spring visit

just a few pics from this last weekend.
a visit from the folks.
and seeing some new things, as well as seeing them new through their eyes.

friday

the blanket weaver, by edward curtis

The Navaho-land blanket looms are in evidence everywhere. In the winter months they are set up in the hogans, but during the summer they are erected outdoors under an improvised shelter, or, as in this case, beneath a tree. The simplicity of the loom and its product are here clearly shown, pictured in the early morning light under a large cottonwood. (Description by Edward Curtis)

snowy april afternoon

casa nueva, en Mayo

future bedroom 

we found a place to move to.
for awhile we've been talking about moving out of Taos, to a house with land & trees & quiet.
and we found one.

a year ago I put my house on 200 Allison on the market so that I could move here.
it was exciting. and sad.

the little adobe we've been living in the past year has been fine. but too small. too old. and too close to so many people.

come May 1, we'll be able to move a little north, just 15 minutes outside of town, to a tiny place named Arroyo Hondo. to a house full of tiled floors, white adobe walls, high ceilings and windows everywhere. and just outside, a acequia runs, making little waterfall sounds.

so once again it is exciting (setting aside all the anxiety I get just from the act of moving...I'm by far better suited to stay in one place for long periods of time--change just upsets the sense of stability I try to create in my world). and this time it is not sad.

we'll be there soon little house in Hondo.

great things list #25

the two of us loading up a truck full of piñon and then unloading it at the new house.
anticipating the cozy feel of a warm fire keeping our home warm.

friday

Self-Portrait, Mendocino, 1965

Imogen Cunningham was born in Oregon, April 12, in 1883.
She bought her first camera at age 18, and majored in Chemistry after being advised it was the best degree for a future photographer. Her first job in a studio was to assist Edward Curtis. Later, at the invitation of Ansel Adams, she worked as a faculty member at the California School of Arts.

Amaryllis, 1933

Three Vegetables, 1946

Papaver Orientale, 1965

The Unmade Bed, 1957

The first photo of hers I'd ever seen was the Unmade Bed. As a teenager, I bought it as a postcard and kept it on my wall like a piece of art. 

little plant

sometimes I see a little plant that needs some attention ASAP.

and I buy it. even if it is from the grocery store, where it wasn't taken care of.

and was probably headed for the trash.

but this little guy was only $2.50. 

and I gave it a friendly new pot & fresh, good soil. and pulled out some of the dead leaves.

and it sits with above my kitchen sink. and I do occasionally ask it how it is doing.
so far, not great.
but we will keep hoping.

friday

angelou

Here, root yourselves beside me.

I am the Tree planted by the River,
Which will not be moved.

I, the Rock, I the River, I the Tree
I am yours--your Passages have been paid.

Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need
For this bright morning dawning for you.

History, despite its wrenching pain,
Cannot be unlived, and if faced
With courage, need not be lived again.

Lift up your eyes upon
The day breaking for you.

Give birth again
To the dream.

Women, children, men,

Take it into the palms of your hands.

Mold it into the shape of your most
Private need. Sculpt it into
The image of your most public self.
Lift up your hearts
Each new hour holds new chances
For new beginnings.
Do not be wedded forever
To fear, yoked eternally
To brutishness.

The horizon leans forward,

Offering you space to place new steps of change.
Here, on the pulse of this fine day
You may have the courage
To look up and out upon me, the
Rock, the River, the Tree, your country.

No less to Midas than the mendicant.

No less to you now than the mastodon then.

Here on the pulse of this new day
You may have the grace to look up and out
And into your sister's eyes, into
Your brother's face, your country
And say simply
Very simply
With hope
Good morning.

-excerpt from, On the Pulse of the Morning, by Maya Angelou, 1993

(poet, author, survivor, activist, playwright & teacher, Dr. Maya Angelou was born April 4, 1928)

great things list #24

when the seedlings begin to pop up, a great thing each year.

april spring

book cover, Gwendolyn White, 1936

this morning was my first in feeling like Spring is truly on its way.

though we still get close to freezing at night, I've placed a few plants outside. so they may soak in the much missed sunshine.

and the seeds I started are starting to do things.

on Friday, I drove by a crowd on the lawn of Our Lady of Guadalupe (which is down the street from where I live). people dressed in dark respect, with heads down, praying. a few men holding a cross with the body of crucifixion. There, on that street, at la iglesia de Nuestra Senora de Guadalupe, a crowd has gathered to honor the days of Easter for 200 years.

it is the ceremony that catches me. that it is a time for people to come together. and the older I get, or maybe the further from home I am, it is that time of togetherness that gives me pause.

Spring, with its tiny budding plants and warmer air, its message of rebirth, is itself a Book for Happiness.

friday

Chairs in Rain, Paris, 1931

Ilse Bing, a German/Jewish self-taught photographer who was born March 23, 1889, and lived to be 98. She lived in Paris until WWII, then leaving for New York City.

Self-Portrait with Leica, 1931

A part of the Avant-Garde movement, she was referred to as the "Queen of the Leica" because of her talent with the then new 35mm camera.

Greta Garbo Poster, Paris, 1932

Boats with Windmill, Veere, 1931

In the early 1950s she quit photography. She didn't think it suited her any longer. So she began writing poetry instead, which she said was creating, "snapshots without a camera".

great things list #23

buying some seeds. and new garden gloves. at the hardware store.
knowing that it will be warm enough to plant, one day soon-ish.

in time of daffodils

my first daffodils this spring.
I was beginning to fear they wouldn't show up in this high desert town.
I don't see them in people's yards.
Though so many people's yards are hidden by tall adobe walls. so maybe they are there.
but in kansas, they are a part of the spring landscape. growing everywhere like weeds.
and I was missing them.

I used to smile at how silly it was, to buy bunches of daffodils at the grocery store.
I didn't know how spoiled I was to have them growing in my own yard.

today, I felt so happy when I saw them in the florist section of the store.
and bought myself two bunches.
they smell sweet & soft. and they bring a welcome sunshine-y brightness to our home.


......

in time of daffodils(who know
the goal of living is to grow)
forgetting why,remember how

in time of lilacs who proclaim
the aim of waking is to dream,
remember so(forgetting seem)

in time of roses(who amaze
our now and here with paradise)
forgetting if,remember yes

in time of all sweet things beyond
whatever mind may comprehend,
remember seek(forgetting find)

and in a mystery to be
(when time from time shall set us free)
forgetting me,remember me 

e.e.cummings

friday

crocus, 1874

botanical illustrations by Mary Vaux Walcott, an American Artist who was known for her watercolor paintings of American wildflowers.

grape hyacinth, 1920 

butterfly violet, 1923

blueflag iris, 1919

images were found at the Smithsonian
(click on image for link) 

spring eve

I opened iPhoto to see what my pictures were a year ago, on this eve of the Spring Equinox.

a farm in Kansas turned & turning even more, green.

for turning five

just a little project d. & I worked on, as a birthday gift for the little one who is turning Five.
I told him my idea, he turned some old boxes into the frame. and then I covered it in pretty things.

a little theater for a little girl who likes to make up stories and act them out with her dolls & animals.







mi'nina curiously checked it out before I packed it up.
I had a few moments of imagining how I would have played with it myself.







I made her a few skirts as well. some bright prints with ribbon edges.


and my brother video-ed the opening of the gifts, which was a big present for me. to see my little ones. and to see the sweet one smile & kiss her new little theater. there has been sadness for me, in missing this birthday with her, much like many things I'm missing with the kids. but the video helped me feel better, I didn't have to miss her smile as she opened her gifts.

friday

convent of tepotzotlan, 1924

Tina Modotti, an Italian photographer born in 1896.
She moved to Mexico City for love, only to arrive two days after her love  died of smallpox.

costume from tehuantepec

She stayed in Mexico. She met and began working with Edward Weston . She documented Diego Rivera and the Muralist movement. He painted her into his murals. And she then hosted the wedding party for Rivera & Frida Kahlo.

man with box of plants on his head,

staircase, 1924

She joined the Communist Party, quit photography & moved to Russia for political work, which she considered more important.

She died in 1942 in Mexico City, and Pablo Neruda wrote her epitaph.
He wrote that she was made of, "bees, shadows, fire, snow, silence and foam"

woman with flag, 1928

She took beautiful photographs and she knew many of the finest artists that I can only read about.

great things list #22

taking a lunch-break walk on a sunny day.
(& stopping for a hot chai)

saturday art night

last night we had the time to visit an art opening.
we live in a town full of galleries & artists, but don't often take part in the sociable openings.
the small talk can be intimidating.
but I tell myself that these are the things that help a person learn about the place around them.

the show was called High Art/Low Brow.
and it was a mix of artists using found art & pop art.

my favorite was right by the front door of this little gallery. stacked up the wall were sketches on the inside page of old book covers. many of the books had been stamped as "withdrawn".
i like that they were books meant to be thrown out. and instead are now art on a wall.
simple pencil sketches on beautiful old, embossed panels.
it was the kind of art I most felt could have been mine.

the night was pretty & snowy. snow had fallen all day, in huge, wet clumps.
i'm still surprised by all the snow here. but i live in small mountain town now.
my skyline is now snow-white dusted mountains.
looking wise & old.

after leaving the gallery, we walked around the corner to the Taos Inn.
we talked about how our own talent & creativity could be art on a wall someday.
we talked about how we could do it together.

the Inn was crowded with skiers and out-of-towners. it was a cozy, talkative place to be.
we had drinks. and some dinner.
a lively jazz band was set up in the lounge, playing away.

what started as a visit to an art opening, turned into a date night.

friday

early evening

sun and clouds

waterfall in the adriondacks

some works by Homer from the Freer Gallery.
I have always loved the richness of his colors, and the roundness of his lines.

(click on photo for the link)