Searching for what makes sense

I've taken out much of my artwork, sorted some of it, and trying to organise not only the mounds of collages, loose papers and completed projects, but more importantly my thoughts.

I've signed up for a refresher and/or entry level framing workshop on Saturday coming, 27 September in Livingston Manor in the hope that if I do go on with my collages I can also frame them myself--flat, or with a mat.

It's not as if I am keeping count

Another fallen at 68, mystery writer Crumley. Eleven books under his belt, I only heard today that he died as I was driving home from Honesdale.

Rest in peace.

In a world where trees matter

This editorial caught my eye this morning in the Boston Globe, and it underscores once more why I'd prefer living in Vermont.

Panajchel

D called from Panajchel tonight and we had a long, wonderful talk.

It made Guatemala more real and a greater possibility as the conversation went on. She says Panajchel is affordable, less expensive than when we lived in Taos, mild in Winter (January-March) and pleasant to visit.

I am going to start a Guatemala fund on Monday and see if I can build it up enough to make a two month sojourn.

The container search

Sometime yesterday I started to seriously sort through the plastic bins down cellar, the very bins I bought to protect my paper, artwork and collage material from the humidity. I brought up to the living room two of the many and have created quite a few piles, separating the

• tarot cards
• finished art work
• unfinished art work
• collage material

It looks as if I am missing several of the 22 tarot cards I produced in the Temple exchange and that I don't have the original artwork.

Also it appears I may be farther along with the Holocaust series than I remembered as I found quite a few in progress, and also the collage material for others.

In addition to the 8x10 collages I could add the Dark Materials piece, and a piece of art I must have done for a collaborative project that I am quite fond of that depicts Naxism in the 30s.

A fairly good beginning effort to re-enter the world of visual art.

Getting the juices flowing

Nothing like a deadline to get a job done. It appears that outofsight is running the 11th International Collage Exhibition and Exchange , formerly known as the Baker's Dozen
show and the work is due in NZ on 20 March 2009.

Can I beat the clock?

Keen Slip ons from Sierra Trading

I got a catalogue from Sierra Trading and they had those Keens I wanted from Back Country or a close match for $30.00 less. I got them in the mail today.

The Last of the Neanderthals

No magazine can compete with the National Geographic for pictorial and historical fodder and they did it again in this article about the Last of the Neanderthals.

Not only did they stir up my interest in history, but they touched on that growing sense of unrest that is percolating inside of me--to travel.

The things that sooth, those that unnerve

Finishing up an article for a news magazine is one of those things that unnerve--will it be accepted, how much will it be edited, have I hit the high points, the right points or met my editor's goal? I heard from my editor today and she gave me a passing grade but also did quite a bit of editing. But it is over, the waiting to hear and the finish line.

Now I'm thinking of those personal and creative endeavors that sooth rather than rattle my senses.

The projects I have in the hopper, or rather are either on my mind or on my drawing board are not necessarily quieting, either.

So, what's next?

I have a workshop coming up if registration is sufficient in October.

I have a quasi-outline of an article to do with a photography friend for a major magazine.

Neither of these will still the voices inside that scream at me.

Perhaps all I can do today is sort rather than start the juices flowing, or maybe sorting will get those juices coursing through my system.

Dark Art Project

Although I found the notebook of all the other artists' work my own contribution to the project was missing.

Tonight I opened one of the several storage containers and there it was--ready to be resurrected and brought into the light.

I had so many plans for this work, a handmade book shaped like an envelop, barbed wire to keep the pages together, various sizes, shapes, thoughts but none materialized.

Now it is time to publish it or see it perish.

November 25, 1945--A man shall be as rivers of water in a dry land. Soon I'll be on dry land.

Holocaust Series

After more than three years of neglect it is time for me to return to the Holocaust series. I found Westerbork and have Geboren in my office, but the the others are more a product of my mind than my paint.

Long over-due!


Geboren: born

Letter from the Road

On June 22, 2006 (at 05:57:40 PM MDT) I wrote, "thanks, sweetie,

not certain this was such a good idea but I'm certainly on the road.

I made it through the entire State (to Las Cruces). Las Cruces is among the finest towns/cities in the entire State but hot, hot, hot. It was 104 when I was there in this little community called Mesilla (just a few miles south of Las Cruces itself)) and a college town.

Today I made it as far north-east as Roswell. Well, I haven't met any aliens yet but judging from the terrain coming into town I can imagine Martians or crater-aliens landing. It is dry, flat, and somewhat strange. While traveling I thought of you often as I am certain you would have been so fascinated with the changing landscape and
vegetation. I saw some large cacti that looked like scarecrow in the Western desert, but here at the eastern end, fewer and very few with blooms of any kind. Somewhere before Ruidoso are White Sands, a military base, but actually large areas of sand, the first and last I've encountered. And no water, just dry, parched land, and green where there is heavy irrigation.

Ruidoso (yesterday) is in a huge forest, and coming into and out of it, I was surrounded by nearly lush green valleys. Ruidoso is the mildest of the three cities I've been in the last few days. However, when I visited the old cabin of an acquaintance the land around was patchy, and so dry I was afraid it would go up in smoke. All around me have been fires.

Last Saturday Lani and David couldn't come down to Taos (from Clayton) because they were having two terrible fires coming in two directions at them and the ranch. We missed them! :(

I've learned a lot about NM this week, not much good I am afraid. The North, Taos and Santa Fe are really the picture book towns of the State. Although I do admit (I say admit freely) that Las Cruces impressed me but not enough to stay because of the intolerable heat. I couldn't enjoy walking around, and seeing whether the surface beauty is more than surface.

I'm having dinner with an acquaintance I made today at the Roswell Chamber (my age, sex and a person who lived in Taos) at a recommended Italian cafe. Roswell is a flat piece of over-rated real estate, another tourist town, but not perty at all. Two museums tomorrow and then it's up North again.

I'll stay in touch but this was the first wireless internet cafe I've found.

All my love, and I sent the Bean her gifties from Alamagordo yesterday,
two day priority. Please let me know when it arrives. If the dress is too small, send it right back because the owner of the store said I can exchange it for the three. I thought it was so beautiful and it reminded me of YOU! :)

Kisses on your pillow,

Meme

>On Monday, June 19, 2006, at 06:07 PM, Marijke Hecht wrote:
>
>> glad to hear you are going to take a trip...paint some pictures for
>> me...let me know where you are at in general.
>> i love you
>> xox
>> m
>>
>> On 6/17/06, Zoe Hecht <parsifalssister@mac.com> wrote:
>>
>> Good talk; I'm going to take your suggestion and do a week or more trip
>> down South and see New Mexico. I called Bob (and his Leslie) and told
>> them I was 85% certain I'd do this. It gives them a little breathing
>> room, also, to keep the electricity off and see how to get this couple
>> out of the house.
>>
>> I love you and only wish life was simplier or I was younger!
>>
>> Give big knuffles to the Bean, Popi and Papa,
>>
>> Meme
>>
>>
>
>

A pretty new one year old

Ruby Slippers, just a little over one year (August 2008).

Just for Laughs

New Milford, CT 2003

Out of nowhere or somewhere I found a receipt for two books, bought at Baileywick Books on Bank Street. The books were Ladies Detectives and Morality for Beautiful Girls.

The date of the purchase was 22 August 2003.

Now I didn't remember being in New Milford in '03. The house was gone in '97.

I'm miffed and will have to jiggle my memory.

Is this $12.00 Mapcase the same as the Tom Bilhn

Side by side, a Mapcase that costs $12.00
















and a Bihn bag at $50.00.


Which one?

It is my hope that all women will unite against

the misrepresentation of what women want and who women are and take up this banner:

As my contemporaries fall or sleep

I contemplate my own life. And suicide is not uncommon among my peers.

The Boston Globe, a newspaper I still have a strong attachment to has a gallery of 2008 deaths.

September 11

If you were among those going to work on that Tuesday morning 7 years ago you might have missed the television coverage or the blow by blow updates on the tumbling down of two skyscrapers.

I was one of those people.

I was on the "A" train or perhaps that morning the "C" train when the first aeroplane hit, and just about to enter my Penn Plaza office building when the second plane came into view and struck the second building.

My own memory of the minute to minute details are not clear but last night MSNBC telecasted two hours of that fateful morning. Katie Couric, Tom Brokaw and others were obviously in their studio, each trying to get information from Downtown, Washington and elsewhere. Andrea Mitchell seemed to have some information as did others whose names then and now are less recognizable.

It took quite some time for the facts, or at least those facts I know now, to develop.

I understood better after seeing the broadcast why my Albany staff asked if they could go home. One of the broadcasters said or implied that other sky-risers might be attacked. The staff was in former Governor Rockefeller's Towers miles away but feeling unsafe.

I remember seeing the second Tower collapse when I entered the Institute's NYC Director's office--and it now appears that was after ten.

I don't remember precisely when Mark and I left the comfort of our offices to walk Downtown but I do remember it was around Noon and that I arrived in Greenwich Village hungry.

I also remember, too starkly, the pillowing clouds of smoke in the sky as we turned the corner onto the Avenue of the Americas (6th Avenue) and Greenwich Avenue.

And even now 7 years later if I sniff I can smell death.

The facts of that day are surreal and watching the program all these years later didn't make it more real but rather stranger.

I knew people in those buildings, and knew people who often went to one of the two buildings enroute elsewhere. Of those I knew personally, like Maria, for one reason or another, they were either late or had a change in plans. The little difference in time saved their lives but something about people's souls changed.

Brokaw seemed to understand and voice what would develop after that day and remains in the consciousness of all Americans--fear.

Where the Wild Things Are

in Maurice Sendak's head or on my finger-tips, it seems we often don't value our strengths or acknowledge our successes.

To read that Mr. Sendak, the remarkable man of children's literature doubts himself almost gives me courage--but that almost gets caught in my throat.

It is also difficult to image that the author is 80 years old, and that I won't be at this birthday party at the 92nd Street Y (NYC).

His books, like Allen's movies, were tiny mirrors into my own childhood, writings and visual images that both awakened memories long lost but reborn with their charm, wit and humour.

I grew up you see, like so many others, in Brooklyn, where trees grew, and Really Rosie could dance in an open cellar door to the delight of her friends. I grew up in a Brooklyn that sheltered Coney Island, the Ferris Wheel, the Cyclone and the imagination.

The sand under our feet on Beach 2, Nathan's hotdogs, good neighbourhood schools, bicycles, and huge sour pickles even in the morning, were the making of many of my dreams, and some of my reality.

Thank you Maurice Sendak and happy belated birthday.