Category: ART

I can hear it in your voice…

blue moon drifting over lazy river…

the dose of melancholy…

dripping silently from your wet skin.

And so it is my birthday — 51! Met the charming Jess today at work and it turns out her boyfriend on the opposite coast was a good friend of my son’s in their “younger” days. So much to share and so little time to write. Maybe a post later?

**image of jess on mt. hood from rory and jess’s blog

About the writing – I have to tell my story. If people want to read it, great. But I have to get it out.

I believe we are all full of stories, and how we tell them makes them interesting or dull. It’s not necessarily the story itself but the sharing of it, the sharing of a piece of us. I have always loved stories — they are how I get to know people, how I look at myself — through my story. I use words to tell my story. Some people use photography or music, dance and so on. I use language. My story is part of the bigger story of course, our story. My tribe’s story. A piece of the world’s story. Perhaps a part of your story.

September always feels like the beginning of a new year to me. Perhaps it’s the harvest, back-to-school year beginning, my birthday month, Rosh Hashanah, SAW, new job — wait new job?

Yes, I start my new job today working in a photographer’s studio downtown. But I am not a photographer, I am a writer and that’s one reason I’m working there. She liked my resume — it wasn’t your usual. And much as I enjoy photos, I was not looking to learn photography here, I was looking for work — that could maybe support some sort of creativity. Sarah (my boss) told me many people would get excited about the admin assistant job, telling her how much they want to learn photography — but she wasn’t looking for a photographer, she’s the photographer, she needs an assistant. And voila, along comes a Virgo (our motto is “I serve” per Linda Goodman) to serve. I love support positions, always have. I don’t want to be the star, I like being the supporting actress. It’s always felt comfortable and right to me.

“I had one too,” she whispered to me.

I felt less alone. She already had four, I had two, the baby a handful at barely one. Rough, drinking husbands.

“I felt so guilty, I confessed,” she said.

“I still feel guilty, what did the priest say?”

“He gave me Hail Mary’s and said never to do it again.”

“It’s still too painful for me to risk confession.”

Both of us, Catholics.

“I feel like a monster, and can’t forgive myself. I was about 10 weeks. You?”

“About the same. I still feel horrible.”

“I know.”

“I cry on my way home from work every night. I think about it all the time.”

We knew we would never do it again. Once was one more than we ever thought we could.

**photo Life Magazine cover, 1965 and reprinted Summer 1990

I’m still absorbing the impact of Teddy’s life and death on our neighborhood, our community, our state, our country, our world. Like Tip said “all politics is local.” Ted never forgot that as many seem to.

His nephew was saying that towards the end of his life, Teddy couldn’t always find the words he wanted. One day out sailing, Teddy started yodelling, something he’s learned in his younger days. Later that day on land, he touched Bobby’s arm, smiled and said, “I’m sorry but that’s all I got left.”

So, taking a cue from the Lion of the Senate, the following from an Alabama Chanin blog post is all I got today.

While looking out over the water from the balcony of a mansion on Shelter Island, Kurt Vonnegut tells his friend, Joseph Heller, that their host makes more money in a single day than Heller will ever earn from his novel Catch-22.

“What goes up, must come down…and coming down, is the hardest thing.”

Day before yesterday, I was flying after making reservations at a nearby bed and breakfast for Squam Lake. When I learned Stef was going to be there at the art show, that decided it for me. I actually committed.

I can’t do the retreat this year, but I can go to the art show, and catch up with Thea for a mini photo shoot. My sis is going with me, and we are so looking forward to it. Last time we went off on a distant creative venture together was when we went to Renegade several years ago. I wrote about in a long ago blog.

Of course, I knew after being so high the day before, I was gonna crash yesterday and crash I did. But I’m better today — in a more even space.

And September is shaping up to be a great month. It’s one of my favorite months and not just because it’s my birthday month (I share the actual date of my birthday with this lovely lady and this charming gentleman). And this Virgo is now selling cards in her Etsy shop.

Is there a 12-step program for artists? I need one. I need an “artner.” A local artner. Or a distant artner I can meet up with occasionally for support and guidance, such as the love bombers.

My sister-in-law Chris and I are both writing our stories and struggling with commitment.

Sometimes, it’s hard for me to start, sometimes it’s hard for me to continue. We both have diverse interests and have difficulty pulling focus. How do I want to express myself? Through spoken word, written word, visual art — all three?

We both know we are social people and create best, are inspired best in a social environment.

We don’t necessarily have to be engaging with someone while we are creating, but we need to feel the energy of the world beyond our backyards when we create.

So, we have decided to be virtual “artners.” She’s in Baltimore, I’ m on Cape Cod. We’ll call each other when it’s time to “meet” at our local cafes. Check in again to make sure we’ve completed our writing goal for that date.

I love the following story I read recently in the book, This Year I Will by M. J. Ryan. It reminds me that it’s okay to be a socially creative type. However, I would like to have something to show for it someday.

“Three groups of people are climbing a mountain — social types, competitive types and achievement types. The social ones have a ball interacting with each other, but never get to the summit. The competitive group fights to see who gets there first and the achievement types are looking for another bigger mountain to climb after they reach the top and proclaim ownership of this mountain.”

P.S. Does anyone out there know how to tag photos in blogspot like other bloggers do on their sites? So that I don’t have to be adding a P.S. to say that the above photo is Chris and my niece multitasking one morning in June (at this point they were aware that I had been slyly taking their pix and you can note their smiles).

When my son sings Tom Petty songs, I get chills. When I hear the cover tunes on the radio that he sings, I get thrills. It’s amazing that he is my son and such an incredible musician. He dismisses his band as “just a cover band.” He’d like to do his own music, but the cape can be a tough place for artists who don’t follow the script for painters or writers. Like me, my son is also a writer but it can be difficult putting the work out there in the local environs. And of course, it’s easy to come up with a million excuses, time wasters and more to avoid even getting started. Or if I start, continuing. It is so hard to stay with it.

After talking to Edie a couple of weeks ago though, meeting Jenny Fragosa again and hanging out at P-town Carnival last week, there are folks here who are following their own path. Alone. One of the difficulties for me of course is that I am a social person. I like the real world with real people. Don’t get me wrong, the internet can be a wonderful tool for connecting with people all over the world, but sometimes I want to connect in my own backyard. Well, actually a little bit beyond my backyard. And therein lies the rub. Everyone’s so busy, scattered, or already doing their art and don’t really need an “artner.” My sister-in-law and I have decided to be virtual artners and make writing dates with each other at local cafes in our areas. Check in with each other, etc. I would like a local artner and by this Chris and I don’t mean someone we’re going to chat with and waste time together with but rather someone else needing to make art in a social space before they continue on their solitary path.