Visual Silence

I lost my voice in Spokane and I still don’t have it back. It was raining all week, or all year apparently according to the locals, including Thursday when we had to set up for ArtFest (oh the many, many joys of setting up a booth in the rain…).

Fortunately, the sun came out Friday and lasted the entire three days of the show. So did the pollen. You see, I learned that pollen needs to be dry in order to do its thing, so with the first warm, dry day of the year, every pollen-bearing flower, plant, shrub, tree, hedge and bush let go with a celebratory whoosh and covered everything. Did I mention everything? 

I must have had an allergic reaction to the stuff if my sudden coughing, sneezing, wheezing, hacking, sniffing, dripping and stopped up nose, headache, sore throat and loss of voice are indicative factors.

Why tell you about it? Because I’ve had no voice now for several days and it’s been an entirely new experience to spend time in virtual silence; quite unusual for this talkative spirit. But as always is the case for me, I am learning something new from it, and I’m feeling comfortable in my solitude, expressing myself visually with pictures instead of all my words words words.

Ogling The Gargoyle

The last few weeks for us have been about Washington. We went to Seattle for the U-District Street Fair and turned right around and drove to Spokane for ArtFest.

ArtFest is one of our favorite shows to do. Set in a beautiful park, surrounded by stunning Victorian architecture, it is a camera addict’s dream.

On the first day of the show, I met a budding photographer and we instantly hit it off. Groom watched the booth while she and I ran away from the circus with our cameras and practically drooled over all the turrets, transoms, and entablatures.

The next day we did it again, ogling the gargoyles, gables and cobblestones. 

What felt great about the experience (besides playing hooky from the booth), is that we were both open to how the other one viewed the world. The lens was our magic door. I watched what animated her while she noted what sparked my attention. 

There was no competition, only pure inspiration at play.

While I can’t speak for her, I feel that she helped me raise my game, and for that I offer a Thank You.

Oh Lord!

Last week, Snow White predicted that our early August sojourn to the Spokane- Coeur d’Alene area would be a memorable one. Hmmmm, those kinds of prognostications tend to make me a tad nervous. I prefer forecasts such as good, great or fantastic because memorable can go either way.

Right now we’re about 58 minutes into the nine-hour drive home to Oregon, so I have plenty of time to reflect upon the last few days. Let’s see…

Groom and I experienced a couple of lightning storms, were caught in a snarling traffic jam and I’m nursing an impressive spider bite. Currently, it kinda looks like a Dr. Seussian illustration for “red eggs and ham” but with a traditional yellow egg yolk center. Yep, I just lost my appetite, too.

Plus, somebody stole our credit card number and spent the weekend trying to spend our money. As we have the plastic charge-o-matics in our possession, we are perplexed as to how this could have happened. The bank’s fraud department immediately cancelled our account and promised those illegal charges would not find their way onto our bill, phew! It’s always fun to be out of town and have one’s credit card cancelled. What’s even more fun than that? Coming home to our in-box full of declined auto-pay bills stacked like a multiple-car pile-up because of the credit card cancellation. We’ll have to untangle that mess.

Memorable? Yes.

But it wasn’t all bug bites or bouchons (French for cork, stopper, traffic jam) electrical storms or theft (well, an acquaintance of ours at the show did have all her cash stolen by two men with a coughing fit distraction routine). There was also plenty of fun and beauty, conversation and celebrity encounters, networking and art, delicious dinners and boat rides on the lake during our 1,000+ mile journey.

As Kimmmmm says, my life vignettes always have a story-arc and this trip is no exception. Its theme could be titled “Progression.” In June, after Art Fest in Spokane, I wrote about spending time with – and I’m looking for an adjective here that doesn’t sound phony or overused like amazing, but means the same thing. Groom and I were invited to join a friendly, fabulous, fascinating group of artists for a fine meal. As the evening progressed and the vino flowed freely, we were invited to stay with them when we returned in August for Art on the Green.

After making certain their offer of generosity was not just from the glow of the grapes and still looked good in the harsh cold light of day, we accepted their invitation. To set the stage, I must ask you to board my time machine once again and travel back with me three, maybe four years to our first time participating in Spokane’s ArtFest. There, a charming couple wandered into the booth. I said it at the moment and I’m saying it here.

The instant I made their acquaintance the metal flap covering my heart, the one that protects me that I usually control by a hand-crank lever, just flew open. It did it of its own accord; I had nothing to do with it. I’m standing there in the presence of these two people, Mary Gayle and Tim Lord, with a completely naked open heart. Not usually how I operate. My heart tends to look more like a New York City apartment with lots of locks and bolts. But not this time. Boing! Open.

I introduced them to Groom and by the end of our chat it was pronounced that if we lived near each other, we’d be friends. The next year, they stopped by again and they suggested we have dinner. It finally happened last June and a date to stay with them was set.

The first time I walked into their enchanting home, I had a visceral reaction. First, I got all goose-bumpily, then I broke out into hives and then I started crying. Again, not my typical response to some one’s abode. When they asked me what was wrong, I told them Nothing! I felt like I had just fallen down the rabbit hole.

They started laughing because Tim Lord, a talented and accomplished artist, had just agreed to paint a picture for the Alice in Wonderland Invitational to be held at the TINMAN Gallery in the historic Garland District.

He spent the next 35 days (or 200 hours) in his studio, creating a colorful tea party story. When we arrived at what I’ve dubbed The Lord Manor, he was under the gun for the deadline. The opening was Friday, July 30th and he was down to the last 48 hours until the gallery doors were unlocked.

Traditionally, gallery owners prefer to have the artwork hung before a show. Traditionally, artists are known to be late.

And so it was, we arrived in Spokane at the perfect tension point. Would Tim Lord finish the Wild Tea Party at the Deadwood Cemetery in time for it to be hung or would he be carrying it in with him as the paint dried?

I mentioned earlier that the theme of this week is Progression. We had the rare opportunity to see the back-story of the painting. I can’t speak for you, but most of the time when we drool over art, it is already hung in a museum, presented in a gallery or nailed to the wall in someone’s home. This time, however, we were granted front row seats to the process.

Tim Lord’s transparent sketches were taped to the window for light allowance, photographs of the cemetery were freshly developed and taped to his drawing board from their trip to Deadwood, South Dakota, and I recognized the clock in the center of the painting as a real one designed by Chris Giffin.

Granted free access with our cameras, I noticed through my lens that his palette was still moist with usable paint, that a vast convention of brushes had assembled in one place and paint cans were stacked within easy reach. I smiled at the fun collection of toys, dolls, rabbits and Virgin Mary’s that served as visual inspirations for the characters in his painting.

And best of all, his painting was not quite done. This afforded us the luxury to watch his creative process unfold and measure time through his progress. Each evening, we’d say our goodnights and I’d wake up and the first thing I’d do in the morning was tip toe into his studio to A) see if he was still up after painting all night and B) see what magic had occurred overnight. We took photos and it was fun to meet each new character as they materialized on the canvas.

Tim Lord did finish the painting by Friday afternoon and Mary Gayle delivered it to the TINMAN Gallery in time for it to be hung.

Usually, when writing about crowds, it is normal to say “standing room only,” but as this gallery opening was a standing event to begin with I must turn up the volume on the description and toss in phrases like body pressed up against body, throngs, and shoulder- to-shoulder.

People were not shy about crowding into the alcove or announcing above the din that the Wild Tea Party at the Deadwood Cemetery was their favorite painting and best of show.

While a hearty congratulation is extended to The Lords for their success, a thank you for their hospitality is also proffered.

Meanwhile, at Art on the Green in Coeur d’Alene, management placed our booth location next to sand castle artist, Scott Dodson of Post Falls. While we set up our structure on Thursday, the sandman was already working on his, playing in a 16-ton sandbox. Spending three consecutive days next to him, we were able to watch his entire progression from dump truck loads of sand piled onto his four-story wooden platform to a finished castle by Sunday evening; forty hours of continuous creating.

Chakra Girl continues to impress upon me that “two makes a pattern.” One, we were invited to stay with a painting in progress and two, we were the only booth in the show set up next to a developing work of art, so we were able to witness both unfolding.

Within the peaks and valleys of this trip, the lesson seems to be about enjoying the moment where we are and accepting our place in the process. In a learning curve with our new metal jewelry, I am always in such a rush to complete things that the finish line tends to be the almighty goal. In the past seven days, I’ve been given life-size demonstrations of experts in their fields relishing the entire progression from start to finish.

I think one reason Tim Lord is so successful as an artist and why people buy his work before the paint has even dried is because he places himself right in the middle of his life and work while I tend to avoid total immersion in the name of efficiency. I gotta ask myself this question, “How’s that working out for me?”

We also had several other delightful encounters. One was with a woman named MaryEllen Garasky who writes a blog ilovecda.com (I Love Coeur d’Alene), who is writing about us because we were one of her four favorite finds of the show.

One visit I’ll have to share later. That’s because it’s a secret. A very famous actor and his wife are expecting a baby and I was introduced to a close relative. I know the gender of their unborn child, but my lips are sealed until they announce it publicly, but I’d be painting the nursery blue.

Groom and I also visited Stonehenge, what my cousins call their homestead on the lake in Nine Mile Falls. We had a blast catching up, being silly with their 15-year old boy, and taking a boat ride as the sun went down.

(As a brief aside, some of these photos are worth a closer look. Simply click on them for better detailing and then hit the back arrow to return to the blog).

Yes, Snow White, you are right. This weekend is memorable.

Eye'm in the Mood for Summer (and Sales)

As I sit down to write this, I hear automobile tires make rolling contact with the wet street in front of our house. The ebb and flow of traffic on this rainy Wednesday morning is like the waves of the Pacific washing on shore with a little car stereo thrown in to rattle the living room windows.

Calendar wise, this week brings us the first day of summer also known as Summer Solstice, the longest day of the year according to equi-portions of light. Body wise, I am not convinced. Clad in fleece socks, leopard print slippers and long fuzzy pants, I almost warmed my lavender scented heat pack and slipped it under the covers earlier this morning to warm my tootsies as I sipped coffee and read. In other words, brrr.

Having just returned from Spokane last week fits perfectly into a couple of things on my mind. One is Father’s Day next Sunday, June 20th. This holiday – honoring our male parental units – began in Spokane, Washington in June of 1910. How convenient! That’s exactly 100 years ago, so Happy Birthday Father’s Day! I’d like to give a shout out to my dad, a very fine man, and publicly thank him for sticking around.

I’d also like to acknowledge that occasions like these can bring pain. Many have lost their fathers, maybe never knew them at all, or wish they hadn’t. There are also men separated from their children, who have lost them from tragedy, or who are going through intense personal struggles, so we also honor your experience.

Respectfully, shifting to a lighter note and a remnant from Spokane, the good thing about selling most of our necklaces at ArtFest is, well, the financial aspect and the confidence booster. The not-so-good thing about selling most of our necklaces is that we have to start over.

“Well just get yourselves into the studio and make some more,” you might sagely and sarcastically advise. I certainly would, but we are at the beginning stages of collecting interesting and old things from which to create.

Having been introduced to a phenomenal artist in Spokane (the woman I mentioned last week from Oregon’s ArtBeat), she opened the doors of her studio to us last Friday and we had the incredible opportunity to behold her magic space. If I felt like I fell down the rabbit hole before, I was uplifted on the wings of cruel angels this time, transported to a designer’s Utopia. Purchasing a church outright in a small town in Oregon, she turned the former place of worship into a studio that caused me to sin.

I admit it openly; I turned various shades of green. Taught not to covet, I must confess a la Jimmy Carter that I experienced lust in my heart. For there, in her high-ceilinged workshop, she had every imaginable and unimaginable item at her disposal to play with, floor to ceiling shelves of organized goodies. Where I might have three vintage tins, she had cases of them arranged in alphabetical color.

As I hunt and peck for old skeleton and typewriter keys, domino and Scrabble tiles, watch parts and clock gears, she has amassed piles of these interesting pieces, stacking them in beautiful containers, boxes and bowls. Not only is her workshop outfitted with every possible contingency, but it is like the best antique shop you’ve ever seen, tableau after tableau of curiosities positioned to stimulate one’s imagination.

I asked her if I had died and gone to heaven. She snorted. For her, after 30 years of collecting, it felt like purgatory. Funny how one person’s heaven can feel like hell to another.

I also asked her advice on starting at this late date in the game, collecting pieces for myself, when online auction sites have turned trash into treasure, closing down antique places, vintage stores and junk shops all around the country.

She told me to continue hunting yard sales and through what shops remain open. Her best luck has been in Texas flea markets and areas to the south. This has spurred Groom and I to think of how we can go hunting and gathering somewhere different than Lane County. We have collected enough airline miles to go on a domestic flight, but discovered they are about to expire. So we need to plan something ASAP or lose them.

Talking to my parents, they suggested contacting those in the biz and asking where in the country is the best place to shop for “orphans,” odd bits of broken jewelry, bobs of colored optical lenses, vintage tins, bisque dolls (tiny, could even be chipped or broken as a head, an arm or a leg could be worked into a quirky piece), old metal measuring spoons, cloth measuring tapes; fun weird stuff in basements, attics or collecting dust in junk drawers.

A friend who went AWOL (that’s another story, she’s been missing since April), told us about the world’s largest yard sale spanning four states for four days. I Googled it and online information varies. Alabama says it starts there and ends in Ohio. Tennessee claims center point and that it starts in Michigan and ends in Alabama. One site refers to 450 miles of continuous sales while another boasts 650, so details are a bit blurry. It’s known as the 127 Corridor Sale or Route 127. At least they agree on that number.

The idea would be to cash in our airline miles and fly to Birmingham, rent a vehicle and drive an hour until we hit the first sale. From there it would be shop until we drop for four days. In the heat, in the humidity, in August, in the South. We’re trying to picture how this would go. Bumper-to-bumper traffic, crawling at a snail’s pace, vying for parking and the best deals. No disrespect meant, but serious thrifters are not always the friendliest.

Groom and I spent Sunday going to Estate and yard sales, happy to be outside during our lone day of sunshine. We had smiles upon our faces, just happy to be together rummaging for creative materials. But howdy let me tell you, the other shoppers were grim. No smiles, all business, just “how much is this and can I have it for less?” If I accidentally bumped into somebody or vice versa (we were all crowded into a garage), I’d say “excuse me,” but instead of a polite response, I’d be faced by a stern looking Early Bird or Bargain Man glaring me down. I even had one Hardcore ask if he could buy what I had in my hand for fifty cents. It was marked $2.50. Sheesh.

So I’m trying to imagine multiplying that experience by about a billion percent, throwing in muggy heat to boot, unfamiliar territory, gas, lodging (where on earth would we sleep?) and then figure out how to get our booty home once we’re at the airport. Still sounds kinda fun.

We’re looking for old math tools, metal protractors, wooden rulers, interesting chain, vintage clasps, watch fobs, cool beads, anything with small moving parts, rusty metal schwag, old-fashioned microscope mounts, broken musical instruments with keys, old telephone dial plates, small glass bottles, sentimental frippery, period embellishments, vintage ornamentation, elegant geegaws, classic trinkets, stylish baubles, random collectibles and nostalgic inspiration.

We create crazy fun whimsically elegant steampunky tastefully odd jewelry from old pieces, using our newly acquired metalsmithing skills to transform bits of history into present day adornment. Just yesterday I was soldering old glass fuses and mini-light bulbs, turning potential landfill into charms to play with.

Shifting gears (oh yeah, we’re on the lookout for gears, dials, compasses…), June also is a month to celebrate emancipation. It’s called Juneteenth, the oldest known holiday to celebrate the end of slavery in 1865. Happy Freedom Day to everyone!

Last, but certainly NOT least, today is a very special day in our household. Our precious kitty kat is having his Golden birthday. He is turning 16 today on the 16th! Happy Birthday, sweetheart, we love you and are so grateful you found your way into our hearts. You’re still a young thing and we pray for many happy returns.

As for the photo selections, they do not illustrate the text this time, but are random shots we strung together. For better detail viewing, simply click on the picture you’d like to enlarge and then hit the back button to return to the blog.

Thanks for tuning in and have a wonderful, celebratory week.