IF- "Hats"

Illustration Friday's theme this week is "Hats"
"Whooooo" is one of my first fabric collages I did about a year or two ago? I actually knit the stocking cap- on about #0 knitting needles- don't know if it offers enough "wow!" to make it worth it. A friend of me encouraged me not to put so much stuff in- less lets you really look at everything and since I have made an effort to limit the "stuff" in a given illustration- so what is there can be appreciated.

Halloween @ Battle Rock

This year- Halloween fell on Wednesday,the day I teach art at Battle Rock Charter School. The cottonwoods along McElmo creek are in blazing yellow and the foliage below them in brilliant orange, set against the red sandstone of the canyon walls and the blue, blue sky- it was an awe inspiring drive.



Once at the school, I was met by superheros, and faires, monsters and princesses, in all shapes and sizes as school across the country were host too.



What is a little different about Battle Rock is it is just few miles from the Utah border and the Navajo Reservation- so we had a few unique spooks- including a very scary Navajo Grandmother- in a raggedy broom skirt and scarf complete with turquoise jewelery.



But once she was done scaring everyone- she gave us all a extra special treat- Fry Bread- yum! Pretty much at every festival or function around these parts, you can find a stand of Navajo ladies, stirring up dough and than slapping out a disc of flour and water- which is fried in a skillet of lard.


Cousin to the sophapia or funnel cake- fried bread is best eaten in the first few minutes of its creation and is yummy with a little honey,powder sugar or for the base of a Navajo Taco with all the fixings!

IF...Trick or Treat?

I confess- this is "Re-illustrating"- kind of like regifting- but I wont have time to get to a new illustration done and since Halloween is like my least favorite holiday- check out my Oct. 2006 archive to know why- if your curious, I guess I am not very motivated. This one, from last year works well- the theme around Halloween was "Ghost"- i.e. no feet-
So have a blessed "All Saints Day" and enjoy the harvest- the light and views in my corner of the West are amazing right now- I was driving out near the border of Utah/Colorado yesterday, early in the morning and I actually thought I was witnessing a UFO- no joke- the sun was behind me, just coming up and there was like lights in the sky- like those square rows of lights at the baseball field. It would move around and then they all would turn off for a second and then turn back on- I actually slowed down trying to figure out what it was. What is was- was a flock of white birds with grey underbellies flying in formation. The sun was casting light off their backs and not when they turned their underbellies towards the sun, they disappeared from sight.
Such things are why I love the Fall- the changes in the light, the air, the trees and the animals.
But alas I am an illustrator, a teacher and a mother- I ain't getting away from Halloween- so here is my offering!

Another history of a word...Nepotism

Thanks again to Wikipedia- here is an interesting "history of word"- Nepotism is a word that was created around the practice of Roman Catholic Popes appointing their nephews as Cardinals. Since they were celibate and had no children, a nephew was the the closest thing to family they had and I guess family pressure existed back there to get relatives in the "biz". You can read more about it at----

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cardinal-nephew

Nepotism is still alive and well in politics and Hollywood. Ever wonder why a motion picture has like fifteen assistant producers? Nephews, nieces, cousins- the more things change the more they stay the same!!

"You can tell a man by the size of his kitchen."

This past spring we did a weekend trip to Saint George, Utah, one of the first Mormon settlements in Utah.Right after the Civil War-Brigham Young picked this spot for its mild climate and directed the Saints to plant cotton, harvest silkworms and yes-grow vineyards- to make wine- to sell to the near by miners and use as a tithe to fund the building of a small temple and tabernacle.
Young also picked Saint George as one of his seasonal homes and today you can tour the pretty little Desert Victorian house on the corner lot, surrounded by pecan trees and grape vines, where Harriet Amelia Folsom Young,one of his few wives that did not have children, would usually spend the winter.
When Young purchased the house he added a fine entryway.The craftsmen ship is amazing-with faux painted pine- the only wood they had- turned into the finest grained oak set against the finest furniture and art. While there Young would oversee the churches affair, receiving visitors either in the front parlor or in his bedroom- a massive room with high ceilings to accommodate a canopy bed,with a sitting area next to a tall desk.
But I think you can tell a man by the size of his kitchen and to tell you the truth I was not impressed by the size of Brigham Young's kitchen. After taking the tour through the house and hearing of the entertaining the Young's did in this little house- I was expecting a spacious kitchen with lots of places to work and room to move- well it wasn't that- it was cramped and small. Granted-a hired girl did the cooking for the Young's and who knows what the kitchen looked like really- before it became a museum- but it made me start thinking and realize you can tell a lot about a man by the size of his kitchen. Take for instance- my great grandfather James Jenson.
Jame's parents emigrated from Denmark and settle in Freeborn county Minnesota, where my great grandfather and all his brother and sister were born. I don't know much about his younger days, but I do know when the rest of his family decide to migrate west to Montana- James decide to stay- because he had his eye on a young Danish girl, Christine- who had just come from Denmark with her family and was too young to marry-So James waited- and when she was of age- he married her and started a farm. At first they lived in a shack. Christine, pregnant and with little ones to watch - cooked in a tent- providing meals for the men working the fields. Coming to James, she told him she didn't have a platter big enough to server the breakfast meats and eggs on. James returned from town, that day, with a large pretty platter asking her if it would do. The platter is still passed around our families table today with stories of our grandfather James and how crazy he was for our great grandmother. Also proved by their thirteen children- in a time that when you were done having kids-you stopped- well....
Eventually he built Christine a proper kitchen- spacious with nooks and drawers for her cooking things- next to a fine dining room full of wood and a beautiful archway where she hung large paper bells each Christmas- near the staircase to the top floor where my grandmother remembers seeing her father sitting and crying- when his youngest son, barely two, died of dehydration.
Later in their life, my great grandmother,waking in her sleep,fell down those stairs and James would let no one else carry her back up and to her bed.
I have stories of my other great and great great grandfathers- stories of how important they thought they were and how they liked to rule over their households-but I have never heard those stories about my great grandfather James. Yup, you can tell a man by the size of his kitchen.

IF-"Open Air"

The only way to see the amazing island of Maui is in an "open air" Jeep!

3:10 to Yuma?

I love Westerns, movies that is. They are by far my favorite "genre" because usually they are a "morality play", the setting is beautiful and who can resist a man on a horse!
So, this weekend-needing to be on the "Front Range"- i.e. Denver- for business and near a mega-plex movie theater- I took the opportunity to go see the new movie "3:10 to Yuma" with Christian Bale and Russell Crowe.
The movie is based on a short story by Elmore Leonard and the new film is a remake of a Classic Western with the same title, starring Glenn Ford in the role of the outlaw.
Okay- "get real!!" I watched this movie somewhat dumbfounded. Yes the movie was pleasing to the eye,the setting beautiful in Southern Arizona, Bale and Crowe are good at their parts- BUT!! Where do I start!

-Cowboys don't cuss in front on a women- yes they cussed up a "blue streak" otherwise but it was words like "dam" not "f**** and sh** and if the fourteen year old son of a farmer did it in front of his mother- his father (i.e. Bale) would make sure he did not sit down for a week.

-okay- when you lose your entire foot in the Civil War like the farmer(Bale) did- you will have a noticeable limp! And will probably not be able to run as fast as the outlaw(Crowe) through the streets of Yuma as bullets fly.

-If you were shot in the stomach- in the West- you were facing a slow and enviable death- Doctors did not have the knowledge to take care of a "gut shot"- you did not lay on a doctors table and hold still for him to pull out the bullet with a long tweezers and then hop on your horse to ride off and catch the bad guys!

-When someone starts shooting at you at night- you should extinguish all light sources- i.e. kick dirt over the campfire, like John Wayne would- and go out and sneak around in the dark yourself- Not huddle in the light of the fire, looking around!!

-Noise travels very far in the desert- and Cowboys listen- and Indians listen- and usually know when they are being tailed- not in this movie!

-Bullets travel really really far and there is no reason to be two inches away from the bad guy to draw your gun on him- even if it makes a cool "shot" as in movie shot-because he can knock the gun out of your hand-

- the West was and still is a dangerous place where life and death was established by two things- water and transportation- there are "lagistics" like losing your horse- that seemed to have no consequences in this movie- just keeping walking and you will find one around the next bend in the road- and the dangers of the Apaches that have been building in the script will turn into China men blasting tunnels for the railroad and your horses will be waiting for you! Oh and you can get electrocuted with little or no effect too!

It just seems like the "laws of physics and life" are getting more and more suspended- granted they always have been to a large degree- the roadrunner/coyote syndrome- fall off a thousand foot cliff and get up- but if Consequences are not part of the Western- we are losing a large parts of what makes the "genre" so special-
Because reality is the West is unforgiving- it still is- your "gut shot" you die- not ride a horse the next day- someone would and could by law hurt you bad for cussing in front of a woman- and when you have dodged bullets through the streets of Yuma and finally are successful in getting the Outlaw in the prison car- you don't expect the bad guys to give up and stop shooting- and turn your back to them- unless you are at 120 pages in your script and have run out of money!

Fabric Collage @ Estes Park Art Show

Please note correction- "Lines into Shapes" is a National Show-not International (my typo and apologies)

132 artist will be featured from 31 States in several catagories including painting and sculpture.

click on "Lines into Shapes" in the links list to view the 2007 show

IF- "Rejection"

"She wanted to be the flower girl,but she wasn't invited to the wedding.Someone else took her place."

Did you Know....

The term "vandalism" has come to mean senseless destruction as a result of the Vandals' sack of Rome under King Geiseric in 455.Vandels and Goths were tribes from the north that brought down the Rome Empire. We got Gothic from the Goth- think the Vandels got a raw deal- look what they are still known for today!

Of course the above is from wikipedia.com

I had grandiouse plans to have a tibbit on here everyday from the Colorado Christian Writers Conference, which I attended in the middle of May at the YMCA near Estes Park and the Rocky Mountain National Park. Well this is what I got to look at for a week

Longs Peak rising up to over 14,000 feet.
And this is what I got to come home to-

the mountains near Telluride- I actually see the other side of them, along wiht the Blues in Utah and the La Platas rising up in my backyard.
Compared to these I got nothing to say- other than He is God, I am not, and Wow! What a awesome and wonderful Father we have to plop us down on a magnificant creation of this earth-
if you haven't had the opportunity as of late to go sit at His feet on top of a mountain, at the seashore, in the wind swept plain, or in a quiet desert- I highly encourage you to- then shut up and listen- he will speak to you, show you what is missing in you and it all, everything, comes back to Him.

The Higher You Are...

What is that old adage?- "The higher you are-the harder you fall?" Well, I'll let you know on Friday what elevation I am at. "Lab in Poppies" will be sold to the highest bidder at a fundraiser for the Sacred Mountain Wildlife Refuge. Now,I will be taking a walk when it comes up to be bid on- with strict instructions to my husband to Not tell me the play by play details if it is not flattering to my ego.
I have to come up with a starting bid- no idea- took me about six hours to do, cause I sat down at six tonight to get it done and now it is midnight, Yes- I have known I needed to do it for, ohhhhhh, three months!
I like the image, might do some more and try and sell them as cards.
Off to bed!

Day One

This is Day One of my travels to the Colorado Christian Writer's Conference at the YMCA in Estes Park, near Rocky Mountain National Park. Somewhere on the mind numbing eight hour travel- that today took more like eleven- I-70 was mostly one lane due to construction and had to sit twice for twenty minutes as they blasted the road ahead- I thought I would do a daily online journal of the trip.
I listen to eleven hours of radio- NPR, Christian, Country and Rock- did a lot of scanning as I weaved in and out of canyons and over mountain passes and this is what I have learned today-
-Jerry Falwell died today- I have no doubt the man loved God but had to agree with one of the commentators- "He did not represent all Evangelical Christians", he certainly did not represent me.
-For every newborn baby put up for adoption in this country, there are ten families who want the baby.
Here is one for the stupidity prize- forget the moral arguments. Doctors are going to great extent to make women pregnant ( news clip was about the success of egg donors and the "etiquette" of including them in the baby lives)- at the same time doctors are killing unborn babies.... So we as a society are trying to create and cruelly destroy life at the same time- seems like if we could encourage women to give their babies nine month and then put them up for adoption, then we would solve a lot of problems- it was a heated discussion between me and my radio.
- Some big investment company bought Crystler Auto Maker and the Auto Union is very upset.According to the experts- we are out of the era of job security, benefits and worker privileges- to the extent that the big Detroit Automakers can't afford to do much research and development because their workers are sucking them dry- the oldest retiree still getting benefits if 110- So the Foreign makers are taking the market. That is about as far as this artist/writer wants to know about finance and business, but thought it was interesting.
-Apparently, according to Denver DJs- there are people who are surprised when hitting a bullet in a vice grip with a hammer, actually makes the bullet explode? Interesting.

"Co-existing"

This past Saturday my husband endured the Twelve Hours of Mesa Verde Mountain Bike Race. Solo, Duo and Four Man teams- rode relay style for twelve hours on a fifteen mile single track route through sage brush,and dirt. Not only did Jon survive,( on one of his loops, he sacrificed about ten minutes to scoot a rattle snake off the trail), but his team placed third in their division. Very fun day and at the same time we mountain bikers had the lower half of the fairgrounds ( where the bikers started and ended- but there was a junior rodeo going on above us- so it was a funny sight- horses and bikes co-existing!

Happy Mother's Day

My Mother's day memories are centered on following my mother and grandmother around the nursery, usually with a card board flat in hand. The green house at the nurseries always had a musty warm smell and there were plenty of puddles in the crunchy gravel to navigate. I would watch each of them, picking out the six packs of flowers they wanted,deadheading and picking off yellow leaves on their own choices as well others. Both didn't necessarily like petunia but always got some for their abundant blooming ability- as a filler for the more glorious flowers.
Conversation would be on the different gardens, the shade garden, the cutting garden, which roses would need replaced and their "hardy rating". In her latter years, my grandma went to more pots, on her porch, clustered by the gate in the back.
Geraniums have always been inside my mothers home-African Violets always were in my grandmother-never remember them buying either- each was expert in slipping a new shoot and getting it to grow- a skill I will never have.
I enjoyed a visit by my mother a few weeks ago- we did go to the nursery. She bought my a geranium for Mother's Day and I bought her a rose, with a very good rating. Before she left, she helped me pot the new geranium in my Jardiniere pot- which was my grandmothers- one of the last things she gave me before she died.
The pot was her Aunt Mary's who's husband went off to fight in the Civil War- Under the pot is the birthday plate- that held the birthday cakes for my mother and her siblings when they were little- wonder why the birthday plate was demoted to hold the Jardiniere pot? There is no crack in it or anything?
This Mother's Day I won't be at the nursery- two days later, I'll be heading to a writer's conference and a week away from the garden would not be good.
Plus the talent of growing beautiful things was not pasted down to me- I try- but my studio and writing pull me away- from being in the garden, but I can appreciate their love of it, having the same love for a different medium, one that consumes my thoughts and plans, just like my mother and grandmother's garden is for them.
So Happy Mother's Day, Mom and thank you for teaching my to love the simple and the beautiful.

When things were simple

A young couple boarded the shuttle bus as it made its way up into the narrow canyon of Zion National Park. They were part of a group of young climbers, none of them could be older then twenty four or twenty five and the group bantered back and forth across the shuttle which climbing route they would try in the morning and where they should go to eat in town that night. All the time, the young man had his arm around her. I smiled when I saw the wedding ring on his finger,sliver or platinum.
In our day it was gold and there was a time, when my husband's arm instantly went around me the second we sat down somewhere, but now his hands are so often filled with other things, other responsibilities. Responsibilities that have directly sprouted from that simple time when we were first married and in love.
Now there other hands to hold, other then mine and other voices to listen to, much sweeter then mine. There are puddles and "fairy places" to investigate,rocks that need climbing and little legs that need encouraged to get back to the head of the trail.
As I watched the young group of climbers get off the shuttle, each of the couples with their arms around each other, their fingers tucked in the back pocket of the other, I wondered if I had savored that time enough,If I knew it wouldn't last and enjoyed it as much as I could.
Later in a rare quiet moment I asked my husband, he had a simple answer-"No, you never do," He was right, we never savor the good that we have until they are gone and those days are gone- the simple days of young love, but the days of savoring my children and my seasoned husband are here and since my memory is continually slipping I will write it down and sketch it, so that I might remember.

Mt. Zion

In the bible, "Zion" is another name for Jerusalem, a Holy City, where God resides.
I can see why the name came to mind when it was time to name Zion National Park, in Southwestern, Utah.
On both sides of the road,piles of massive red rocks squeeze the valley shut until walking in the Virgin Creek you could stick your hands out and touch each side of the canyon wall. By that time the walls on each side are like glass and rise a thousand feet up. When flash floods come there is no place to go and people die in the slot canyon.
Down in Springdale commercial outfitters "outfit" the tourist with wet suits, heavy tread boots and large sticks to walk into the narrows, where the water levels can be anywhere from a few inches or up to your waist.
Power, shear power is what I kept coming back to when I looked up at the massive canyons etched out of the hard sandstone by a trickle of water.
I always feel so small in such a large place like Zion, and wonder how anyone can stand here and not know there is a God!

A Lament

I am doing what I told myself I would never do- lamenting over a "rejection." Having been waiting over a month and a half for a publisher to decide on a picture book manuscript/illustration package- where if they bought it-I would of then did all the illustrations. Idea was just sketched out at this point-I started to get "cocky"
Well as the weeks went by and I received personal notes from the publisher along the way- somewhere in my head, I must of decided I got it- because my thoughts went to book tours and awards- I thought my ship had come in, that I had drawn the "Treasure Chest Card" that lets you go around the whole Monopoly board, with a get out of jail free card and hands you your two hundred dollars- I thought I had just been waved to the front of the line- of want-to-be published writers and illustrators. I thought finally my money will be where my mouth is! That this "what if" and "someday" would be now- I would be paid for what I love to do- I could stop feeling silly when some one asked me what I do- so much more easy to just say- I am an author/illustrator, instead of a want-to-be.
Well when the email came last night- My "Treasure Chest Card" was replaced with a "Go Directly to Jail Card", My ship was sunk and I would have to continue to give a "round about" answer to the question- what do you do? And I could see myself-almost at the front of the line- being directed by a big burly bouncer to walk back to my allotted place at the back of the line- which is fine- I really knew in my gut this was to easy- to get something that big now- in fact fear gripped me wondering if I was ready to produce 32 illustrations in six months- I have a lot of other stuff in the mix and will develop the story at some point because it is a good story and to confess I want the publisher who rejected it to have a "I could of had a V8" moment when he sees it the "Caldacott" book of the year.
What really scares me- terrifies me- is not "Can I write-can I illustrate", I know I have the skill, the tool, I know composition and story structure- what really scares me is "What if I am in the wrong line?" Like the running joke of standing for hours in the farm machinery line at the DMV- only to find out when you get to the window- What if my ideas, my stories are so "odd" and "strange" that they will never ring true with the general public. What if I think so differently- that there is no audience for what I have to say. Someone once said "It is better to keep ones mouth shut and be thought a fool, then to open it and remove all doubts"
So here I sit- in the back of the line again, wondering what to do.
I will always write and illustrate, it is like breathing to me, my head would burst if I didn't. I know God gave me a gift and I will hone it and use it. But he also wants to teach me something through it and that is the hard part- Nothing comes easy, never has and if it did- would it be worth having-
But this morning, I just wonder how long the line really is for me- and hope and pray that when I finally get to the front of it- someone will ask me to autograph my book instead of what piece of farm machinery would I like registered.

"Can You Hear Me Now!"

I was walking the dog in Dolores and had to laugh. On the side of the road was a nice car, a too nice to be around here car-mainly because it was Not a 4wheel drive. Inside- in front of the wheel was a women and next to her- in the passenger seat a man talked on a cell phone. The women and I exchange a knowing smile. I could relate.
She had probably been instructed exactly where to pull over and stop so that he would have a signal, where roads dip up and down into deep rock canyons where no signal could find them.
Many a times on the ride over to Moab- I also sit and watch life go by while my husband finishes a business call- we know exactly where the signal will be dropped- and a dropped call to a judge is a big no no.
Kudos to the technology that allows us to live where we do and allows my husband to come out of his office and be with his family instead being tied to a desk 5 days a week. Sitting on the side of the road allows me to contemplate the people who chose to hack out a life in the "backwash" of the West and coffe shops where he can check his email on his laptop are usually filled with interesting characters.