The Poet As Art: Raúl Sánchez & Marjorie Manwaring read poetry March 29

The Poet As Art features Raúl Sánchez and Marjorie Manwaring on Friday March 29, 7 pm. Please join us at the Lucia Douglas Gallery in Bellingham.

Please excuse the improper accent in Raúl’s last name in the image above (and poster).

Before we start the interview, it would be good to note, as a quick introduction to Raúl Sánchez, that he read at Elliott Bay Book Company last summer, and we’ve been making attempts to set up a reading with him since his book was published.

His  long-awaited debut collection of poems is titled All Our Brown-Skinned Angels (MoonPath Press, 2012), about which Francisco X. Alarcón says:

“I open All Our Brown-Skinned Angels, the new collection of poems by Raúl Sánchez, as a book of intimate, personal prayers. But the prevailing Judeo-Christian theology is turned upside down in these poems. Here, the Earth is sacred … Raúl Sánchez is the contemporary Netzalhuacóyotl of the Northwest, who lives in damp Seattle … and has come out with wondrous poems in praise of life that are liberating prayers for every day.”

All Our Brown-Skinned Angels cover

Wet is right! The photo on the event poster is from our pond on Noon Road in Bellingham reaching flood level in March. Or was that late February? At any rate, the level moves up and down so much lately, it’s like the pond is breathing. This is the weather we live with. Well, I digress.

At Elliott Bay, Raúl read with MoonPath Press publisher, poet and fiction writer Lana Hechtman Ayers and the musically inclined poet John Burgess—both fogbound poets from around Puget Sound. I would have liked to have been there, because each of these poets is well worth hearing, and such different writers from each other!

While it has always been important, with current events as they are right now, it may be more crucial than ever to hear the poems of Raúl Sánchez. Hear what he says about his poems in the following interview, and you may see what I mean. He is full of seriousness and humor.

An Interview Raúl Sánchez with for The Poet as Art

What aspects of your experience keep you writing poetry?

There are many experiences I’ve had as an immigrant. Those include relationships, employment, political situations and the diaspora away from México.

Are there features of your life that have run contrary to you being, or continuing to be, a poet?

Yes, the first one will be that I do not have formal education from any educational institution in the USA. That makes me feel incapable to write Poetry. However, I started journaling and writing notes from the travels I did between 1981 and 1994. One of those years I spent in India. At one point, I was writing short simple poems that were published in company newsletters and local newspapers. When I was younger, I wrote a couple of political poems for the student movement in Mexico City. In 1996, I decided to join a Latino writers group in Seattle, where I learned more about writing. That is when I decided to get serious about writing poetry.

What is the single most surprising thing you’ve learned about poetry?

Poetry is a medium by which we can express what we see, feel, hear, taste, smell and experience, whether animate or inanimate, in an artistic way by sounding off words in a rhythmic voice.

If you could choose one person, dead or alive, who influenced you as a writer, who would that be? How did he or she impact your writing experience?

Renato Leduc

For me it would be Renato Leduc. A French-Mexican Poet, Journalist and signaler for Francisco Villa.

I remember Renato reciting his poems in the middle of my father’s restaurant in Mexico City. I was a young lad then and had no idea what poetry was. Then one day I discovered his poems and stories in an anthology of Mexican poets and writers. On one of my trips to Mexico City, I found his complete works, which were not translated into English. To my delight, I’ve translated one of his poems into English, which was published on-line by Pirene’s Fountain in 2011.

What kind of non-literary books stimulated your poetry?

Having learned English in Mexico City, I would say Dick and Jane. I still have a couple of those books.

The famous Dick and Jane books

Which book of poetry is most important to you and your work as a poet?

Since I have lived in two countries, from México it would be Jaime Sabines’ Poesía Amorosa, and from the USA, Denise Levertov’s Relearning the Alphabet.

What do you believe your readers enjoy most about your work?

Our personal diaspora, connectivity and ethnic identification. Family, migration, the uncertain future and the certainty of the roots that keep us growing.

Raúl Sánchez, poet

____________________________

Here is one of Raúl Sánchez’s poems, the one I’ll be making into a poetry broadside. The broadside will be available free at the reading, and we hope you’ll make a donation to help us continue bringing poets to Bellingham.

Every Dress a Decisión
after Elizabeth Austen

My older sister could never
ever decide what to wear
on Friday and Saturday nights

My parents told her too short, too tight
what that meant I didn’t understand
all I know is that my older sister

went away wearing her platform shoes
and skin-tight skirts every time
she could sneak out

after my parents went to bed
and I fell asleep
while watching Superman

Raúl’s comments about his poem:

I went to the Richard Hugo House the night Elizabeth Austen read at the “Cheap Wine and Poetry” series after her book release for Every Dress A Decision. The title of the book stayed with me and triggered a poem thinking about my older sister, who doesn’t exist since I’m the oldest. Perhaps wishful thinking lead to the idea that “If I would’ve had an older sister, that’s what she would’ve done” back in 1969. My editor decided to change the word “Decision” to “Decisión” to add flavor to the poem. I gave the poem to Elizabeth handwritten in Spanish on one of the postcards she made to promote her book.

—-

We hope you join us for this poetry reading at the Lucia Douglas Gallery, which is showing collaborations between the artists Thomas Wood and FishBoy (RR Clark). Strange and wonderful art.

Posted by Anita K. Boyle

 

The Poet As Art: An Evening with Anita Endrezze and Marvin Bell September 7 at the Whatcom Museum

On Friday, September 7, 7-8:30pm two outstanding poets — Marvin Bell and Anita Endrezze — will read at the Whatcom Museum (Bellingham, WA). This is our first collaboration with the Whatcom Museum, and promises to be an event you won’t want to miss.

The Poet As Art reading Sept. 7 and workshop Sept. 8
(Click to see the full size.)

The reading will be at the Whatcom Museum’s Old City Hall (121 Prospect Street, Bellingham) in the Rotunda Room, a perfect place to hear poetry.

The award-winning poets Marvin Bell and Anita Endrezze will share their poems at this event. The evening will include poems read by both poets, and a slide show of Endrezze’s art. The Whatcom Poetry Series and Whatcom Museum are co-hosting this special poetry reading, with a suggested donation of $5 in support of the museum.

Marvin Bell is the renowned author of 23 books. His The Book of the Dead Man created a national sensation, and the publisher of Mars Being Red and other collections is Copper Canyon Press in Port Townsend—where Bell and his wife have a home and spend part of each year.

Anita Endrezze, who lives in Washington, is a Native American writer widely respected for both her poetry and her fiction. Her book Throwing Fire at the Sun, Water at the Moon, published by the University of Arizona Press, uses poetry, stories and her own artwork to represent her Yaqui Indian heritage. As a poet and visual artist, Endrezze will discuss the collaborative, creative process that runs between poetry and art.

More about the Poetry, Fiction, and Essays of
Marvin Bell

Marvin Bell (photo by Jason Bell)

Marvin Bell has been called “an insider who thinks like an outsider,” and his writing has been called “ambitious without pretension.” He was for many years Flannery O’Connor Professor of Letters at the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. His former students cover a wide range of aesthetics and include Denis Johnson, Juan Felipe Herrera, Marilyn Chin, Larry Levis, Rita Dove, Norman Dubie, Michael Burkard, Albert Goldbarth, Joy Harjo, Mark Jarman, David St. John, Thomas Lux, Patricia Hampl, Kimiko Hahn, Stephen Kuusisto and James Tate. He served two terms as the state of Iowa’s first Poet Laureate. He currently teaches in the low-residency MFA program based at Pacific University in Oregon.

He has collaborated with composers, musicians, dancers and other writers, and is the originator of a form known as the “Dead Man” poem. His 23 books include Vertigo: The Living Dead Man Poems, Whiteout, a collaboration with photographer Nathan Lyons, and a children’s picture book from Candlewick Press (illustrations by Chris Raschka) based on the poem, “A Primer about the Flag”—all released in 2011. A CD is forthcoming of a song cycle, “The Animals,” commissioned by composer David Gompper. His literary honors include awards from the Academy of American Poets, the American Academy of Arts and Letters and the American Poetry Review, Guggenheim and NEA fellowships, and Senior Fulbright appointments to Yugoslavia and Australia. Bell designed and ran for five years a program for teachers from America SCORES. He edited poetry for five years for The North American Review at its rebirth and for two years for The Iowa Review at its inception, and he conceived and edited an annual series for Lost Horse Press called New Poets / Short Books. Mr. Bell lives mainly in Iowa City, Iowa, and Port Townsend, Washington. Click here to see an eleven minute video interview with Bell about writing in the “On the Fly” series..

Writing in The Georgia Review, Judith Kitchen said about Bell’s poetry, “These new books by Marvin Bell are sending poetry into new and original territory. Bell has redefined poetry as it is being practiced today.” From a review of an earlier book: “Bell’s poems, beyond their formal mastery, constitute an admirable project whose interrogations run deep.” —Poetry

Click here to learn more about Marvin Bell from The Poetry Foundation’s website.

More about the Poetry, Fiction, Essays and Art of
Anita Endrezze

Anita Endrezze

Anita Endrezze is a writer, poet, teacher, and artist. Her next book, a short story collection called Butterfly Moon, will be published by the University of Arizona Press in 2012. She also has a new chapbook of poems, Breaking Edges, from Red Bird Press in 2011. Her previous publications include: Throwing fire at the Sun, water at the Moon (University of Arizona Press, 2000), at the helm of twilight (Broken Moon Press, 1992), Bjerget og Skystaanden (CD-Forlag, 1986), Lune d’Ambre (Rougerie, 1991), and three other books. Her work has been translated into ten languages: Farsi, Danish, French, German, Macedonian, and Italian, Portuguese, Chinese, Catalonian, and Spanish. A recent broadside from Red Bird Press featured her poem “K.I.A,” along with artist James Autio. She speaks Danish and some Spanish.

Endrezze has won the Washington State Writers Award, the Bumbershoot/Weyerhaeuser Award, an Artist Trust Gap Award, and 1st place in the Washington Poetry Society Contest. She was a two-year appointee for the Washington State Humanities Commission in their Inquiring Mind Speaker series. She has a Master of Arts Degree in Creative Writing from Eastern Washington University, and a B.A. in English, with an emphasis on Secondary Education. She’s taught high school, college, university and in the Poets in the Schools.

Voices of the Desert by Anita Endrezze

Her writing appears in dozens of anthologies, such as Carriers of the Dream Wheel, Harper’s Anthology of 20th Century Native American Poetry, Reinventing the Enemy’s Language, Talking Leaves, Blue Dawn, Red Earth, and Earth Song, Sky Spirit. She also has an essay in a book of autobiographical essays, Here First. Her work is also in many literary magazines.

As an artist, her paintings have graced book covers, such as Harper’s Anthology of 20th Century Native American Poetry, as well as illustrations for her own book covers. She’s had exhibitions in England, Wales, and the US. Endrezze is half-Yaqui Indian, Slovenian, north Italian, German-Swiss.

Click here to learn more about Anita Endrezze from The Poetry Foundation’s website.

Village Books will be present at the Whatcom Museum to sell the books of both authors. Paintings by Anita Endrezze will also be available.

Information about the workshop to be taught by Marvin Bell will be in the next blog post coming next week. Please email Jim Bertolino (jim@jamesbertolino.com) for details and to register for the workshop.

 

Art That Inspires, and is inspired by, poetry: two poems by James Bertolino

Space Hawk

Where the sphere of actuality
and the sphere of possibility turn
against each other, a winged creature

is flying through the Earth.
Broad rhythmic strokes
propel it through densities of stone

inward to the molten core.
Then, like a red-tailed hawk riding
a sudden thermal, it is buoyed outward,

erupting from the surface
into space, where it disappears
in a shimmer of exhilaration.

==

“Cosmic Bird” by Leo Osborne

This poem, which inspired a sculpture, is from my book Snail River—published in 1995 by the Quarterly Review of Literature Award Series, Princeton University. Leo Osborne created his sculpture in response to the poem, and it will be up for auction (together with a copy of the book with Leo’s drawing on the page with the poem), at the Museum of Northwest Art in La Conner, Washington. The event is scheduled for Saturday, June 16th—doors open and silent auction begins at 5 pm; live auction begins at 7:15 pm.

Osborne is a Guemes Island artist, and his sculpture reminds me that I wrote a poem inspired by a Philip McCracken painting––Phil is another long-time Guemes artist who, well before Leo arrived on Guemes, was well-known for his sculpture. Back when I first lived on the Island, it was in a rental house about three doors south of Phil and Anne McCracken’s house and art studio. That was the mid-eighties. One evening when I walked up the road to visit the McCrackens, I was enjoying the sound of frogs singing. I noticed that the frogs got louder as I approached the house. When I mentioned that phenomenon to Phil and Anne, they pointed to a small pond near the front door, and insisted that all frogs were quite welcome. Later Phil loaned me that painting titled “Frog Voices”—which, in a somewhat abstract manner, depicted the rising music of the frogs.

Frog Voices by Philip McCracken

I spent a number of evenings meditating on the painting. Then I wrote a poem which I titled “Frog Voices” in honor of the artwork it was interpreting. The McCrackens liked the poem very much, and Phil said he wanted me to keep his painting as a gift. The “Frog Voices” poem was soon to be published in my volume First Credo, 1986, which was the first of two books that were published in the Quarterly Review of Literature Contemporary Poetry Series.

Here is the poem:

Frog Voices

The swamp is silent.

Dawn’s slow voltage
reaches wild currant, and each twig,
each slim living rheostat
feeds light to the blossoms.

Then one by one open the gold
and green-flecked eyes of the frogs.

Over the distant Bering Sea,
over resting bowhead whales
and sea birds at roost,
a missile punctures the brilliance
of morning sky.

Shivering ponds of swamp water
harbor a grim reflection
as the projectile descends its chilling arc.

Suddenly the frogs begin.
Their voices rise,
feathery trebles, croaks and trills
all weaving a shield
of sound.

When the missile explodes
the blinding egg of fire is enclosed
by singing, then is repelled
into cold space
beyond the range
of song.

––For Philip McCracken

Poems by James Bertolino

 

Returning to the Poetry of Robert Sund

Disappearing Lake
poems by Robert Sund

Thanks to poet Tim McNulty, I own, and am enjoying, a new book published by Pleasure Boat Studio in New York. The title is Notes from Disappearing Lake, and the subtitle is The River Journals of Robert Sund, edited by Tim and Glenn Hughes.

I knew Robert (you’d be wrong to call him Bob) back when he was still sometimes staying at his cabin on an estuary of the Skagit River, near La Conner, Washington in an area known as Fishtown. These journal entries are pretty much poems, and Sund has been widely praised, and recognized by key publishers, for his poetry. He is probably best known for his volumes Bunch Grass, 1969, University of Washington Press, Ish River, 1983, North Point Press, and Poems From Ish River Country: Collected Poems and Translations, 2004, Shoemaker & Hoard––which I used as a textbook when I was Writer in Residence at Willamette University, 2005-06, in Salem, Oregon. Robert died at age 72 in 2001, and that comprehensive volume was published posthumously.

However important his volumes have been, those who know and love Robert Sund’s poetry tend to treasure his limited edition chapbooks, which include As Though The Word Blue Had Been Dropped Into The Water, 1986, and Why I Am Singing For The Dancer, 1999—both published in hand-set letterpress editions by Rusty North at Sagittarius Press in Port Townsend, WA. His chapbook Shack Medicine, first published in 1990 by California’s Tangram Press in a letterpress printing, then reprinted in 1992 by The Poets’s House Press, is my own favorite of the smaller collections, and offers poems that are the most similar to those in Notes From Disappearing Lake. I should note that I found and was inspired by Sund’s first book Bunch Grass during my initial year as a graduate student, which was at Washington State University. WSU is in Pullman, at the eastern edge of the Palouse wheat-growing region––which is where the poems are rooted. I took the good news of his poetry to my students and colleagues when I transferred to Cornell University in 1971 to work on an MFA degree.

Here then are some samples of the poems in the 2012 volume Notes from Disappearing Lake:

December, 1976

Some men
reap their harvest daily,
     like ducks
     swimming about the bay as
          tide descends,
     gobbling water plants
     with feathery heads
          down under
          ripply water,
     never realizing
     their ass is skyward &
          open to the wind.

This poem is a fine example of some of Sund’s key characteristics as a poet: his detailed daily observations about the world around him, and his sense of humor. Also, like the majority of poems in this book, the poem carries the date it was composed.

He honored and learned from the great Chinese poets, and learned traditional calligraphy to enhance his own poems. He often embellished his poems with tiny drawings of mountain and island landscapes. Notes from Disappearing Lake opens with a reproduction of the calligraphy of a poem titled “October 12, 1973,” and it is punctuated by an image of mountains and an island watercourse.

In this next poem he not only identifies the date, but the time of day. He must have felt that composing a poem that early in the morning, the hour should be noted:

April 24, 1977   4 A.M.

In the excited mind
          words fly.

The night is still, the water still ––
          & suddenly, in the mind

(as on the night river
          a beaver
breaks the silence)

the first ripple of a poem
swims almost invisible by the river bank.

Blades of grass standing in the river
          feel the waves rise and
                    pass through them.

Here Sund finds an appropriate metaphor for his own poetic process, which implies that not only does he draw his inspiration from the environment, that environment physically experiences his poems. It should also be noted that he employed the ampersand (&) rather than the word “and”––in the process endowing his poems (even in print) with an aspect of calligraphy, as well as the minimalist clarity of the Chinese poetry he loved.

I will complete this gesture of appreciation for one of Washington State’s great poets, who had the grand good fortune to have studied with Theodore Roethke while a student at the University of Washington, with this beautiful observation:

July 20, 1985

After a hot day
     cool night comes––
          dark out in the marsh
     dark on the island.
In the nightwind the
     young shoots of willow
          cry against the windowglass,
               as the branches
               bend and
               spring back.

Event: Reading at Village Books Tuesday, May 15, 2012, 7pm with Tim McNulty
(All poems in this post by Robert Sund, from Notes from Disappearing Lake)
—James Bertolino
(www.jamesbertolino.com)

 

Art and Poetry in Sammamish

Please … Come Sit A While

Enjoy an Evening of Art and Nature
with artist Hannah Viano and poet Anita K. Boyle
Tuesday, April 17
in the Commons Gallery at Sammamish City Hall
and the Sammamish Library.

by Hannah Viano

· Come Look A While at 6:00pm … with artist Hannah Viano touring her exhibit in the Commons Gallery at Sammamish City Hall. Viano offers modern portrayals of locally inspired flora, and landscapes in her exhibition Come Sit A While.
· Come Immerse Yourself A While at 7:00pm … in conversation about nature found around us, extraordinary poetry by Anita K. Boyle and imagine yourself on a Sammamish Walks expedition all in the Sammamish Library. Boyle, author of What the Alder Told Me (MoonPath Press, 2011) will read selected poems.

And Judy Petersen, Sammamish Parks Commission, will share opportunities to come walk a while along the trails.

Notes from Anita K. Boyle:
I am very excited about joining papercut artist Hannah Viano for this event. I love to see the stark and delicate details of papercut art. This event at the gallery is an opportunity for us to hear from an excellent artist who shares her engagement with the natural world through the papercut artform.

by Hannah Viano

I’m looking forward to reading poems at the library as part of this art/poetry event because I’m intrigued with the connections between visual and language art. Knowing that I’m an organizer of a program called “The Poet As Art,” you can easily understand that I enjoy investigating the concepts shared between language and the visual often, including in my own artwork and poetry. The similarities between how an artist renders the world, and how a poet does, can be found in the themes and details they choose to use. How creative people put their works together—using cut paper, watercolor, oil paint, language, or other artistic medium—offers surprising comparisons and contrasts that can build on our understanding of the natural world, as well as each other.

by Hannah Viano

Hannah Viano’s Artist Statement:

In my life art has always been fit in around the edges. It has been a thick roll of paper held open by my bare feet in the sand, with seawater in a dixie cup and the tiny oval watercolors they sell for children. A life filled with boats and islands and oceans left only tidbits of space and time for inks and paper. I was a baby on a cat ketch from block island, and thirty years later had my own son on the water as well. In between I have taught, and rigged, and fished, and lounged, and done science experiments, and felt the lull of the waves on boats of all shapes and sizes from Ketchikan to Cape Horn. I haven’t gotten to art school yet. But, I have tried hard to learn the lessons of how to catch a memory, and save it for another day and another friend to see. Now a mother and sleeping on the land, I have a bit more time and space, and lots of desire to stay a sailor in my heart and in my hands. So I am pouring out those memories old and new .

In this exhibit I took inspiration from voyages and beachcombing done along the shorelines, where waves lap and lash out and leave everything new. To distill these impressions down I use an exacto knife and pieces of black paper. The act of carving out the pictures is a delicious and delicate process that gives itself perfectly to the flowing shapes of wood and water, the way faring a hull feels right in the hands, or a sweetly blossoming bowl on the potters wheel.

Please join Tuesday, April 17 for a journey into our natural and inner landscapes through the perspectives of the artist and poet.

The event is sponsored by the Sammamish Arts Commission, City of Sammamish,
4Culture, the Sammamish Parks Commission and the King County Sammamish Library

by Hannah Viano

For more information:

Hannah Viano – www.devilspursediary.com
Anita Boyle – egressstudiopress.com
Sammamish Walks – www.sammamishwalks.org

 

Sumi Ink and Watercolor Workshop With Sheila Sondik

Sumi Ink and Watercolor on Crinkled Mesa

Watercolor and Ink Painting on Crinkled Masa
An Artist’s Two-Day Workshop at Egress Studio

About the Workshop:
This workshop will explore the crinkled masa paper painting technique.

This enjoyable class combines Asian and Western painting techniques, and uses Japanese sumi ink and watercolor on Japanese paper. Each person will learn the techniques for crinkling the masa paper, which will produce intriguing textures, introduce the element of chance, and is very fun, as well. By the end of the workshop, everyone will go home with at least one finished artwork, and the knowledge to make more.
The instructor, Sheila Sondik, has explored this method of working for many years. See beautiful examples of her experience with the medium on her website at www.SheilaSondik.com/paintings.html.

About the Artist:

The workshop instructor at the helm of her studio.

Sheila Sondik is a prolific artist whose works have been exhibited in many states and in South Korea and Japan. She has taught individuals and groups in Berkeley, California, and in her Bellingham printmaking studio. Sheila is currently working on a series of prints inspired by Chuckanut sandstone. For more information, visit her website at SheilaSondik.com.

How to Register:
Saturday, January 21, and Sunday, January 22, from 1 to 5 both days.
Instructor: Sheila Sondik
Location: Egress Studio, 5581 Noon Road, Bellingham
Registration: $100 for two days
Materials list will be distributed to registrants. Most materials will be provided, and are included in the registration fee.
Workshop is limited to eight participants.
To register, please make check payable to “Sheila Sondik,” and mail to:
Sheila Sondik, 1809 Summit St., Bellingham, WA 98229.
Questions? Ask Sheila at (360) 306-8284 or ssondik@gmail.com

 

The Mill: Holiday Hand Made Bazaar

Until December 24 at 8 pm, you can visit The Mill (205 Chestnut St., Bellingham) to purchase presents you won’t hardly find anywhere else. Original art, honey, handmade apparel, and of course, Bison’s fantastically beautiful and often humorous letterpress cards and books.

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This year, you’ll find everything on your list: from honey to journals, baby hats to greeting cards, tie-dyed vests to cookies. It’s worth the time stopping in even if the only thing you see is the etching press, imported from Paris, and moved across the country to Kevin and Carly’s shop. Or would that be Shoppe? The bright yellow walls will keep winter’s depression at bay. Egress Studio Press has a few things there, too: greeting cards, prints, poetry and little handsewn, illustrated journals.

Uploading this has taken so long that I can only say I have to quit. Jim and I are getting high speed real soon, supposedly. If we do, I’ll update this again. Jim says I ought to show what Egress Studio has at The Mill, and I want to share photos of Carly’s dad Dave and Jim, as well as Robert Sarazin Blake’s actual records (i.e. LP’s) and CD’s, and it only took an additional forty-five minutes to add them to the slide show. I’m giving up now, at Jim’s request.

For hours of operation and more information, see http://holidayhandmadebazaar.com/

 

The Noon Road Railing, a Summer’s Tale

Our house on Noon Road has a new look! After years of looking out the front windows at a rickety railing on the front porch, we have a replacement. The railing has been falling apart almost since the day it was put together back in 1995. Finally, I asked my son Isaac if he’d be interested in a “little summer job.” “Yes!” he said. And the work began.

The easy part took such a short amount of time, I didn’t have time to take a “before” photo before he had the whole thing torn off the deck. A little push here and there, and it was pretty much demolished. But I did take plenty of “during” photos. What you see in the first photos of the slideshow are the posts. We needed five of them. They came from the maple tree next to the one that once held a huge tree house that Barry and I made with help from our kids, Angela and Isaac. Kids and adults alike used to play in it. The maple next to it is huge, and Isaac cut some beautiful wood from it.

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The top and bottom railings were cut from a cedar tree that grows near the northwest corner of our house. I don’t remember how many branches it took, but the tree needed to be cleared from the house anyway. So… maple posts, cedar railings and the slats are either salvaged douglas fir, and also maple. The salvage pieces were trimmed and cleaned up a bit, as were all the new pieces. Then Isaac measured, cut, re-measured, trimmed some more, measured again, and laid it out to fit the parts. That took a bit of time, and a few cuss words, but it all went according to plan.

Building the railing was not an easy job. But in the end, what I wanted was exactly what I got. I consider myself the art director, and Isaac the artist and mathematician. I say “mathematician” because as you’ll notice, the railing uses crooked, bent, and twisted pieces for posts, railings and slats. However, you’ll also notice that the slats are spaced evenly, and placed about as perpendicular as possible. Isaac was out there doing the math on small scraps of paper and chunks of wood to be sure everything would fit. In the photos, you can see some circles and x’s he drew to measure from, and as targets for the drill bits. He also strung baling twine from the top to the bottom rungs in order to measure from here to there with some degree of accuracy. Toward the end, it was real tough putting the whole thing together, but obviously doable, as you can see. There was lots of pounding with Isaac’s homemade truncheon, and sharpening of chisels and knives. The truncheon lasted almost through the whole job, but not quite.

Isaac finished the railing (except for the stairs section, which will be finished soon), and then took off for Evergreen State College, where he’s taking Russian and a class called Motion and Matter that includes physics, chemistry and calculus. Those of you who know Isaac understand that he couldn’t be having a better time right now. Meanwhile, Jim and I have a great piece of art to look at every day. It’s wild and beautiful.

–posted by Anita K. Boyle

 

Counting Kittens

Egress Studio is located in a rural area of Whatcom County about fifteen minutes outside Bellingham–an idyllic and even wholesome place to live and to work. In a bucolic setting like this, there is a phenomenon that happens regularly brought about by possibly well-meaning, but rather thoughtless and naïve people. I’d like to think the people are just stupid, but I know that’s not true. Several times a year, cats of all sizes, shapes, colors and ages appear out of nowhere in different parts of the county. It’s like a weather forecast gone bad. Some meow at strangers’ front doors. Some find their way into a barn or shed. Still others are only seen in the corner of your eye before disappearing into the underbrush. People think these quiet country roads are a perfect place, with their thousands of mice, for a cat to live. Should be a perfect place for a cat. But it’s not. Typically, cats can live for a while outdoors. However, they rarely die of old age. Instead, things happen. Generally, they become meals for a wide number of predators: coyotes, owls, hawks, dogs and raccoons. Of course, vehicles cause havoc with their numbers, and malnutrition is a serious concern, too. Cats being domestic animals can only lead a long and healthy life if they have regular feedings by their human “domestic” partners: us.

Almost every county-dweller has a story about the feral or “wild” cats that have come to call. Often the cat is a queen, who produces a collection of tiny kittens to the delight and horror of their human hosts. Kittens are always irresistible. But when one opens their home to a feral mother and brood, the question in the back of one’s mind is: “Yikes! What happens in a few months when they become adolescents?” It’s a seriously scary thought. Right now, I know of a family of wonderfully happy kittens and their mom who are being cared for by a couple of friends of mine, Chris and Noel.

The mother cat was abandoned. My friends took pity on her and diligently fed her daily for the last year. Chris says, “The poor thing was so frightened, she wouldn’t let anyone touch her but always showed up for her meal.” One day they noticed she was carrying something in her mouth across their lawn. This happened a few more times until she had placed five furry bundles in a special place she discovered outside their house. She obviously trusted these humans. Chris and Noel hatched a plan to capture the mother in the basement, which was surprisingly successful. They then brought the five frightened kittens in to join her. Success again. For the last couple of months, the kittens and their mother have been thriving under the care of my good-hearted friends.

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Well, the kittens are eight-weeks old now, and will be ready for good homes of their own in just a few short weeks. They are calm and silly as any properly brought up kitten can be. Check the photos on this post to see what they look like. Cute doesn’t quite finish the description. If you are looking for a new roommate in orange, gray or buff, please send an email to Noel (noel@noelevans.com). You are welcome to visit the kittens to play with them until they are twelve weeks old. But do talk with my friends about these little kittens. One of them could become your new best friend.

And the connection to art and poetry? The kitten photos here are taken by Chris. I may add more later. And I’m sharing a couple poems about cats: one by Christopher Smart, and this one by William Wordsworth…

from The Kitten and Falling Leaves
by William Wordsworth

See the kitten on the wall, sporting with the leaves that fall,
Withered leaves—one—two—and three, from the lofty elder-tree!
Through the calm and frosty air, of this morning bright and fair . . .
—But the kitten, how she starts; Crouches, stretches, paws, and darts!

First at one, and then its fellow, just as light and just as yellow;
There are many now—now one—now they stop and there are none;
What intenseness of desire, in her upward eye of fire!

With a tiger-leap half way, now she meets the coming prey,
Lets it go as fast, and then, has it in her power again:
Now she works with three or four, like an Indian Conjuror;
Quick as he in feats of art, far beyond in joy of heart.

—And the next poem, if you have a few moments to regard a legendary cat…

>For I Will Consider My Cat Jeoffry (excerpt from Jubilate Agno)
written between 1759 and 1763
by Christopher Smart

For I will consider my Cat Jeoffry.
For he is the servant of the Living God duly and daily serving him.
For at the first glance of the glory of God in the East he worships in his way.
For this is done by wreathing his body seven times round with elegant quickness.
For then he leaps up to catch the musk, which is the blessing of God upon his prayer.
For he rolls upon prank to work it in.
For having done duty and received blessing he begins to consider himself.
For this he performs in ten degrees.
For first he looks upon his forepaws to see if they are clean.
For secondly he kicks up behind to clear away there.
For thirdly he works it upon stretch with the forepaws extended.
For fourthly he sharpens his paws by wood.
For fifthly he washes himself.
For sixthly he rolls upon wash.
For seventhly he fleas himself, that he may not be interrupted upon the beat.
For eighthly he rubs himself against a post.
For ninthly he looks up for his instructions.
For tenthly he goes in quest of food.
For having consider’d God and himself he will consider his neighbour.
For if he meets another cat he will kiss her in kindness.
For when he takes his prey he plays with it to give it a chance.
For one mouse in seven escapes by his dallying.
For when his day’s work is done his business more properly begins.
For he keeps the Lord’s watch in the night against the adversary.
For he counteracts the powers of darkness by his electrical skin and glaring eyes.
For he counteracts the Devil, who is death, by brisking about the life.
For in his morning orisons he loves the sun and the sun loves him.
For he is of the tribe of Tiger.
For the Cherub Cat is a term of the Angel Tiger.
For he has the subtlety and hissing of a serpent, which in goodness he suppresses.
For he will not do destruction, if he is well-fed, neither will he spit without provocation.
For he purrs in thankfulness, when God tells him he’s a good Cat.
For he is an instrument for the children to learn benevolence upon.
For every house is incomplete without him and a blessing is lacking in the spirit.
For the Lord commanded Moses concerning the cats at the departure of the Children of Israel from Egypt.
For every family had one cat at least in the bag.
For the English Cats are the best in Europe.
For he is the cleanest in the use of his forepaws of any quadruped.
For the dexterity of his defence is an instance of the love of God to him exceedingly.
For he is the quickest to his mark of any creature.
For he is tenacious of his point.
For he is a mixture of gravity and waggery.
For he knows that God is his Saviour.
For there is nothing sweeter than his peace when at rest.
For there is nothing brisker than his life when in motion.
For he is of the Lord’s poor and so indeed is he called by benevolence perpetually——Poor Jeoffry! poor Jeoffry! the rat has bit thy throat.
For I bless the name of the Lord Jesus that Jeoffry is better.
For the divine spirit comes about his body to sustain it in complete cat.
For his tongue is exceeding pure so that it has in purity what it wants in music.
For he is docile and can learn certain things.
For he can set up with gravity which is patience upon approbation.
For he can fetch and carry, which is patience in employment.
For he can jump over a stick which is patience upon proof positive.
For he can spraggle upon waggle at the word of command.
For he can jump from an eminence into his master’s bosom.
For he can catch the cork and toss it again.
For he is hated by the hypocrite and miser.
For the former is afraid of detection.
For the latter refuses the charge.
For he camels his back to bear the first notion of business.
For he is good to think on, if a man would express himself neatly.
For he made a great figure in Egypt for his signal services.
For he killed the Ichneumon-rat very pernicious by land.
For his ears are so acute that they sting again.
For from this proceeds the passing quickness of his attention.
For by stroking of him I have found out electricity.
For I perceived God’s light about him both wax and fire.
For the Electrical fire is the spiritual substance, which God sends from heaven to sustain the bodies both of man and beast.
For God has blessed him in the variety of his movements.
For, tho he cannot fly, he is an excellent clamberer.
For his motions upon the face of the earth are more than any other quadruped.
For he can tread to all the measures upon the music.
For he can swim for life.
For he can creep.

—–

Post by Anita K. Boyle

 

Combinations: New art at Allied Arts Gallery, Bellingham

Juried Art Show Opening at Allied Arts Gallery in downtown Bellingham.
Friday, September 2, from 6 until 10 pm.
This show continues through September.

Eight of my new assemblages and four earlier works will be shown during the month of September, along with three other artists. On opening night, sometime between 6:30 and 7:00 pm, we’ve each been invited to share comments about our artwork: sources, technique and inspiration.

Here is a little preview of the new assemblages and the talk I’ve prepared (which I’ll be delivering Friday night, so don’t read this until afterward, if you plan to be there):

I grew up in Seattle and moved to the Bellingham area in 1980. Those are the only two places I’ve lived. My travels outside this area have been rare. As though a sense of place were a language, my art and poetry have nothing to represent, no subject matter, except the Pacific Northwest–because I have no other true references. If I were from Utah instead, the colors I’d use might be bright and stark like the landscape of the canyons, rather than the earthy, muted range of the Northwest’s tangled underbrush. I love the Pacific Northwest. Everyone here does. I’ve been in this area for what I call forever, which is a rare thing to say these days for someone over fifty years old–when most people have at least traveled outside the western half of North America. I think this rootedness of place gives me a specific perspective that finds its way into my art and poetry.

These assemblages are dedicated to the memory of my dad, Ken Johnstone, who was an electrical engineer. He was an inspiration to me for two reasons. The first: When when my dad began an engineering major at the University of Washington, I started kindergarten. There were five kids at home, all within eighteen months of one another. Working up to three jobs at a time, he supported his family while pursuing his degree. The year I graduated from high school, he graduated from the university, and by that time there were seven children. So he showed me that working at something for what might seem like forever can eventually prove a positive venture. I’ve learned about art all my life, though I didn’t go to school for a degree until I was forty. I taught myself about many art mediums and their techniques, but my education added a broader understanding of what art can be.

The other inspiration happened after my dad died a few years ago. He left a few small containers of old electric parts from the television and radio repair he did part-time while he was a student. Since he was color-blind, and the components were color-coded, I used to help him by picking out the right color combinations for the capacitors and resistors he needed. So I was glad to have the boxes, and have often used their contents in artworks. I see them as colors rather than what their original purpose was, and as a contrast with elements from the natural world.

My hope is that the materials in these assemblages will continue to reveal details and relationships the more they are viewed. The variety of items, and the way they wind around each other,
are intended to represent place through color, explore contrasts, create patterns, as well as simulate some sort of balance through the medium.

Much of the paper used in the assemblages is handmade. I taught myself papermaking by reading books and making things up as I went along. Paper in the assemblages is made with cattail fluff from the pond in back of Egress Studio, some with dandelion petals and seeds from the pastures, some is made from pond scum or, rather, spring’s green algae. One has an old robin’s nest mixed up in it, mud, sticks and all.

The assemblages use small objects gathered from the Noon Road place where I’ve lived since 1987: things that get dug up while I’m working in the garden, stuff that falls from the trees, things that have been hanging around on a shelf for twenty years, or were shoved up from underground by the ice thawing in the pasture. They find their way into the assemblages. Wires, nails burnt off posts in a bonfire, pieces of my old computers, broken sections of this and that. And stuff Jim and I find on the streets around town, like shiny things run over in the middle of the road, or those tiny parking lot jewels. I don’t go looking for these things, but pick them up as they find me.

Each one contains something that appeals to my aesthetic sense. They make me want to put together something like a visual poem, or short story, which I hope you will enjoy.