I’ve applied it to my yoga practice, but can I apply it to my art?

For the first time in a while, I’m feeling right. Not sick. Not anxious. No belly full of butterflies, nausea in the pit of my stomach, afraid something is bad, bad wrong. I can’t put my finger on why exactly I was feeling that way, but that feeling has overtaken me for months, paralyzing me. Maybe it was just a string of random events, maybe it was just the winter doldrums. Does it really matter? I now feel like I can breathe, like there’s fresh ideas that might spring forth. When I look over and see Milo contemplating the Buddha, I can just laugh, feeling light and free and happy.

So this is a hard one to figure out where to start. It’s really hard to lose someone who’s been a part of your life for 30+ years. Who was always there, always supportive, always quietly in the background. And it’s rather funny to describe my Nin as quietly in the background – because when I think of her, quiet isn’t what comes to mind. Full of life, life of the party, ready to have fun – those are the things that come to mind. As I flip through pictures, and think about her more, quietly in the background, being supportive, saying “well, okay” with that smile that only she had – it wavered a bit, it was a little sly, but full at the same time – those are the things I see and remember now.

There are those stand out moments in my memory – dousing the Christmas tree in icicles, tinsel in a bunch, and she’d just smile and redistribute a little here, a little there. Playing “Bad Girl” on ZZ Top’s Eliminator tape over and over and over again, dancing like crazy in her living room, until we fell over in the floor, laughing, rewinding, doing it all again. The cakes – oh! the cakes – always my favorite baked when I came home, and a chocolate pie or two to send me back to college with. Going to Danny and Linda’s to swim, and later on going to her apartment’s pool to swim — even though she didn’t swim. She was really happy just to be there, in the moment, enjoying time with her family, with her grandchildren.

It’s really hard to say good-bye to all of that, even if it’s “for the best”. Even if she has eternal peace, it’s hard to not be selfish and say I want her back, as a part of my life. It’s really hard to think of how hard her life was; how unfair the end was. Quite frankly, the whole thing blows, and it feels much better to say it that bluntly.

So, I’ll try to remember “it is for the best”. She’s “in a better place”. Along with my grannies, along with her sister, and countless others. She’ll live on in my heart and in my memory, every time I hear “Bad Girl”, every time I see some flamboyant pants, every time I make her caramel icing, noodle casserole, or turkey gravy with some yellow food color. And every time I see a pink sunset, I’ll think of this past Wednesday, after her funeral, when we saw this angel in the sky, telling us it was a better place.

The other day, I stumbled upon a this movie on Door Sixteen’s blog and man did it take me back to college. Freshman year, our foundation professor, Gretchen, showed this to us. I believe it was right before we had an assignment to photograph a sculpture we’d just built, to give us some insight into perspective. It’s a pretty cool video, though I remember being bored by the end. I get it already!! Let’s get on with the work!

As I watched this, I began to think of the other videos we’d watched in classes. I suddenly remembered “Duck & Cover” – a fun cartoon propaganda film from the 50s that I thought was a good 30 minutes long, but apparently it’s only 10 minutes (or the posted YouTube version has been shortened). Being the snarky smart ass I was (still am, actually), I had a great few pages of notes about this that I stumbled upon not long ago. I think it started with something about the monkeys are actually the commie bastards we should be worried about, and I know there had to be a part about Paul and Patty being “ready”.

I continued my trip down nostalgia lane, deciding I must find the Tom Thumb movie I lost a while back. I finally found the first clip of it on YouTube, and as I watched it, I knew I must have it again. So onto Amazon I go, to order The Secret Adventures of Tom Thumb. It’s a rather macabre take on the story of Tom Thumb, and the stop motion is just awesome. It’s hard to believe this was made 15 years ago; I find the movie so timeless.

So there’s my trip down college-memories lane. What are yours?

The others will follow suit soon.

I’ve visited San Antonio once, and I was lucky enough to be there around the time of year when Day of the Dead, or Día de los Muerto, is celebrated. So in addition to getting to see such wonders as the Blue Hole and all of the missions, I also got to see many, many beautiful altars, erected for loved ones who are no longer with us physically. Many of the altars were for family members, but this was also shortly after Katrina, so there were quite a few dedicated to the victims of Katrina as well.

This particular altar was more of an educational tool at the Mission San Jose’s visitor’s center. Looking at this vibrant picture makes me want to pull out the glitter and sculpty to make my own homage to my family members who have past. It makes me think – if I were to erect one, what foods would I put out for my great-grandmothers? Coolwhip and jello for Granny Chandler? A candy-bowl full of chocolates for Granny Hurdt? These were some of the favorite desserts they’d pull out for me when I was around, but what was really their favorite?

This little piggy went to the market, and he never came home. Instead, he became a rather ironic display piece.

The meat slicer is the penny-pincher’s best friend. Roast your own meat and slice for a sandwich. It will definitely be short of the $8.99 per pound you pay at the local grocery for sandwich meat. Not to mention better. I’m not sure how sliced ceramic tastes – probably not so good – but I’m pretty sure your own puerco is pretty damn good. Better than Virginia ham.

This picture is one of those literal pictures that doesn’t require too much story, too much explanation. Italy has any number of long, steep stairways that wind and curve their way up into the domes of various basilicas or towers. There was something special about this one, though, at the church of all churches, St. Peter’s Basilica.

The sunlight flooded in from above, gleaming off the rather pedestrian tiles (compared to the mosaics inside) and gave this photograph an other-worldly glow.

Teeny, tiny bird, what world did you come from? Perched on twine… or is it a rope, and you’re not so tiny after all? Your head blends with the blue canvas you’re perched against. What is that called again? Never mind, it’s time to sit still for a moment, take in the view, not bothering with silly details, before soaring to new heights.

Oh when the elephants, come marching in! When the elephants come marrr-ching in! Oh how I want to be in that square, when the elephants come marching in!

Elephant and Obelisk really has nothing to do with Louis Armstrong, but when I see this guy, he reminds me of the elephants in Disney’s Jungle Book, who marched and sang as they trampled through the countryside.

Which brings us to the Roman elephant. What is he doing here? Elephants don’t belong in Rome. Nor do obelisks. But here they are, a focal point of Piazza della Minerva. The obelisk is a bit easier to explain. It came from Sais, an ancient town in Egypt, and was brought to Rome by the emperor Diocletian in the late 200s. The sculpture of the elephant was commissioned to represent “…a strong mind is needed to support a solid knowledge”.

That’s the factual for you. Part of what I love about this photograph is the contrast of happy and sad. The elephant looks happy, surrounded by bright colors and noon-day sun. The rock he is sculpted from forms a tear, streaming down from his eye, rolling onto his tusk. Kind of like When the Saints Go Marching In. It’s an upbeat song, but it skirts around a topic not often thought of as happy. Contrast, opposites, bundled into one work of art.