Thursday, August 25, 2016
Ever since I was a young girl, I have loved books and tv shows about settlers, pioneers, cowboys, etc. -- especially if girls or women are involved. Give me a wagon train or a soddy hut and I am there. (For example, see my 01-13-2009 post about On Sarpy Creek by Ira Stephens Nelson.) Perhaps I am inevitably a lover of westerns because my last name is Outlaw...
This character-strong novel, News of the World, by Paulette Jiles won my respect immediately. Within its first few pages, we meet Captain Jefferson Kyle Kidd and the 10 year-old Indian captive, Johanna, whom Kidd has reluctantly agreed (for the price of one fifty-dollar gold piece) to accompany back "home" to her relatives in the Texas Hill country. The time period is post-Civil War, but in Texas the war in some ways is hardly over. There are factions of folks still killing each other over Confederate versus Union allegiances. Traveling together in a gaudy wagon over rough trails, Kidd and his initially silent and much distraught companion encounter much danger in the form of lowdown people of all stripes and colors.
Captain Kidd is age 71, a former newspaper publisher who now makes his living as an entertainer of sorts. Who knew that reading newspapers aloud to audience-packed rooms was a form of show business in the 1870s? Anyway, Kidd is no dummy. He has been a military man. His tall and honorable bearing, manner of dress and intelligence put him a cut above most folks, though he is no snob. The captain is a widower and father of two grown daughters, so he knows something about women-folk.
Blonde-haired Johanna often steals the page from Kidd. She was kidnapped by Kiowa Indians when she was six years old after seeing them slaughter her parents and younger sister. Yet, inexplicably, as history has often puzzled over in cases of Indian abduction, Johanna for all practical purposes has become Kiowa. She walks barefoot and has just about all but forgotten the English and German languages she once knew. She is very much a warrior, ready to kill either man or beast as might be needed to survive. At one point when she and Kidd are being attacked by three thieves, she figures out how to load dimes into a shotgun, and their trajectory proves fatal. Kidd slowly indoctrinates Johanna back to speaking rough English, and as time goes on, we see how fond the fierce girl becomes of Captain Kidd.
Stripped down to its bare bones, News of the World is the tale of a hero and heroine's journey. The bond that forms between Kidd and Johanna is visceral, no matter how many times Kidd near kicks himself for taking on responsibility for the wild child. "Unfolding in gorgeous prose," as is stated in the forward to this fine novel, highlighting the book as "a vivid portrait that captures a beautiful and hostile land, and a masterful exploration of the boundaries of family, responsibility, honor and trust." The last few pages gave me quite a sigh of relief, and that's all I'll say about how the journey of a wise old man and a wise-beyond-her-years young child turns out. I will be passing this fine book on to as many friends as possible and also think it would be a marvelous book club read.
Monday, July 25, 2016
Summer is a great time to enter art shows here in Houston. Compared to the rest of the year, there are more opportunities for non-established artists such as myself to see their art up on gallery walls.
I am proud to say this collage, "Alchemic" made it into the Eight Annual Juried show at Archway Gallery (July 9 - August 3). This year's competition was judged by the founder of Mother Dog Studios, John Runnels. In his comments during the Opening, he said he tended to choose art that looked like nothing he'd ever seen before, a validating concept for me. This collage was made using my monoprinted collage papers.
Also included in the Archway show, another monoprint-based collage: "Earth, Sky, Wind & Water #15". It combines paint effects with pencil scribbles.
I have started to enter Visual Arts Alliance shows. "Dream Waltzer", a small collage on a reclaimed wood panel, made it into the 33rd Juried Membership Exhibiton at BLUEorange Gallery. Juror was D. M. Allison.
The Jung Center has a (non-juried) member show every summer which I have entered almost every summer since I retired. I had this collage entitled "Dreamscape 137" nicely matted, framed and ready to go so I chose to place it in the Jung Center show. This year it was especially fun to go to the opening reception because two of my girlfriends were also represented.
I am now free to think less about deadlines and so I am enjoying artistic liberty. Thinking less about product than process, I am playing with relief printing, origami, drawing, etc. Since it is too hot here in Houston to do much outdoors, art is the perfect pastime!
"I do not want to go until I have faithfully made the most of my talent and cultivated the seed that was placed in me." - Kathe Kollwitz, German visual artist
Monday, June 27, 2016
The name LaRose is inscribed many times across the cover of this fine novel by Louise Erdrich. And we do meet a boy named LaRose shortly after the book begins. He is but five years old. He is an Ojibwa boy that walks between two worlds, just beginning to sense the spirit world. There have been other LaRoses in his family and their stories are deftly woven into the novel. The young LaRose we meet has amazing resilience. When his father Landreaux Iron, hunting for deer, accidentally shoots a boy named Dusty Ravich (LaRose's best friend), an inconceivable arrangement is made. Or perhaps you could call it an act of karmic justice: Landreaux and his wife Emmaline give LaRose to Dusty's family. Yes, LaRose is sad and misses his family, but eventually a compromise is made. His time, his love and preciousness, is divided between both families.
The Ravich family consists of Pete and Nora and their daughter Maggie. All come to love LaRose, but of course they still deeply grieve the loss of Dusty. Nora, who is actually a half sister to Emmaline, tries to hide the depth of her depression over the loss of her son. Although coming to love and cherish LaRose helps, she flirts with suicide. Pete and Landreaux used to be best buddies, and now of course, there is a tremendous riff. To get back to the Irons family, let me say that they have four other children, two girls and two boys (actually one is sort of a longtime foster child). These kids added much fresh air to what could have been a relentlessly dark novel. Two sisters play volleyball and do well in school, and they become closer to their cousin Maggie Ravich because both families share LaRose. The sons of the make their way in the world with confidence, all of the children giving considerable testament to the power of family love.
Many other characters that add depth and nuance to the novel, especially the short sketches of LaRose's ancestors, but most of all, at least for me -- the reservation priest, Father Travis, really comes alive. He hears everyone's sins and struggles with his own faith. And then there is a pivotal, heavily diabolical character named Romeo. Self-described scumbag and drug fiend Romeo holds more than one grudge against Landreaux. When Landreaux is not sent to jail for killing Dusty, Romeo plots against him.
I have barely sketched the complicated web of this rich novel. The book was full of tragedies and miracles, truly a wonder to me. I found myself thinking of a pressure cooker as the plot thickened. Would things blow sky high or would the pressure be released safely? The cook (if you will) of this story knows all. Her omniscience works well. Let me just say we are the hands of a master chef of literature, Louise Erdrich. May she live long and prosper, continuing to so adroitly chronicle the lives of native Americans.
Wednesday, May 18, 2016
Although I did a lot of gardening in upstate NY following my college years, after I moved to Houston, I did not stick a shovel into the (so-called) soil until I had lived here about 15 years. Total shock. The shovel would barely go in, and lifting it was quite the feat because there was no dirt as I knew it, only clay. Now I have been here some 36 years and I am still grumbling about such digs.
Here is some sticky clay I dug up yesterday. We are re-landscaping the yard around our brand new garage. The builders were here January through March. Since then, we have had the building painted and bit by bit, are fixing up the yard.
First of all, we had to remove a lot of construction rubble. Trying to flatten the dirt is torture. There are bits of concrete and occasional chunks of sandy clay, as well as the dark brown oh-so-sticky clay. I find myself wondering if anyone has ever processed the Houston clay into the real thing one could use to make pottery. Don't know.... In college I learned how to throw pots and have a vague memory of my Ceramics teacher, William Klock, taking us on a clay dig field trip. I have never returned to ceramic-making, but oh, how I loved working on the potter's wheel. Perhaps one day I'll get back to it, but I have been saying that for way too many decades....
I finally planted some azaleas in one area alongside the garage. I dug two of the biggest holes I have ever dug and supplemented the soil with sand, mushroom compost and bagged soil. Honestly, what with the heat and the intermittent heavy rains, it felt like that small project took a few weeks. There is lots more work to do around the hose area and I need to redo some flagstones. I can only take the heat for an hour or two at a time, plus there is always a massive cleanup of shoes and tools. Grumble, grumble....
Here is another shot of the garage. We put in a border of egg stones around two sides of the building out to the drip line, hopefully thus avoiding nicking the paint with the lawn trimmer. Before putting down the rocks, there was lots more digging in the clay. As you can see, some of the garage is painted white, the rest a shade of aquamarine. Weird, I know, but we love that color and those three bright walls are only visible from the yard. (We also have the back of the house painted aquamarine, so there is some continuity there. Flowers growing behind the house look great against the vibrant paint color.)
And meanwhile, in the far eastern corner of the yard, the figs thrive! Hopefully we will get at least a few before the birds attack them. When the remaining landscape work is done, I plan never to dig into the clay again. From now on, container gardening is the way to go!
Monday, April 18, 2016
I was up, down and all around reading The Doubter's Almanac by Ethan Canin. Milo Andret is the genius mathematician/topologist at the heart of the novel. He is a man who hurts, ignores and confuses most everyone, including his wife, son and daughter. Milo's greatest achievement, as far as I was concerned, was carving a large chain out of a single piece of wood when he was a boy most at home in his native Michigan woods. Later he wins a prestigious mathematics prize, but it does not bring him happiness. Professor Milo becomes very much an alcoholic and is thrown out of Princeton. To me, it seemed he presented many characteristics of what is now called Asperger's Syndrome. Also, his forays with LSD during college seem to have lifelong hallucinatory effects.
Thank goodness about halfway through the book, the point of view changes to that of Milo's son, Hans Andret. Hans has much mathematical ability as well, and I had high hopes he would not crash and burn like his father. Let me just say he eventually does better. But as a teenager and during some part of his adulthood, he becomes very much a drug abuser , though he eventually seeks rehabilitation. Hans is a much better father than Milo ever was, and the scenes with his children really come alive.
I appreciated the wives of these two men, but found I wanted to know them better than Canin allowed. Their inborn kindness and nurturing ways often save the day. Least developed is Paulie, Milo's daughter. By book's end, I did see a bit more into Milo's soul. And ultimately Hans won my respect. At times the book was a bit repetitive, especially concerning Milo's brutish patterns exacerbated by alcoholism. I am amazed I was able to stay with a novel concerning so much higher math, since I am totally lacking in aptitude or interest in the subject, but Canin's writing is so accomplished, I could not give up on the Andret geniuses despite their mathematical follies and fancies. Genius in any form is always fascinating to me. Yes, I wanted to ditch the book some of the time, but I persevered and found my way to its last scene, a moving one that brought the story to its natural end.
Wednesday, March 30, 2016
As my adventures in gelli printing continue, so does my enthrallment. And mind you, there are lots of unsatisfying results, but there are also always a few marvelous surprises. Lately I am enjoying printing on colored paper. The next few images show collage papers I have printed in the last few weeks. I do not consider them as finished pieces, but rather as papers I will use to make collages. Some may serve as backgrounds; others will be cut up or sewn on.
This one is rather psychedelic. It started out as a yellow sheet of paper. I don't always remember just how I get certain effects, as is the case here, but I think the bottom of a shot glass was involved.
I found the tie dyed effect here rather pleasing. I had rolled out stripes of color and pulled one print. Then I spritzed the remaining paint on the gelli plate with a little water and pulled this ghost print.
Bright green paper with purple and teal paint are also pleasing to me in a painterly way. I already cut some of this print up for collage.
This effect comes from rolling a somewhat cylindrical piece of dried cholla cactus wood on the plate.
And here is one stitched 8 x 10 collage made from gelli-printed papers, as well as papers I tossed paint onto. I am getting more and more into sewing on paper. I have been apprenticing myself to collage these last 6 or 7 years since I retired. In his book Outliers, Malcolm Gladwell says that it takes 10,000 hours to gain mastery in a field. Not counting my sporadic periods of making collages before I retired, I guess I have some 6,000 or 7,000 hours of practice under my belt at this point. So I still consider myself an apprentice. There is always more to learn! I have enjoyed watching the short how-to videos on the Gelli Arts website and find them to be much more enlightening than most of the YouTube presentations by amateurs. Gathering supplies for gelli printing is never-ending at this point. I find things in dollar stores, on the street and in my own backyard. Plastic packaging is often interesting. The only problem is the growing amount of storage space needed, ah well....
Sleep, Eat, Make Art, Repeat!
Sunday, February 21, 2016
I found My Name is Lucy Barton to be a spare and eloquent book. The manner in which Elizabeth Strout presents her protagonist Lucy feels truly intimate. Manhattanite Lucy Barton is laid up in the hospital for weeks with a strange infection. She misses her young daughters. Having made her way out of a deprived childhood via a college education, Lucy has not been in the company of her own mother for many years.
It is indeed a gift when her mother appears at her bedside, uncharacteristically travelling so far from small town Illinois. We begin to hear more about Lucy's strange, impoverished childhood not so much from the mother and daughter conversations as from Lucy's recollections as her mother dozes in a bedside chair. And so what is left out of their conversations is often more important than what is said. But oh, how Lucy cherishes the sound of her mother's voice. Her visit is indeed a gift.
Another interesting factor is that Lucy dreams of becoming a writer. We see that she has the knack of being an inquisitive and thoughtful people watcher. She loves many people in her life deeply, including the devoted doctor attending her. Lucy lets us know that she will never write about her marriage and also that there may be some lack therein. Much lies in suspension as Lucy stays hospital-prone. I read the novel in one day and found it to be a character-rich literary masterpiece.