Changing The Places We Meet…

Recently I started to go through my photos of my classes and students, finding much inspiration and joy from them. I don’t know when I will see the printmakers again, so decided to make a small book for myself. Only this will take time so until then you will have to be satisfied with a few of my prints posted in the side bar.

I am still learning to be a writer and blogger to do with my art practice. I’d rather be in the studio making pictures most of the time. I am still figuring out what the blog is about, but mostly it’s about my love of poetry and printing. There! And also the people who are brave enough to make things.

I am very inspired by old buildings and places of historical interest where people have long lived. Old grave yards, stone mounds in the middle of nowhere, weathered wood siding with all the paint falling off–go figure since I was a painter and “fine finisher” for two decades! But the wear of time and weather is much preferable to my Artist. These places of age and perhaps neglect show they were once touched and loved by people. They were made by people who valued them in the making, who died before their usefulness expired. Then new people came along… Maybe sometimes these places and times and people become forgotten or rotten, or restored as the buildings are being restored at the shaker village I went to. And yet, even a piece of an old fence spied inside overtaking shrubs holds memory. It is that memory I sometimes think I am grasping for when I make a print.

I grew up in this town when there were a lot more visible old things and also older folks who had lived here a long time before I was born, living in Victorians that were probably new when they moved in.

It hurts to see many of the old homes gone now.

This grouping of prints are mostly monotypes done in the last few years inspired by my trip to Kentucky, specifically an old Shaker Village called Pleasant Hill.

It was pleasant there–very green in late August. The orchard was overblown by then with nodding cone flowers and the last of the blooming zinnias. It reminded me of California, actually, with the wild flowers in the big fields much the same as the farm country I am used to seeing here. The old apple trees near the entrance were so perfectly imperfect! I love seeing weathered bent apple trees still fully producing fruit!

And that’s another series I am currently working on based on an old apple farm I am all in love with up in the gold country.

A Surreal Life…

surreal: marked by the intense irrational reality of a dream.

The last four months started out with two intense dreams two nights in a row.

March 13th: Our community art studio closed by order of Santa Clara county.

Two nights following I had two dreams of the studio about– “We are Closed.” Since then I have not dreamed of the studio at all. Many of my prints are inspired by dreams but it has been hard to dream when daily life is so surreal.

I miss friends.

I offer one poem (written before Easter) and one print (bizzarely made in late February on a late afternoon before I even realized about the spreading virus but just decided to take brush to plate and create an image.)

Everyone…Stay well.

A Virus For Your Thoughts

“Is this the dining room?” an old lady’s voice asks 

twice as she rings me twice from some ‘stately’

non-stateroom in some old folks place.

Never mind coronavirus.  Is this the dining room?

“No.”  I say.  “You have a wrong number.”  

A wrong wrong number, lady.  But if you call again 

I will be able to offer you a little question:  

“Are you okay?” 

Because if you are waiting for the President to

open by Easter, think again!