Lady Norelco Nap Attack and Friends



Lady Norelco Nap Attack

One quick stop. Just one. On my way here or there, I often pull into the parking lot of the nearest thrift store. I'm careful; I usually know what I'm looking for and stick mostly to whatever that is, with an eye out for unexpected treasures. But those stops aren't only about what I buy. (Often, I leave empty handed.) They're also about what I see and imagine. I've spent hours wondering who previously owned particular things, and under what circumstances they parted with them. I wonder, too, about the people who work at the store. How did they end up there? Are they doing OK? What do they think when they see frequent thrift shoppers like me? Somehow Williams-Sonoma, H&M, and Starbucks don't bring up these questions. Except for money, they require less of me.



Man Chair in Red with Cup Holder or Ashtray Holder

Petite Model P-1

Top Shelf

Growth Patterns

We're all meant to grow, but not in exactly the same ways. A spring photo walk reminded me of this. Our growth rates, growth patterns, and growing seasons vary. My ideal environment might stifle you; yours might leave me under-nourished. Because we are diverse, we sometimes need to work to understand each other's needs and perspectives. But, on the other hand, we can each be living, growing examples to each other--teachers.

AND IN OTHER NEWS....
I was thrilled to collaborate with photographer and friend Star Rush on this short piece for Une Plume, Un Regard photoblog. Enjoy in English or French!

http://www.uneplume-unregard.fr/en/sirens

Scapegoat

The Obvious Culprit

I'm looking at the obvious culprits, the usual suspects. The ones who dress the part. Certainly that's how you spot the bastards. Clearly, obviously, the enemy must be the effusive flowering cherry trees. Their branches are so heavy with cloudy blooms that some of them graze the top of my head. They confuse my judgement. They must be the threat. They are everywhere, and very, very seductive. Shameless vamps!

They spray a powder into my eyes, which well with tears. They close off air flow so I can hardly breathe. They sprinkle fine grains of their poison down my throat, hoping I'll choke.

At least that's what I thought. Then I read the evidence.

I assumed the danger was the obvious choice, the brazen flowering cherry trees. And truly, they do present some danger for some people. But, as I'm crossing the street to avoid them, I unknowingly walk right into the clutches of the real threat: birch trees.

Danger! Danger! (photo taken at great personal risk)

These guys fly under the radar. Their flowers are plain, ropey affairs that barely look like flowers. Nothing to see here, folks. Even the bees and other pollen-spreading insects hardly notice their flowers, so birches have to spread their pollen on the wind.

Birch Flower Close Up

And that's how they work their evil. Their tiny pollen flies straight into me. It's so light, I don't feel it at first, but then my eyes tear and my nose and throat narrow. They got me good this spring.

Yet, as much as the birch pollen knocks me out, its danger will pass. It's not the end of the world. I understand that.

Still, I'd like to apologize to the flowering cherry trees for judging them too quickly.

Divine Dissatisfaction

Liquid Solid Light Dark

At a time when Agnes de Mille was questioning her art, Martha Graham told her:

"...No artist is pleased. [There is] no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer divine dissatisfaction; a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others."

I found this statement confusing at first. What could possibly be divine about dissatisfaction or blessed about unrest? Constant dissatisfaction seems like a curse! Why is it divine or blessed?

Graham suggests the answer. She says this divine dissatisfaction is what "keeps us marching," and she also suggests that that makes us more alive. I interpret this to mean something like: A completed work is never perfect, and this is wonderful, because the imperfection in it is exactly what compels us to do the next work.

I like this emphasis on process, and on the idea that an artist's own work (in the long run) is her best teacher. With art as with everything else worthwhile, it seems important to keep going and to keep learning as we go. If we're doing it "right," it's likely we'll be dissatisfied with some things we've done in the past. That's a good thing. That dissatisfaction is evidence that we're making progress.

(Note: The extended version of the Graham quotation is in this article. It's a thoughtful and inspiring few sentences about artistic process and responsibility, and definitely worth a read. And Kit H., thank you for bringing Martha Graham's comment to my attention.)