Things I learned Today From Wikipedia

The Strand: is a street in the City of Westminster, London, England. In the Victorian era, the Strand became a fashionable address. Many avant-garde writers and thinkers gathered here, among them Thomas Carlyle, Charles Dickens, William Makepeace Thackeray, John Stuart Mill, Herbert Spencer, and the scientist Thomas Henry Huxley.

Skittles: is an old European target sport, similar to bowling. In the United Kingdom the game remains very popular as a pub sport in England and Wales.

Coffer: in architecture, is a sunken panel in the shape of a square, rectangle, or octagon in a ceiling, soffit or vault.

Soles: are flat fish of various families, the most common being of the flounder family. In European cookery, there are several species which may be considered 'true' soles, but the common or Dover sole Solea solea, is simply called the 'sole', and is the most esteemed and widely available.

Counterpane: an embroidered quilt or bedspread

Retinue: is a body of persons "retained" in the service of a noble or royal personage.

As Seen On Mt. Tabor

-A girl, age 6 or 7, running behind her father. She is steering him like a horse with a jump rope she has fastened around his waist. The father trots, gallops, and turns as she directs him.

-A girl, in middle school or high school, wearing all black. In her hand is a walking stick that she absentmindedly pokes at the ground as she walks up the path. She peers over her shoulder at me and gives me a look that says, "I know who I am and why I am here, but I don't understand your presence in my journey."

-Later, I see the Girl in Black, cradling the walking stick in her arms. She picks at the bark and grooms the stick.

-13 dogs, 12 big and 1 small.

-A thousand small white flowers emerging among the million blades of grass.

The Artist

I am nervous to introduce you to someone. She is a timid creature with wide eyes and a fragile soul. She is an artist and she resides within me. I barely bring her out. She is scared.

I am going to attempt to be brave. I am going to expose her. She, is me. I am an artist.

That is a hard word to claim: Artist. When I think of artists, I think of people who have worked their whole lives to obtain the title; the people who are scattered throughout my Art History text books like Van Gogh, Warhol, and Cassatt. Yet, what about those people who simply see the world through a different lens? Those rare souls who try to capture every remarkable thing that they see with a camera, a paintbrush, a crayon, a pencil, a piano, a violin, a clarinet, a written or spoken word? These are artists, whether recognized or not.

Artist is a word that has to be claimed if you are to believe it of yourself. I guess that's what is hard. You have to believe in yourself. The Impressionists were laughed at when they introduced the style. Duchamp received criticism for Fountain, a urinal displayed as an art exhibit. People naively remark that they themselves could easily recreate works of modern art or say that their 2 year old could have done something similar. In college, I learned about countless artists who barely made a living during their lifetime. I wondered what they thought of themselves. Did they claim the word artist or did they hide that aspect of their life fearing that they would be seen as a failure? I would like to think that the artist was so much a part of them, that they never questioned themselves. They just were. They were the artist, whether or not someone else dubbed them so.

The small creature inside of me, who blushes at the word, is an artist. She is dying to come out. She wants to play with paint, arrange words, and tell stories. She wants to sing and dance. While she hopes no one will see her, I fear it's inevitable. She must be exposed. She, is me. I am an artist.

The Cow

This is The Cow. The Cow is a painting I have been working on for the past two weeks. This is her first appearance on the blog.

In this painting, I am trying to emulate the style of an artist named Marie Laurencin. Marie layers on white paint to wash out most of the detailing of her subject, while working in splashes of color through out the piece. What remains are simple and elegant figures that entertain the eye with the lacing of white in contrast to vibrant color.

I started my project by layering brown and gold paint over the entire canvas. Behind the brown and gold, there is another painting. You can still see faint traces of the previous painting in the left bottom corner where the color is a bit darker. There was once an ocean there. Now it will be a field.

After the background color was done, I needed to pick a subject. So, I did what any artist would do and I picked up a copy of the Pottery Barn catalog. I wanted to see what was currently being hung on the trendy walls of America. Bright yellow canvases and black and white pictures of exotic animals seemed to be the rage. I could get behind the idea of hanging pictures of animals on my wall. I like animals. But exotic animals? Where's the connection between me and an elephant?

So I thought about animals I was connected to, and I remembered that Dave has had a picture of cows on the background of his computer for a few months now. I was connected to them! They were a regular part of my life. Anytime I want to listen to music from Dave's computer, I am greeted by these cows. So, I picked one and drew it onto the canvas. On the right side of the painting you can still see the sharpie marks for the shoulder blade and the rib cage.

The painting is far from done. While color has been blocked in and the style chosen, it still has many phases to go through. I hope to post the painting in its various phases and to tell you more about the subject as it progresses.

The Polar Bears

I'm worried.

This is actually a common feeling for me. I get tense and concerned about things that have not actually happened. Right now, I am worried about the current state of our environment. I am worried that our world will look very different in 2050, which isn't too many years off.

A week ago I picked up a National Geographic that declared it contained a "Special Report". Let's start there. The words "special" and "report," combined together cause my breathing to become irregular. I start to feel like I need an inhaler. It's the same feeling I get while I am watching an episode of a Law and Order: SVU. I am scared and I feel helpless knowing that I can in no way change the outcome of the story--even if I really, really wish it.

I started to read this "Special Report," feeling tense and wondering if my throat has always been this dry. It starts out with an ominous, "It's here." I can only guess they are referring to the arrival of the new spring line-up of melting ice caps, changing weather patterns, and the end of civilization as we know it. Of course they are. I continue on. My thought process leads me to believe that if I read a bit further, maybe the writer will have some nicer things to say. Maybe the writer will know that it's me reading this article and that I am afraid. Maybe he'll write in a "happily ever after" ending for me. I do so wish it.

But, that's not what happens. The writer tells me that "warming has hit polar species the hardest," and that "we cannot restore their habitat." He says that, polar bears are having a hard time getting enough to eat, because their environment has changed. He describes them as emaciated. Then he introduces Professor Bob Steneck. He quotes Steneck as saying, "It's a modern Dr. Strangelove moment when you see the Artic melting at record levels and the Russians planting their flag on the seafloor so they can extract more oil."

I stop reading. I no longer want this writer, Joel K. Bourne, Jr., to tell me any more. I am sad and worried and I want it to stop. But, it doesn't. My thoughts keep revolving around what I have read. I have this scene in my head of a man dressed in a suit, running his flag to the point where land meets ice. I see him plant his flag and it transform into a oil refinery. Then the bears, from their icy vantage point, look over at the black smoke issuing from the the man-made fortress, and decide their time is over. I watch them walk away and vanish.

I am worried.

Gaining Ground Farm

Earlier this morning six friends set out to see a farm. This is the usual thing for the friends to do: gather together at a coffee shop in the morning then take a long twisting and turning road out to a farm. We spent our time trudging around in mud and letting drops of rain fall on our heads. This is what we call fun.

Let me explain. As friends, we have started to entertain the idea of becoming farmers. I like the idea of having bees and a few sheep. My husband is planning much more. He dreams of running a CSA. He lights up when he talks about the earth, Wendell Berry, and how we can become more community oriented. Our community of friends share his enthusiasm.

We gather together most every Sunday to discuss our plans of owning a CSA and living together as an intentional community. Our discussions cover how we will run our farm, the ideals we want to uphold, how we can live debt free, and what we will do to maintain a healthy lifestyle. Not all of our talk is about the future; some of it we can immediately apply to our lives. For example, we are trying to eat less fast food and eat locally grown food instead. John and Kate decided to participate in a CSA so that they could receive locally grown vegetables throughout the summer. Dave and I thought we would take advantage of the Portland Farmer's Markets.

Our dream of owning a CSA, along with our interest in subscribing to one, brought us out to Gaining Ground Farm, the farm John and Kate are now community members in. The farm is beautiful. We walked through muddy fields that will transform into bountiful rows of barley, garlic, onions, etc. The owners, Mike and Jill, toured us around and showed us their sod house, their Cornish-X chicks, and their new tractor.

This trip encouraged the idea of being a part of a community larger than the six of us (John, Kate, Dusty, Cara, Dave, and myself). Kate and John are now participating in a farm with almost 100 other people from the area. Mike and Jill are no longer just faceless farmers - they are people we know and would love to know better! After our trip out to the farm, Dave and I decided to become members of the CSA too. We were inspired.

The life Mike and Jill live at Gaining Ground Farm is the life we aspire to live. On our way home, we stopped by an Italian restaurant and debriefed. Kate talked about her role on the farm. She talked quickly about how she could help with an intern program and how she could organize the community members of our farm. Dusty and Dave talked about their year-round schedule, fixing machines and fences in the chilly winter and breaking ground in the warm summer sun. The rest of us aren't as sure of what we'll be doing. As we learned today, there is a lot that goes into running a farm. No one is absolutely sure what skills will be needed. So, as we draw nearer to the purchase of land and as we learn more about what the farm will need, I am sure each will find his or her place.

Thank you to Gaining Ground Farm!