Anxieties All Over The World Today

Posted on by Sandy Webster

The Trump administration is hanging around waiting for the votes to start coming in. It will be a rough next few days for everybody.

I wish those iPhones would put more effort into capturing the moon. It was cold but beautiful early this morning. Now I am back from a quick run to the grocery store while the caregiver was with Lee. He is getting a bit further along with confusions. Most noticeably is how to eat. I quit leaving his beer in the bottle when he tried to pour some on his potato chips last week. Now it goes in a glass so he knows to drink it. And this morning taking his fork with French toast and dipping it in his coffee. He remembers that it is all food to eat but forgets the order. I watch that the hotdogs go in end first…pretty messy if you bite in the middle. But his spirits are good and that is a very good thing.

The other day I got to thinking about making journals to use in 2021 for drawings a day, etc. I was about to order a bunch when I thought again. They just aren’t right. I want something I can do pen sketches on…quick ones…..and then write, also in pen.

So I looked over my papers and using some of the pads I bought to make the DaD ones for this year. They are pads of 11″ by 14″. So logically I thought I could make folios that were 5.5″ by 7″ or landscape folios with the 7″ going across. Neither seemed okay to me. So, I made folios that have one side at 5.5″ by 5″ and the other side 5.5″ by 9″ landscape. This way I can sketch on the small page and write on the long page.

I got this far.

And then I cut scraps of some black paper to cover the spine edges because I will likely do a Coptic  binding.

I turned the folios so that it alternates short page next to long page. There are eight signatures of four folios each. That should be plenty of pages to get me started come January 1st.

The pen drawings will not be something I am trying to capture like my graphite drawings are. No erasures with pen so I don’t want the burden of looking…more of the burden of thinking. They could just start out as memory marks that represent what I need or want to say in the writing section. And NO haiku! I think I am even speaking in slowly counted syllables now. Enough of that come 2021.

And for subjects to finish out the year in the drawings a day I am doing the end of a scarf each day. I have almost as many as Dr. Birx had for her appearances with Trump. Of course mine don’t have that brand name she wears. Mine are a bit more loving hand look.

Starting new series

of drawing my many scarves

through end of the year.

 

A scarf from yarn scraps.

Gift from Suzy and held closed

by kangaroo bone.

 

Linen in tatters

has become a layered, stitched

and beaded long scarf.

 

Very soft black cloth

stitched with hundreds of white marks.

Tassels on corners.

 

And some more old journal entries.

All painting sketches from Bali in 2005.

And some more writings:

 

And in a town called Hay.

Latte and sausage roll – $7.10 and I am alone!!! Slipped away by myself to this small coffee shop. Order and pay first. Great serviettes on the table. My impression is this is a woman’s town. Place is filling up with them – most close to my age. I have 45 minutes to be served and get back on the bus.

 

Writing prompt.

What used to live under your bed?

An alligator waiting and watching for any part of my body to hang over the edge – hand, foot, knee – all were in danger of being bitten off.

*Note: That above fear came from an illustration on the cover of a book in a set of encyclopedias my mother acquired. The girl was riding in a fancy boat, she was Burmese looking as I recall, She had her foot draped over into the water and a crocodile/alligator had it in his mouth. I tried to never look at that book in the set. Other than black the only colors in the inside illustrations were orange and turquoise. Sort of art deco looking. Anyway I never saw those books again until a few years ago a friend in St. Louis purchased the same set. She is a retired art teacher and I am quite sure the pictures never frightened her…..but my hair stood on end as I just had to look at that one cover illustration again.

And finally this really beautiful view of the grass that I thought was “just grass”.

Til later…when the nightmare election is over!

 

A Very Blowy Day

Posted on by Sandy Webster

The other morning it was misty when we did our morning walk on the trail. Then two days of rain so no walk. The leaves are mostly down today due to tropical storm Zeta coming through.

And I have four days of drawings to show. I really hated doing the scissors…too technical but loved the thread and scraps of cloth.

These cat claw clippers

are as hard to draw as they

are to use on cats.

 

My handy scissors

for snipping threads, bits of cloth

to keep on stitching.

 

Embroidery floss

and snipped pieces of fabrics

wait for a needle.

 

Some fringy fabrics

of neutrally colored cloth

are very useful.

 

Some more journal entries…..

 

Isn’t it odd how you have to find that one thing that was there before so you know that you are where you wanted to be? And then I draw it again…it is recorded…my presence is noted….I can bring it home…I can remember. Mary gave me this bowl she made of layers of papers. She was such a good find in Australia…a older woman from the UK who I traded my unknown Australian room mate for, just because she might be interesting. We became fast friends and spent time traveling together whenever we could. We laughed all the time we were together and when we last saw each other, she said, “The problem is Sandy, we didn’t meet soon enough.”  We had so many more stories to tell each other, but I am very grateful for the time we did have and the craziness we shared. Her bowl sits in the studio full of Eucalyptus leaves. I think she still reads my blog, so “Hello, dear friend….remember when we…..”

And some journal notes……because our fifty-third anniversary was just two days ago and was thankfully not given any attention.

 

October 27, 2003  36th anniversary alone in Townsville, Queensland.

I am on the Pacific coast of Australia and settled into my accommodation. Visited the art gallery and shopped. Found this one and only micro brewery nearby and ordered a grilled barramundi dinner. The young girl at the tap insisted I try the red as well as the stout – a full pint (schlepping those suitcases can only be rewarded one way). The bar keeper (young man) has brought me the beer. “Happy Anniversary” he says. This is a perk for lone traveling women with a conversational bent. I told him I just picked up an email from my husband telling me to go out and have a beer.

It has just occurred to me this morning in Mackay and now Townsville that most average Australians seem to have a Jimmy Buffet ambience – shorts, thongs and an easy goingness that used to be more apparent in the States. We seem “tense” by comparison. Now, post 9/11 we have lost the ease, or did it go before that? Did it go when we became concerned about secure futures and monetary gains? I do know this, when I get home, I am going to relax – take on the mental adjustment and notch it down. “No Worries” as they say here.

The boy who brought my beer is on the hunt for something salty to finish it off….a micro brew with just fine food and no snack or appetizer menu….a good boy to go looking. I may ask if I can take a bottle with me to have tomorrow after class and then peel the label.

I need a watch – have lost all track of time – just going by the sun now and it is still up. He has not returned and I probably need to move towards a take away for another day.

 

And those scraps of cloth ……. a finished coyote.

Til later.

New Things/Old Stories

Posted on by Sandy Webster

Our bowl of leaves is overflowing. The color is getting less vivid on the trail.

From this to this in just a few steps.

But late afternoons are perfect for a warm snooze on the porch.

And inside we have this! Thanks to one of very few people who offer to help out.

I no longer have the spare time to use the spa tub, so asked if the board Lee made to fit across it so I could read books in the bath, could be used as a barrier for someone who might lose their balance near the open stairway. Tommy said, “Sure.” and it was in place twenty-four hours later. One more thing off the list that wakes me in the middle of the night. And it will be easy to patch the holes when removed for selling the house in the future.

I also stopped by the grocery store and brought home many, many boxes to pack things away that we no longer use. Those boxes will be placed on a table we put up in the garage and be checked out by the kids, post covid worries next year, and then go to recycling.

Coming back from our morning walk, I saw this gasping effort of the nasturtium on the deck above. It is my favorite plant to buy in the Spring.

And this beautiful view of morning sun on wild grasses.

Now for those past four days drawings.

Onions like this one

are mostly well behaved if

they aren’t cut into.

 

A wad of burlap

tied to look like a pumpkin

with some sticks and stems.

 

A thank you package

from a very clever friend

living in the woods.

 

Only the right shoe.

It is all I have time for.

Cleaning lady here!

 

And I could not stop stitching on the Night Bunny. Now he is “boro-ed”. I had to stitch the paper to a piece of cloth so it would take the continued jabbing of the needle and pulling of thread. I have pinned another together of an owl on a nest in the moon light. Maybe it will be a Night Critters series.

Now for some more journal entries of sketch and story.

October 3, 2003 Perth WA

I am back pondering the plight of the traveler. Western Australian Museum Café – far outside corner. Latte again and a spinach cheesy pizza – downtown Perth. Expensive or more to the point, “pricey” town. A couple – middle age- one table over. Besides the companionship I notice another plus to being in company. The physical burdens of sightseeing are shared. He has the camera and cash and carries most purchases. She looks restored and cared for. Not only that, they sound American.

I carry whatever I left the B&B with this morning. In the string bag are camera, money, sketchbook, paints, notebook, pen, map of the city, some leaves and a recent purchase of blister bandaids – guaranteed to heal overnite. My shopping bag holds a sale book from the Art Museum titled Wildflowers in Art, a buy at $10. Bandaids and botanicals!

I am not thirty anymore. I enjoy saying “I’m American” as much as hearing them say “I know.” Besides my look of “older lady on holiday”, I cannot for the life of me get down the thing they do with the fork in the left hand. It (the fork) is turned over and the knife is used to sever bits of everything on the plate – then loaded up the “hill” of the fork. Fine, I can do all that – anyone who enjoys playing with their food can do it. Now keeping it in the left hand, turning and aiming at a gaping mouth is hard. I pass it to the right hand after removing bits, spearing one and go towards my face hoping I do not look as famished as the Australian maneuver appears to the watcher.

I am now going to look at old stones and shells and find the right train back.

Note* Not long after this observation on how to use the knife and fork properly I practiced….a lot…and for the past ten years at least, always make sure to add the knife to my right hand and pass the upturned fork over to the responsibility of the left. Only exception is soup. 

And another journal entry about Australia.

What is it about the Australians that seem to bring out the best in those of us who are not? In their company I am not a stranger but pulled into their raucous interior – inhibitions and hesitations fall away. They seem to hone in on the interior of a person, do not see or hear how we portray ourselves. To them we are all an equally appreciated part of their whole. We feel we belong and belonging to an Aussie group of fun-loving friends is definitely a good feeling. Even when parted, you will smile at the memory of being together and you will hear them laugh and feel their arms around you.

I will bring them out later, in secret, when my own kind neglect to see inside me and think I am someone else.

I love that last entry and have pulled them out so many times in this isolation.

All good today.

Til later.

Something New

Posted on by Sandy Webster

Let’s get the Drawing a Day over with first.

I am back to drawing

feathers like these found bluejay

ones left on the trail.

 

Just three small feathers

from six were picked today

just because they were.

 

Two dried colored leaves

from the bowl on the table

were chosen today.

 

A small collection

for the last page of sketches

was chosen today.

 

I have now started the last of the books I made to do these drawings and haiku. It should take me to the end of December. I question whether I want to continue with it. It has become addictive but I think I have drawn everything that looks interesting and much that was not. My skills have improved and if I stop do I lose what I have gained? We will see.

BUT the other day I got to thinking that there are so many more sketchbooks I have filled over the years. I photographed some of the pages from several. And one thing I do know is that I lost my confidence using a pen to sketch quickly. Here are just a few of the favorites.

A sketch of a fencer I welded using spare bits of metal. It stood about three feet tall. I loved this and another one I did charging forward.

The corner of Toby’s bar in Coupeville on Whidby Island, Washington.  I would often go here for fresh mussels, crusty bread and a beer, It was the first place I heard Nora Jones.

A man at a neighboring table at an outdoor cafe in Montreal where my Canadian friend and I had the best time celebrating our MFAs from graduate school.

I used to be able to just pull out my pen and do these quickly…and if they were “off”, just add scribbles in those places.

I also thought it would be fun to show the watercolored illustrations of so many of my sketchbooks.

And some books had assorted ways of recording the places, ideas, thoughts….

And out of the blue, a return to the safety of graphite and eraser.

Some books were used as collecting places of objects and information.

And others like this Artist Retreat Book were secret places for the complexities of being among other artists and egos.

And what struck me while going through these journals were the words written there on pages with and without drawings.

So I am transcribing them in a document titled, “Excerpts from Journal Writings”. And I will use them here as an addition to my usual that seems tedious at times. They are recorded memories of places that have at times led to additional writings of short stories or poems or just phrases that caught hold of something important.

Here is one.

Highlands Botanical Gardens – June 28, 2007

I walked the gardens early this morning and noticed this free lecture offered tonight. Writer Ron Rash.

The gardens are lovely – a nice walk – took a few pictures.

What I think I love most about Nature Centers is the decrepit stuffed specimens – especially the birds. They look so dead. Their bodies seem to have shriveled away from their feathers and beaks, and yet there is something almost noble about the way they “hover” on the branches and perch next to their nests – all behind glass and fully on view.

I think I have spotted Mr. Rash. A “bird-watching´ look about him – small glasses and carrying his notes. I am sitting on the aisle behind an Asian couple. No one wants to cross in front of me as long as I am writing. Most people here seem to know each other – typical Highlands, most are elderly and with “means”.

The stuffed birds and I watch. I might add that the large black bear on rollers has been brought out to face forward like the rest of us.

They could use better backgrounds on their dioramas.

“Good evening.” Oops, Gary Winer, the director here and not the speaker, introduces Ron Rash. He is taller and wears no glasses, looks fairly academic…Southern poet, 53 years old and affiliated with my alma mater, Western Carolina University.

He opens with the last line of a poem, For the last Wolverine, by James Dickey, author of Deliverance.

“Lord let me die, but not die out.”

It will be a sad night of commentary on the fragility of our world. And a stuffed bear may have just nodded in agreement.

 

I was happy to come across this in a journal that also held pages of how it felt to teach a two week workshop at Penland….a dream come true. I like that without putting much thought into something, I just wrote in the moment. By doing this it all comes back…the scene, the smells, the sounds.

So each blog will have something besides just me, Lee and what I may or not be working on….but something from back there, somewhere, from my bag of past experiences.

So here is a good illustration of what I am talking about.

Remember the installation artist Nick Cave? Well in the year 2000 I volunteered to help dress his dancers for a performance. I quickly sketched in pen the movements of the dancers and the costumes.

Then when I returned home I wanted to capture that memory in a book form. Nick gave me two pieces that fell off a costume and I used them here on the cover of the book I made.

This is one of those pop out constructions that captured the movement of the performance and gave me places to stick on additional sketches to float in front of others. (One thing I learned in John Risseuew”s class in 1994 was you shape the book around the content.)

I made only two of these, one for me and the other to send to Nick.

Not long after, I received this gift from him. He and his partner had a textile business in Chicago and he used some of the cloth they designed to fuse to this large hard covered blank journal. A lovely devore of velvet.

Of course I wasn’t sure how or what to write in the book….too precious and all that.

Then I bought a book on how to write by author Elizabeth Berg. This small paper back was filled with timed prompts that had an appeal. I had no problem setting the timer and getting it down. Nick’s book was used for that and will be again because there are just way too many empty pages left in it.

Here is just one of her many writing prompts.

A smell coming from a restaurant – memories – stream of consciousness writing – what is it?

I smell pancakes – buckwheat pancakes! They make me think of MomMae and the farm kitchen of Nate and Myrtle, and Freckles, the springer spaniel with his head just under MomMae’s hem. If he can see no one, then no one can see him…a very dumb dog waiting for leavings, droppings from spatula to plate. I’d like to go back once more just to see and smell and hear all that again. That twangy music on the radio, something about geese flying away, the pancakes, the melting butter pushing syrup over the edges onto the plate.

And then my time was up. But how wonderful of Ms. Berg to make me remember all that. As for the author, I think I looked her up and saw she wrote more romance novel type things, books I likely wouldn’t read, but her guide book for writing remains one of my favorites.

So thanks for staying with this so far. I will stick more writings and more pictures in as I go.

Now I am going to transcribe more journal entries with the time I have left today. But before I go, here is a sample of my winter’s way to spend time with Lee while watching television. I was inspired by the charming embroidered scraps of cloth by Ann Lamb. This one is stitched into a contact print on heavy paper done on my last trip to Australia.

And this morning Lee and I unwrapped a previously unsuccessful contact print of our leaf collecting. This may dry to something useful. The bit of muslin holding these strips of paper is also drying.

Til later.