Strawberry Banana Acoma

What a glorious time of year it is. Spring time is here and the desert is blooming. We've had the oddest, but, most wondrous rain this past week. The hybrid sunflowers are blooming with rich, intense color. Photos coming soon.

This painting is a 9" x 12," oil on canvas of the northern New Mexico region, Acoma, in the Diné (Navajo) Reservation. It reminds me of an ice cream float. I must be channeling my admiration for Wayne Thiebaud and Fritz Scholder again. I must be ready for a delicious smoothie on a warm Sunday.

Reading Art & Fear (Bayles, Orland) has been good this weekend. As I traveled around looking at other artists' blogs, I was encouraged that our thoughts and feelings are the same. We struggle, triumph, we grow despondent and try again. "Some people who make art are driven by inspiration, others by provocation, still others by desperation."--from the book. Aren't we all, in discrete moments, all of the above?

Yet, I am ever stunned slack-jawed as I contemplate nature....

Or watch the new color rising from the richest ochre soil
like some fancy dancer making her big leap,

Or make the first swish of paint on the fresh ground of canvas
that amazes this maker, nearly freezing in mid stroke, joyful, wholly grateful to be.

What if our paintings make poems of landscapes, songs of flowers that mirror all that we can see?

 
"History doesn't repeat itself - at best it sometimes rhymes”--cousin Mark Twain
Let's rhyme in a good way.

Static, Non-Static, A Beautiful White Noise

Waking up in this new year brought a wonderful sound: Rain. Made me think of Ladysmith Black Mambazo's song "Rain, rain, rain, rain, beautiful rain." Love rain. Love that this is a new year. I'm missing all of you art bloggers this week. I'm glad to see you're all getting back to work! The white noise of rain is a comforting sound to accompany the static of the banal requirements of life and the anti-static beginnings of an artistic ambulation.

Karen has been very brave in listing her goals and I am inspired to follow her lead. I see that many of you are considering this new year and its possibilities. It reminds me of the book Karen recommended, A Field Guide to Getting Lost (Rebecca Solnit)--with the essay The Blue of Distance. I think about this daily now. And, consider:

Sitting in the middle of desire, peacefully observing two points: the whereas of past and present events, and the wherefore of a future planned with optimism. I like this place and see great value in visiting it often. Sometimes it can appear to be the most comfortable spot to rest, wanting never to leave. But, rest is foundational not the destination. This is what I tell myself. Keep moving, step forward and carry the "Blue of distance" in a daily approach toward paint, friendship and conversation. It's okay if the horizon is always far away.

A big leap, not from the edge, but into the distance. I'm going to finish this painting, this year...oh, yes I am. This is the el gigante painting of the Grand Canyon (4' x 6') that I started more than a year ago. For your consideration, I've got a link that might cause you to dream large. Click Grand Canyon and dream with me. Tell me your dream for this year and let's see how it does come true.

"...The real problems of our culture
Can be deduced from the fact
that we name mountains after men."
--Richard Shelton (from his The last Person to Hear Your Voice, 2007)

May this year bring visions of grandness and nameless wonders to all of you!

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

Traveling with the Tablets

Years ago, I wrote a short poem for some exchange students from France. Here it is.

 

O the encounters of brave travelers-- 

Teenagers flying above the clouds bouncing toward futures 

Ricocheting with the shots of good fortune and

Blessings of strangers/angels in Cowboy's grinning hats slinging rays of sunlight 

or smoothing moonlit nights of softened light 

Night of Tucson chirps 

despite the howl 

Of dogs of war--and clichéd wanton greed--lassoing 

The world out of linguistic conversations of hope and Sanity 

Cuidado jumping cholla 

Cuidado ricocheted words 

Cuidado and Vaya con Dios muchachos 

Cuidado et bon voyage 

© Melinda S. Esparza 

As my college student returns to his school so very far away, I recall the mailart tablets I made and sent to him this year. These took much longer to make. I wanted him to have before him a reminder of the most important things. The painter, Fritz Scholder, once said that we kept the Tablets, but lost the Ark...But, I think we carry both within. What do you think?

Mail Art and Letters to Ell

What do you do when the passage of time abruptly interferes with your routine, and your child, once the toddler, now takes off for university? You write letters.

But, as an artist mom, it's a lot more fun to make sermonettes more palatable by making art out of them.

This week, in this last week of summer vacation, I'm preparing for an empty nest again. I don't like it.

I wouldn't have it any other way: 

In the company of angels 

In a complex world I think of what it is-- 

To be a simple kind of man 

To be a simple kind of woman 

Arcing a lifespan 

Resorting to good-- 

Making courage jump from a pool of fear 

Making gratitude sing from a selfish mouth 

Graphing a perimeter > (greater than) a stony heart

 

Staying on target 

IHOP toward my landscape

 

oK Ma rt!

 

A new GAP

 

Sears my gray and we UTurn

 

That will be our Gold Bond 

(Then we get a bickie) 

© M. S. Esparza (Jan. 2008)