our house

Seven years ago, Ken and I bought one of the worse homes on the neighborhood street in an area of town considered as the old part of Anchorage located on the lower south side. We live across the street from the inlet and do not boast of the spectacular views that our neighbors have across the street from us. During spring time, we wake up to the mating calls and cries of many birds; are situated beautifully with a periphery of mountains and open expanse that is so accessible and minutes within walking distance making a short trip to this splendid area often ignored, forgotten and taken for granted.

The house across the street has been vacant for almost two years and is too expensive for anyone to afford it, I am guessing. I treat this situation as a opportunity, as I wander over in the back yard that leads down to the inlet covered with dense growth of trees and a difficult climb down to the marshlands. Oftentimes, I sit and listen to the roaring winds and take in the sounds of the inlet. The birds come and go and you don't have to wait long for something interesting to arrive; sights contrasted against the starkness of the tundra and immense vistas fill your impatience. During winter months, my dog and I walk onto the frozen flats, another view that constantly changes and readjusts itself.

We consider our home a work in progress and an ongoing art project that is a welding of our spirits and temperaments. My garden is my favorite part of the home though because it turns into a meditation channel during my mornings, late afternoons or early evenings. During the years, I have learned to understand what works best in our soil; the wild flowers mixed in with a combination of lupin and poppies or the shooting star that arrives the first of the season as the lone flower, so subtle and easy to miss in it's solitariness. We recently planted three young, two year old weeping birch for our ninth year of marriage. They stand in the center of our yard combing the rest of the field of green grass into one single unit of togetherness.

Seattle's Best

A few months ago, I decided to visit Seattle. Ken and I had been there years ago, but I wanted to see a city, feel movement and encounter a substantial art scene. I had asked a few girlfriends to join me but they were too busy and Ken was off in the field, so I decided to take a five day mini field trip on my own. It turned out to be wonderfully alive and stimulating; my days filled with long meandering walks around the downtown district and having a transit system at my fingertips made going on my own a wise choice. I booked an inexpensive hotel for sixty bucks a night (which is cheap in Seattle) and after I committed, I read reviews where some had rated it poorly. The hotel turned out to be functional with a great bed and hot shower not to mention the light rail across the street, a few coffee joints around the corner made me wonder why people comment what they do. My room could be described as dim though but I was using it to hang my hat. I was set up!

Pictured above is an abstract picture of the light rail tunnel. I took this train to and from the airport costing $2.50 each way taking thirty-five minutes to arrive at my hotel destination. Once out of the underground passageway, my room was literally a hop, skip and a jump from the stop. Their bus system is great too. One day I took the local 72 train which landed me to the University of Washington where I intended to visit the Henry Art Gallery. I happened upon a street fair and loved reacquainting myself to the school and it's settings.

Before heading to Seattle, I bought two maps and oriented myself to where I was going and what I wanted to do. I used tripplanner.com and devised a plan to go to the Bellevue Arts Museum one day that would take a thirty minute ride from downtown. I found the bus stop easily and got to see a successful ceramic show done by the Chinese artist Wanxin Zhang. Pictured above is a detail of one of his life size sculptures - his contemporary interpretation of the Terracotta Warriors. The town of Bellevue is odd and very sterile but everything was so green and bright, the day's weather warm that the outing won my heart over. The bus driver was incredibly nice and let me know when my destination appeared. In fact, the people of Seattle are warm, generous and not at all suspicious of taking on a conversation with a stranger. At the museums and bus stops, people were open and friendly. I held several lengthy substantial discussions with a few people I met throughout my journey. Coffee shops and eateries are everywhere, so you can rest, pull out a novel and pass a few hours before you take on your next adventure on the streets.

Pictured above is the public library located near the Pioneer Square District. Inside the library you are filled with this filtered light and the architecture takes on the outside appearance. It opens up to an immense reading space and you feel like you are sitting in an outdoor cafe book stand. Around the city, I viewed public art by famous artists such as Jacob Lawrence and Dale Chihuly. I visited the Seattle Arts Museum and the Frye Art Museum. Along the way, I would comfortably pick up free reading material where I could map out the galleries and where to go next. Several galleries held massive spaces; some art better than others but it didn't matter because the city was full of alternative art spaces, ample choices and the excellent shows made up for any of the misses. Evenings were a set back though and the city seems to close down early. I was surprised to find Pike's Market taking down its booths as early as five o'clock on a Friday evening.

Seattle is a beautiful city with the openness of Puget Sound contrasted to the massive industrial settings of commerce and cargo transportation, causing a tumble of mixed sensations and conflicting landscapes that keep you on your feet. It is quizzical and at times strange! (One night, I couldn't sleep and switched on the TV where the sci fi movie End of the World was playing. How opportune!) I had splendid weather during my stay reminding me and everyone around that we were indeed lucky to be strolling the waterfront and taking on this excellent sunshine.

It was the perfect city to experience on my own. Yesterday, I put together a slide show for my upcoming summer UAA class; my first class meeting will introduce this trip, reminding students to take a passage on their own. It is good to be uncomfortable, to be reminded that you are a capable individual, and by using your intuitiveness and your skills whatever trip you take works out in the end. I would describe it as Seattle's Best.

near infinity

cultivating your garden

Holidays make me think of my family back east and the places I enjoyed on these special days. One of my favorite times was the sunrise service where my father would roust us at 5am to get us to the beach to see the sun peek above the Atlantic's horizon. On this Easter, a day of life and renewal, I thought about my mother who died last January 2010, and I worked in the yard raking to get ready for our planting mania in her honor. My mother loved her garden and took pride showing me the recent growths of vegetables and her nurturing visions of the soil that she had tilled on her own. As she grew older though, the garden was kept smaller and my brother would help out by overturning the hard ground after each winter season.

I was in India late December 2009, in a small village called Benelim just outside of Goa. It was early evening and I was about to prance out onto the dirt roads where Ken and I would find a good place for dinner. My sister, who I had called to see how things were going in the states, had told me about my mother falling and breaking her hip, and how she was in an intensive care unit. My mind couldn't wrap around this bad news and I was on vacation! The village store where I was using the phone was bustling with activity, noise; our conversation seemed surreal and ridiculous. Children were crowded around the store grounds talking and playing with ruckus. Three weeks later, I flew back east to attend my mother's funeral.

During my mother's service, an old boyfriend came by to pay his respects. We dated on and off for a few years; Nathan attended my college graduation, became familiar with my family and we played tennis together. As a young bright attorney, we often scooted around in his convertible MG attending parties and cultural outings. I was completely bored though, his incessant chatter unnerved me, and the relationship ended where I had taken on a new guy and shortly afterwards left for California.

As my old friend and I chatted for a while in front of my mother's open casket, (we hadn't seen each other in close to thirty years), he commented how I was always the restless sort when he knew me and that I had always wanted to leave the east to find new adventure. He wanted to know about my life in Alaska. And then, we connected; there was an understanding, a mutual exchange of recognition on our how lives had become and developed. He questioned and confided in me that he never left our home town. We continued to talk about his sons and we spoke about travels. The years that I knew him in my early twenties I was aloof and fickle but realized a different person in another dimension at that instance. Our lives had been hallowed out with lots of living and experiences. At the moment I write this, I often look back at that point of talking to him as touching and recognizably human. At my mother's death, this was not the occasion for regrets or anger nor dredging up the past. Time had flown by us almost literally as we stood there in a funeral home. I could touch time's wings at that point. Life became transcendent at that meeting with my friend and his gift of openness and genuine sincerity threw me. To me, this was an relevant convergence and oh sure, I have probably had several and meaningful passing occasions (and more to come), but this was an interval that brought me to see how life can be absolutely spellbinding, astonishing, and amazing. You don't have to believe in anything or even holidays as special to acknowledge the symbolic gesture of forgiveness. It is incredibly powerful. I am in another place now, another world and living in Alaska. Who would have thought this? Not me in a million years.

spring back

Pictured above is the pride of our front yard. We started with these blue Himalayan poppies a few years ago and every year as they blossom they take on a greater spread. Ken and I will be preparing some small seed pots this week-end for the start of our garden. As I write this, it is blustering with noises of the wind outside, swaying trees take on a wonderful gray fused with the sky, (and not to mention the recent snowfall and ongoing chilliness) it is wonderful to see the new light and read by its glow before I go to bed. Happy Spring.

on being comfortable........

What does it mean to be comfortable - a house, a job, wonderful surroundings and fun activities to go out and see and of course the friendships that we nurtured throughout the years are forces in our lives to stay put forever. Maybe we get use to routines, beautiful environments and we continue on not stretching ourselves to perhaps greater heights of challenges? Maybe we extend ourselves in other ways in a hobby or picking up new reading material that forces as to think harder? Maybe it just doesn't matter and one is happy where they are; is perfect with one's setting, content, and fulfilled? Maybe being comfortable is a good thing? Or is it too easy? Maybe too good of a thing makes us give up other chances to see, learn, experience and fully develop other areas of expertise in our lives. I am grappling with this issue at the moment. My life is pretty good, although I feel that a new opportunity overseas or in another part of the country would lift my esteem out of complacency and to a better learning place about how I feel about myself. Maybe I am looking a gift horse in the mouth? As human beings we need to destroy what we create too.
To skirt the issue, I have decided to include several self portraits.

Below, is the opening painting called Princess Parlee and on the left two smaller drawings. (Above, is my one of my favorite paintings that sold at my recent show!) For a long while I have been avoiding the issue; have thought long and hard about it. The verdict is called change. Not sure where it will take me or where I will go, but along with change comes hard work, endless scrutiny which I have been doing for a long time and pushing ideas against the wall, hounding the hell out of myself. I have been too comfortable for the past few years and now is the time for another lifetime, another move. It won't happen too soon, but I am encouraged to do something about it. It's time to do, but rest assured, I will probably get comfortable all over again.

Ambassador's Pagoda

Ambassador's Pagoda is considered the main centre of Buddhism in Hanoi. Ken spied this temple out in our Lonely Planet book and we walked over to the temple in the blustery cold. I am always thrilled to happen upon these moments; seeing the women coming together before their prayerful meditation, the interior of the space is fascinating with the massive array of offerings and the photo ancestors homages, allowing me to listen to their chanting of prayerful meditation was the plus. I spent some time observing the ladies, all dressed in their winter coats and hats, a communal setting at best, with their prayer books splayed out before them, it seemed to be the place to be in Hanoi. Outside the temple, Hanoians would come by and listen to the prayers, drop money in the offering box or incense in the huge urns. On the streets, vendors sold gifts and trinkets for the pagoda - papers to be burned for the ancestors, beads, fruit and miscellaneous items that I fail to remember. It is a city pagoda by the ongoing sounds of the traffic that you can hear inside the temple; a blending of the outside sensations into the world of thoughtful ruminations making my morning a sensational impact of imagery and delight.