Water, Wind, and Time

 

Sunday, March 10, 2013
Women's Art: A Conversation with Elizabeth Ostrander and Shanna Wheelock
3:00 p.m.at the Eastport Arts Center
36 Washington Street, Eastport, Maine
Click here for Shanna Wheelock's website.
Click here Elizabeth Ostrander's website
Click here for the Eastport Art Center website.


Thursday, March 21, 2013
Machias Women's Forum
5:30-8:00 p.m.
Helen's Restaurant, Machias, ME
Presenters: Shanna Wheelock, Elizabeth Ostrander, and Sherry Ashby Cunningham
Topic: How Spirituality informs and inspires our artwork
Save the date and check back for more info.


 Click here for a recent article about the marathon and my artwork in the Bangor Daily News

Check out Maine artist Kenny Cole's blog about his current project "Parabellum".
Chris is collaborating on part of the project. Very cool!
 

 

Factory C (or Columbian Canning Plant?) Located behind the old Columbian Store , Lubec, Maine

I have been photographing these ruins for a current art project.

Click here to see photo of what it once looked like.

 

Another shot of the factory ruins.

 

 

I collected bricks from the American Can Factory site, North Lubec, and am experimenting with pulverizing the fragments and embedding the dust into clay.

 

 

Just a few days after winter storm NEMO, our big boy Bello Shroom was outside enjoying the sunny day melt-off.

 

 

I found a recipe that clued me in on how to fry tofu perfectly. No batter involved - just straight up tofu and sesame seeds in olive oil. It is so yummy that we have eaten a version of this three times in the past four or five days.

 

 

2013 Bay of Fundy Marathon

 

Click here for an Article about the marathon and my work in the Bangor Daily News

 

Awards are coming along for the Bay of Fundy Marathon. I am giving my wrists a break for a week before tackling the next group of pieces which will be the most intricate and complex of the bunch. These are the tumblers that will be awarded to the teams in the 10k and marathon.

 

If you are traveling to Lubec during the marathon be sure to book your accommodations sooner rather than later. I know that as of this morning, Away Downeast still has a couple awesome and affordable cottage available.

 

For a more comprehensive list of B&B's and motels, etc, check out the VisitLubecMaine website.

 

If you still need help finding accommodations, contact the Bay of Fundy Marathon organizers for suggestions.

 

 

Thinking maybe I should change my blog title to "Food, Cats and Art." That seems to sum up most days here in our little nook in the far reaches of the country. The past couple weeks have been fulfilling on all fronts. Chris and I have our super busy times where we find ourselves on the road to various readings, exhibits, meetings, or family events, but other times we are able to find these stretches where retreating to our respective work spaces is unfettered by outside distractions.

 

I set aside one week to (almost) fully dedicate to the beginning stages of a new art project. Most weeks I am juggling a little bit of "this" and little bit of "that" but this week I wanted to be able to solidify some ideas. For an artist to have that time without outside distractions is worth the weight of any hefty item in gold.

 

I had been waiting for the right conditions to visit the ruins of an old factory site here in Lubec. On Friday I finally had the opportunity. I needed compliant weather, tide, and Chris. I had never been to the site before and was unsure how approachable it would be. It is not a safe space by any stretch with the massive deterioration but was in better condition than I had expected. I snapped over a hundred photos that have been filed and later this morning I will begin printing them to use as inspiration in both clay, conte, and encaustic.

 

I am excited by my level of excitement. When I got to the ruins close-up, I swear my heart skipped a beat. Something resonated with me so strongly on such a deep level. With some things in our lives, we don't always understand our reactions, but over time, clarity begins to come forth presenting the bigger picture. For me, with this site visit, I started to understand some of the images that had been emerging in my work over the past couple years. At the time of creating those works, or even recently seeing images in my mind but not being able to translate, this one afternoon allowed all kinds of connections to be realized. The images, understandings, and connections is only in the most infantile stage but at the precipice of unfolding in a most profound way. I can feel it.

 

It is amazing to look at these ruins and to know that this is not a war-torn village and that these walls and ceilings are not collapsed because of bombs. Merely, it is water, wind, and time that has eroded the structure. Such awesome power in the elements.

 

Looking at these ruins, even though used for a period of time and when no longer profitable abandoned and left succumb to the elements, there is beauty and reverence. The energy is still. In some ways, a ghostly still. But also, a reverent stillness. Pier stubs emerge from the sand like gravestones. Columns, broken, and slanted, lean against one another like Stonehenge dolmens. Slabs of concrete hang from steel rods exposing an opening in the ceiling that is a gateway to infinite sky. Every square foot guards a memory or story.

 

At the moment, my mind is buzzing with ideas. This part of the process takes a while for me to decipher. Images snap through mind's eye and it is an art in snagging the right one that can carry and artist through from conception to artwork. My cave is warming up now, waiting me to begin this journey.

Out of the Snow and Into the Studio

Got a wee bit of snow a few days ago...

Current sculpture in progress

This past week has kept me fairly focused in the studio. Yet another snow day allowed time to work on a new sculpture. This one, when finished, will reach over three feet tall and is quite hefty. Throwing and wedging the larger-than-usual clumps of clay left me fearing I had permanently damaged my stomach muscles, but a few days later all returned to normal, noting to myself that I better be a bit more careful next time!!!

Creating artwork is not always fun. Just like with any job, there are parts that you enjoy and there are parts that you despise. Not that I fully despise any part of working with clay, but there are definitely some things that are more "grunt work" than pleasurable. Wedging is always a source of discomfort. It is taxing on my shoulders and takes quite a bit of time to get all those unruly clumps and lumps back into a smooth, workable ball. With the current sculpture, I spent perhaps equal time researching and sketching as I did forming the structure. The part that I do love, though, is carving. This particular piece is carving-intensive so I was in all of my glory for a few hours while I toggled from tool to tool to get the look and feel of my vision. Now I wait (hope/pray) that it survives the kiln firing so that the next phase of the process may occur.

In between shoveling last week's storm, I spent hours holed-up in my "cave". Chris said to me that I must really have a passion for what I do when I am willing to spend several hours in a cold, damp, concreted space below the earth, and actually crave and enjoy it. I never thought of it like that before, but when you break it down, yeah, it is kinda strange.

Amazingly, I am comfortable in that space, engulfed in messy, dry clay dust and mounds. For someone who seeks the just-so feng shui feeling of a home space, it is kind of odd that I don't pay attention to the lack of "homeyness" in the basement. Maybe it has something to do with being in a space that is natural to clay; deep within the earthen underground. Or maybe I am just so enthralled by the project at hand that my peripheral vision ceases and I am completely zoned into the form that is before me.

I probably shouldn't try to hard to understand it all.

A bit of rain this morning sunk the snowy yard and has created a new ice rink. It's like last week's "Snowmageddon" never occurred. Chris narrowly averted the intense shoveling schedule, boasting of sunny skies and warm temps while taking his afternoon walk with his father in California. He somehow dodged all flight delays, once again, upon his return to Maine on Friday. Bello and I are glad to have him back home with us. Now, I'm just hoping for another massive snowstorm so that he may experience the endless shoveling as I did this past month. I wouldn't want him to feel left out of all the fun, afterall!

I have some things to tend to over the next two to three weeks and suspect that I will not have a chance to blog. If you don't see a post next time you check in, just keep checking back. All should return to the regular normally scheduled life routine by the end of the month.

Hope all you romantics out there have a memorable St. Valentine's Day! (or at least your fill of quality chocolate confections!!!!)

Holiday Sale

Shelves full of newly-fired pottery ready for opening day of the sale.
Cobscook Pottery & Fiber Arts
Annual Holiday Sale
November 12-14, 2010

Small bowls that cradle nicely in the hand.
$20

Mead Mug
(Works well for hot cocoa or coffee too!)
$32

Sake Set
$65

Lidded Jar
$115

Large pasta bowl.
$45

Yes. It is that time of year again. The turkey hasn't even made it out of the oven but we are already thinking jingle bells and decorated trees. This weekend is the annual Holiday Sale at Cobscook Pottery and Fiber Arts, and even though it has been warm, clear skies and not a stitch of snow, the sounds of Ella singing "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" can be heard from the shop.

It's always an enjoyable weekend for me. I get to visit with lots of local friends and show off the season's new wares. It is also tradition for my sister, who is the designer of the fabulous "Indigo Iris" jewelry, to visit for the weekend. In between customers, we've been able to hang out and do "catch-up" on our lives. I have also been able to fit in a bit of encaustic painting here and there. That's definitely a bonus!

Last night we celebrated work-done-well with an evening out at the Water Street Tavern and Inn. It felt good to just relax and breathe a bit, and prepare for the final day of sale, which is today. We'll still be open by chance or appointment until December 23rd, but if you are able to catch the sale in-person today, you'll get to partake of the tasty homemade cookies and cocoa! Not to mention, we are raffling off two $25 gift certificates! One was drawn last night and the happy winner is returning today for some shopping fun "on-the-house".

I need to prep, so this is a quick blog entry. I do have a poem to share, though. It was an honor to receive this worded gift by email from phenomenal writer and amazing woman Pam Brown, who is currently in California compliments of a fellowship to work on a new book. It is such an honor to make an appearance in one of her poems, especially alongside pomegranates. Thanks, Pam!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pomegrenade

for Shanna

Under the glamorous San Gabriels

rosy with randy sun,

this parking lot is lousy with pomegranates.

They look at me with Alhambra in their hearts –

I wish I could give Shanna a ticket to Spain.

I can't steal one, there are too many --

like this one, small though perfect

or that one, split, past its prime

or those gnawed-out black mouths

such mocking fruit

bobbing in the hot wind looking like

hand grenades something red

hot blood straining to split

the world

eros tyrannos you come

on all four legs (Sappho said)

to eat greedily and with

tearful thighs . . .

ignore them get in the Subaru

swan up the foothills

in the sheer joy of wasteful

pterodactyl

delusions

Blank Canvas

Dumping the loam

Preparing to plot a garden

Last summer our yard was battered-around during construction and this spring we were left with a mound of gravel and sprouts of field grass in scattered clumps. Attempts at dropping grass seed didn't yield any improvement. I even tried mowing "the desert" a couple weeks ago. I don't recommend such action to anyone else in our same predicament. The dust was clouding around me and rocks were flying. Perhaps more of a battlefield than anything else!

"Plan B" went into action a few days ago. I arranged for a loam delivery, having been told that this is what we would need to do should we want grass, in any recognizable pattern, ever again.

It's always exciting when big equipment pulls up the drive. I managed to grab the camera just in time to catch the truck bed lift-up and dump. Bello ran and hid, fearful of any big booming noises. Carl then got into his little yellow tractor and pushed the dirt around the hill we call our front yard.

Before all these changes, we had a five foot wide swath of grass bordered by phlox, digitalis, valerian, rose bush, lilies, primrose, and peony. It was sad to lose these plants last summer, a casualty of the excavation equipment. But this spring, remnants of the yard-past keep popping up in new places. The phlox is peeking through in varied spots and the digitalis is now lining the driveway. Chris planted a new rose bush a few weeks ago, and I am waiting with anticipation to see where the primrose will surface, or if we will ever see the ancient peony again.

Yesterday yielded gorgeous blue skies and near tropical (by Lubec standards!) temps. I was eager to get outside to work in the yard but the day's chores of pottery, paperwork, and prepping for guests kept me inside. After company left at 6:00, the weather was still holding and I decided that I would take advantage. I spent a couple hours raking out the big clumps of loam to create some sort of smooth grass-growing surface. And now....

I am staring at a blank canvas.

"Plan C": Plant a veggie and herb garden.

I know this is common for most everyone else, but in our nine years of living in Lubec, Chris and I have not planted a garden. A friend, whom we consider a master gardener, offered-up some seedlings. So, here we go.

Chris and I had a very successful garden in Tennessee, but the previous homeowner had preened the soil just-so. All we had to do was turn the earth and plop in plants and seeds. Not even a bit of fertilizer. Here, contending with a big pile of gravel, there is much more prep work to do. But since we needed the loam...why not just go for it? So, in the car waits chicken wire, manure, and a hoe.

This will be an adventure for certain, an experiemnt to see what plants we will be capable of growing in this windy coastal climate, and what critter-casualties will occur. It goes against my better visual/aesthetic senses to put chicken wire in the front yard....but I am thinking a trade-off of fresh cherry tomatoes, basil, and squash is pretty good. The rabbit and the fawn will just have to look at the fresh produce with envy.

We see this year's garden as an experiment to better prepare us for next summer. Should our garden grow, we will look into purchasing canning equipment and trying our hand at that. Hopefully some local friends will take pity on our lack of knowledge and offer to teach us the tricks of the trade. Side-note: Is it hard to make and can apple sauce?

I am anxious to get my hands into the rich soil. Gardening gives me that same peaceful feeling I get when working with clay.

I'm glad that I did my raking last night. The rain is starting to fall this morning, making for a quiet grey day here in downeast Maine. I'll take advanatage of the indoor time to trim yesterday's pots and continue work on a new project. It's good reflective time.

In the meantime, are there any "must-knows" for us before the seedlings get planted? Sage advice from master gardners? I couldn't find zucchini or summer squash seedlings, will seeds work just fine this late in the season?

New Year, New Beginnings

Progress being made in the basement. Started out with a messy sawdust pile, wood scraps, equipment, boards, and a pile of tools and supplies.....now a plastic-sheeted room ready for more mess to be made!

Holidays have passed and this last day of school vacation has me feeling mellow and pleased with the past week's accomplishments. As it goes with vacation time, the sleep-in hour gets later and later. I rolled out of bed at 9:00 a.m. after an eleven-hour slumber. This is nearly unheard of for me, as I am usually up before daylight breaks and taking advantage of the still creative time. But the longer I have off from work, the later the sleep-ins get. Yesterday wore me out physically. By bedtime, I wasn't sure I would be able to get myself vertical long enough to get up the stairs to the bedroom!

The day began with four straight hours of emails, phone calls, and downloads. A documentary is being made about last summer's Lubec Arts Alive and I need to acquire multiple images from the artists involved. Sounds simple, but with various digital requirements, requests, and thirteen artists in total....it is a lengthy process. We are fortunate to have Jon Wing Lum, a talented film-maker, on board for this project. I am eager to see the final result and hopefully it will be finished in time to debut at a public event this coming spring!

After a lull emerged in the onslaught of emails, I headed into the new basement to begin set-up for the pottery studio. Originally I had planned to have the pottery on the main floor - but this space (from which I am writing now) is so pristine and sacred-feeling that I decided it should be reserved for the less messy endeavours of weaving, drawing, and workshops. So off the the basement I went.

I actually enjoy working in such a environment, which seems quite a contradiction for me since I am one who needs my space "just so" in order to begin a project. But, my beginnings with clay at USM were in such a space, deep underground in the Robie-Andrews building. I remember the "long" walk down through the concrete-lined halls into the gray, cement-walled rooms, dirty, dusty, still, and lit by overhead flourescent lights. Not glamorous by any means, but it felt right. Maybe it is because clay comes from the earth, and what better place to work with clay than deep in it.

My father had planned to be here this weekend to work on more trim and doorway installation in the new addition. As it turned out, this storm that started Thursday evening proved to be too dangerous for travel. So, the wood that we had planned to use is still being stored in the basement. On a tight schedule and needing the clay studio ready for the MFA projects to begin, the first task on hand down there involved moving several boards from the right side of the room to the left. A mere three feet or less of movement, but awkward and heavy. Have you ever tried maneuvering 14 foot boards through 8 foot openings?

With careful calculation (and Chris' help!) the task was completed. Then I was left for a few hours on my own to strategically set-up the space for optimum production. Organiziation just happens to be one of my skills, and already I had been planning the placement of things in my mind for several weeks. My muscles got a workout as the heavy shimpo wheel was moved around, tables placed, glazes piled, and plastic hung.

Yes, plastic. The new clay studio eerily resembles a scene from Showtime's Dexter. In an attempt to isolate heat into the work area, I sectioned off a 12'x18' space with plastic sheeting. It is quite cold down there and am thinking the heat might be less likely to bolt for the high-ceilinged stairwell. I have a second heater on order. It is a tricky thing to plan out the heating for this space since I can have no blowers. Flying clay dust is extremely hazardous to one's health!

So - at this moment in time, the basics are set-up. After the student art show opens on Wednesday, and between storms, I hope to get to Calasis to buy some remnant linoleum from Marden's. This will be placed under the main work area in an attempt to make clean-up easy, or, more easy than having to clean up slop from concrete floors. That's the hope anyway. Then, another work table, clay organization, and I think I am good to go.

Today - I will try to recoup my energy for a hectic day of teaching and artwork-hanging tomorrow. I have some brain-type activities that need my attention: reading a book for the MFA program and more downloads and emails to tend to.

Holidays were a blast and it was wonderful to spend time with family. January, which is usally quiet time for me, is looking to be off-the-wall crazy with all kinds of activity: student art show, Chris heads to California, Mom visits, and the clay and fiber projects begin for the Heartwood MFA program. The new studio will be in full production, upstairs and down! It is also being used for monthly winter crystal bowl healing sessions and live figure drawing sessions with a beautifully full-bellied pregnant model.

January is typically my hibernation time. Seems that trend is coming to an abrupt end.

"Tis the Season

"Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before! "Maybe Christmas," he thought, "doesn't come from a store. Maybe Christmas...perhaps...means a little bit more!" And what happened then...? Well...in Who-ville they say that the Grinch's small heart grew three sizes that day!

-Dr. Suess "The Grinch Who Stole Christmas"

Thanksgiving has come and gone. People sat around tables stuffing their faces with all kinds of epicurean delights, sharing stories, giving the occasional thanks for blessings in their lives. Eventually some members of the gathering made their way to the couch for a snooze or to watch a few plays of football. As soon as night passed, it was on to the next holiday and hordes of cell-phone-carrying crazed bargain hunters flooding the streets and stores to find the best deal on this year's hottest toys and gadgets.

Yes indeed, I was part of that mix. Not so much to find the latest deal, but living in a remote area I grab at the opportunity when in "the city" to seek what items we need "back at the ranch" that just aren't available locally. I had been dreading this day, knowing that I would have to skirt around crazily-driven cars at backed-up intersections only to find myself standing in line for what would seem an eternity for one or two items in my hand while others in front of me flaunt their overflowing carts while listening to "The Little Drummer Boy" play over the speaker system for a fourth time that morning.

Okay, maybe I am sounding a bit like the Grinch now.

But in reality, I am not Grinch-like. I love this season. I love (almost) everything about it. Christmas time conjures up all kinds of nostalgia for me. To this day, our family, friends, and neighbors still gather at Mom and Dad's for the Christmas Eve buffet: an enormous spread of food and cheer, gift-exchanging, music, and festive decorations. As a young child, my sister, brother, and I would perform little skits for everyone, or play music or sing. I can still recite the corresponding organ key numbers for "Dreaming of a White Christmas" and "Auld Lange Syne". We don't perform anymore, but the younger of the clan like to belt out a few holiday tunes on the paino or guitar, and the occasional AC/DC song.

In my youth, the butterflies would work overtime in my stomach on Christmas eve. I knew that the sooner I went to sleep the sooner I would wake to find all kinds of toys that Santa had tucked under the tree. There were plenty of chimneys for him to use, and my letters had been mailed to the North Pole ensuring that he would be well-prepared. I was certain I could hear the sleigh bells tinkling as he and his trusty crew of reindeer flew over, Rudolph at the helm of course.

Now that I am older, I still look forward to Christmas (and Solstice!) with great anticipation and excitement. As you age, you appreciate the holidays for different reasons than you did as a child. Now, I find more joy in giving and knowing that I will be spending time with those I love most dearly.

My mom wrote me an email yesterday reminiscing about Christmas past. Like many families, there were financial struggles, but, I never knew it as a kid. The Christmas tree was always overflowing and my sister, brother, and I didn't want for much. It always seemed we had everything we needed. Mom tells of the hours she spent making us handmade clothes and toys because times were so lean, and with tight budgeting she could supplement the handmade items with a couple of material-world toys that we had requested from Santa. I can think back and remember some of the gifts. There were certainly lots of dolls - one that peed and pooped when I fed her, one whose hair could "grow", the beauty-school head that I could I could glam-up, Little Red Riding Hood, and too many Barbies to count, all with high-end runway-type outfits. But what Mom would probably be amazed about is that the items I hold most dear from Christmas' past are the little beanie baby doll she made and the big stuffed pink turtle. I remember toting those two items to school a number of times.

I have lived a truly blessed life. I always had a roof over my head, warm clothes, food, family that loved me, beautiful holiday memories, and material items that I know many in this world don't or won't ever have an opportunity to experience.

I teach in a public school, in a remote, rural area where there are more of those who "need" than those who "have". I know my students, and I know which ones haven't been blessed as I was, or as I am. I know that children, regardless of income class, believe in Santa and expect that he will travel from the North Pole on Chritmas to deliver them their dreams. And I know that some students will be more silent than others as kids return from holiday break to show-off their new toys and talk about what goodies Santa delivered to them.

I imagine that most people who read my blog are kind, nurturing souls who are already helping-out others. Given the economy of late, I know it can be a lot to ask. Some folks may not be able to extend themselves financially, but are able to help out with time and volunteering. If you are able to help out, with a toy or in some other financial capacity, a great place to start is a school. Teachers know of lots of little boys and girls who could benefit from the generosity of another. Give your local school a call and ask if there is an item(s) that you can pick-up that will make a child's Christmas morning a little bit brighter. If not a school, there are plenty of children's homes/residential facilities that could use some goodwill as well.

It is a heart-opening experience to help another family who is less-fortunate then yourself. Even though the post-Thanksgiving crowd wanted to flare my Grinch side, my heart, like the Grinch's heart, grew and grew while I picked out toys and art supplies for the little boy who I know would have nothing under the tree (and probably not even a tree) except for what I will provide.

My parents are hosting the annual "cousins" Christmas party in a couple weeks. They usually have a "Yankee Swap" and we all know what kinds of gifts show up in those gift-giving games! This year, though, at my sister's suggestion, party-goers will be asked to draw names, then buy a toy that they feel represents that person. The toys will then be donated to a charity or school. Fabulous!

There are lots of ways to "give" this holiday season (and any season!). If you haven't already made your plan to help-out another, make it a goal to begin now. Whether it is a donation of time, money, or gifts, "tis the season". Perhaps you will help at a local shelter or food bank, be a secret-santa for a school-aged child, pay an out-0f-work neightbors electric bill, or volunteer at the local hospital's children's ward. It's all beautiful - and it feels great!

Start the giving now and feel your heart grow...and grow...and GROW.

Annual Holiday Open Studio Sale

The new studio space - still in progress

Displaying my sister Kristin's Jewelry: The Indigo Iris

A shelf with the Barley glaze: yunomi cups, rice bowls, and spiral bowls

Display with Earth and Sky glaze, sake set, and the new Mead mugs

Corner display with spiral bowls and some of the Machine series pieces

The upstairs relaxation space

I started blogging just about a year ago, and one of the initial entries was about my annual holiday open studio sale. It seems unreal that a year has passed already. This past weekend was the 2009 sale at our shop "Cobscook Pottery". It was certainly a success, on many levels, but most amazing was the realization of how much has happened in the past year since the 2008 open house. Between the shop space in the barn changing, the new studio addition on the house, new series of work, and my own personal physical transformation, it was as if the returning customers were visiting for the first time!

Days before the sale, Chris and I lugged equipment and furniture out of the space. Shelves were cleared of all production supplies and most of the clay and glaze messes were mopped-up. Pottery studios aren't by nature clean or neat. I do what I can, but when in the middle of a production frenzy, there just isn't extra time or energy to clean-up.

The glaze firing for the sale was a bit of a stress. An Err1 (undetermined error of some sort) switched the kiln off 42 degrees short of maturity. Given the schedule with the contractor and his energy-hog equipment/compressors etc., I knew that I wouldn't have a day to safely fire again before the sale, and in this kiln load was better than 60 hours of work. But by some miracle, when we checked the kiln load the next day, the glazes were spot-on.

As with all holiday sales, my sister Kristin and her partner Neal spent the weekend with us. Neal usually hikes and paints, Chris follows his regular writing routine, and Kristin and I stay pretty busy greeting folks, answering questions, and packaging gift items. This year we added on tours of the new studio space. We ended the day with a delicious home cooked meal and lively conversation.

The time leading up to the sale weekend is non-stop busy. Night before opening, I felt the most exhausted I think I have ever felt in my life. My mind and body were both shutting down, having pushed myself too hard the days before. We had Veteran's Day off from school, and I did a 16-hour marathon session of baking, weaving, cleaning, organizing, moving, soapmaking, and printing tags and cards.

Somehow it all pulled together as it usually does. It was the most heavily attended sale we have ever had here in Lubec, with lots of first-time folks stopping by. Sunday afternoon, which is usually quiet on sale weekend, kept me so busy that I didn't even get breakfast until 2:00 in the afternoon. The last customer left 45 minutes after closing time.

Monday, even though I was back at school teaching, felt like a break for me. I now feel a mental relief knowing that I have a small window to time to catch my breath, and enjoy the approaching holidays. It's cookie-making, gift-wrapping, tree-decorating, yankee-swap, cozy-winter-approaching time. The next month will be steeped in the usual traditions, as well as the excitment of moving fully into the new studio space.

January will be here before I know it, and that begins a whole new chapter in my life as I begin an MFA program. But until then, I will revel in the scents of christmas cookies and the joy of children who are excitedly awaiting the return of the red-suited jolly bearded-man and all his brightly wrapped presents.

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.

Low-Rez MFA Program at Heartwood College of Art

There is a new low residency MFA program starting January 2010. Heartwood College of Art is a non-profit private school in Kennebunk, Maine. The "Low-Rez MFA program runs on a slower track than most other MFA programs I have found. Two classes a semester allows a person the flexibility to keep their regular job while moving forward with their education. The slower pace also makes paying for the program more feasible. Like many other low rez MFA programs, students are grouped in "pods", work one-on-one with mentor artists and advisors, have a considerable amount of freedom with their curriculum, and spend the majority of their time working independently in their own studios. As far as being on campus, students spend one "weekend-intensive" on site each semester, and one or two other shorter visits for advisor meetings.

Check out their website. I believe that they are still accepting applications until the end of November for the "pioneer pod". I met with the dean and president last summer and was impressed with their progressive vision for this program.

If you live in the New England area, have a BFA and have been thinking about pursuing your MFA, and if you are self-motivated and thrive on small group instruction, check this program out.

Here is a link to info on the Heartwood MFA program:
Heartwood MFA program

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.

Lubec Arts Alive 2009 is Underway!

The volunteers were busy little bees at the Grange - priming boards for the "iconic signs"

Lubec Arts Alive 2009 has officially begun!

Well, sort of. The all-star cast of artists arrives later this afternoon, except for Natasha Mayers who rolled into town last Friday. I think I have met my match energy-wise. That woman works hours on end and does it with a smile.

Friday evening was a welcome break from the organizational work. Chris made his fresh basil and pine nut pesto (the best you will ever have!) and I threw together the pasta, shrimp, salad, and homemade gingerbread with blueberries we picked ourselves at the end of our drive. The country french loaf that Ed and Dane baked fresh yesterday in their wood fired oven was literally...a slice of heaven. Boy oh boy, did we feast! Nearly two years had passed since we last visited with Natasha. It was great t0 catch-up a bit, but mostly, I enjoyed her gentle words of wisdom dispersed throughout the conversation. She is an amazing and inspiring woman.

The prep work at the Grange began yesterday morning at 9:00 a.m. We are so fortunate that Due East Realty donated us the use of this amazing and huge space! This project really wouldn't have fit so perfectly anywhere else. The location is visible, the space is vast, there are lots of tables, and there is space outside to park or work. Perfect!

I arrived at the Grange about 9:20 a.m. - and walked into a busy hive of worker bees ready to do what needed to be done. Jean did an amazing job of organizing volunteers for various tasks. It was a bit overwhelming at first with ten different people asking ten different questions, all eager to do their part, but needing direction. Claudia had her list of what needed to be done and did her own direction - and I tended to the carpenters, cutting needs, and portrait area set-up. And I must note, what AMAZING carpenters! So helpful and generous with their time. Thankfully Chris came along to help out too. He provided some excellent muscle and worked with Natasha to get her mural area ready. I wouldn't have survived this project without Chris' help. (Are you reading this Chris? THANK YOU!)

The volunteers and Natasha are due at the Grange at 9:00 this morning to continue with priming, paint mixing, and mapping out the mural. I am going to stay here at home base for a few hours to get the welcome speech and handouts ready for the artists' arrival later this afternoon. We have a wine and cheese for them at Crow Town Gallery (thanks Bonnie and Ukey!!!) and a local tour planned with Tours of Lubec and Cobscook (thank you, Ruta!!!!).

This project has been an amazing community effort - and without everyone's help would not have been possible. I am so grateful.

I know that you all are reading this blog entry and want to be here with us! You can be! Follow this link to the Lubec Arts Alive 2009 blogsite for a schedule of events. Then come on down, pick up a brush (or random natural-found-object) and create! We would love to have you here!

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!

My Favorite Writer

I woke this morning (after a beautiful restful eight entire hours of sleep!) to the sounds wind whipping the trees and rattling windows. The rain seems to have moved on, but the grey sky and breeze remain. It's one of those mornings where you just don't want to get out of bed. So, I didn't!

Well, I admit that I did go downstairs briefly to fix me up a cup of hot cocoa, but other than that, here I am, snug and warm, listening to the awesome sounds of nature. And Bello. That frisky cat is clawing at anything he can find, asking me to PLEASE let him out. But he will have to wait. For now, I am feeling in a...poetic mood. So, I thought that instead of my usual self-indulgent blog (okay, I admit, I did start out that way) I will share a few poems with you by my favorite writer, Chris Crittenden.

He has written, literally, thousands of poems since I have known him, and published hundreds. When we first met he was teaching ethics (feminist and environmental) and primarily writing articles for philosophical journals. That influence is evident in his poetry and novel writing. I will share three poems here, all of which are some of my all-time favorites. If you were to research his poetry, you would find that his work spans themes too many to mention. If I had to sum-up his work, though, I would see him as a writer of nature, politics, and the human condition. That covers a lot!

Chris can be reached at: ccritten@gwi.net

Exile of the Loons
night came
like a violin without a bow,
seeking my murmurs,
for silence had cursed its
ebony since the exile
of the loons. stars watched
with their trivial, infinite gaze
as my cheeks offered wet
glissandos, my lips wavered
between fever and howl, my
fingers scurried, plucking
strings of mist.

i waltzed with a willow
while moonbeams splashed her hair,
stomped silver trickles, accosted a
snoring crow, but still night
was not pleased

until i sobbed a strange rapture
over the lake where ghosts
once flew, skinny-dipped,
amphibious as a duck,
toward the liquid center.

there my throat learned
how to woo a marsh.
it memorized the vibration,
the heat, the solitude. finally
the night smiled, hearing
its cold stage haunted once again.

-from the chapbook Opals of the Opened Soul


The Gods Reflect on Creation
we gibbered and gabbled
in the null onyx,
afraid that heat might seethe.
one of us quacked too loud
and light erupted, birthing awe
alongside violence and waste.

after eons of reptiles
prayer wafted up. it was far better
than mindless solar pageantry.
our new toadies prattled
more efficiently than we,
collapsing truth
into a few apt equations.

soon they had a stash
of nuclear kicks,
enough to freckle plains
with poisonous craters.
it wasn’t enough for them
to gnaw the crust. life itself
made them salivate, the urge
to splice it into freaks,
to distill tints and recombine piths—

like evolution but more wanton,
even slutty; an orgy to harvest ambrosia,
so they could be immortal like us,
sit on pinnacles and shout in release—

to be as great
as the thrill that started it all—
that seminal yoctosecond
among the timeless idiocy
of our babbling.

-from the chapbook Gordian Butterflies

Song for a Forest
no one can tell me
the forest has no flesh.
my feet have tasted its roots,
licked across arteries
even as their spirals split
again and again
below a simmer of fallen leaves—
pumpkin, pale, russet—
and a dark brewing depth
of drunken earth.

why are leaves drumming
and oak limbs swaying to a beat
as ripe as a lover’s heart?
why are raindrops sad or joyous
on the eyelashes of pines?
ants are red cells in a greater blood,
sparrows breaths in a windy lung.
owls are nothing but the pupils of elves
half torn from fetal sleep,
deer nothing but caresses
of brown fingertip.

i kiss streams with my eyes
and they kiss back with pouts of sparkles;
or whisper into my ear, soft as sensual lips.
i follow them where they feed cushions of moss,
toes of alders, visions of blue pools sky-entranced.
i hear messages in warbles and whirs
that come together like bits of a thought.
i watch sunlight splinter into bright lines,
the outer edges of a smile.

-from the chapbook Opals of the Opened Soul