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.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

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.

 

Nance Van Winckel’s Workshop: Poetry Off the Page

POETRY OFF THE PAGE
a workshop by Nance Van Winckel
Whatcom Poetry Series: The Poet As Art workshop
Saturday, August 20, 2011
From 10:30 to 3 pm, with a half hour lunch
Registration: $50
Bring: a lunch and something to write with and on
Coffee, tea and water provided

Nance Van Winckel, from Spokane, is traveling over to the cool west side of the state to teach a poetry workshop at Egress Studio on Saturday, August 20th. Jim and I are looking forward to this workshop because the last time Nance was here, we both came away with more poems to share. One of my poems from the workshop was called “Moose Drool,” which is now included in What the Alder Told Me (MoonPath Press 2011), and has even been requested at a couple of readings. How often does that happen? This workshop promises to be different than any other poetry workshop I’ve attended because it combines art with poetry. If a poem comes off the page and slips into a work of art, who knows what will happen? I’m ready to learn. This workshop is almost full right now, but there are a few spaces left. With three weeks to fill the remaining seats, I hope you’ll register soon for the workshop by contacting Jim Bertolino at jim@jamesbertolino.com. This workshop would be excellent for poets and artists alike. And artists who are also poets, and vice verse.

About her own work, Nance says: “My intent is to have the word elements function first as visual components and secondarily as language. I also aim, overall, to create a synergy whereby the whole pho-toem may be greater than the sum of its parts. I try to make the fusion of elements invisible so that the pho-toem’s reality is its own credible edifice, inviting the viewer to enter, explore, and discover.”

Here is Nance’s description of the workshop:
Poems as postcards? Embedded in a painting? Projected behind a dancer? Fabric, rocks, bark, sand, sky. Digital & video media. Your words needn’t be confined to the book or magazine. We will look at examples of this sort of poetry; then we will try some off-the-page poems of our own. This workshop will help you explore and generate exciting alternatives for your own words to live in the physical world.

About the instructor:
Nance Van Winckel has had five collections of her poetry published, most recently No Starling (University of Washington Press, 2007). Her long list of awards includes two National Endowment for the Arts Poetry Fellowships, two Washington State Artist Trust Awards, and awards from the Poetry Society of America. She teaches creative writing at Eastern Washington University and Vermont College of Fine Arts, and has been Writer in Residence at the University of Montana and Bucknell University. Nance is also a widely published fiction writer.

This workshop is hosted by The Poet As Art program, which is part of the Whatcom Poetry Series (a non-profit 501(c)(3) organization), and sponsored by Egress Studio, an illustration and graphic design business.

 

Book Review by Annette Spaulding-Convy

In the lastest volume of Crab Creek Review, Annette Spaulding-Convy, Co-Editor, reviewed my chapbook What The Alder Told Me (2011, MoonPath Press). MoonPath Press is a new imprint dedicated to Pacific Northwest poets. The volume is perfect-bound, costs just $10.00, and can be purchased on Amazon.com. Or send me an email.

Annette Spaulding-Convy’s manuscript In Broken Latin, is a finalist in the Miller Williams Arkansas Poetry Prize. The book, Annette’s second, will be published in Fall 2012 by the University of Arkansas Press. Her first volume, In the Convent We Become Clouds, was the winner of the annual Floating Bridge Chapbook contest, published in 2006, and also $10. (I’m pretty sure the cover is a beautiful letterpress work of art by Jules Remedios Faye.)

In Crab Creek Review, Annette writes:

I read What The Alder Told Me during a ferry ride across Puget Sound on a drizzling morning with occasional sun breaks––the perfect venue for a poetry collection that is unapologetically and dazzlingly “Pacific Northwest” in its celebrations of the natural world and the human spirit. Anita Boyle’s poems are grounded in a simplicity and detail that are almost Zen-like as she explores some of life’s basic questions: how we cope with suffering and death, where and from whom we draw inspiration, and why we desire to create. What The Alder Told Me will inspire you to walk contemplatively through forests and listen to each bird, to find the profound in the smallest household task, and to embrace the quirkiness and passions of your loved ones. In the last poem of the collection, “This Distance,” we read, The earth sings / with ease––Boyle’s poetry does the same.

Thank you, Annette!
–Anita

 

Soul Food Books Reading with Belle Randall and Anita K. Boyle

Thursday, June 16 at 7:00PM
at Soul Food Books, 15748 Redmond Way, Redmond, Washington
Poetry Reading and Open Mic
Featured poets: Belle Randall and Anita K. Boyle

"What the Alder Told Me" Cover

Belle Randall and I read to a very full house at Bellingham’s Village Books in January, the first reading from my new book What the Alder Told Me. Belle read from her latest book The Coast Starlight. This Thursday, we’ll read again for a East-of-Seattle audience at Soul Food Books in Redmond. Jim Bertolino will be there, too, and will likely join the open mic poets. He has more new work he wants to share.

In January, Belle dedicated her Donner Party poem to Jim and me. Sounds a little scary, but it had connections with a conversation we had the night before. She is a wonderful poet, full of spicy vim and delightful vigor. It is a real honor to read with her, and a double honor to repeat the first.

I hope you will be there to listen to our poems, and so we can hear your poems, too.

Here’s a poem from What the Alder Told Me:

Along the Skagit

Out on the flats a ditch scrawls
beside an aging dike.
Its briny ebb carries a midden
of algae and scum hidden in the windrow.
Lint blossoms drift by at a lazy speed.
Let them take their time.

Blackberries gather at the trail’s edge.
Their purple clusters dangle
like temptation. Scarlet vines
stave off the graceless, invite the nimble.
Thorns cradle remnants of thistle down
and sparrow fluff.

The red fruit of nightshade
glows warm as purloined jewels,
and just as treacherous. These
are the promises that last.
A rope of spider web catches the sun
anticipating the delight of entanglement.

—Anita K. Boyle

 

Poetry, Music and Art Collaborate

It’s May already. Tomorrow June begins, marked with a solar eclipse. But this post is about a couple of events Jim and I attended on the Olympic Peninsula during March and April. When I mention the Olympic Peninsula, I mean to include all the little peninsulas that make up the grand Olympic side of Washington.

First, on March 12, Jim and I attended the Jazz Canvas event in Poulsbo with Andy and Lana Ayers. This venue is in the Knowles’ art studio. The jazz trombonist J. Kyle Gregory performed with the house band while the artist Leigh Knowles Metteer worked on a painting inspired by the evening’s music. Great music! And the artist was lively and even invited an audience member to add some creative elements to the painting. As the evening came to a close, the painting was finished and was raffled off. So someone went home with a nice piece of art, and we all left with our culture passions satisfied for the moment. This event happens almost every month, so check out the website www.jazzcanvasonline.com for more information.

Then, on April 8, Jim and I went to Vaughn for another similar event, again with our good friends Lana and Andy.

James Bertolino reads his poems to the Vaughn audience

There was an artist painting and a musician playing, but this time, Jim and I were invited to read poetry, too. It was a wonderful evening, full of a substantial amount of excellent vittles, from lox to brie to wine to whatever your heart desired. The musician was Cheryl Wheeler from the East Coast. The audience was approximately fifty people jammed nicely into the ample living room, and behind the guest musicians and poets was a view of small inlet of Puget Sound. A hummingbird feeder hung from the eaves, busy with the little birds.

Above me there is a hummingbird feeder

Cheryl was funny and entertaining as she sang original work, and a few covers. Jim’s reading was delightful. And I also enjoyed reading there, with such an attentive audience and the beautiful landscape. The artist is local, and I apologize for not including her name here. But she, on the spot, drew portraits of all three of the guest artists. A very colorful and lively evening. A few days after we got back home, I received a very nice email from a friend of ours, Lisa Schmidt, who included a poem she wrote inspired by the evening, which I’m sharing here:

Spring Collage

Just above your voice,
inside your words,
a hummingbird
sips nectar.

From up here
glass-pressed red sunset
sweetens the bay’s brine
and stains alder fibers
condensing the history of water
into my own blank page.

You speak the language
of red-winged blackbirds, of doves,
and the darkness
that started it all
falls silent
with the lion.

This hummingbird’s a mother.
She returns to nourish
her young with spiders
and nectar.
Cocooned in soft fibers
mended with webs
that would entangle,
they wait out the night
to suckle honey blossoms –

Eggshells preserved
with dragonfly.

—Lisa Schmidt

Lisa is a fine poet whose poems I’ve enjoyed since the first time I heard her read at the Auburn Arts Festival. I especially love inspiring others and being inspired by others. It’s a kind of splendid impromptu collaboration. Speaking of inspiration, Chris Jarmick will be the next guest poet on June 2. The photos on this blog post were taken by our host, Jerry Libstaff.

—

 

Monday Night PoetryNight

PoetryNight

Black cats are less likely to get adopted from an animal shelter than any other cat.

Monday, May 16 at 8:30pm until ten or later with an intermission following feature
Featured poet: Anita K. Boyle
8:00 to 8:30—Sign up to read your poems
Location: Amadeus Project, 1209 Cornwall Avenue, Bellingham, WA

Normally, Monday being a work night, I like to get enough sleep to be fairly awake next morning at 7 or so, after a good cup of coffee and a hot-hot shower. Then there’s PoetryNight, which begins after 8 on a Monday evening and continues until late, or at least past my bedtime, given the extra chores with the horse. But when Robert Huston invited me to feature at PoetryNight May 16, I agreed. PoetryNight features usually have a new book to read from, and that is the case with me—with my new book What the Alder Told Me. I’m pretty excited, and even intimidated by this poetry reading. Have you heard the poets there? The features are excellent, and so are the poets who read at the open mic. In fact, I’ve declined reading at the open mic almost every time I’ve been there because the poets are so good that I just want to hear them, and the sign-in sheet always fills up. I don’t remember when I went away disappointed. So this is an event worth going to, not because I’m featuring (though I’d be very happy to see you there), but because every Monday there is outstanding poetry read live on stage. The quality of the work, the poets and the audience exceeds expectations… by far. This is an invitation to come to PoetryNight May 16 to hear poems from my new book, and the great local and not-so-local poets who will share the mic with me.

 

An Ekphrastic Experience: a concert, a poem and a painting

Not so long ago, the composer Roger Briggs was inspired by the Montana poet Patricia Goedicke’s poem titled The People Gathering Together. His original composition, along with a few others, will be performed Sunday, April 3 at 3 pm in the Performing Arts Center (WWU). The concert is free to the public.

Gathering Together concert

Roger asked me to design a poster for the event, and I was happy to do that, and made a watercolor painting inspired by the poem and the idea of music. I received permission from the University of Massachusetts Press, which published Goedicke’s book Crossing the Same River in 1980, to create a broadside of her poem, which uses the artwork I made for the poster. The poetry broadsides will be available, in an archival edition, for purchase at the concert.

The poem, like Roger’s music, is beautiful. You can hear Roger’s work this Sunday, and the poem will be read there by my favorite poet: James Bertolino. I’ve copied the poem (below), which I hope you’ll read out loud. Take it slow. It sounds best that way. And then take another look at the poster (above) and ekphrasitcally imagine that the poem is on the poster instead of the other information. That’s what the broadside looks like.

Foremost, if you intend to be anywhere near Bellingham this Sunday, I hope you’ll plan to take in this concert of remarkable music.

The People Gathering Together

For all over the earth I can see them,
In every city and town
The people gathering together,

Sailing the dark waters
In great glowing patches of brightness,
Islands of floating flowers.

Once a week they swing
And dip and bend together,

Garlands of party-going faces
Wallowing in the troughs
Or high up on the crests

Refusing to think about the feet
Dangling beneath them,

The long wavering roots
Loose now, forever

They are as dazzlingly brave
And brilliant as coats of arms,

All week they work hard,
Each in the boat of himself commands
As much of the ocean as he can

So that thinking of it I could weep,
For now none of us knows where he is going
Any more than he ever did,

There are these huge distances between us,
Over the blank, heaving waves,
The vast trenches of the sea

Therefore we stick to the surface,
Floating along like huge colonies of water lilies

Whether it is Paris or London
Or a primitive tribe in New Zealand

All over the earth we keep coming together,
We keep giving each other these parties,
These heartbreakingly beautiful parties.

—Patricia Goedicke
from Crossing the Same River
University of Massachusetts Press, 1980

 

Significant and Ethereal Work at the Anchor— Art, Music, & Literature

Jim and I heard Alex Kuo read last night at the Anchor Art Space in Anacortes. His work is feistily enlightening. He is passionately contentious. He has great control over the twinkle in his eye. When it’s there, you can’t help but smile. When it’s not, you’d better look out. The reading included Kuo’s work from his latest poetry and fiction publications. The work that he read most often last night made his stand on American culture clearer to even the inattentive: this is a great place, but it could certainly be better. He’s right, and he didn’t even begin to talk about Jesuits. To begin the reading, Sherman Alexie gave a very touching introduction to Alex Kuo. I’m glad I was there to hear the introduction, and especially to hear Alex read and comment on his new work.

Jasmine Valandani’s artwork was hanging on the stark white walls of the Anchor Art Space. Her work is whisper quiet. Often, you need to lean forward to see it, squint a little, turn your head sidewards and then move it back and forth. And there it is, Jasmine’s art. It presents itself to you slowly and lovingly. I would call it neo-susurrus, or the New Whisper. And it is delightful.

Valandani's work at the Anchor

All during the reading, there was a beautifully ethereal piece of music playing that complemented Jasmine’s art like it was made for it. Well, it was. Steve Peters is a composer who works with sound. We listened to his piece last night during the reading, and it was a wonderful backdrop. There was an intentional sound that permeated the gallery at a low level, not intrusive, but definitely present—the musical equivalent of Jasmine’s artwork.

Jasmine Valandani and Steve Peters have planned to talk about their work at the Anchor Art Space Sunday, March 27th, 1- 4 PM. I’ll be at the Whatcom Symphony Orchestra concert, but I sure wish I could be at the Anchor at the same time.

Here’s a brief description of tomorrow’s talk, which promises to be artistically stimulating and inspiring:

Jasmine Valandani will discuss her work in the current exhibit in relation to process, materials and intention.

Composer/sound artist Steve Peters will give a talk on his current sound installation at Anchor, “Chamber Music 9: Northern Light”. The piece was made to accompany the current visual show by Jasmine Valandani and is based on a one-hour recording of the empty gallery, and references the mysterious phenomenon of “auroral sound” associated with the Northern Lights. In addition to discussing the work itself, Steve will also discuss the act of intentional listening, and will guide guests on a silent listening walk through the neighborhood, weather permitting.

—Anita K. Boyle

 

Homage to Fish & Chips with Beer

Membership Art Show at Allied Arts Gallery during March.

Homage to Fish & Chips with Beer

Here’s a watercolor and gouache painting of mine titled “Homage to Fish & Chips with Beer,” which is inspired by Morris Graves’ painting titled “Minnow,” one of his best-known works. The fish in my painting is a hardly a minnow, and makes me hungry. Last summer there was a celebration in Seattle of Morris Graves’ life (who died in 2001). Graves was known as one of the Mystic Painters of the Northwest. The red snapper in my painting is currently showing at Allied Arts Gallery in downtown Bellingham as part of the membership exhibition. This show is fun to walk around and see what everyone has been up to. You’ll probably find your favorite artists there. Check out the fish painting by George Jartos while you’re there.

Minnow by Morris Graves

Posted by Anita K. Boyle