to it's new home. And then finish her out according to the site.

Day 18

2010-06-13T06:44:00.000-07:00

Hands much better. One week left, must get back to work.

Weird fungus ? growth following a week of wet and rainy days.

Day 17 -- the rains steady hum sooths

2010-06-12T19:38:00.000-07:00

Ha. And now for some light reading on this rainy night--the life of reason: reason in art by Santayana, 1917.

Day 17 -- a little artists jaunt into Hadlyme, CT

2010-06-12T17:00:00.000-07:00

Artists living on the edge, so wild we are. We migrated in for a little Haitian food at the local Hadlyme Congregational Church. It was some kind offund raiser--kinda of Haitian potluck for 10 bucks. Now back to defensive driving online. Four and a half more hours.

Day 17

2010-06-12T06:31:00.000-07:00

Different flora comes into life each new day, lilly pads continue to encroach, and my little swollen digits are slow in their recovery and make gripping difficult.

I believe I'll break out my rachet straps this morning to heave her up. They require no strength in my grip to function. It's time to start. To rachet, to listen to her form, and see where she wants to go...

Day 16 -- split her in half to ease install

2010-06-11T16:09:00.000-07:00

A gray fox stood on the stone mounded fence gazing 30 feet up at us working in the trees canopy. I was amazed at how quickly she found us and at how well she blended into the stone. Her coat was as the stone. She froze and stared for a bit and her babies instinctively followed her lead. She was not overly impressed or concerned with us, quickly going on about her business when she became bored with us and saw us as no threat. We were far more fascinated with her than she with us. Neat!

tomorrow I'll hoist the rest of her up. Excellent, the cables have disappeared so when she's finished, she'll be floating or appear to just have grown up and out of the ground toward the light! perfect.

Day 16 -- my man toy in use

2010-06-11T15:33:00.000-07:00

Not Mason! I am referring to my (temporarily) Genie S-40 lift!

Day 16 -- me and my man toy up up into the tree canopies

2010-06-11T08:45:00.000-07:00

Day 16 -- my genie man lift has arrived

2010-06-11T06:03:00.000-07:00

Yeah!!

Day 16 -- brrrr

2010-06-11T05:52:00.000-07:00

I am such a Houstonian as I sit here layered up with my wife beater tank, long sleeve-t, two sweatshirts with both hoods up, sleeves pulled over my sore hands and brrrrr, I am chilled.

The frogs were quite in the chill of the morn and this was the first day for the wild geese to glide out onto the pond, six in all, three grown, three small. But graceful does not mark their entry. OMG If I was a fox, their entrance and loud cur-plunk of a water sloshing ruckus just screamed, "LUNCH!"

Day 15 -- rainy day

2010-06-10T17:53:00.000-07:00

Which was great excuse to continue resting my hands. For inquiring minds, my trip photos have been shot with my iPhone. Perhaps apple should fund my travels :)

Day 15 -- gray day, moist chill in the air, sore opposables, drawing content needs to change

2010-06-10T06:58:00.000-07:00

Tired thumbs from clipping tubes so I began drawing again last night using images from old sketchbooks and they just aren't working.

I like the scale (7' tall), but I am not feeling it. I am just not in that dark hopeless weighty space that I was when I made the initial drawings (don't really know why but I am just not). I have grief but not the overwhelming hopeless angst. I do like the blue tape though. Where My work will go, I do not know.

Day 15 -- oh my opposables!!

2010-06-09T12:20:00.000-07:00

Dang it's taking me all day to add this extension and I am not done cause I keep taking breaks. These clips are so helpful and it would be tough without them but squeezing fifty or so of them in a row and then sewing, pushing the wire through the rubber, wears out my hands after two steady weeks. I like doing this and my fingers adjust in terms of surface wear and tenderness, but the squeeze, squeeze of those little power clips are taking a toll on my little opposable thumbs! Who would have thought it possible to wear out my opposables.

Day 15 -- It's a good morning with a little performance anxiety :)

2010-06-09T05:10:00.000-07:00

Laying her flat, I see I need to extend her neck six or seven feet. I'll do that this morning making her ready for initial install. Once installed I will continue developing her to integrate and react to specific site.

This morning Mason is going over a town or two to select an appropriate mechanized lift so we can install my work. Usually I just rig some crazy low to no budget system to install, so since a twenty foot ladder against a tree was not enough and a longer one would just be flat out stupid dangerous, we will be using a lift. Of course we could always get spiked shoes and some climbing webbing, but that's a bit of a learning curve you don't want to flunk at 30 or 40 feet up in the trees. Really we just need to get up to about 28 feet where the rest of the tree is easily climbable. Yea-ha!

Day 14 -- aaaggghhh!

2010-06-08T12:19:00.000-07:00

I am squatted down near my tubes when Mason, the get'er done and fix it, irreplaceable, on site, guy, says something to the effect of, "don't turn your head, just stand up slowly and walk away." hmmm. I trust him and do as he says. Next to where I was squatting, slithering ever closer about to slide under the wood pallet, AND INTO MY BLACK TUBES, A HUGE BLACK (LIKE MY TUBES) RAT SNAKE!!!! aaaaggh. The girl factor comes back into play. And to think I have been laying on the ground and wiggling up into the interior of my piece to sew on my back, HEAD FIRST... aaaagggghhhhhh!

Day 14 -- home depot run into new london

2010-06-08T10:48:00.000-07:00

A little lunch and a run through thedevil's hopyard.

Day 14 -- the bullfrogs are quiet

2010-06-08T04:36:00.000-07:00

In the chill of this morning.

Day 13 -- like a beached Squid? flacide with death

2010-06-07T15:14:00.000-07:00

Dang. Not the intent. Though this is temporary because I released my support cables to rotate her like a rotisserie chicken to continue my work, but I simply don't have enough body mass or muscle to restring my cables...such a girl (said kindly but truly).

The cabling opens her up and stretches her taunt which allows the light to dapple through all her openings. I'll have to snag Mason tomorrow for help. Well and hopeful put up the really cabling and move her on site.

Day 13 -- now sit, be still, listen and write

2010-06-07T10:03:00.000-07:00

I didn't make it to the pond this morning, but took care of some BOX business I'd been putting off, calculated site measurements for cabling and a feasibility analysis for the work I am doing here. So now I'll take a stillness break deep in the woods...

far past the pond and stream...

to the end of the trail where it crosses into the state park. here is where i plop my back-end and stay for a while to be still, listen and learn.

I laugh now, not often because I grieve still, but on the occasion that I do, it is in a new way that I have never heard before. It comes from someplace newly exposed in me. The change is not for any particular reason that I can pinpoint; it is just a difference. It is delightful and deep, a rumbling from within--not a cackle, a hack, or an awkwardly forced crack. It would not be mistaken for a cry or wail. It does not mask embarrassment or shame, but uncovers a true chuckle of pleasure, surprise and delight. It caught me off guard, a startle of sorts, when I first heard its presence. I laugh not as often as I would like because of my grief and fears. But when it comes upon me, it is such a good thing it brings me such pleasure, as when I was a child spun ‘round, falling flat and still upon the ground to watch the world spin (i really thought i could see the rotation of the earth by watching the sky--a child's delight). Perhaps one day you will listen and hear and smile big. I do like this laugh as you might.

My whole range of emotions is opening up, not so contained. This is not a bad thing. My emotions are not something to be feared. It is just a more fully experienced range. I allow myself to feel them more deeply, less managed and controlled. These feelings, none of which are contemptible or hysterical, do not make me scary, needy, overly demanding, or manic. They are just genuinely experienced with an opening awareness. I have always keenly felt but forced myself to contain--to be even keeled, well heeled emotionally. Somehow in trying to be as low maintenance as I knew how to be, financially, relationally and emotionally, thinking that that was a good thing, a healthy thing, I denied and minimized my feelings, putting them away on a shelf and did not listen to what they could teach me. But now my body and soul are learning to align with my heart (emotions)--I no longer pretend to be ok, when i am not, i am learning not to deny my emotions (they just are what they are); I try not to squelch them. I am discovering that this range is more reflective of who I am. This depth, from laughter and delight to sadness and grief, is richer, truer. It is a change. I do not know why it has come about or why I thought being a low to no maintenance wife was good, was healthy, but this is a change.

I like these freshly uncovered things that I did not allow into my life before--sure it hurts like hell and I need to learn to accept, listen, interpret and work with these felt things, but still there is more room for delight, joy, laughter and presence.

It is ok to have joy. Joy doesn't make me bad. It doesn't mean I am not trying hard enough, doing enough, or am some kind of slacker. It doesn't mean I am not doing what I was called to or that i need to feel shame when joy enters in... I want to make room for joy and delight.

Being here is an obvious gift because this is what I needed, at just the right time, some would call it serendipity; I would call the hand of God. It is this gift of time and place that reminds me that in spite of my frailties and wrongs, that God is good and that joy is allowed (and it is ok to grieve as well). I am grateful.

Day 13 -- measuring tree distances

2010-06-07T07:41:00.000-07:00

To determine cabling needs for installation. Work is at point it needs to be put on site in order to continue working. This will allow me to have the piece respond directly and interact with the site location -- responding to light and the surrounding linear tree forms.

Day 12 -- stubbornness yet slow and as yet not fully steady

2010-06-06T06:56:00.000-07:00

finding a rhythm to my days requires a good kind of stubbornness on my part. I am working on a steady rhythm beyond that of my diet coke habit. So I get up each morning and ease down to the lake and write. I hope i can learn to make it stick when I return to h-town. I need and want to create a steady rhythm.

Day 11 -- hmm

2010-06-05T11:40:00.000-07:00

Generic tombstones?

here this is the one I qualify for...

Tom Thumb's tomb stone...ah, my life is complete. ? Hmmm.

I have reached my quota of social tourism. The company was great but I am not much of a tourist. Sitting out in the shade of a tree at the edge of a grassy green glade or hikng in the forest, or counting fireflies in the meadow at dusk, these are more up my stream (ha) and I will leave the alley to another.

like a loaf of wonder...bread.

Day 12 -- artists' road trip

2010-06-05T07:36:00.000-07:00

Barnum museum in Bridgeport.

This was available for purchase at garage sale. ?

Location:Main St,Bridgeport,United States

Day 11 -- filled with sewing

2010-06-04T19:09:00.000-07:00

Sewing all day and nice end of day conversation with fellow resident, Lalie. I like Lalie and these other artists--all thinkers, slightly skewed sense of humor and way of seeing the world around them, hard workers, considerate of others, and good at what they do. I like these artists.

probably should pick up some pulleys and cabling tomorrow so i can hoist this puppy up on site to finish her and abandon the temporary rigging.

Day 11 -- slow start

2010-06-04T05:11:00.000-07:00

Each day the lillies of the lake easy out acros the lakes surface a little further, a little denser. Sitting here ech morning has allowed me to see the process--the stems slowly easy up from the lakes subterranean. I can see the lillies two to three feet under the placide mirror surface days before they float it's surface.

OMG. HE IS BIG AND ICKY! Picture doesn't reveal his size. His skin and shell are covered over with some algae like growth. If he were a rock used to cross a creek, surely you would become wet when you slipped from hus back. And he had big white claws, the only aspect from head to toe not over grown with ick.

Day 10 -- closes with a meadow filled with fireflies

2010-06-03T19:41:00.000-07:00

Day 10 -- afternoon showers

2010-06-03T13:57:00.000-07:00

Good. I am physically exhausted. Who would ever imagine sewing old tire tubes would be so strenuous. My girl hands are spent!!

The floppy ends are temporarily attached to cables (to left). So pardon the unresolved elements = in process. Holes for dappling, dancing light are working out as I had hoped.

To be continued. I had hoped to sew five; but at this pace with 18 days left, including install, I just physically can't do five. "Hmmm. maybe I'll just stay an extra month," she said with a silly grin knowing that a real bed, hot showers, beautiful environment, awesome team of hosts and fellow artists, well, and a chef might be influencing her silly whimsical wish. Awe yes. The time I do have here is absolutely exactly what I need for my soul and could not have asked for more.

Day 10 -- growing, flowing, light dappling through

2010-06-03T09:52:00.000-07:00

Syrup

2010-06-03T06:02:00.000-07:00

My righting, oops, I mean writing, either works since my writing is my attempt to right the capsizing of my boat, my life. So I write to right. Original point before Freudian typo and tangent was that my words are laden with excessive physical descriptors for my internal need to focus on the present, to dwell mentally and emotionally where I am physically. I am righting my boat with the written word by being present where I truly dwell--here and now, today in this moment.

Day 10 -- the fog clings moistly this morning

2010-06-03T04:22:00.000-07:00

i am afraid the sun will not burn through, the leaves are laden with moisture. The slightest breeze sends a cascade of liquid crystals spilling down. The air clings thickly with the a barely audiable chill.

My fellow I-Park artists in residence

2010-06-02T18:10:00.000-07:00

Lalie Douglas
Jeannie Harkleroad
Anthony Ingrisano
Shireen Madon, poet
Nathaniel Sullivan

Day 9 -- ouchy!

2010-06-02T15:08:00.000-07:00

Hmmm! I've learned not to poke my fingertips with sharply cut (functions as needle and thread) baling wire. Occasionally I have forgotten and must relearn. OUCH!

And it is a bit strange working out here with a forest as my studio workspace with all of its noises--birds, insects, the breeze rustling through the leaves AND THE RANDOM TREE FALLING. That is the second tree I heard fall since just yesterday. No strong wind, no storm approaching, just a crystal clear blue day and all seems in order. Then this groan lets loose, twigs and branch beginning snapping as the tree suddenly gives way to the call of gravity and down she plummets with a vibrant thud! Perhaps no squirrels (wait i haven't seen any) were harmed in this event...

I am hoping that doesn't happen when we start cabling up trees to install this work. Or of it does we all move out of its descent path quickly...enough :)

Day 9. -- a shift in her being to allow the dappling light dance down and enter her soul

2010-06-02T08:26:00.000-07:00

She'll stream down from the roof tops of the forest high, where the light streams in. Spreading out, funnel-like, she will spill down across the glade, as her mouth opens up for her grief poured out, her form will contain more and more openings like these allowing the light to dance and dapple through the canopy of her opening spreading soul releasing her sorrows and deep grief as she is filled with the life and light.

"I am stiil trying to find out" Thomas Merton

2010-06-02T06:28:00.000-07:00

"'then what do you know about our courage and our fear? Where do you come from? What is the basis of your statements about us? You say you wrote what you see, but no two men see the same street here. What do you see that you write? What do you mean when you talk about our courage and our fear?'

'i am still trying to find out: and that is why I write. '

'how will you find out by writing?'

'i will keep putting things down until they become clear.'

'and if they do not become clear?'

'i will have a hundred books, full of symbols, full of everything I ever knew or ever saw or ever thought.'

'If it never becomes clear, perhaps you will have more books than if it were all clear at once.'

'no doubt. But i say if it were all clear at once, I would not really understand it, either. Somethings are too clear to be understood, and what you think is your understanding of them is only a kind of charm, a kind of incantation in your mind concerning things. This is not understanding: it is something you remember. So much for definitions! We always have to go back and start from the beginning and make over all the definitions for ourselves. '"

Thomas Merton, from journal of my escape from the Nazis, 1941.

"i am not here to think about being a writer: except I am here to try to learn humility and how to do god's will and serve him the best way I can, and writing has something to do with all these things, accidentally, because it happens that I like to write, and try and know how."

Thomas Merton, 9/3/1941

'at the moment writing is the one thing that gives me access to some real silence and solitude. Also I find that it helps me to pray because, when I pause form my work (writing or making), I find that the mirror inside me is surprisingly clean and deep and serene and god shines there and is immediately found, without hunting as if he had come close to me while I was writing (and making) and I had not observed his coming (and therefore did not skitter away).'

Thomas Merton, 9/1/1949

Day 9 -- ladened with dew

2010-06-02T04:45:00.000-07:00

The morning, dripping with dew as each web is respun.

The slightest of wisps softly lifts from the surface as the sun clears a crystal path of warmth across this pond. Yes, the warm day already encroaches, as i pop open the top of my morning coffee* here in my nest whose sticks surround me with the lithe movement and grace of Matisse's ringed dancers upon the blue painted surface.

*diet coke

Day 8 -- I wandered back out after she'd come and gone only to be caught by her sister.

2010-06-01T15:31:00.000-07:00

Still slick with what she spilled during her rumble...

...magnificent and slightly frightening things catch my eye as I wandered back down to my work site. Naturally this site is out of doors...well because of doors and the limited scope of their orifices. Though this does not bother me a bit because I prefer, and actually love, working outside (even in Houston's sweltering heat. Of course I am in Connecticut, so much the better).

I arrived at my work site, straight back to work. Sewed several tire tube veins when I heard her sister rumble. Right when I thought this one, she'd pass me by, she gave me a good hard soak. Hunching up against the dry side of my shade tree, back pressed tightly, tools in hand, seriously hoping that is not poison ivy I am standing in...

Finally a mad dash to my studio, sacrificing my fresh diet coke to this rumbly wet sister.

Day 8 -- the thunder, she dances and rumbles

2010-06-01T12:03:00.000-07:00

I felt her an hour before she arrived. I listened to the hum of her low distant rumbles draw near. I smelled her moments before she was on top of me. Not as strongly as some, just faint as though she would not last long. And I heard her through the tree tops when she began to spill. Now I wait for her here just inside, sitting with the door opened wide and my seat pulled to its threshold. She rumbles on as she hovers here. I think she plans to stay awhile.

Day 8 -- OMG

2010-06-01T05:57:00.000-07:00

I am out of diet coke!!!

I sit here this misty morning on the lake with the slightest of moist chills upon the air, I know there is hope for today. It is grocery day! Soon my diet coke stash shall be replenished. Plus bagels and fresh arrugala.

Chef Bob came back from his holiday last night to cook for us. While he was away volunteers came and prepared our evening meals. Oh we artists are going to get so spoiled!!

2010-05-31T17:30:00.000-07:00

Favorite artist has passed away at 98 years of age

Day 7 -- I repeat myself in my gratefulness

2010-05-31T13:21:00.000-07:00

I am just southeast of East Haddam, due north of Old Lyme, I would guess a mere hop skip and a jump from New London, where my mother grew up and met my father, a young Coast Guard cadet. Her father, Jerry Barton Hoag, a nuclear physicist in the thirties, forties and fifties, out (or ousted out) of the University of Chicago, refused (or so the family legends go) to help develop the bomb as part of the Manhattan project and thus ended up as a physics professor and head of the science department at the Coast Guard Academy. And whom because of his peaceful nature, his lovely daughter met my father, i eventually came into existence. This place I've never visited before, here so near the place of my heritage, is where I am. Currently i am sitting in the shade on ~450 acres of farmland that has gone back to natural habitat. The owner decided it was too beautiful to just keep it for himself alone, so he has opened it up to share with six invited artists of image, object, word or sound each month who come to work and be revived and inspired in this environment. Early each morning I hike down to a beautiful pond, sitting at the end of an artist made pier, I listen as the bullfrogs begin to sing as the sun first warms. I watch the pollen drift slowly across the still black silent surface. I hear the gentle breeze pass high over head as it dances and rustles through the tree tops. There are so many fresh smells new with each passing day as the differing flower strains come into bloom according to their own time. I sit here in stillness and quietness for a couple of hours and listen, hear, smell, gaze, think, write, and meditate. If I sink too deeply into my grief, God uses all these physical things to pull me back into my body, back into this present moment to show me again all the gifts She has given me.

It is exactly what I needed to refresh my soul and allow grief to finish its deep work in me as I am moved towards the threshold of something new, something different. I could never even begin to express my deep gratitude for the gift of this place and this time. It heals me again and again each morning. God has repeatedly these past two years shown His unfailing love to me in ways i can understand. He heals me with all these gifts.

Day 7 -- she begins to ascend into the trees canopies

2010-05-31T09:30:00.000-07:00

Day 7 -- pollen cloaks and clings thickly across the lake's placid black surface under the morning sun

2010-05-31T05:26:00.000-07:00

Where is it that I dwell? The gift of this place and time overwhelms my physical senses--the drifting scent of the forest floor, the songs of the bullfrogs, crickets, and birds, the colors and textures of the forest, glens, running and still waters, the heat of the sun's touch on the nap of my neck, the moist touch in the shadows of the trees, and the chill of the moon's long goodnight along my spine. The physicality of this place brings me back into my body, back into this now moment. And now is the only home I am called to dwell in. There is no health in dwelling in the past for it is not a home. There is no health in dwelling in the future because no one lives there. The only home to dwell in is the presence of now. All other dwellings are a type of unliving. Where will I dwell today? I want to dwell in this place of now. Today it is my home. Now is a gift I must be present here to receive...

Day 6 -- flowing

2010-05-30T15:25:00.000-07:00

To about twelve feet. Will need help to hoist it higher into the tree.
This is not it's home, just work space in the shade. It us headed for
a forest glade.

Day 5 -- same sweet spot for sunset as sunrise

2010-05-29T16:18:00.000-07:00

my spot.

Though they have a chef who prepares our dinner, tonight is self serve. So I sautéed up some fresh veggies with fresh garlic. Now that is art.

Day 5 -- midday

2010-05-29T13:07:00.000-07:00

this will grow...

into something like these except...

they'll be about twenty feet in height minus the green frames and in their place fresh sticks held together by wooden dowels and wood glue (hope it holds)!

Day 5 -- Saturday morning as i drift back to my spot on the lake

2010-05-29T06:25:00.000-07:00

Back to my spot on the lake which this morning is blanketed in a velvet coat of pollen. It's almost eight and the sun's sting of heat on my neck is late and the bullfrogs don't yet sing. There is a thin smear of clouds across the sky as the sun tries to burn her way through for those who wait and would sing. As I sit here, they begin. Their voices ripple across the water's placid surface while the gentle breeze passes high in the tree tops. Even the leaves rustle with voice of morning. There is no gray to this day except that which lies within. Yet this will pass. It is why I was given this gift of place and time. It is the place for my grief to pass through--finish its work. I need for it to pass through.

Day 5 -- Saturday mourning

2010-05-29T06:05:00.000-07:00

Day 4 -- perhaps morning writing will become a habit again

2010-05-28T04:31:00.000-07:00

hmmm. well nature does seem to have a tendency to repeat herself. alrighty then.

Day 3

2010-05-27T17:52:00.000-07:00

Not sure what they are, but I look forward to the bloom.

Ummm. Don't know if sticks will hold the weight of the tubes. Perhaps I should hide some rebar in there. I did bring my rebar bender.

Day 3 -- Day 7 since left Houston; 3rd full day in residence

2010-05-27T07:09:00.000-07:00

Am going to recalibrate my numbers; today is Day 3.
And again my day begins with solitude out on the lake in the nest. I
did not make this nest; it was left as a gift by another artist.
And since my time on the lake this morning, I have been affixing more
branches to the beginning of my piece with glue and dowels. Today I
will begin sewing tubes.

Day 6 -- at its end, I caught her

2010-05-26T19:42:00.000-07:00

Day 6 - morning walk, scouting for materials and site

2010-05-26T10:34:00.000-07:00

I wandered of the main trail and stumbled upon...

this piece is about 15'+ tall with a similar diameter. it feels much larger in person.

the caged element is probably 5 to 6' tall.

this bowl though reminiscent of Oppenheimer's arte povera life size version, is about 8' in diameter and made not from fur but pine needles.

this piece is 15 to 20' tall. it has an opening on one side and can be entered to view the sky.

it is difficult to not be overly influenced by these wonderful pieces; but they too are under the influence--the influence of nature.

this is what i know so far about what i want...sticks as a kind of exoskeleton to create suspended flowing elements sewn from, you guessed it, tire tubes. i did bring a truckload of various sizes...i've begun to test an exoskeleton using sticks. i assemble them using dowels and wood glue as my joint system. glue is drying. i don't know if i'll need to reinforce joints yet or if dowels and glue will be enough...oh yes, and i plan to write until i filled two books--not all for blog consumption. hmmm. these language issues concern me; it happened with the spoken word at dinner as well--this loss of and misuse of words and sentence structure...

i believe the work will be about grief released...

Day 6 - i slide into my first morning without mourning

2010-05-26T05:23:00.000-07:00

the pond frog voices of the morning are so distinct from the night’s rhythms of tree frogs. the cadence of the evening are a steady all ‘round—there is no direction or distance to their voices. but here in the morning each is distinct. close and far. almost i can pinpoint each as its voice glides across the water. it is not the constant. it is conversational, each independent in its dialog, not a riot, individuals, not a mob. and the sound sinks so low in its throb than the night riotous mob. i know, this morning, they are close--i cannot see them—so close they tease me as i try to catch a glimpse. hidden under the dock and there in the edge where the threshold between land and water is hidden in the strokes of the grass. the voices so deep in their thrumb, as though i had thumpt a rubber surface stretched taught with my finger. i can imagine the fullness of their throats filling with intent. with whom do they speak? are they just singing to the morning? what is it they need to say?
the birds are many, but their songs drift to the back. this morning it is the thrumb of the the pong frogs, i hear as a sit out here on the lake.

coolness is just beginning to fade; i’ve stripped off my sweat shirt as the sun warms the back of my neck. it is going to be an unusually warm, even hot, Connecticut day. i am ready.

Still day 5

2010-05-25T19:01:00.000-07:00

She winds out into the lake so still with the sound splashing round. And at her end, not a cage, but a cocoon, a nest, a safe place, a magnificent space

A place to write, to be, to absorb, to take risks in my words, my thoughts, my emotions--to allow grief to be what it is and allow it to wane in it's passing. Grief will come to it's fullness in emptiness and pass. Here is the space for the passing. I will allow it to pass.

I think I have found my place for stillness for the month.

Day 5 -- coming to a close

2010-05-25T18:46:00.000-07:00

"burnt down now I can see the moon"

The moon fooled me tonight as she danced dappling through the canopy of branches as though full, but when I chased her round the tree, I knew tomorrow eve, then only, would i catch her in her fullness. Not before. Crickets and frogs choraled their agreement as they kept her rhythm when the sun fell away. I must go back and chase her there, for in her fullness is a new place to call home, a space to leave grief behind. It is time to leave grief behind, not in numbness or denial, but as a testament to the living and ready shall I be to give chase as the moon calls. She calls.

(probably needs editing--I'll blame my phone key pad a dependence on ms word's grammar and spell check)

Location:State Highway 434,East Haddam,United States

Thought by poet Rilke

2010-05-25T14:24:00.000-07:00

"everything is gestation and then bringing forth. To let each impression and each germ of a feeling come to completion wholly in itself, in the dark, in the inexpressible, the unconscious, beyond the reach of one's intelligence, and await with deep humility and patience the birth-hour of a new clarity: that alone is living the artist's life: in understanding as in creating"

--Rainer Maria Rilke

Location:Hopyard Rd,East Haddam,United States

Day 5 - morning walk

2010-05-25T09:09:00.000-07:00

strange things artists do in the woods.

the lake.

these pods (2) are probably 14' in length from their tip extension to their bases. the pics don't even begin to do the works justice. their scale, craft, deviance of gravity, and the way they are embedded or become one with the tree, is awe inspiring.

the pods appear to heavy rope woven over a rebar understructure. the tips and bases are carved from wood harvested on site.

zoom in on the center of the above image. the artist has recreated the tree stomp.

the tallest body of these structures (not including stick extensions is probably a little over 6' in height

the walk along the swampy, upstream side of the lake

Nathaniel's studio

studio

Mason's toy along with a skiddy (bobcat)

view from my studio door up to the house.

Day 4 still - i arrive at the Artists' Enclave, I-Park in East Haddam, CT

2010-05-24T19:06:00.000-07:00

the last 4 miles of the drive...

the barn--with the end closes to the camera functioning as my studio.

sleeping and eating quarters (is larger than it looks). houses about 6 artists at a time.

the view from the front of the property looking back towards my studio on the left. i believe these are either stone or carved from concrete.

the community garden.

and a stroll around the lake to look at the property and some of the site specific works.

more works tomorrow because my battery died and is now charging!

they must have known i was coming up from Texas--my first dinner was homemade guacamole, tacos, and margaritas. how did they know that's the only alcoholic beverage i've learned to drink?

ok. i may get seriously spoiled. i love my family, my studio, the BOX, my grandgirls and the younger set, my new job, and much more, but one month in one spot, one bed, same shower (well a shower!), one town, will all feel like heaven...and they have a chef! welllll i do have to fix my own breakfast and lunch. and what am i suppose to do all month? MAKE ART! soak up the place, walk, read, write, and heal! i am up for the challenge!!!!

Day 4 - seven states before noon plus DC

2010-05-24T10:50:00.000-07:00

Virginia (Springfield), Maryland, Delaware, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, New York, Connecticut. And since Friday--Texas, Louisiana, Arkansas, Tennessee--that's a little over 1,400 miles, 11 states, interesting food, enjoyable friends and family, and all with only one wrong turn.

Must get recipe from Tessa for the egg dinner she made last night.
It was fabulous!

Tessa Wilkin (middle), my hostess for last night, Dr. Rachel Giese (left), my hostess for my exhibition in San Antonio, Amy Koch (right), my future hostess for my as yet to be imagined and secured exhibition at the Whitney or MOMA (ha :) ). Picture stolen from Amy (thanks).

Outside of major cities, i was amazed at the highways lined with thick green habitat. beautiful.

And now I am east of New Haven sitting down to lunch, Italian. And to my surprise there really is a group of 50+ year old women loudly chatting with the over powering accent one assumes is a stereo type and expects only in the movies about the Godfather.

After lunch, I'll be off to East Haddam for a month.

Just landed on East Haddam, just north of Old Lyme, CT minutes east of where my mom grew up and met my dad (a cadet at the Coast Guard Academy and she the daughter of a Professor Jerry Barton Hoag, a nuclear physicist--needless to say my dad past that class). I brought plenty of tick spray being just north of Old Lyme. On the tour, even the outdoor shower has full length mirror which I was told was for purpose of tick checking. They are serious. Site is beautiful. Phone not only doesn't receive signal it appears to have died. Perhaps the powers that be...

Site pics shortly...but for now just know....aaaawwweee.

Day 3

2010-05-23T05:07:00.000-07:00

OMG I have numb butt! Aaaaggh I am at about 1,000 miles, several tanks of gas, drop dead scenery, interesting changes from state to state. For instance, in Virginia along hwy 81, they have signs that speed limit is strictly enforced and they back it up with both marked and unmarked cars (all chevys). In the rest stop, the mirrors asked the question via a sticker, "will you be another Virginia traffic fatality?" So guess what, people go speed limit on the interstate. Well they did speed in sections where the shoulder would make it extremely dangerous for cops to pull anyone over...hmmm. On the other hand in the flatlands of Arkansas the flow was 80 to 85 mph, Tennessee was 80, Louisiana varied based on road condition. The differences and samenesses along the byways are fascinating to observe.

Oh yeah unlike Texas with our mile markers, Virginia marks every tenth.

Lunch break at Lew's pizzeria and sandwich shop in Hollins,VA.

Yum.

And weird thoughts along the way. Look closely

I know they most likely mean well, but I can't image the Jesus I know would be good with fifty foot crosses. I mean I read his stories and these seem so contrary to the way he lived. He was all about people, intimacy, community, and healing ways of life. As a matter of fact the only times he seemed to get pissed was in terms of religious people and some of the stupid systems we set up and our arrogance in thinking we know better and our attempts to MAKE others get in line. I just don't get fifty foot crosses and the billboards. Though my favorite billboard is on the westside of Houston. Big picture of something heavanly (?) on the left and flames on the right. With the phrase "heaven or hell?" laid atop the images and they put the church phone number directly under the image of the flaming hell! Ha! Who in their right mind would call that number.

Other random road trip ponders by the flow to come.

Day 2

2010-05-22T06:43:00.000-07:00

Hotwire is my friend. The Hyatt Place was clean, beautiful and the help was gracious last night.

Hwy driving. Memphis.

Green hwy is better.

I know it's just wrong, but I couldn't help myself. I've added a new color to my bubba keg collection. It has a new lid design--perhaps they've resolved the dribble factor. Rational is I use my bubba's as a refiller (tea; no vodka or coffee please), not only saving me money, but I am not throwing away a kazillion cups and lids per day.

Road closed. Really? Yup both ways. They were demo-ing an old bridge.

Lines of trucks as far as the eye could see.

And touch down for a power lunch with Korie and Kirk.

And then off to see my bro and Shelley near Oakridge, where they try to find a balance between nature and nuclear.

The drive to his house. Dang a beater trailer house! Bro what were you thinking???

Typical backwoods Tennessee. Oops this is a temp while he is doing this...

Cool! His own personal sawmill. I won't remind him that he is an Aggie.

Here are his logs he moves about and stacks. Wait. How does my bro do that? Does he have special powers or just understands simple machines and physics (well he better under stand physics since he is a nuclear engineer).

And his backyard while he explains to me how he moves these logs by his lonesome.

Using his super mental powers to move a log. Or simply explaining the process? Your call.

Long drive but family and friend visits awesome.

Day 1

2010-05-21T06:23:00.000-07:00

Madisonville, TX

Pretty drive into Crocket, TX

Ummmm a stop in Crocket--my bad! Yes the door was as gooey to the touch as it was dirty to behold. Aaaagh. Dang!

Totally forgot what Cajun hwys are like with their concrete laid with a railroad track rhythm. Fortunately i have not seen any signs that indicate substandard surface as i witnessed almost two decades ago.

Now for lunch in Minden, LA. The choice was crawfish or fastfood. So I decided to stop and get messy. Oops I may have order too much.

Then onward via back roads to Memphis. Hwy 20 is just so hwy that I've opted for slower but more interesting route.

Making a turner in Homer and up into Arkansas. State changes are instantly recognizable by the marked shift in road surface, color, texture, and sound.

More back roads through Humphrey, Arkansas.

And then finally popped out on hwy 40 heading into Memphis with nothing but lines of 18 wheelers.

Am closing out my day of passing through four states by blowing out my sodium intake with some szechwan (sp?) dumplings. Yum!

Sleep.

Then tomorrow off to Nashville to have lunch with Korie Turner Vakey. Sunday a visit with Tessa Wilkin.

A weird but wonderful side effect of my art travels is the joy of visiting with beautiful, smart, interesting women I knew when they were mere girls--Katherine, a newscaster in Vegas but now in Houston, Rachel, or should I say Dr while show her my ears, nose and throat, in San Antonio for install, exhibition, deinstall, Anneke and Annetta in Austin for my women and their work show. And now Korie, Mrs Dr, in Nashville, Tessa, CPA in DC area, Jenny, a future CEO in Connecticut...I obviously need to give the ny actresses, Ann and Amy, a call as well as Alicia and Amanda.

May not get everyone in on this trip. Might need to have exhibition in NYC just for an excuse to see these amazingly wonderful women.

Northward

2010-05-20T19:25:00.000-07:00

The journey begins

2010-05-20T18:54:00.000-07:00

Northward bound