Melinda and the Magical Mechanical Pentel Pencil

Is anything sacred anymore? I mean, what is sacred? This being Earth Day and all, it would be a good idea to take a moment to reaffirm that the earth is sacred. How many of you out there remember how wacky people were thought to be on the first celebration of Earth Day in 1970?! We've come a long way, in some ways, good, others devastatingly worrisome. I'm a saver. We artists hang on to things, don't we, knowing that we might need them for a future project? Sometime in the last century, a really long time ago, a friend gave me a Pentel Mechanical Pencil as a gift. At the time, it was very expensive and I thought pencils were pencils. They are not. Some of them are sacred, like many of the things you hold dear over the years. Waxing nostalgic isn't always a bad thing. I went looking for my sacred pencil and did not find it. I bought a surrogate because, while I know my old friend will show up one day to surprise me, I'm missing what a good pencil can do. Maybe it can't compete with this drawing and subsequent stained glass commission I worked on in the 1980s, but I can hope. When I see this window, I remember the day I was commissioned to build stained glass to fill a space. I sat staring at a very bright, very blank piece of white paper, with a deadline over my head. Then, I picked up the mechanical pencil and made a small mark. A woman's head and shoulders began to appear and the pencil carried the line all the way around the edges of her skirt. My eyes followed the line and I was stunned and grateful to see the image. Today, with this newer pencil, I am drawing differently, but with the same purpose as before. This image is of a Norfolk pine branch that I've manipulated slightly in Photoshop. As soon as the clouds travel east, I'll make a solarplate of the image and finish the mailart piece. No matter how enlightened we are about our mythology, I'll bet we can all agree that on this Earth Day, she (earth) is sacred and worthy of honor. So is your talent and the work you do.

Mailart #7: The Health Issue

What do you say to a young, "immortal" twenty-something who has lived a healthy life, not knowing age or illness? Oh, I hear you and I do. I tell him to take at least 2000 IUs of Vitamin D3, eat the prickly pear fruit and mesquite flour I sent him, take the multi-vitamins, drink some tea, get as much sleep as possible, etc., etc.. Today, I've got a mailart piece that I made for my college boy last March. I know. The American love affair with the car is over. Yet, I don't have a new lexicon from which I can make an allegory or metaphor for the preciousness our bodies hold and the ever changing medical information and issues that currently face us. So, I chose the image of one of the fastest cars made and the image of a dashboard to convey my motherly hope for my son's good health, both physical and psychological. Tucked into the "glove box" are 4th grade notes his classmates wrote years ago. This piece does have some naughty words in German that were fun to include. Just a note of warning because moms don't approve of such things on a regular basis. 

The message: I am like a Mercedes-Benz I am like an SLR McLaren I am like a Mercedes-Benz I am like an SLR McLaren I will be careful with fuel...I like to be fine-tuned I am like an SLR McLaren I am liking proper maintenance... Racing toward 20 !! 

 If a year were a mile You wouldn't want to rush to/at 20 miles an hour, kmh 

You'd want to walk Slowly As much as possible Looking, tasting, enjoying Every step Tacking, west-toward a quarter of a century Racing up that way Shift down Cruise Control Double clutch Once in awhile Drawn from mile to mile Walk: With Beauty Draw: Smudge lines Line the path* 

There are arrows Everywhere to direct you 

Erase where necessary Ask yourself: What memories will fill my odometer? What kind of tread will I burn...and/or bridges too? 

Love, mom © M. S. Esparza 

A few of the polite,funny German auto terms I found: INDICATORS Die Blinkenleiten Tickentocken CLUTCH Die Kuplink mit achlippen und schaken PUNCTURE Die Phlatt mit Bludymucken FUEL GAUGE Der Walletemptyung Meter TRAFFIC JAM Die Bluddinmuckin Dammundblast BACKFIRE Der Lowdenbangermekkenjumpen

Drawing Moments

Just a quick post this week. While waiting for food to cook, I had a moment to draw sunflowers in a tall vase. The flowers in the garden are nearly past their prime, but the finches are eagerly harvesting the seeds and a quail family with seven little babes are enjoying the seeds that fall to the ground. I wanted to include lots of fun quotes for today, but ran out of time. However, if you've ever heard Steven Wright deliver one of his quirky observations, you might get a chuckle from revisiting these quotes. Some of my favorites: "It's a small world, but I wouldn't want to paint it," "I have an existential map. It has 'You are here' written all over it," and, "Anywhere is walking distance, if you've got the time." But, my favorite quote is from either Edmund Gwenn or Sir Donald Wolfit, "Dying is easy, comedy is hard." Having a successful work of art is a bit like comedy, isn't it?!

El Fuerte And A Plassion for Painting

No time to paint this last week--too much staying up late, visiting with our college boy and submitting three pieces to the TMA's Arizona Biennial '09. While this is something I've done for the past eight years, always rejected alas, it is still a thrill to consider the possibility. A good exercise, yes, to keep going, not caring about rejection, not marking any particular event as an ultimate goal, but always looking forward to the next opportunity?! So, it was really nice to sit outside this morning and make a small caran d'ache drawing of our little adobe (5 1/2" x 8," on Moleskine paper). Looks like it's smiling. I think this week it is--having the pack altogether again. And then, I visited Barbara Paints and, to my surprise and delight, she listed me and others for the Passion for Painting Award! How cool is that?!! I hope you'll visit her blog and drink in her colors and her passion for life and art. It is such an honor to be named with the fabulous artists she also awarded. Please take a look at their work too. 

What are the seven things I'm most passionate about? Ah... 

1. Doing some kind of good each day, looking for some opportunity to help someone, encourage someone or to offer a small measure of gentleness to a person or animal in need. 

2. It is very important to me to stay informed about politics and how it will shape our collective future. Haven't we all learned that being educated, asking the right questions, taking time to think about the serious issues are not mere hobbies, but affect each of us locally--sometimes in short order?!

3. Family...need I say more? 

4. Color 

5. Composition 

6. Artists: from the past, male or female, and the contemporary ones working today. Mostly, I am passionate about the artists working in the last 50 years because they don't get enough recognition. 

7. If I could sum up the heart of my passion, I would have to say living as authentically as possible, being true to that still small voice within you that knows what is right...and not wavering to please others, no matter how well-intentioned, or to be or do something that just doesn't ring true. 

Here are seven artists I think share in this kind of passion for painting: Jeane Loriann Signori Joyce Washor Katherine Treffinger Karen Phipps Susan Hong-Sammons Joan Breckwoldt

Sister Sky, Turquoise to Place

Like spontaneously finding the best parking space at the market, like finding the sweetest blueberries on a day in which everything else falls into place, followed by a spectacular sunset, good food and a great night's sleep, the paintings I last worked on surprised me so, and stopped me in my tracks--like a race track smooth and level--harnessed to hold the sky, just for pondering and quiet consideration. I excogitate further and offer a realistic study as a short interlude.... Made me think about this horse competing in the last run of the season here at the Rillito Race Track in Tucson last Saturday. We went to see these glorious creatures and I took a bunch of photos of them, of course. I hope to do more studies of them during those times I'm afraid of abstracting landscapes! This study, 6" x 4" on paper, is a study using the 'three sisters' and Caran d'Ache with water. I'm hoping to post more of these in the future, but here is the photo I used as I drew from the monitor today. Extra credit for those of you who know the word "excogitate". I stumbled upon it while correcting my spelling and thought...why not?!

DeGrazia's Refuge in the Foothills

The weather was so beautiful this morning that we thought we'd hop into the car, take some photos, and come home and paint. Little did we know that nearly everywhere we would go, there would be some reason to keep moving. 

We headed for Sabino Canyon. We knew that we couldn't take our dogs on any trails, but figured that we could park nearby and walk along the road or just outside the park. Not so. There were 'no parking' signs everywhere, 'no outlet' signs when we turned to the west, and a fee station to park--except dogs not allowed out in the desert. 

I remembered a comedian from years ago remarking that everything you might want to do in California cost money. In fact, he said that at the state line, he thought there would soon be signs stating, "Do not back up, tire damage." Yes, I was feeling like Arizona had become a place where only the wealthy could afford to live and walk in the most spectacular wilderness. 

We considered driving up to Mt. Lemmon, but we were told the road had closed because (you snow people will love this) snow had begun to fall, i. e., a few snowflakes were observed near the top of the mountain. We drove west to DeGrazia's Studio. I took some photos while Mr. Artyfice sat in the car with the dogs. I don't know how many of you have heard of Ted DeGrazia, but he had a pretty bad reputation among serious artists in this town because of his kitschy Native American children with the gigantic eyes. Yet, I remember reading an article about his early days here in Tucson and saw some photos of his work. He was a good artist. He found a way to make a living from his art, but it was never easy. He built an adobe home, studio, and chapel, that became a gathering place for his artist friends. He was a generous person. While it is disturbing to see the two story apartment building a few feet from his few acres, we found it to be a welcoming place today. 

No charge for parking. The views--stunning. If he and his family hadn't fought so hard to preserve the acreage that they owned, there would be a multi-million dollar home or three on the site and I would be persona non grata today. Here's a quick study of the chapel he built with his own hands. It is 5 1/2" x 8," on watercolor paper. We left feeling a bit better, and so, I offer the beautiful rendition of One Love, Playing for Change.

 

Reaching into the Medicine Bag

What do you put in your medicine bag? Walking the dogs this morning (a crisp, clear, warm, and sunny morning), it occurred to me that I need to consider the kind of medicine that we give to one another and the kind we give to ourselves. 

Poison...We give to ourselves when we listen to the negative thoughts from an unsettled mind, from the unwarranted criticism of others, the result of our choices, or about art, and then act upon them.

Sustenance...Ah, this is what we give and receive when we count as legitimate the good comments and the healthy internal dialog that we speak out loud. We recognize the courage it takes to approach a canvas and to make a mark. We decide who we are. As we present ourselves to the world, it is not always possible to be received well. 

What will we do with those responses... I reached into my medicine bag today and found some healing medicine: 

My fellow artists: I'm fed by your work. You can do no wrong when you are authentic, and because of you, I am drawn to go forward. 

My artistic ancestors: How did Frida overcome? How did Joan Brown navigate a path with family and professional art? What did Georgia O'Keeffe say, and how powerfully did she dig in her heels for her own beliefs? How hard was it for Käthe Kollwitz to create uncomfortable works and thereby comfort us?

Words that comfort, in winter, in recession, in the face of an unpredictable future: "Whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are pure....think on these things." 

Symbols: A leather medicine bag (drawing, 5 3/4" x 6") that I made for Ell before going off to college. Secret nourishment inside that I cannot reveal. 

But in mine: There is mesquite meal that always calms my tummy if I've waited too long to eat. Prickly pear fruit that reminds me that I am often hard to get close to, but I do have a colorful center that is not too sweet. A sacred rock that informs me that there are immutable things that cannot be traded for shifting sand. A feather telling me that my spirit soars like an eagle whenever I connect with paint---when I dream. A container of water like my body--changing as it moves through the landscape, yet forever able to erode that which seems to be more powerful than I. Water wins every time. May I always offer you good medicine as a fellow traveler.

Journal: Cyclamen and the Mud House

Pensive, looking for signs, seeing light in a cloud of darkness: Waiting. 

Write something cheerful. 

Draw something kind--of friendly of real

kind of hopeful and reminiscent of Ginsberg's wandering in "A Supermarket in California" 

"...Where are we going, Walt Whitman? The doors close in an hour..Will we stroll dreaming of the lost America of love past blue automobiles...home to our silent cottage?" 

wandering in to this house made of mud seeking the key to flags of peace flags of reconciliation amidst a country struggling to remain whole. 

A cyclamen sitting patiently waiting out the cycle of human discourse

dissent 

disagreement voting that 

come spring there are more leaves

more blooms 

fresh soil 

food for the soul 

good dirt for insulation against the cold imaginings of unkind of hearts 

© Melinda S. Esparza 10/17/08

A Walk, A Gathering, A Cup of Desert

What do you do when the economy is tanking, fuel is too expensive for traveling, and politics resemble a mangled car wreck from which you find observing it too difficult to turn away?

  Take a bucket and a pair of tongs, wander over to the nearest prickly pear patch in the evening sun, harvest some fruit (tunas) as the ancestors, the Tohono O'odham, did long ago.

 

Put them in a pot, boil them into a softer mixture, mash them until they release their dioxazine purple/permanent rose-like liquid. Add lots of mesquite honey and some lemon juice. Have a small cup of desert.

 

The Moleskine journal paper seems to be the most ideal surface for Caran d'Ache that I have found. I'm really enjoying the way the water soluble crayons hug the paper, producing a soft, blended, painterly like surface. Image: 4 1/2" x 6 1/2," on moleskine paper.

It Rained in the Desert Today

We dance, we sing, we rejoice when it rains in the Southwest. This letter, written in November of 2007, was about a day when it rained here, but I still had to water the plants with a hose. 

The text: 

Sunkist, burnt to a crisp...It rained in the desert today. 

The ground began to gather in small circles as droplets struck its roof. 

The rain could not soak in very far, because the celebration was short. 

As dirt met heat, the dance burned away water

as birds watched and 

quail waited patiently in creosote ancestors. 

It said, "I could be a rainmaker and this gave me joy! I waved my arms holding the water's source, drinking in the smells of earth and green. 

Then, sky looked down and called clouds to gather like the pebbles on earth--coolness moved in to see what all the talk was about.....If there are snow flurries to the east, surely we can share our bounty here in the west. In the sharing, we free up space to be replenished. 

O Earth. O Sky. 

Let Go!

©2008 Melinda S Esparza

Tobacco Sphinx and Datura

In the studio, I've got five little paintings and one medium sized one in the works. Until I can say they're finished, I've got the following: Two more journal studies--one Tobacco Sphinx moth, and a Datura drawing I made sitting out when it wasn't blistering hot. 4" x 5," on paper.

Definitely feeling the dog days of summer and looking forward to cooler temperatures. What's the weather like where you are? Does it affect your artwork...the subjects, the number of paintings you make?

Another journal study while getting sleepy...

A photo of our trip a couple of years ago to Los Alamos has been wandering around, on the floor, picked up, on top of the dog crate and on the nightstand. Okay, while journaling before sleep, why not Caran d'Ache the darn thing?

The crayons were starting to build up and would not allow any more layers, so I started scratching into them with my fingernails. I like this effect.

Still musing about which image to submit to the portrait competition. Go ahead. Tell me what you think. It's okay if one is preferred over another. I'm inviting criticism! I'm thinking that portrait #1 is probably the one I should send in.

Journal studies

One study was from a photo of the San Estéban del Rey Mission. I don't even know where it is right now (in the Acoma Pueblo, N. M.), but enjoyed the architecture and the way the Caran d'Ache behaves on the journal paper. Leaving blank spaces seems to create a kind of sparkle to the image. © Melinda S. Esparza