Sunday, October 31, 2010

a responsive flapping

Jerry writes...
Don't Do a Thing

The time has come to be quiet
to let the stillness wash over you
cover the noise
and unsettledness
in thunderous silence.

Don't do a thing;
Just sit there
out of the way
Spacious presence
to what cannot be seen
in the turmoil
the flap of lips
waving of arms
pace of feet.

Can you not go away,
wait and watch
for a span of time
to bring yourself
more fully real
to pure presence?

But you're talking
mad-talk now,
the kind of thing that happens
to the disengaged.

And i tap with my lips flapping cross the keyboard.

aaagggh! Jerry, you've been inside my head this month or reading my unposted posts and prophetically hitting the mark. awe what a mess right when i was starting to wake up in my life i fell over and skinned my whole being!

i flap, stamp, and pace with my mad internal talk for in my head I must again overlook, overstep…celebrations of life entry points for those who only still linger…in my mind. i see them laid out before me, they alter my path for the unwelcome must be set aside, and i must step over, around these days, these moments. i must pretend i don't care without a hardening. how? i don't really know. i flap. i pretend. i tuck my flapping feelings and pacing wishes into a tiny box. i work them into the small mundane space between the dirty corrugated walls of used imagined cardboard, yet the feelings are so fricking loud, remaining vividly fresh. but i get them in, holding the flaps of the lid down tightly as the box becomes softened with it’s soggy emotionally ladened content; i quickly wrap the silver duct tape round and round with blog postings and unpostings leaking, spilling out, of every gap. lifting with both hands, i put the saturated squashed up box up over my shoulder and slide it into the pack with the others. i cinch the pack closed, tussle it a bit to even out the load across my back, a few of my wrapped boxes continue to spill out onto my blog. i stand anyway. aren’t i suppose to pick up my mat. i am walking again, navigating around the day, over the absent celebrants. i travel now on a new path for the unwelcomes will lead me to new unexpected places where i am welcome. or at least this is what i tell myself as i try to loosen my flapping grip on mental lingerings so that i can move and breathe stepping into the open space of his spacious presence. i know it is true. i look for these welcomings. i must open myself to new welcomes no matter that i can't imagine them. pace. pace. i will believe they will come. i know they are already here but i am blind by my need to box and attempt to put away, so tired of seeing. so i wipe and flap at the blindness. boxes sometimes scatter and spill back out. i know i have had many welcomes the last two years but they have been hard to hold onto for my blind flapping leaves me so distracted by the uns...they overwhelm me. i simply haven’t learned to hold loosely, sit still beside the quiet waters. but two years means, dang it all, it's time to shut off the overwhelms of the uns before it becomes the place i live and can't crawl out of. i haven't known how to do that. shutting people off, or simply shutting off, is counter to how i am built. this boxing isn't who i am. and not finding a way to work it out is counter to how i am built. my flapping arms feel bound. so i struggle flap. the boxing is counter to all i believe but i don't see an avenue to work through. i am built to see not to box. i am built to work through not box. but now i keep catching myself disengaged in my boxing. these boxes i carry shouldn’t be here but i can’t unpack them without seeing and seeing means i am "suppose" to do something with it and what it seems i should do is unwelcome within the body of the unwelcomes. flappingly i disengage. sit still. but then i get flapping for there is the way my calling and practice of art are so intricately linked by inner listening, seeing, a place where i catch hold of the throbs of patterns in culture, in others, in self with life working it's way in and out of them. i have always seen these patterns and flows in others and myself with the hand of history and the nows tugging the individuals and groups. i suppose this kind of seeing is suppose to be a gift, this seeing or being sensitive to. but i am still raw and i don’t want to see what i can do nothing about. boxedly i disengage. over-seeing again flappingly, pacingly disengaged. need to stop seeing all the connections, sit still in that washing stillness. yet living and my practice are so intertwined with the seeing which is a type of still sitting, that it is hard to know how to take my fingers off the throbs of seeing into what is art and life, for art is harvested from living. they are so interconnected -- how do i pull out some of the threads or cut them out without severing the entire cord? how do i gaze else where? or even simply to harden or disengage one area for me would simple make all of me hard and brittle so instead i end up soggily flapping my keyboard for fear of hardening and disengaging. i don't seem to find an inbetween place of “don’t do a thing” of stillness. i do grow more gentle and merciful with each of my failed attempts and others. today i am soggy again with the paced flapping, flapping as i pretend to have stepped over and around with my mad talking these historical celebrations. and i realize getting lost in the seeing is just as disengaging. were my gifts, my calling, are, there to is my sin. ramble, keyboard lips flap, pace, with my own mad talk. aggggh. why is it that stitching tubes with my hands moving, the scents of rubber and grime, move me into a stillness that washes over my inner noise of seeing, boxing, flapping? now i must get back to sewing.

flap. flap. stitch. stitch.

Stitch stitch

So I sew of

A series distended 10 foot is the interior I find most fascinating...

Saturday, October 30, 2010

Wash away.

Like the Wash Away (reprise) at end of list. Haven't listened through the others.

I got troubles oh, but not today
Cause they're gonna wash away
They're gonna wash away

And I have sins Lord, but not today
Cause they're gonna wash away
They're gonna wash away

And I had friends oh, but not today
Cause they're done washed away
They're done washed away

And oh, I've been cryin'
And oh, I've been cryin'
And oh, no more cryin'
No, no more cryin' here

We get along Lord, but not today
Cause we gonna wash away
We gonna wash away

And I got troubles oh, but not today
Cause they gonna wash away
This old heart gonna take them away


Well so much for my internal debate for a phone upgrade. Decision has been reach via Umm i just dropped (accidentally...really) and shattered the face of my phone enough so pieces are falling out. I think that qualifies as a legit excuse to a phone upgrade

Friday, October 29, 2010

Give me a compound sliding miter or table saw and I'll figure it out...

But what the heck am I suppose to do with a burner? So I bought this one pan cookbook. Ha. One pan multiple cutting boards, knives, a sink and what the heck is allspice which I did not have. Ah. Google -- so I throw in some ground clove, cinnamon, and nutmeg and waaaam = allspice. Naturally I didn't measure--I sew tire tubes with baling wire...who measures!? Well it tastes great so far but what the heck give me back my table saw or find me a good wife to take care of the woman's work. Ha. Don't tell any one I said that especially since I presented and discussed first generation feminist art and we watch the womanshouse video today with my first year art students. Highlights personally for me were faith wilding's piece on waiting...I tear up everytime I've watched it and there is a performance piece I'll call push that is conceptually, visually and auditorally just beautiful. And of course I love the kitchen installation.

Thursday, October 28, 2010

aaaaagggh. sitting on my bum all day
researching first wave feminist art

funniest thing (arrogant pleasure on my part) is when you image google search some of my art heros who are to be included in an upcoming lecture, eva hesse and lee bountecue, images of my work actually pop up on the first page, though you do have to scroll down :) that made me laugh

i am ok with that

i did get off my bum long enough to walk out and see i totally have more tomatoes...

i am ok with that as well

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Ha. You guys thought I was kidding

about grilling everyday. It is especially nice and colorful after sewing tire tubes all day.

i sent my grand girl friends (60+ years of wisdom and grace) pictures of my last two meals with a standing grilling and sunset invitation. not a one of them turned me down and since i am a wine newbie and don't know what's what, they'll provide. :)

Gray morning on my porch

Sipping diet coke, actually writing the old fashion way, scratching pen to paper, a little thumb typing here while trying to get myself to pick up and read my post modernism art text in prep for a lecture I am responsible for this friday, but instead i am watching birds in the low hung thick sky flitting about before the rains fall.
It started and stopped quickly enough though I don't think it's done.

Monday, October 25, 2010

Watching this while tasting that

all the while sitting indian style on my make shift lawn furniture made up of industrial sized wooden discs with the wind in my hair in my wife beater white tank. ahhhhh the breeze and steak really couldn't be any better.

gosh. i was just going to post some student samples
but there were to many wonderful ones

students spent a week or so exploring mark making and then brought a quote of their choosing into the work. the goal was to express the quote in a way that mimics actual speech in creating breath (space) and emphasis, etc and yet maintain readability.

each work is 2 to 3 feet by 3 to 5 feet in size.

no computers were harmed in the manufacturing of these works. though students printed source text from computer they used xerox copier for scale shifting and scissors, cutting out the paper and then exploring physical and visually all there options for arrangement. though this seems an archaic method, the physicality and the ability to move tweak adjustments extremely well. computers come later and one must remember they are simply just a tool.

Jasmine made this texture using ink on the bottom of her shoes (i like that!)

students then blow these up with an architectural printer (at fedex, office depot, etc) for about 5 bucks (on bond paper)

See the rest

Sunday, October 24, 2010

family gathering celebrating my gram's 99 years lived (and still kicking and walking and thinking and doing crossword puzzles and craft projects) over pizza

Really she requested pizza for her party.

son (mi' dad), gram (99 years old today), great grans (niece-nicole and nephew-troy)

grandson (mi' brother-paul), great grands (my niece and nephew)

daughter in law (mi' mom), grandson (mi' brother)

no she isn't dead dead--she is just dead asleep in the middle of it all, literally (kind of reminds me of a Robert Longo image). i contemplated puting a white chalk line around her but figured that might miff my folks on whose carpet she lays. i swore to myself i wouldn't post this, but then said to myself, "naaaa."

Saturday, October 23, 2010

naming me with its soul quieting sounds
of stillness

faintly the remembered wind whispers
naming me with its soul quieting
sounds of stillness
it gently touches flutteringly with its caress
across my dried salt streaked cheeks and
as i allow it, the space opens to me

even from yesterday and before tomorrow
god's lips blow breath far into my future
carrying me from the weight of another
wound filled thought whispering
comfort to me even now
he lifts from me my mountain, my seas
as i sit still in this weightless moment
with tendrilled strands gently stirring the surface of my face
my fingers hushed and dirty with making
i carry the wind this autumn day

excerpt from exquisite heart: cultivating compassion

“I forgive you, completely and utterly.  May you be forgiven.  May all of your apparent mistakes and shortcomings be dissolved and trouble you no more, and may my misperceptions of mistakes and shortcomings within you be erased or made irrelevant to my love for you.”

working toward it but way suck at it right now.

Friday, October 22, 2010

seconds have been harvested and eaten!

yeah arrugula!

sugar snaps are looking a little peeked -- apparently i was suppose to be feeding them (fertilizers)...i just thought that was why i bought fertile soil. anyway i have since fed them and hope they green up a little. the squashes are producing fruit like structures, i can't tell if they'll go to term. i think i need a few more of each plant next season so there are more opportunities for cross pollination and such...

so i'll finish this season in a month or two and harvesting what i've learned i'll be on to veggie gardening seconds for a late winter planting.

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Friday, October 15, 2010


this tire towers over me even when i have my boots on (the boots making me just shy of 6' so i suppose this tire is 8 or 9' in diameter. super wow dang!). yea ha!! i am in Lubbock! Friends, friends and tubes. it just doesn't get much better than this...they even had fresh margarita's made up for my arrival at their doorstep, chocolates and a fancy water bottle by my pillow, and fantastic homemade dinner that was slaved over all day, plus more!

i do really need to figure out how to not just use these mammoth tubes but the stupid big tires as well!!! though i am not sure my truck would even haul one. 

ummm this girl is filthy...AGAIN. this is probably why i've avoided the pricey chica jeans. i am so terrible about switching to my play clothes to harvest art supplies in and not my girlie jeans! dang it all.

oh happy happy filled up truck! here is a life time source of tubular happy kathy art crap.

Honestly I can't imagine why the marmaduke comic showed up on my bed at my arrival.

Wink wink. Ha. Mecca!!!!!! Oh thank you thank you Gregory York of York Tires in Lubbock who lets me harvest from the detritus of tractor and construction vehicular tube cast offs! OH MECCA!

Now that is funny

I arrived in kathy's mecca of art supplies (Lubbock the home the best old humongous rust patinad tubes ) yesterday to visit some dear friends and watch another defend his doctoral dissertation. I step into my room, more beautiful than the finest b&b, and awaiting me on my bed along with some chocolate was this cartoon. Ummmm now that is funny.

:) ha. Got to love it.

Thursday, October 14, 2010

Ummm crop rotation?

I know that is just wrong! So there are land rights, mineral rights, water rights, will there be atmospheric rights. When the wind farmer sells his land but maintains his mineral rights can the rancher hold on to his wind rights? A relevant question in west Texas where as far as I can see and beyond they are harvesting the wind...along with the cotton.

each blade is the length of an 18-wheeler with full size trailer on it. wow.


It is either snowing or

or that's a cotton truck up ahead. Cotton.

Monday, October 11, 2010

Again. Everyday.

Flat on my back I lay on the smaller of the pair of wooden discs harvested from the industrial trash, my legs kicked up upon the larger and elevated of the set. I watch the sky turn orange to blue to black with the glowing sliver of the moon hung there. I seek the vague throb of star lights burdened by the city's shine. I let the cricket's ongoing dialog roll over me with the rhythmic sounds of the trains undergirding and rumbling below. I try to smell the blend of life and city merged, hoping my young garden fruits. And I again wonder at human behaviors shrouded with the labels of of faith yet vacant of any evidence of a loving god. And I wonder at the many ways we wrap our faith (or claimed lack of) around us in ways unrelated to god but yet support our own actions in such a way that we can shuck any real personal responsibility. and sometimes i wonder, having witnessed behaviors claimed in faith, if we are not truly and simply animals. and then i realize that this is human frailty, my own and others, whispering in my ear and i crawl back under the wing of a loving god.

Another one

i came upon the fog so unexpectedly. its thickness was startling.

and on the mornings i make the commute due east from west from the metropolis of aggie ville, i have to hunt to find my way in the blindness of the morning sun.

What? Throw away my 44 - 45 year old...

Dolls. Oh mom/dad could you really? Paraphrased equivalency = Ummm Well of course not honey, we are going to donate them to hospice. (who will then throw them away). Of course being good parents they did offer my dolls to me (I do actually want them but what in the heck would I do with them) and they also asked me if my 16 year old niece might like them (funny (and awesome) parents). ha.

Saturday, October 09, 2010

OH NO! my honey bear (squash)!

I guess i'll have to apply some chemicals. i had really hoped not to. Dang. I thought i didn't have bugs, but i do...just the wrong kind. my blossoms are covered with poppy seed like bugs?

this is chemical warfare time! i've squished all i could. see i am not a tree hugger.

Is this a baby squash?


Wednesday, October 06, 2010

If you spend your first 47 years essentially alcohol free

...well by George, if you have a simple glass of wine....ummm... don't drive cause you are going to totally feel every single ounce you consume. Is true. If you thought I was a goofball or a chatty Kathy alcohol free, I strongly suggest not feeding the girl a glass of wine. Dang.

Hmmmm. Learning to have a drink at 48 is probably just wrong.

Why draw when you can get a coke can to do your work

Tuesday, October 05, 2010

After sitting on my bum all fricken day..

Grading and reading for school, I've got to counter it with a light dinner of grilled veggies. Ummm. Well it may still be a bit high in starch, but an A for healthy veggie attempt.

Oops burned my carrots.

I probably need to get a little more creative than grilling ever night v it's just so quick and easy with the illusion of healthy.

Imitating a bumbling bumble bee

Ungracefully, Q-tip in hand, I fluttered from squash bloom to squash bloom landing gently on each anther. Onto the next I flit with my lightly pollen coated fuzzy q-tip.

Hope my imitation of a bumbling bee is fruitful. I figured I better take matters into my own hands since I haven't seen any flying cross pollinTors playing round my veggie garden. Where are all the good bugs? Guess I need to plant some bee and butter fly attractors.

Sunday, October 03, 2010

Oh no

I drove up to my box and thought, "dang, gone two nights and my garden has already yellowed. Double darn!" but no!

Ends up my squash plants each have a whole herd of yellow blossoms. This new honey bear hybrid squash is happy happy happy.

My arugula is abut poignant from the heat though.

I even have little baby jalapeño peppers.

But do I want to make a rain garden or would I simply be breeding west Nile propagators.

And then there is the other side of night