Not Yet

I think Lee is getting closer to being moved to the Nursing Home near me. It has been another week of distress as paperwork gets to the right places. It is so complicated and difficult to keep track of that I keep a stack of different pads of paper for each person involved as we work through the process.

Surely next week…..

In the meantime. Walks to the dam.

This morning I decided to look in the other direction and focus on things that depict a more hopeful perspective.

Surprises from friends and family.

Coated strawberries arriving via FedEx with a lovely note from “The Gs”.

A take out order of Oyster Shooters from a favorite restaurant that thoughtfully threw in popovers and a lovely bottle of Pinot Noir.

Patches needed to spend the night at the vets due to a severe upper respiratory infection. Patrick picked up the cat, the tab, and the oysters before coming back home. She is so much better.

I did another page in the book using an old print of myself on cloth. Then drawings of parts of sticks Lee brought in and a bourbon straight up.

It is nice having someone here to share meals with. It gives me practice with being around other people. Covid and Lee’s and my circumstances have had a way of keeping me isolated these past few years.

Today Patrick is putting in a higher speed modum for the computer system, installing a “see-all” camera for the doorbell/front door so I can see from the studio who is here. Then he will readjust the dryer vent outside so that I can reach it to clean the screen of accumulated lint.

And today I went back to carving.

This an old pine plank that I carved of a male figure based on some work I was doing on masculinity in graduate school. Now I am completely removing that section of “feelings” to fill in with smaller prints of how things change in the life of a man. How “what matters” is so temporary. I would like a long series of them in a row on some Japanese kozo paper that will take the number of male figures I would like.

It feels good to carve away what was there and think about the small carvings that will fill each one’s center.

Til later…..

 

 

It Did Not Get Better

I like this odd couple. They just go through their lives thinking it will all be just fine. But sometimes it isn’t.

The Nursing Home gave their one bed to a patient already in their care who took a turn for the worse. Lee would be on a waiting list. A scramble is now on to find a place for him. The cost per month will double. Assets will need adjusting.

His decline resulted in sitters that needed paying out of pocket were called in for twelve hour shifts to stay with him at night. His medications have been adjusted.

I walk the dam each morning to clear my head and prepare for the next bit of news that I no longer expect to be good.

The full moon was setting late last week when worries overt00k every minute of the day. Now our son has arrived to help me keep it together.

To add to problems our cat Patches is wheezing and snorting. She is also losing weight. A vet appointment in two days.  Sadie our other cat just keeps looking for Lee.

My latest addition to my sketch book from last week.

I am practicing sitting in his chair. I am reading a book. I am making calls. I am getting offers to help…but with what! I am saving one friends kind offer of bringing his truck and driving two hours to get here and haul things to one place or another. I am saving him as a gift to myself to have him come down and carve wood blocks with me. Someone in the studio would be wonderful when I have Lee settled yet again.

Movers can be called when I need to bring all those things to make Lee feel at home need to come back home. And Patrick has his truck and can do it if necessary. But for now we wait and hope they can manage Lee until another place is found.

It will get better….just not as soon as we hoped. The sun still comes up.

This morning.

Til later…..

More Writing/More Drawing

Our son, Patrick, is opening that beautiful bottle of scotch from Kent. It is delicious.  Balvenie 12 year single malt. I keep up with filling pages of the Covid Coping Book 2.

It is what we all are drinking to get us through….no repeats of labels allowed.

Every couple of weeks I will get a package of labels in the mail from our friend, Marla, daughter, Amy, (always different teas) and her partner, Ben, who are using this time to clean out liquor cabinets and tea drawers. We have all become less particular during covid.

I forgot to photograph the previous days of Lee’s and my socks, so will put them in next time. But the last six pages of Drawing a Day Books are going to be covid masks.

A comfortable

covid mask from Medicare

is so wearable.

 

Safe Mate covid mask

purchased from Amazon Prime,

three colors, one price.

 

And another old journal writing about Australia.

Train to Ararat

I watch the land slip by and imagine how it was before farms and houses. The land barely lifts here and there are low valleys, low hills and everywhere it is dry and brown – a greyed brown. Eucalyptus are gathered in groups along the landscape. Old decrepit ones seem abandoned by their kind as they struggle alone to survive. My fellow travelers read a kindle and a magazine unaware and seemingly immune to the drama flying by our window. Tiny dust devils swirl upward here and there across the plowed fields in search of a cloud that may bring moisture and push them back down. I don’t see it happening today between Baran and Ararat, VIC. Just what are those cattle all chewing out there?

I can’t remember if I shared that one before…here is another…

2007

Is there anything like a belly full of extraordinary food and wine – then locked up in a single cabin first class on the Ghan swaying your way into the Northern Territory and listening to the anti war version of Waltzing Matilda” I think not!

I am washed, lotioned and propped up in a space that is pie shaped, 24” at the pillow end and six feet down it is panning to 48”. My door to the hall is across from my daughter Amy’s cabin. A wash basin folds up not six inches from my right foot. All I need is here in this space.

A wonderful dinner with Aussies – full of politics, wineries and family talks and a promise to meet at breakfast. Then there is the window- more than a metre and open to the outback of Australia. What is out there in the dark? I know it is wild, mysterious and beautiful – nothing less. I will sleep through some of this and be sorry that I did. But I am older now than the last time and can trust Australia to be here when I wake. Good night.

And more from the other pages of books. Here I took pages from a John C Campbell catalog and then printed them using a gelatin plate, stencils and acrylic paint. They were bound into a book that serves no purpose other than to have pretty pages and I thought would be a good sample to inspire students in a printmaking class.

And you can see in my desire to have no waste, the folios are of different widths.

Two days ago I drew these lines in a sketch book. They are my matrix for the tether lines in the new poetry book.

After I photographed the sketch I put it into a photo app program to get more of what I wanted to use going from page to page.

I am going to stop and get some tea. And here is a poem about tea that I will use in the book.

Tea Leaves

I tilt the pot and pour

the last of my herbal tea.

Watch the leaves

settle in the bottom.

 

Wondering about

the hidden messages

of tea leaves,

I pull the cup closer.

 

It smells delicious.

And before I know it

I have altered what

they were trying to tell me.

til later…

 

Doing a Full On Catch Up

These are finished. And below are some stages of the little racoon who is a bit worried about how to get down.

And now the start of a fox.

And the last two days of drawings…

Some very dreadful

knitted scarves are now tossed in

the cat bed basket.

 

Drawing these two scarves

I understand why the cats

gave up their basket.

And now back to the book made for thinking through houses because it also worked to get the ideas surrounding a series of three boats.

And then the opening line of thinking about a series of boats.

This boat goes nowhere without assistance. Most often by way of his wagon chauffer. The boat either does not know about water or just is unaware of his primary function – which is staying afloat in water.

I think the story is about independence – going our own way and the supportive relationships that are there for us when needed. The boat will not acknowledge his origins of intention – to be on water – in water. The boat stays on land and takes every opportunity to see if this could be his place – can he belong here. How does it feel to be “a boat out of water?”

The next boat – deeper – more volume – less weighty looking – scrim over bamboo frame – plaster – Japanese lace paper on outside, matte spray, gesso.

This boat is like

A nest

A bird

A cloud

A feather

An egg

This boat is afraid of nothing. It likes to be in the air. It takes things away – not toward – to be in the boat is to be on your way to an adventure. The boat’s companion will likely be a kite – an assistant for his airborne travels. It is the reverse of a rock.

Small pamphlet books fill the boat front to back – each signature cut in the shape of the boat belly. Papers of rusted vellum and laser ink jet office – also stitched with occasional gold metallic threads that extend beyond page and therefore stick out of the boat – slightly above the pages that are just above the boats sides/height.

I am surprised that when completed it was about returning and not leaving as planned. I feel very good about this piece, it has my mark all over it.

It sits well and can be hung to rock slowly in the air. The metallic gold paint over the plastered and gessoed and then Japanese papered surface is coated with earth pigments from here and then heavily shellacked, has a look of old bronze. A very good feel to the hands. I am titling it, Return Voyage of Recorded Memories. Gold threads represent the threads of recollections and their fragmented way of coming back to us.

And built in envelopes to hold samples of materials used…

Finished the original boat – wheels, sail and rudder attached.

 

Another boat that does not get wet! Roots on oars – rock as anchor. Branches of dead Japanese maple as sails. Boat filled with lichen moss. Boat body is canoe-shaped of bamboo frame then cloth/shellac- all covered with a scrim like fabric that has been dyed with tea. It was a curtain in a previously owned house.

The boat is anchored to the land – very much about the land and Nature. Unlike the boat with wheels this boat cannot move – it has a ghost like quality. I love the proportions – this one may be my favorite so far. The big one floats in the air, the next one rolls on wheels. This one has a sense of wanting to be in its place. Not one that has been abandoned to the elements.

There are still blank pages in that book but I am through using it. The only reason it did not get buried with the houses is because I liked to remind myself of how I can think an artwork through…get all the messy bits out of the way and keep control of my intentions.

And now for something I wanted to follow up on.

Putting words on a page…

I am not writing a short story or a longer piece of fiction. I am not writing a memoir…but I do wonder what starts the flow of words onto a page.

And after giving it some thought, this is how the following piece came to be.

I am alone with no interruptions.

A cloudy day helps…sparkling sun brings distractions I think.

A legal pad and pen are blank and right there waiting.

I wait until I see something or someone in my imagination that needs looking at, needs listening to…

And then it is all down on that pad…in separate lines…almost breathless.

It is not biographical…I am just paying attention.

I like the words. I like the image. It is like a short, very short, film.

Sometimes the character is so strong that they will be there later with more of their story.

 

If You Looked

 

If you looked

you would have

seen it in her face.

The way she looked

just now.

 

A glance in your direction

before she looked away,

back at her hands

holding onto each other

in her lap.

 

 

You would have noticed

how much was said

just then

in the way  she would not

return your gaze.

 

And saw how

her mouth was set,

her shoulders tensed,

how she pulled back

when you spoke.

 

If you looked

you would know

that you will stay on

the other side of the wall

and out of arms reach.

 

Leave her now

and let her go back

to the place

behind the door

that has no room for you

 

She will not look back at you

and does not want to hear

what you remember.

And you would have known that

if you looked.

 

Yes, I know. I could be visited by a little boy and his puppy. But his feelings and ours, for that matter, are plastered all over facebook.

But if that kid ever wanted to tell someone how much he really wanted a cat, he will let me know.

Til later