Immersed in Art

The beginning stage of a sculpture currently in progress

A new sculpture that I began this past weekend, again, in the beginning stage

This little vase is from the last firing, and is one that I particularly like. It sold yesterday and is on its way to Texas.

An intense sunrise mid week.

I didn't think I would be able to blog this week because I am packed-solid with commitments and deadlines. But seeing how I woke about 3:00 this morning and there was no chance of me falling back to sleep, I thought I might be able to slip in a little blog time before the official alarm sounds at 5:15 a.m.

The Two Countries One Bay Artist Studio Tour was a success. I loved meeting folks from near and far. In past years, Sunday would present a succession of lulls, but not this year. I barely had five minutes to myself. I managed to spend a little time throughout the day on a tapestry project and some sculpture time at the end of the day, but other than that, it was all about the meet and greet.

Early in the week I attended our monthly "Lubec Arts Alive" meeting and was re-invigorated by two new members who joined us with fresh ideas and a bounty of enthusiasm. It's exciting to think about how the arts can, and will, grow in our little nook of downeast. I look back over the past nine years here in Lubec, and feel honored to be part of this transition that is happening, from sleepy little town to colorful artist community. I can't wait to see what the next year brings!

After the LAA meeting, I hurried home to enjoy a lovely homemade pesto pasta meal (compliments of Chris' fine culinary skills) with our Brooklyn friend Pam who is in Lubec on a writing fellowship. The literary conversation was a bit beyond my realm of expertise, but nonetheless incredibly interesting. Two Shakespeare enthusiasts sharing bread made for a perfect end to the day.

I have had a list of art-related to-do's that needed attention - so spent a night with those things: lightbox photos, bios, phone calls, bookkeeping, etc. I knocked a few of those items off the list and headed into the weekend full-speed ahead with the internal GPS set for the studio. I got in two excellent, full, eleven and twelve hour days consecutively. I worked on two different sculptures and seem to have one piece complete, as far as the wet work goes. Ideas are flowing right now faster than I can produce, so I am jotting down words and sketches to return to at a later date. I have an idea for a sculpture that I think is pretty good, but I won't have enough time to do it justice until the turn of the new year.

I loo forward to this new week. I am of course busy with teaching during the day, and the afternoons and evenings are slotted full as well. I hope to squeeze in some studio time in-between guests and appointments. I am most excited for our friend Barbara's visit. She is a fellow weaver with years of experience and load of talent who will teach me how to use that fancy new spinning wheel that Judy gifted me this past summer. I can't wait!

I will deliver a fiber piece to a local fiber show mid week. I need to come up with some sort of semi-eloquent bio. I have written a ton of these in the past, but need to rewrite to fit the venue and selected piece. And that reminds me, I also need to provide another bio to Northern Tides, a very cool gift shop here in Lubec, which is going online soon. That bio will be different and require a bit of thinking as well.

Before I sign off, I will mention that I feel honored to have gotten a little blurb about my artwork in the current edition of "Saltscapes", a Canadian arts and culture magazine. I am humbled to make a presence alongside some area artists whose work I admire. If you get a chance, you can check out the article online. It showcases some of the area talents that participated in the Two Countries One Bay Artist Studio Tour a couple years back. The writer, Janet Wallace, did a phenomenal job, I thought, capturing the essence of this area and how our surroundings inspire us. The article is titled "Art Off the Grid" (pg. 44-47). Thanks, Janet!

Things Don't Always Go as Planned

Sketchbook entry, 01.22.10

First day working with clay in basement studio, 01.23.10

Story Loom warped and ready for weaving.

Have you ever noticed how no matter how much you plan something, work out the details in your mind, sketch it down on paper, that things never....NEVER....go as planned. Not precisely, anyway.

Sometimes the veering off-course brings about disaster, but sometimes (hopefully most times) it brings about new insight and interesting new directions.

Enthusiastically, I am a student again. I love to learn and had been waiting for an opportunity to present itself for me to return to school. When Heartwood College of Art came up with a low-residency MFA program that was feasible for me to do while still keeping my full-time teaching job, I jumped on-board. The official start-date of classes was January 18th. My mind has been working overtime for the past month mentally mapping out project ideas and physically pushing myself to the point of exhaustion to get the two studio spaces primed for production.

How this new program works is this:

The student artist moves at a pace of two "classes" per semester. A mentor/advisor is assigned who oversees the student. Before this current semester began, I submitted two "class" proposals. There were some basic guiding parameters which needed to be followed, but within those parameters, there was still plenty of room for my own interpretation and ideas. Other than self-directed work, we have weekend intensives on campus where we participate in critiques and workshops.

I designed two well-thought-out proposals. I knew the clay I would use, the way I would warp my loom, the surface treatments, the final presentation.

However, from day one working in the studio, things started to not go as smoothly as I imagined in my mind.

It threw me off for a bit. I had this set plan and finished product that I had sketched. I knew what I wanted. But...it wasn't going to happen.

Thankfully, I put the perfectionist in me to the side, and decided to try another route. Once I did that, I was on a roll, back on schedule, albeit with some re-designing.

(note: I had begun this blog entry only to be interrupted by unforeseen circumstances....what follows is the rest of my blog entry, written two and half hours later than when I originally started this morning. I am making a great case for the title of this blog entry!)

Until this morning.

I woke raring to go. I "stumbled" out of bed, literally. A bit of a dizzy spell. No biggie. Happens once in a while. This won't stop me - I have a "plan".

THE PLAN
1. 7:30 a.m., turn on heat in basement pottery studio
2. 7:40 a.m., feed cat, make cocoa, return to bed, blog, read a couple chapters in required book for MFA program.
3. 9:30 a.m., eat breakfast, put-on pot of chicken soup for quick lunch and supper
4. 10:00 a.m.,head into basement and put-in 5 hours with clay: pomegranate sculptures and test tiles, listen to some excellent tunes
5. 3:00 p.m., shower then spend a couple hours journaling or weaving

Well...that sounded like a wonderful plan. But....it is 11:00 a.m. and here I am trying to finish the blog I began at 7:45 a.m.

here is how it actually went down:

1. 7:30 a.m., turn on heat in basement pottery studio. (Check)
2. 7:40 a.m., make cocoa (check)

Now this is where it all goes off-course.....

7:45 a.m. - What the heck? Still dizzy? The floors are feeling a bit rounded to me today. Is the house off kilter? I mean, any more than usual? This place is over 150 years old. Hmmm

8:15 a.m. - I think I'll reposition myself in bed. Oops, dizzy again just trying to sit up.

8:30 a.m. - downstairs to take blood pressure. gee, that looks fine. Hmmm. floors still feel funny when I try to walk on them.

8:40 a.m. - back to warm bed, work on blog. Mind wanders. Yesterday was first full day in basement working on pottery - with the new propane heater in a tightly closed space. What if? Oh no. What if there is a carbon monoxide problem in the house? Hmmm....what do I do about this? I don't dare to drive an hour to Calais to buy a monitor, too dizzy. Not safe.

8:45 am. -put on clothes, begin to open doors and windows....just in case. Open the door by deck that is closest to propane tank, smell gas, hear hissing noise. Crap. This happened back in December. A leak again?

8:50 a.m. - put on boots, stand back up after tying laces, almost fall over. Wow, that was fun (not). Sit down in chair to rebalance self. Stand up slowly, head down to basement, turn off propane heater. Open cellar door, walk to tank, still hissing, stinky propane. Open cover. Tighten cap. Hissing stops.

9:00 a.m. - Call poison control and ask "who do I call if I need to have carbon monoxide levels checked in house?" Lots of questions...they tell me to call fire dept. Call fire department. More clarifying questions, tell me to call 911. Call 911, assuring them not an immediate emergency, but "just wondering how I can find out if leaky propane is an issue."

9:05 a.m. - sirens, firetrucks, ambulance, cars....people with monitors walking through house, checklists. My vitals are good, no carbon monoxide issues.

10:15 a.m. - totally embarrassed but grateful that folks came along to make sure that things are okay. Closed up windows and doors, warming up under electric blanket, eating breakfast, blogging. Feet up. Propane company has been called.

So, that brings me up until now, which is 11:30 a.m. I am finishing up my blog, have a full belly, and am awaiting the next visitor who will check the tank and probably remove it since this is the second time it has leaked. I am itching to get into basement and work with the clay. Taking things slowly though and keeping check of dizziness.

I think Bello would be content for me to stay put here in this chair. He seems quite comfy laying on my legs which are just underneath the warm electric blanket. Alas, there is work to be done downstairs, and I will, being careful to keep myself steady, make my way down there, turn up the tunes, and begin to wedge me a clump of clay.

Headline: Highly Contagious Flu impacts Billions

It seems fitting, now that I think of it, that the first artwork to grace the walls of my new studio space is a drawing of a skeleton.

Symbolically, it represents the basic structure. The foundation has been poured, the walls raised, the floor laid. And now, though it is sturdy, a hollow feeling remains, awaiting all the necessary components to make it a complete living organism: furniture (vital organs), window and floor trim (muscle), and a working artist (lifeblood).

The new addition is sort of like having a third arm added to my body. I have always made do with two but could certainly put a third to use. It feels a bit strange and I am not quite acclimated to it yet. Having our house nearly double over the course of the last few months has been overwhelming at times, but also exciting. The new studio will allow me to work with clay year-round, no more below-freezing barn temps to deal with, lugging buckets of water back and forth, and hungry nesting critters who find my fiber creations tempting and cozy.

Fifteen years ago I had a vision. No, it wasn't a mystical white light pouring over me with the voice of God speaking profoundly about my soul's purpose. It was more of an an epiphany. In one moment of clarity I felt I knew my life's purpose and could "see" the physical environment in which I would work and what I would be doing, and how I would be contributing to the healing of this Earth. I just didn't know how I would get there.

At the time, I was not a teacher, at least not in the public school classroom sense. My life was a blank slate and anything was possible. Back then, I wouldn't have understood how even the smallest change or experience would influence my journey and bring me to this moment, which is still not the end, but very much the beginning.

So, I had this vision: a space for people to create, and in the process, heal. Over the years, The "retreat" has morphed in the physical sense, being tweaked in my mind to what is adequate to meet my goals, but also manageable. Instead of a massive arts-compound with cabins and hordes of people shuffling through and the stress of running a major business, I decided to focus on a more intimate, personal approach: a healing space for my husband and me where we invite others, in a more laid back sort of way, to create and heal with us.

The Gahnadi Quote comes to mind "You must be the change you wish to see in the world."

And certainly, much change is needed. My approach is to strive for a life of balance, creativity, empathy, knowledge, kindness, truth, love, and sharing. That's a tall order, but a satisfying one. Just imagine, what if that were to become the latest pandemic? The headlines would read.....

Harmony Flu Sweeps Across the Globe: CDC Warns World Peace Inevitable.

Time

The studio floor is in! I hope to officially move-in over the next two to three weeks.

I woke thinking how so many things occur in my life in a short blip of time. I have not posted in two weeks and thought "how can I possibly narrow my next blog entry?" It is true what they say, when you get older, life just seems to pass by so quickly.

As a youngster, time didn't move fast enough. I wanted the weekend to arrive so I could go to the movies or watch Saturday morning cartoons. I wanted to be old enough to get my license to drive a car. I couldn't wait to graduate high school to move onto college, stay out late with no curfew restrictions. Then I wanted college to end so I could get a job and have a rent (what was I thinking on that one?)

Now, I hope for the weekend to move at a turtle's pace so I can spend more time in my studio. I want the years to slow so I can enjoy time with my family and being who I am, liking who I am. I want the tired aches of old age to never greet me, and I want the peaceful, creative moments to move in slow motion; hang on to them as long as I am able.

And this morning, as I often do, I find my mind spinning as I think about how much has happened in two weeks time. Was I, when in the midst of the chaos, able to fully experience each moment?

If I were Buddhist, as many of my friends are, perhaps I would take lesson from this. But no. Instead, I was cursed with the dreaded "type A" personality. I was given the nickname bumble bee as a toddler because of always "buzzing around", and developed a somewhat workaholic attitude as I grew older. I am one of those people who tends to multi-task; it is difficult for me to sit still. (Thus, several unsuccessful attempts at beginning a meditation regime.) I am likely to be found doing two or three things at once: working on a tapestry, checking email every so often, pen and paper nearby to make a list of things that come to mind that must be done "when I am done", while some culinary creation is baking in the oven. The OPEN sign is probably up and I will have to occasionally go out to the barn to greet visitors, and will tend to Portobello's meowing and need for affection and food on a fairly regualr basis.

Life is seldom still.

In the past two weeks, I worked full-time days at my teaching job. Weekends and afterschool I threw and trimmed pottery. When pottery was at a break point, the tapestry work began. Lubec Arts Alive committee met here at our house, and the mural dedication celebration occurred yesterday at the historical society. I spent three or more hours preparing a speech, experimented with baking whole wheat sugar free peanut butter cookies, and had an intersting conversation with a local flower shop owner while picking up balloons. The bamboo floor was laid in the new studio (see photo above!) and I went to the lumber yard to check out grades of wood and then to the heating business to try to figure out the best way to heat our new space (not simple as it would seem since we can have no blowers around clay dust). Chris and I spent part of an afternoon looking for whales at East Quoddy off Campobelo Island, and we had a delicious brunch at an artist friend's house, complete with deep, throught-provoking conversations about corporate corruption and other societal mishaps. I have begun staining trim board, which is not a fun chore for me, and cleaned up the barn studio for the switchover to brown clay. This morning, mead mug production begins in order to fill a holiday order, and there are three workers here banging and sawing to do some of the detail work on the new space. Later today, I deliver the LAA portraits to the frame shop for matting.

I am thankful to have an extended weekend so that I can be in my creative element a bit longer before returning to the usual routine of classes and students. And maybe, in the studio, sitting at the wheel, I can enjoy my peaceful moments that are, for me, the closest to meditation that a non-meditator can get.

My Addiction

Not to make light of those who face addictions of any sort, but I have often likened my obsession with creating to a drug addiction. If you are an artist, you will fully understand this. If you are not, you may find this statement strange.

I just went back into the studio after nearly four months of no artwork activity.We have been building a new studio and for the past few months my supplies have been in boxes and equipment not accessible because of having to use the barn for building supplies. On top of that, I have simply had no time. Managing a building project has been more of a handful than I ever expected!

As I said, four months no artwork. I had mentally prepared myself for not doing any artwork over the summer. I gave myself permission to focus on other things with the knowing that I would, come the end of August, be moving into a new, better studio space that I could use in the winter months as well. Not a bad trade-off. I could handle the short term.

But two months turned into three and a half months and counting. When away from the clay too long, I get agitated. Little things bother me. I begin to obsess on what I am not getting done in the studio. I get cranky, maybe even slightly depressed. the demands of a full-time teaching job add to the stress and give even more reason why I need my "fix".

I couldn't take it any longer - no more waiting. I told Chris that no matter what, I was going to begin clay work with or without the new studio.

So this past weekend I heated up the barn and foraged through boxes looking for tools that had been put away awaiting their new home. I found enough to get me rolling. Filled a bucket with warm water and wedged about 30 balls of clay. I went to the hardware store and bought plastic tarp to line the barn walls and floor, and with my not-too-strong arms managed to shift the heavy potter's wheel into place. I started with my ritual throwing of mini pots, then working my way up to the larger bowls.

I instantly felt the most relaxed I have in months. All the worries about not having the new space ready, or the follow-up LAA work, or prep for school....just started to dissipate. I was centered, calm, complete. It felt so good, and long overdue. Hours passed in a flash.

As with any addiction, once you start in again with your substance of choice, you want more and more. Suddenly I am again ignoring the basic things that need to be taken care of. All I can think about is getting back into the studio, my hands in the mud. I lay awake in the middle of night thinking about I will make next. I hope for morning to come soon so I can get up and bring my ideas into some sort of visual reality. I remind myself to set limits as to how many hours I am allowed to be in the studio, lest I ignore too many other important things (and Chris lets me know when this is happening!) But eventually, the planned six hour sessions turn into 12 here and there. It is a cycle that is hard to break out of.

On the whole scale of things, an addiction to art is not so bad. I have, however, found myself saying more than once, that it is not an easy life being an artist. It dictates the space you live in, gives you sleepless nights when the mind won't stop inventing, and costs loads of money in supplies with little financial return.

It doesn't feel a choice to be an artist; you are just are. That desire to create is strong, and it has a tight hold on my soul.

Life Speeding Along

Shanna warping the Earth Loom in saturday's gusty downeast wind, preparing to weave in honor of Mabon with plants harvested from our land.

Last night I dreamt of a white horse running through a field. Every once in a while I would catch a glimpse of it's mane which looked like a Pegasus wing. The horse eventually came to me and I was able to pat it.

When I dream of animals, I refer to the book "Animal Speak" by Ted Andrews, to gain some insight into the dream's meaning. The horse represents freedom and journey, and judging by how fast this horse was running, I sense that some parts of my life might be moving very fast for me, faster than I might normally expect.

It is an odd juxtaposition, to on one level sense this speed, but on another level there are moments that feel so still and slow.

This past summer had me busy between building the new studio and organizing for Lubec Arts Alive. From these projects (which are both still in progress though transitioning toward an "end") I went back to my teaching job at school. At the same time, I have new projects forming in my mind and ideas about moving the arts forward for both our community and in my own personal studio and work as an artist. My mind never seems to rest.

Yet, in this one time-warp type moment yesterday, all things slowed to a perfect moment of stillness.

I had hustled around the house all morning in preparation for the Two Countries One Bay Artist Studio Tour. The final preparation was to warp the Earth Loom so that visitors could join me in weaving. At first, I was a bit discouraged. The air felt bitterly cold, and the wind was whipping wild. My hands were approaching numb and I still had many strings to measure, cut, and tie.

In this moment, listening to the rustle of tree limbs sway, leaves twirling and falling to the ground, I was in a meditative space with the rhythm of repetitive cutting and tying. I looked out over the field and toward the water, then the sky, watching the trees sway and grey clouds move quickly by with peeks of blue coming through. Instead of being the one always moving fast, I felt still and centered while nature moved fiercely around me.

Then, like a slow-motion movie scene, an osprey flew toward me, swooping down to perhaps only thirty feet from ground, then back up and over the barn, between an opening of trees, and off over the field.

It was a magical moment.

A freelance writer from a Canadian arts magazine interviewed me on Friday (I was one of many artists interviewed) and she asked a question about how the land inspires my work. Words can't fully express an entire philosophy and reverence for nature that I feel. But if I could have relayed to her that moment with the osprey, if she could have stepped inside my soul and felt that perfectly still yet whirling moment, I think she would have understood.

Music

In a former life I must have been a musician. The passion that I feel for music is incredibly strong. But despite a brief stint at piano lessons in my early teens, in this lifetime, I never quite got my fingers to coordinate well enough to pull anything off more complex than Auld Lang Syne with one finger on the organ. I can't imagine trying to pick up a guitar and make sense of it, and my voice, well, sounds sweet enough....but I just can't hold a tune. Luckily, I have a good sense of rhythm and when I discovered drumming I discovered where I fit in musically.

My love of music comes from my mother. Since a young child, I was exposed to all the arts: visual, music, theatre, dance. I took ballet and jazz lessons as a young child. I saw plays at Lakewood, Maine State Music Theatre, University of Maine, Wang and off-broadway, and my mother's painting group would work outside at our house. Probably the greatest memory I have of my mother growing up was her love of music. She could pick up just about any instrument and play. She didn't read music, but could figure out most any tune if given time. She has come to collect quite a few instruments over the years: hammered dulcimer, fiddle, harmonica, piano, ukulele, guitar. The most interesting by far is the balalaika, a triangular-shaped three-stringed Russian instrument. When I was about ten years old, my mom played with the Berioska Balalaika Orchestra. I have memories of watching her concerts at different venues all decked out in her hand-sewn Russian folk costume.

My own love of music led me to attend more concerts than I can even count. I started out as what we would have called, back in the 80's, a metal-head. My first concert was Blue Oyster Cult when I was in the 7th grade. (Okay, you caught me....my first concert was actually Leif Garret a couple years previous...but shhhhh...don't tell anyone!). I then graduated to the likes of Black Sabbath, Aerosmith, The Cult, Twisted Sister, Ted Nugent, Ratt, Scorpions, Quiet Riot. You get the picture. In college, I was fortunate to snag a job in a music store and that led to backstage passes, free concert tickets, and in-store autograph sessions where I met (or at least stood in the same room with!) rockers such as Gene Simmons, Melissa Etheridge, Megadeth, Slaughter, and Jeffrey Gaines. I even met one of the New Kids on the Block. That would have been a highlight if I had actually been a fan like one of my friends who would scream and cry everytime she saw one of their videos.

My taste in music was broadened by working in the music store. How many twenty year olds do you know that would actually pay $70 for a 4-CD box set of Frank Sinatra music? Concert highlights went on to include Grateful Dead in Boston, Phish on a mountain in Vermont, The Newport Jazz Fest, and the New Orleans Jazz Fest. My favorite venues are small, like when my sis and I saw Irma Thomas at the Lion's Den, a real dive, in New Orleans (we were served Irma's homemade beans and rice while watching the show), or the Subdudes at a club in Portland. And just last summer, I saw one of my all-time favorite songwriters John Hiatt at the free outdoor LLBean concert series.

In Lubec one of the things I miss most about being part of "the rest of the world" is great radio stations. I especially miss WCLZ. Here, the options are limited to top 40 and country. Ick and double ick. I have listened mainly to NPR the past nine years, but even that station doesn't come in all the time. WERU doesn't have reception at our house either. But.....I have recently discovered Sirius radio! My family chipped-in for my birthday. I am once again musically-fed with great tunes! Out here in little ol' Lubec!

Praise the music Gods and Goddesses!

Arts Growing in Passamaquoddy Region

Chris weaving at our Earth Loom

I was speaking with Jude Valentine the other day about a project that she has been working on. Jude is an artist who is also the editor of a weekly online arts publication called “Culture Pass”, a project of the Tides Institute and Museum of Art. I mentioned to Jude how it was such a struggle for me, as an artist, to move to Lubec, a remote area, and not be fully immersed in the arts. Lubec, at the time, felt like a sleepy little town with very few cultural opportunities. I suppose, to someone living in New York, L.A., or even Portland, Maine, that would still feel the case today. And relatively speaking, it is.

However, the past maybe three or four years, I have felt as though there is a real renaissance taking place in our area. Admittedly, it has taken me time to get to know the people, the culture, and the ins and outs of how people entertain themselves. But it really does feel like there is a shift occurring; A shift that is bringing the artists and local talents into the spotlight.

I don’t think the artists just showed up overnight. I attribute my new awareness to Jude’s work with “Culture Pass.” A few years ago, a survey was distributed in the towns around Passamaquoddy Bay, including both sides of the U.S. and Canadian Border. Artists began to register themselves and a list grew. I bet it was a shock for Jude at first to see just how many artists were eager to let themselves be known. Soon a database was created and later a weekly listserve that subscribers receive every Sunday. Thanks to this listserve, we now see the richness of this area, the traditional folks arts of the natives who have lived here thousands of years and the merging of the newer blood and a more modern approach to art. There are music and art festivals, theatrical performances, contradances, art workshops, lectures, concerts, and gallery openings. And it isn’t a rare thing. These types of events are occurring every week, all year long, throughout our area.

I urge folks who live in this area or who are thinking of visiting or moving here, to subscribe to the Culture Pass listserve. It’s easy. Follow the link and click on “subscribe.” You’ll be amazed at the offerings. If you don’t want to subscribe, but are curious, you can go to the site and just browse, either artists, events, or organizations.

Culture Pass

I thought I might just toss out a sample list of the things I know are coming up in August or early September:

A Listing of Upcoming Arts Events on Culture Pass
A comprehensive list of upcoming events in the arts.

Lubec Arts Alive
A Downeast Community Art Event, August 17-22
This is my pet-project this summer. A bunch of super neat artists form all over Maine will come to Lubec for a week as Artists-in-residence, and work with local community to create murals, sculptures, installations, and a portrait project. Be sure to check out my other blog specifically for that event.

Summer Keys Concerts and Summer Brushes Art Workshops
Classical Concerts every Wednesday night in the summer at the Congregational Church in Lubec, renown adult music camp, and art workshops

Jazz Week Lubec
Greg Abate performances in early August to benefit the Lubec Memorial Library. This is wild, fun, upbeat, toe-tapping music!

Tides Institute Museum
Local art and history museum/collection located in Eastport, Maine

Parrish Map Project
Sue Clifford of Common ground (England) brings the community map program to our area. Lubec: Sunday, Aug. 9, 2:00 pm at Lubec Memorial Library

Two Countries One Bay Artist Studio Tour
A weekend open-studio tour (in September) of Passamaquoddy Bay area artists, including those living in New Brunswick, Canada (Deer Island, Campobello Island, St. Stephen, St. Andrews), and Maine (Calais, Eastport, Pembroke, Edmunds, Robbinston, Whiting, Trescott, Eastport, and Lubec). Yep, I (Cobscook Pottery) am part of the tour! This awesome art studio tour is the result of the cooperative partnership of The Tides Institute and Museum of Art, Culture Pass, Bertha Day Fine Art Gallery and Michael Chesley Johnson.

Fundy Art
A guide to artists in the Bay of Fundy area.

Cobscook Community Learning Center
An organization that offers workshops in the arts and music (including traditional folk arts/music) and environmental education experiences.

Eastport Arts Center
Celebrates the local arts with theater, music, and arts workshops. I have loved watching this organization grow over the last few years.

These are just a few of what I consider key events that I am either attending or participating in. Check out Culture Pass to see a more comprehensive listing. Beyond this, there are numerous galleries, art openings, workshops, outdoor recreational opportunities, the best and most beautiful hiking trails, and incredible hospitality at the local inns. The wildlife is stunning: eagles, whales, moose and bear. All these arts in a true downeast locale, where the forests are unfettered, no traffic lights (at least for 50 miles from Lubec!), and each cultural finding is a treasure to be savored. Rugged coastline, foggy bays, lighthouses, and the true Maine accent that Stephen King movies have yet to get right!

Projects Night at Lubec Consolidated School

(Photos above: student artwork for this year's Projects Night. To Donate to the art program, see info at bottom of this post.)

This past week ranks right up there with one of my busiest weeks ever. This always happens as the school year begins to wind down. We have five weeks before summer break and there doesn't seem a minute to catch my breath. That being said, this particular week is one of my favorite weeks in school.

Project's Night at Lubec Consolidated School is the first Thursday in May. The days preceding the event, students and teachers hustle and bustle about in the classroom, halls, and outside on the playground to prepare for parents, siblings, and townspeople to visit and view what they have been up to that particular year. I love seeing all the creative projects in the classrooms, kids' excitement, and feeling the energy as everyone works to meet the deadline. In kindergarten, you walk in and find life-size cut-outs of all the students sitting at desks with a sampling of the years' assignments in front of them. In fourth grade, Egyptian life-size drawings and handmade clay beads, and a wall of poetry written by our young writers. Third grade displayed dioramas of animals in their habitats, along with poetry and research papers about the animals. Fifth and sixth grades made science projects. The art room is full of artwork: masks, wire portraits, Japanese tea bowls, linocuts and collographs. Hallway bulletin boards are packed full of colorful displays. Great projects everywhere!

Being the art teacher, my job is to set up the art show. The task begins about two weeks prior to the actual exhibit. All students K-12 sort through their art portfolios to select their personal favorite piece of artwork. Then I spend hours mounting and adding names to the pieces. As the big day approaches, I begin creating the annual art newsletter that highlights some of the years events in art class, and this year also prepared informational handouts for donations. When Projects' Night arrives, the custodian scrambles to clean the cafeteria space after lunch so students may begin to deliver the mounted work and art portfolios. My husband shows up, as well as our friends Nicky and Judy, and their dog Shanti, to do a super speedy hanging of the show (all done in under three hours).

After a half hour at home to wash and dress-up, we head back to school and find that cars have filled the parking lot and lined the street. The school is bustling with activity - parents "oohing and aahing" at the great things their children have accomplished. The cafeteria is filled with people looking at the artwork, and sorting through art portfolios, amazed at how talented their children are. At 6:15 folks congregate on the stage for a chorus and band performance. The hour and a half whizzes by quickly.

As always, Projects Night was a huge success. We are all exhausted the next day, but proud of what everyone accomplished. The next five weeks of school will be equally busy - as we head out on field trips (Farnsworth Art Museum next week) and welcome theatrical enrichment programs into our school (Figures of Speech Bunraku Puppet Theatre in two weeks). Grades need to be done, records written and filed for next year's classes, inventories complete, senior discovery projects finalized, awards nights banquets, high school and junior high graduations, prom, and the packing up of classrooms for summer cleaning. All the while, teaching within the classroom continues. My head is spinning.

When I was a student in school, I had no idea what my teachers actually endured in their profession. To an outsider, it looks like a pretty simple job, done at 3:00, summers off. To an insider, the truth is far different. The hours are longer than any other job I have ever had, the pay per hour is pitiful, the retirement plan is shameful, the responsibilities are enormous. To survive the rigors of being a classroom teacher, it truly must be a calling.

Donations
As with all schools across the nation, there are harsh budget cuts that affect programs. The art department is seeing hundreds of dollars less for supplies for next year's budget. We are also trying to raise money to purchase a display cabinet for student sculptures. Displaying student work builds self-esteem and brings awareness of the arts. To help with art supply purchases, display cabinet, and enrichment programs, mail donations to:

Lubec Consolidated School
Attn: Shanna Wheelock, Art Teacher
44 South Street
Lubec, ME 04652

Make checks payable to:
Lubec Consolidated School
Please include on memo line "Art Fund", and include a note with check that states that funds are for the art program. Thank you!

Centered

This morning I feel like spring is finally on its way. I walked outside at 7:00 a.m. to turn the heat on in the barn studio, and as I stepped out into the back yard, I heard the loud drumming of a pileated woodpecker. The deep, rhythmic, sometimes offbeat, knocking is distinct. I have only heard it once before, three summers ago, just moments before the bird swooped over me and landed on a dead branch of the walnut tree. She was followed seconds later by her mate. It was an amazing moment and one I won't ever forget. This morning, she has returned.

Animals have a way of showing up for me at times when I am seeking guidance. I have a multitude of happenings in my life right now - things on the verge of coming into being, but nothing solid. The prospect of being on a new path excites me, but at the same time, new directions can be scary. Having choice is a good thing, but working it out in my mind how to make the best choice, to try to foresee all possible outcomes, is the tough part.

The pileated woodpecker and the eagle have come to me in profoundly moving ways. Three summers ago both showed up in a way that I had to take notice. At that time, major life changes occurred (or opportunities) that helped move me along my path in a creative and rewarding direction. Now, the two birds have returned and I feel that I need to not take their presence in my life for granted. I need to be open and receptive and hear their message.

Whether it is a dream image or a real-life experience with animals, I like to refer to a book called Animal Speak: The Spiritual and Magical Powers of Creatures Great and Small. This morning I read (or re-read) the passages for both the eagle and the woodpecker. The words were completely relevant to what has been rolling around in my noggin lately. Just yesterday, I began to doubt a decision that I recently made, but this morning, I feel clarity once again. I needed to revisit my personal philosophies, and ask myself what is the best way for me to reach my goals and dreams.

I feel centered now.

Partly because of this morning's drumming visitor, but also because I am back in the studio after a five month hiatus.

And now, back to the barn studio I go.....

Living at the Edge

We live at the easternmost edge of the United States in a teeny little town called Lubec. Living here is an experience like no other. How we got here was an unusual, unplanned bit of fate.

I am a native Mainer - but central Maine is a completely different lifestyle than "downeast." My husband is from Los Angeles. We were both living in Knoxville, Tennessee when the opportunity came up for us to move to Lubec. Chris' grandfather had a house here that was vacant and he felt it would be a perfect place for an artist and writer. So, we packed up the Uhaul and in three weeks time had a new home and life in a region of Maine that we had never visited before. Of course, we had a glamorous image in our mind...coastal cottage on a sea cliff.

As we continued our drive (a good 20+ hours) up route 1 in Maine..the road became increasingly more deteriorated, the treescape changed (spruce instead of lush maple and oak), and businesses were nearly non-existent. Now, being a town without a Wal Mart or McDonalds is fine, but this gave the word remote a new meaning for us! Here, there are no traffic lights for 50 miles. The eagles soar overhead and bear ramble through town. In winter, there is one, sometimes two, diners that are open for business, and the local market closes by 6:00. Gas and heating oil prices are higher, food costs more, and wages (if you can find a job) are pitiful. Sea smoke pours off the bay signaling another extremely cold day. If you lose power in a storm, Lubec is not the first town Bangor Hydro rushes to repair service to. If you need anything - say a new pair of underwear or a prescription filled - it is either a 70 mile or 100 mile roundtrip to Machias or Calais. And, our little coastal cottage on a sea cliff.....? We arrived to a house, no running water, trees overgrowing the barn entrance, kitchen ceiling being supported by a birch tree branch, no stove, and a 1920's era Westinghouse refrigerator that did a superb job of melting ice-cream and freezing vegetables. And, we have to barricade the cellar entrance every night lest the raccoons break in and tear things apart.

Yet, here were are, eight years later still living here. The first few years were challenging, to say the least. But sometime around our third or fourth year here we began to meet some of the most interesting and incredible friends. They are poets, authors, healers, musicians, artists, storytellers, dancers, peace activists, Buddhists, Quakers, Shamans, naturalists, world travelers, teachers, weavers, and organic farmers. These incredible people, coupled with the raw beauty of this area has us now understanding why people come here and call it their paradise. It is a hideaway from the mainstream where nature is still in charge.

We can walk out our front door and choose from a dozen or more hikes. We can launch our kayaks in South Bay behind our house or in Johnson Bay if we want to tool around the salmon pens. We once saw at least fifty eagles circling over Carrying Place Cove. There are ancient shells hidden in the clay beds at Mowry Beach. Here, you hear the real "downast accent" that the Stephen King movies never seem to get quite right. In summer, painters line the streets to capture the glow of sun's first light on buildings. On Wednesday evenings, Summer Keys classical and jazz music pours out of the Congregational Church. Crow Town Gallery has the tastiest food spreads at their art openings that feature "local" but accomplished artists. On Fridays we pick up the best tasting wood-fired bread from Ed and Diane's place, and we have the sweetest little natural foods market at Sun Porch Industries. Martha is always stocked with fresh breads, coconut milk, spices, rice and pastas which seem to be our main staples. And, if you feel like doing some international travel, just hop in the car and drive across the bridge to Campobello Island, Canada.

So, we have to live miserly to get by here and we are sometimes cold with all the drafts in this old house, and traveling to visit family is a huge production and expense...but the treasures of this little village are worth the extra effort.

To visit some sites about this area check out:

http://lubecme.govoffice2.com/index.asp?Type=NONE&SEC={216C09B5-1156-4827-833E-B285802A912B}
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lubec,_Maine
http://www.culturepass.net/
http://www.summerkeys.com/
http://www.cohillsinn.com/
http://www.thecclc.org/
http://www.qrlt.org/

(In the painting above: The view from Klondike Mountain - overlooking South Bay, behind our house. The posts from an old pier are still visible at low tide. The pier once was attached to a business that was part of the Klondike Gold Rush - yep, right here in Lubec! It turned out to be a scam.)