Here I defined a space one dimension at a time, and the third dimension was achieved not by drawing but folding. The possibilities seem exciting, but this prototype falls short of ignition.
quadrifoaled wireframe
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Hummus with the Bledsoes
This fabulous painting, “Reef,” was created by my artist/writer/poet friend Richard Bledsoe. He posted it on his Facebook timeline and I commented that it had a nice “Hey, let’s put on a show!” feel to it and asked him what his asking price was. He messaged me the price privately, and I told him that was a bargain. Sold!!
So yesterday Richard and his wife and soulmate Michele met me at the Fair Trade Café, right off the Roosevelt light rail stop in the heart of Phoenix, Arizona, to transact and snack. We all had bagels. Richard and I had ours with jalapeño and hummus, and Richard and I had coffee. Michele, whose heart goes out to all animals, especially the unfed and/or distressed, fed torn-off bagel bits to the birds (Sparrows with just a touch of Ravenous Vulture). In an hour that seemed like five minutes to me, we talked about mushrooms, psilocybin, Robitussin, flies, distressed kitty-cats and birds, Mystery Science Theatre 3000, Richard’s work as an upper-echelon Small Business Accounts Complaints Department for a major financial institution, Michele’s work with adults on the autistic spectrum, painting from memory versus painting from a photo source, loss (Michele’s father and my father both died of heart attacks at 49), and my wish to include them in my Volume III of my “Eminent Poets of Greater Phoenix” series. I left rather abruptly (“Welp, got a train to catch!” and by running some I was able to board just before the doors closed) with the heartening feeling that Lifelong Romantic Love is not only possible, but manifest in this vibrant pair of lovebirds. The life that they have forged together is truly thrilling to behold.
Richard has a thoughtful, incisive blog about art, artists, art history, and art philosophy. Here is a link:
https://remodernreview.wordpress.com/
Michele has a website for her work with autistic adults. Please visit!
drawing tabletop, oh one oh seven twentytwo
This year I have resolved to take more time with my drawings. With this drawing I turned my resolve into reality. I have worked on this drawing for several days. I stopped when it seemed not to benefit from further fussing. I do suspect, though, that when I look at it later I’ll see a few things I will want to fiddle with–but I won’t; this one stands as is.
TOUGH Crowd
A few days ago I got on the stage of a Phoenix bar, Gypsy’s Roadhouse, to perform seven minutes of poetry, at the request of, and in celebration of the birthday of, my friend Russ K. I was happy to be there, and honored by the request, but the superb performers who had preceded me could not get a rise out of the audience. And I did worse than they did. The ONE time I got the faintest rise out of this tough crowd was an ad lib. I was in the middle of a set of words about cats, in one of my series of “CATastrophic Cat Acrostics,” and I came to the word “Anhedonia,” and I stopped. Looked at the crowd. “Raise your hand if you know what Anhedonia is.” No one raised a hand. “It is the Inability to Experience Pleasure.” Waited a beat. “You know, kind of like what you guys are going through now.” And I got a micro-laugh.
Other than that, it was zilch, zip, zero, and I psychically limped off the stage, yielding it to the next victim. Some nights are going to be like that, if you dare to take a stage.
But it was a valuable experience, humbling and character-building. And it inspired this page. Please note that the things I have people say in my cartoon above did not happen at Gypsy’s Roadhouse that night. But I have heard the equivalent of every single one of them in my four-decade experience in bars, grilles, nightclubs, and lounges. Bar ladies DO get hit on rudely. People DO verbally abuse family members over the phone. Other people talk incessantly during a person’s act; so on so forth.
And some bars are magnets for extreme behavior. One of my favorites, not too far from my apartment, has been known to have crime-scene tape around it more than once.
TOUGH Crowd
They eschew the esoteric
Ostracize the sweater wearer
Upsy-daisied Jericho
Goes the Confidence, laid low
Having thus been woh’d, whoaed, woed
Draw Anything, and other tidbits of advice about drawing
Long ago the artist Kimon Nicolaides wrote a book called The Natural Way to Draw. It has something to offer for artists at any level. And one piece of advice in the book is “Draw anything.” If you are willing to draw ANYTHING, from a stain on cement to the Andromeda Galaxy to a bent big toe and the toe next to it, and you actually DO draw those things, and anything else, but especially subject matter that is indimidating to you, perhaps a vase with the reflection of half the room it is in, or a cityscape with dozens of buildings in it, or an electric pencil sharpener with the brand name on it (see above), then you will be a more fearless, more powerful artist.
Another piece of valuable advice that Nicolaides dispensed was put sternly in all caps in the Introduction, where he described the best way to use the book. First he said that it’s all very well to look at other people’s drawing, and read about how to draw. but the most important thing to do is after you do some of that. “THEN SIT DOWN AND DRAW.” The best way to learn how to draw is to DRAW, find out what you did, DRAW some more, look at it after putting it aside for a while, DRAW and keep your strengths and weaknesses in mind, DRAW DRAW DRAW DRAW DRAW. Take it as an article of faith that keeping at it makes you better.
The best advice I ever got about my own drawing, as I’ve mentioned several times in this blog, was on a slip of paper with my portfolio, which was critiqued by outstanding art teacher Darlene Goto. SLOW DOWN! she wrote. I am still trying to take that advice, 48 years after she gave it to me. I will say that though it almost always benefits a drawing to be mindful and deliberate while making it, there are some special times when the ease and flow of the drawing are so transcendental that the best thing to do is let go of the reins and go Full Speed Ahead. But those special moments don’t occur very often. They do tend to occur more often when drawing daily and often, though, so DRAW DRAW DRAW DRAW DRAW.
(Or PAINT PAINT PAINT PAINT PAINT, if painting is your thing. Another bit of advice: Try Everything. As many media as you can handle and/or afford. A cheap way to get into Sculpture is with big bars of Ivory soap, or a salt block obtained at a feed store, or armature wire. A little-kid’s watercolor set costs very little, yet you will learn a lot from it if you put in the hours. (As soon as you can, buy some decent brushes though, and upgrade from multimedia paper to a good watercolor paper.) Try markers, colored pencils, chalk, gouache, India ink, Sumi-e ink–or just follow your instincts. Find something you enjoy using.)
Put your work on display, even if you think it’s unworthy of view.
Join drawing groups on social media Look at stuff your friends have done. Soon you’ll go from “How did THEY do THAT??” to “Bet I will be able to do that some day” to “I can do better than that.” But it is no one’s place to be scornful. It is everyone’s place to learn and to encourage others.
Here are two contradictory pieces of advice: “Have fun!” and “DON’T Have Fun.” Most of the time it is good to enjoy what you are doing. Sometimes you must do things for the sake of the image that are difficult or tedious to do. It can be frustrating to get something just right, and there is the pitfall of overworking the life out of a drawing. Sometimes the greatest value is not in the drawing itself, but the lesson the drawing provided.
That’s enough advice! NOW SIT DOWN AND DRAW. 🙂
candidacy
NOTE: A version of this poem appeared in Facebook, earlier in December, 2021. The poem was altered, partly to better suit the illustration.)
candidacy
(to Nina Pak)
[pause]
–God?
—yeah?
[pause]
–am i talking to God now, or to myself?
—what’s the difference? i am everything. i am you too.
–got it. i think. can i ask you a favor?
—i dunno–CAN you? –sorry. sure, ask away. why should you be different from the billions of people who tell me what to do? BLESS this. DAMN that. and those laundry-list prayers!! –sorry. fire away.
–i am lonely. i want a Special Someone in my life.
—what, another one? you have oodles of Special Someones in your life.
–cmon, God, You know what i mean.
—of course I do. but I’m not going to let you get away with anything. it’s for your own good. –okay, you want someone in your life that is not only special but half of a couple, with you as the other half, yes?
–yeah.
—do you have a preferred gender?
–as if you didn–sorry. female.
—okay. that narrows the field by almost half.
–almost??
—right now there are more female than male humans on earth. they live longer, and have a slightly higher birth rate. age preference?
–ideally, my age or older. realistically, over 43 but under 82.
—racial preference?
[pause]
–no.
—why did you pause?
–i had to think about it.
—why?
–because i thought it would be best to review my history. and i have. and race was never an issue.
—but most of your involvements have been with white women.
–so?
—point taken. any deal-breakers?
–no tobacco smokers please. no active alcoholics, please. no hard druggers. [pause] no active gamblers. or if they’re active, nonaddicted.
—that’s a good one. hypocrite.
–hey, i’ve sworn off. [brief pause] look at my record. gave it up for a special someone once, for more than two years.
—stipulated. any other dealbreakers?
–no non-poets.
—everyone is a poet.
–no non-my-kind-of-poets.
—there’s only one of them, and that’s you. and you are not female.
–forget it then. [pause] she should be healthy enough to have another five years in her. she should be strong-willed, but not so much so that she regards me as a fix-and-flip project. she should have, or be willing to acquire, healthy eating habits.
—good to know what you want. you haven’t mentioned tits yet.
–i don’t care about tits.
—liar.
–hey, I’ve evolved. at least two of the most attractive women i’ve known have had double mastectomies. one of them refused reconstructive surgery. am i lying?
—no, aside from some mental gymnastics. sport, there are still thousands of candidates, but in terms of percentage, you’re headed for the one-in-a-million range. anything else?
–god, let’s cut to the chase. You KNOW me. how many suitable candidates ARE there?
[pause]
—none.
[pause]
—yet.
–WHAT??!
—sonny, the real answer is not how many candidates meet your criteria. there are either 942 or 28 or 119 of those, depending on what happens between now and the end of the year. but the problem is YOU. you do not meet all of THEIR criteria. you’re too short for some of them, too irreverant for some of them, not irreverent enough for a few of them, too fat for a lot of them, too lean for three of them. etcetera. and your politics! jeezus meezus!
[pause, with quiet weeping]
–so, am i going to be lonely forever?
—no. yes. depends.
–on me, right? i need to shape up?
–yes. you’re starting to get it. you need to be more Healthy.
–okay. i will.
—and you need to be patient.
–right.
—but you also need to be IMpatient.
[pause]
–always am.
—most of all you need to be Enthusiastic.
–“God within me.” i’ll try to remember.
[pause]
—let’s have some wine. I have some left over from a Wedding.
[wine and two wineglasses materialize]
—to Enthusiasm.
–amen!
[they drink]
—and forget about Me watching. YOU’LL be watching.
[sketchy smile]
Note: There’s a book out there called CONVERSATIONS WITH GOD. I have not read it, despite my friend Melissa recommending it to me long ago. (At least I think I haven’t read it. I have memory issues.) But I imagine I’m in the same (approximate) garden that the author of CONVERSATIONS WITH GOD was tending. It will be interesting to read that book and see if there is overlap.
A Friendly, Self-Compassionate Reminder
A Friendly, Self-Compassionate Reminder
27th of December.
Tons to do!! Four days!! I know
It behooves me to remember
Finish Lines of long ago.
August 19, 1984. More than a year of training led to this moment. Two steps away from crossing the finish line at the San Francisco Marathon. There were more than ten thousand finishers. In the upper right, in the crowd, the one person whose head is not turned to see who’s coming next is my friend Thomas Christopher Sing, my classmate at Glendale Hish School, later to be the Best Man at my wedding on December 10, 1988. On March 3, 1991, Tom’s wife Mary (now, alas, deceased) and I both ran in the 1991 Los Angeles Marathon.
Every Finish Line we cross is
Yet another Starting Line.
Every win offsets the losses.
Each new challenge fills the stein.
On March 21, 1993, I was a finisher in the Tucson Marathon, with a time just under 4 hours and 30 minutes. I never was biomechanically suited for long-distance running, but I measured my achievements by the effort I put into them, and I’m proud of what I have done.
Competition has its place but
Satisfaction drives contentment.
Pay attention to your pace, but
Ditch frustration and resentment.
There are still Marathons in my life, but only in the metaphorical sense. What I learned from the three literal marathons I finished, 26 miles and 385 yards in San Francisco, Los Angeles and Tucson, is that endeavors that require the deepest commitment, and the most prolonged and profound effort, yield the most meaningful and valuable results. Whatever I accomplish between now and the end of 2021 will put me at the Starting Line of 2022.
The Love that Persists for Decades
A long time ago, in a neighborhood far, far away, my parents Jane and Harold Bowers entertained friends at their house on Pasadena Avenue in Glendale, Arizona. Two of them were known to me as Connie and Chuck (or Connie and Charles, as some had it). (There were also Hank and Eileen, Tom & Marlene, Mae & Bill, and any number of others.) In the really early 80s my parents were divorced, and a natural consequence was that some long-term friendships fell by the wayside.
Be that as it may, Connie Wetzel and my mother Jane Bowers Stoneman had a deep, abiding love for each other. This was brought to my astonished attention when, a bit over a week ago, I opened one of those “hey, someone wants to communicate with you” messages on Facebook Messenger that are usually some kind of scam. But this one was no scam. With the gracious permission of Connie’s son Dan, who sent me the message, here is the message and the exchange that followed:
December 9, 2021
10:05 pm
Dan Wetzel
Hello Gary. This is Dan Wetzel. My Parents are Chuck and Connie Wetzel. Your Mom was one of the first friends my mom met here in Phoenix. My Mom has been thinking about your Mom. She remembered your name too so I looked you up here.
December 16, 2021
10:14 pm
You sent
Hi, Dan. I am sorry to say that my Mom, Jane Bowers Stoneman, passed a little over a year ago. Please tell Connie that Mom loved her with all her heart.
I remember how glad my parents were to have your folks over. And though it’s been a half a century or so, I still remember Connie’s message on the back of a paper Bingo card:
Money’s tight
And times’re hard
So this is this year’s
Christmas card.
Mom put it on the Christmas tree, she loved it so much.
Thanks for reaching out, Dan. Please give your Mom my best regards.
Take care,
Gary
10:51 pm
Dan Wetzel
I’m sorry to hear about your Mom Gary. My Mom loved Jane as well. I was young but do remember her. I will tell my Mom. Thanks Gary for getting back to me. It will touch Moms heart when I share this memory (the bingo card) with her.
Take care
Dan
10:52 pm
You sent
Thanks, Dan.
And then this morning Dan sent a pic of a letter Mom had written to Connie, with this note:
December 22, 2021
10:10 am
Dan Wetzel
Your Mom gave this to my Mom for her birthday. My Mom and Your Aunt Peggy (your mom’s aunt) shared a birthday
Mom’s note was hard to read, so I photoedited it. As best I can transcribe, here is what it says:
11/24/1980
Monday
This piece of collectible, signed, Lalique glassware was my Sixth most meaningful material possession.
At one time it belonged to Aunt Peg, whose birthday you share.
It is my wish, NOW, that it belong to my dear, beautiful, Regal Connie/Concepcion.
With Love,
Jane
PS this feather and this wrapped box are so you will remember how much you are loved. Destroy any of it, the love will remain. Please examine them closely at your leisure.
And bless his sweet, Loving Son’s Heart, Dan Wetzel demonstrates to me, just a bit after the one-year anniversary of my mother’s passing, that the love DOES remain between Mom and her dear friend Connie. As Dylan Thomas wrote, “Though lovers be lost, love shall not.”
Best wishes for this Holiday season, Friends. You are loved.
Acrostic Portrait of Michelle Frost
Soon after I began soliciting nominees for featured poets in Volume III, returned Valley resident Michelle Frost threw her hat into the ring. So I met her at Jarrod’s, an arts-friendly coffee stop in Mesa between where she lives and where I live, and in two minutes I was enthralled. She spoke of her way-back-when involvement in the Valley poetry scene, her move to Oregon and involvement in Great Northwest poetry, and changes that led to her return to the Valley. She also mentioned some other work she’d done, which I’ve highlighted in the note I made left of the acrostic above, and when she told me she was a professional organizer looking for more clients I said, “I’ll hire you.”
You see, I have been overwhelmed by living-space chaos for months now, and I am more disorganized than the Tasmanian Devil of Looney Tunes fame. Here is what Michelle was going to be dealing with:
And, long story short, here’s the view from where I’m sitting after Michelle worked her organizational wizardry:
Here’s a transcription of the note by the poem:
“C. Michelle Frost, known to some of her friends as Frosty, is a poet and a professional organizer. She has been in her journey a teacher, a caregiver, a team member at a nursery, and the manager of the Children’s Books Department at a Barnes & Noble. Today she helped me organize my living space. Let’s add ‘Miracle Worker’ to her curriculum vitae. 🙂 “
Yesterday Michelle wrote an Abecedarian poem, which is an acrostic involving all the letters on the alphabet in order. I asked her, after she worked her magic and before she left my apartment, if she had something in the poem that would serve as an exemplary quotation for my page. Upon her recitation of the poem, which doubles down on the abecedarian acrostic with specific-letter alliteration, she got to the Fs and found three words that she said applied to her: Frolicking, Friendly, and Forgetful. But when I was calligraphing those words on the page, Forgetful somehow became “forgetly.” “Whoops!” I said and started to erase. “No, that’s GOOD!” she said abruptly, so “forgetly” remains. That micro-collaboration thrills me.
Here is the poem:
Michelle Frost OMG
Making waves beware a reef
It may be a lacerator
Chafing skin and giving grief–O
Harbors harbor alligators
Ecstasy may make verklempt
Latitude may stir a dog–O
Lyrical as Eminem
Easy as an Epilog
The last line alludes to how easy I found it to converse with this poet, C. Michelle Frost. I met her this autumn, yet I can talk to her as easily as if I’ve known her for years. She has the gift of being welcoming.
Into Each Life, revisited
This is at least the second time I’ve used “Into Each Life” as a triple-acrostic spine. Curious readers may find another one in my November 2014 archives. Fun fact: Georgia O’Keeffe is featured in the other one as well.
Into Each Life
Introspection keeps us healthy. Won’t you stick around A. Weil
Notwithstanding automation he’s alive as you and I
Thanatopsis is no way of circumnavigating grief
Onomatopœia pops to hasten us to G. O’Keeffe
“Won’t you stick around A. Weil” is my first Bad Pun of the day. Andrew Weil is a highly respected and knowledgeable expert on Health. His discussions on nutrition go right down to the chemical-interaction level. He is a valuable resource, but is not the easiest read in the world, because the subject matter itself is complex; but I think anyone serious about their health would benefit from hearing what he says.
Georgia O’Keeffe is a valuable resource as well. She lived one of the fullest lives possible for a woman born in her time, and she left us some incredible images. One of the big thrills of my life is that I was once in the same room with her and Ansel Adams.
If you find this poem, this page, and my intentions hard to fathom, it is not your fault. The first line, pun notwithstanding, is fairly straightforward, and the second line, “Notwithstanding” notwithstanding, isn’t too obtuse. But “Thanatopsis is no way of circumnavigating grief”? Thanatopsis means “a meditation upon death.” Circumnavigating means “sail or travel completely around a thing, especially the world.” What I try to say in this line is thinking about and expressing philosophical notions on the subject of Death is not going to help anyone deal with the grief associated with a particular death. It may be a way of avoiding that grief. And I think it’s important to give grief its proper station, in proper moderation.
The last line has an element of word-playfulness to it. When I say “Onomatopœia pops” I am exploiting a loophole in our language rules to make Onomatopœia itself onomatopoetic. At the same time, my use of “automation” in line 2 finds a faint, twisted echo in “Onomatopœia pops.” and the line as a whole, “Onomatopœia pops to hasten us to G. O’Keeffe” carries an implication of synaesthesia, which is “the production of a sense impression relating to one sense by stimulation of another sense.” hearing light, seeing sound, smelling touch are all synaesthetic phenomena. Don’t Georgia’s flowers pop? 🙂
One with Clay, Image and Text 