back in style

I finally finished the 'Lioness & Cub' painted silk bag on the weekend and thought you might like to see how it came out in as close to the real colors as I could manage. Now that we've had some rain and wind storms the girl with the horn is no longer visible in the trees outside my window and likely won't return in the same form next year. Never mind, she's safe here.

Crow's off visiting some old friends and making new ones. He sent me a telegram yesterday to say he'd be back soon but in the meanwhile he told me about the bioneers - an interesting group of social and scientific innovators who are working right here in the US on projects that mimic nature's ways of looking after herself. Crow sounded quite excited about the organization and promises more news once he gets home.

Now I have to go and find his fruitcake and a bottle of Remy Martin. Maybe I'd better polish his perch and his goblet too - but I'll remember to use a separate cloth this time :-)

Hugo

Once upon a time, there was an idea and its name was Hugo. Hugo was a small idea and of the type that come out of the blue.


And Hugo, like all ideas that come out of the blue, had but one purpose in its life - to find one person who just happened to be ready to take Hugo and change it from being an idea into being - a something!


For, just as caterpillars dream of becoming butterflies, so also do ideas from out of the blue dream of becoming - something!


and so Hugo began its search for that person.


The first person Hugo came to just happened to be considering other ideas, and though Hugo tried to fit in, there was just no room.


The second person Hugo came to just happened to be watching television, so Hugo didn't even bother.


The third person Hugo came to just happened to be meditating, and Hugo quietly slipped away.


The fourth person Hugo came to just happened to be making a decision, and Hugo knew it would just be in the way.


The fifth person Hugo came to just happened to be speaking to someone else, and Hugo didn't want to interrupt.


The sixth person Hugo came to just happened to be angry, and Hugo was quickly bumped away.


The seventh person Hugo came to just happened to be very happy, and Hugo was floated away like a balloon.


The eighth person Hugo came too just happened to be depressed, and though Hugo waited a while, it grew impatient and left.


The ninth person Hugo came to just happened to be remembering, and Hugo felt a bit out of place.


The tenth person Hugo came to just happened to be a bit too young, and Hugo, small as he was, was still a bit too large.


But - the eleventh person Hugo came to just happened to be waiting to take Hugo and change it from being an idea into being - a something!


And that is why this story is named Hugo- for you see - the eleventh person was me, and this story is the something that Hugo became.

The End

*****

I met Jer (numb) in 1975 when my son and his best friend Zoe were both five. This is just one of the stories he wrote to entertain them... is it any wonder I fell in love? Some things, like good ideas, never get old.

where's the palace guard?

Not long ago, one of my favorite artist bloggers, Marja-Leena Rathje, posted some beautiful photographs of small, frequently unnoticed details among the larger and more obvious charms of Paris. Her incredible eye for detail is one of the many reasons I like to visit her site often. One of those pictures reminded me of a little story of my own that I mentioned to her in a comment. She asked me to show her the result so this picture is first of all for her but I'll tell you the story too.

When I was still quite young back in 1958, my mother took me for a three month trip to England to visit the family. We stayed for a couple of weeks with an aunt and uncle who lived in London and while there it was of course necessary to go to Buckingham Palace to see the changing of the Guard. After one group of equal sized soldiers wearing bright red coats, black trousers and tall bear skin hats had replaced the last batch I left the grownups so I could get a closer look at the palace through the tall iron railings of the main gate. I was also hoping to get a glimpse of the golden Coronation Carriage I'd seen so often in pictures or perhaps the Queen would come out for a stroll with Prince Charles and they would recognize my royal qualities and invite us all in for tea. I was a very romantic and imaginative child.

What happened instead was that I noticed a gold plated lion's head about the size of an adult's fist that was part of the gate and reached up and touched it. I swear it was just a gentle touch with one finger but the next thing I knew it had fallen and I caught it. I was terrified one of those Guards would clamp his hand on my shoulder and lock me away in the Tower of London for the rest of my life. I turned in shock to look where my mother was standing with my aunt and uncle and never in my short life had I felt so far from safety. Then my uncle, a quick thinking man, ran over, grabbed the little lion's head and wrapped it in his raincoat before the nearest Guard had turned for his return trip marching up and down the square.

I brought it home nicely packed in my suitcase and I've had it ever since. If you look at the back it's easy to see it had been hanging on the gate by only one rusted out screw. I wonder if I mailed it back if the Queen might be so grateful she'd invite us for tea? It seems I'm still a romantic even after all this time.

But please don't mention this to anyone since I still worry about the Tower.

playing the game

However unlikely it may be that humanity in general has been wondering where I am and what I've been doing these past few days, I thought it only fair to let a couple of my best friends know. I don't co-pilot many of the video games my husband enjoys playing but there are some very special ones I'm just so grateful to be able to witness (and sometimes help puzzle solve). Among a few others like Zelda, Ico, Final Fantasy, Metal Gear Solid and Persona 3 we've been fans of Ratchet and Clank. The series began in 2002 shortly after the introduction of the Play Station 2 and the last major game called R&C Future: Tools of Destruction with its cliff hanger ending was released in 2007. Two years is a long time so you may understand we've been very eager for the latest and likely the last ever of the series that arrived in the mail a few days ago - R&C Future: A Crack in Time.

There seems to be a shortage of video games that are challenging, witty and beautifully designed and it's true to say that most of the ones that fit those qualifications aren't made in the United States. However, Insomniac Games, the group responsible for the design and production of Ratchet & Clank, is based in Burbank California and even though they're contracted to produce games for Sony they are American, if not necessarily the apple pie kind. Imagine the Marx Brothers as high tech gaming wizards and you might come close to understanding what these guys are up to even if you don't play or have access to a 16 year old's button pushing skills.. or one who's much older but keeps up the effort.

How could anybody not appreciate titles like: Going Commando, Size Matters, Secret Agent Clank or my favorite - Up Your Arsenal? So for the last few evenings I've been swept up in the sheer chaos and hilarity of outrageous battles against the destructive plans of evil overlords who want to destroy the universe. We've been rail riding, flying, solving puzzles and just plain enjoying the fun of using outrageous weapons (a giant burping monster gun or Mr. Zirkon, a flying robot weapon who talks, 'Mr Zirkon needs no nanotech to survive; Mr. Zirkon lives on fear') against hordes of monsters all in the effort of reuniting a pair of friends. That's a worthy enough goal in my opinion. Just in case you'd like to see a little bit of the action here it is. Happy Halloween.



and yes, I will be visiting.

seeker

This is the principle character I drew a year or so ago for a painting that will never be done. You see no matter how I tried to fit her into some sort of logical context I simply couldn't decide what she was supposed to be looking at. I like drawing women and the women I draw always tend to be somewhat other-worldly. Their legs are always a little longer than is the norm and the breasts high and firm - something in real life that lasts just a few short years if at all. You're not to likely to see anyone who looks like this if you go for a walk around any block.

I drew her reaching out to something:

A parting in the sky looking toward a disastrous landscape was just too weird

Then there was a lotus but that was just too affected. I'm barely a Buddhist.

The tiny elephants marching in a line looked silly.

The lioness curled around her I'd done too many times before.

So she sits in one of my drawing books today still looking towards nothing in particular. She may wait forever for me to return and place in her in a watercolor that suits her strange aspect and that's okay. Long ago I got to the point with painting that the borders meant more to me than the central image and, having spent a few more days looking at the Red Book, I can clearly see that in reality it's the chaos at the border of our imagined selves that's the territory we most need to explore.

Red Book

Yesterday we came home to find an enormous box leaning against our door. What it contained is a book that's become legendary to people interested in the work and discoveries of Carl G. Jung - a perfect facsimile folio copy of the Red Book.












I'm no scholar and it's probably silly of me to want such a thing but I have been interested in why we are as we are for many years and a number of Jung's books have found a place in my smallish library. This one is something I never expected to see, never mind own. It's staggeringly beautiful with every page illuminated with his fabulous paintings of his personal journey to individuation. No, I don't read German but happily, the latter part of the book is a complete translation of the text.

Who are we as individuals according to Jung? We are the sum of the five archetypes that define our selves in this world. Briefly put:

The Persona is that which we present to the outside world.

The Ego is the centre of consciousness but not the totality of the psyche.

The Shadow is the box for all of that which we have disowned.

The Anima is the female soul image of a man, the Animus the male soul image of a woman. According to Jung a person's soul image is gender opposite.

The Self is simply the centre and the totality of the entire psyche. It is the archetype which contains all the other archetypes and around which they orbit. It's something of a paradox, and extremely difficult for the conscious ego to accept.

The years … when I pursued the inner images were the most important time of my life. Everything else is to be derived from this. It began at that time, and the later details hardly matter anymore. My entire life consisted in elaborating what had burst forth from the unconscious and flooded me like an enigmatic stream and threatened to break me. That was the stuff and material for more than only one life.

Everything later was merely the outer classification, the scientific elaboration, and the integration into life. But the numinous beginning, which contained everything, was then. C.G. Jung



I know the pictures above don't do the book much justice but they're the ones I took earlier today in dim light. You'll know where to find better ones. For me, opening the pages is like seeing the work of William Blake for the first time.

Now all I have to do is wait ten years for my husband to finish reading it.

hot Crow

Okay, I borrowed cousin Fred's sailor suit and I'm heading off to make a few visits. Cuba is nice this time of year. Before I go I thought I should tell you about my friend Chris Hedges who has a few things of interest to say about the climate change crisis your government would prefer you not notice.

In case you don't have time to read the article (not long and well worth a few minutes) there's one paragraph to remember which I'll change just a little. He does a very enjoyable rant:

"You can cut our consumption of fossil fuels. You can use less water. You can banish plastic bags. You can install compact fluorescent light bulbs. You can compost in your backyard. But unless you dismantle the corporate state, all those actions will be just as ineffective as the Ghost Dance shirts donned by native American warriors to protect themselves from the bullets of white soldiers at Wounded Knee."

It's not your fault, people. I'm thinking there might be another world not too far from this one where human industry never went high tech. I'm off to the Bermuda Triangle to see if I can find it and if I do I'll be sure to come back and bring you the map.