king of the mountain

By biking and through a generous group of organizers of feisty Alaskan women, I got to the state of Utah. Immediately upon landing in Green River, I reconnected to the desert and realized how much I missed this landscape. It was an expansion of dry land, warm air and a scent of sage that greeted me. The Moab Airport is a quiet gem and I landed in a Beecraft 1900 after a layover from Denver; it is a small aircraft that sits not more than eighteen people. The airport has one landing strip and you are greeted with your baggage at the foot of the plane. I loved the intimacy of the building and this southwestern unpopulated domain made it an authentic and a novel establishment.

Upon being picked up by Brin, (our fabulous guide that would lead us throughout the biking territory of the Maze in the Moab), we rode for thirty five minutes to the Comfort Inn where I was meeting the rest of the bikers. While driving there and seeing familiar desert scape, I had forgotten the dinginess of place, the forlorn atmosphere, but the wide expanse of the sky extinguished these sights as quickly as the highway surged and sprinkled passing cars and trucks coming and going in it's desolateness. This is the romantic west; the heat pleasurable, where open half domed skies are immense, almost too blue to believe. The color is indescribable; a dense aqua and teal with the intensity of cobalt intermingled might be a fair description. Clouds lingered in the sky, floating Magritte fashion. Underlined the puffs were a purple, dark gray and these shapes dangled like cotton candy balls, hovering far away but still they seemed touchable.

Once at the Comfort Inn, I walked next door to the Museum of Green River and perused the information on the valley. It was a good introduction into the state; often forgetting America's greatness and the founding explorers that discovered this great terrain was a favorable surprise and a good reminder to stay humble.

The next five days would be filled with an assortment of gifts; great cycling among the paths of the Moab, climbing a bit here and there, and reaching to wonderful tops of jaw dropping spread out sights of wide canyons among canyons. Every where I turned I was aghast with the scale and magnitude of beauty; orchestras of Junipers trees and dotted sagebrush pressed against the red land, giant sculptural rock formations made me think of the Egyptian tombs and wall drawings of ancient times, conical pyramidal shapes were reflections of the remoteness of place pressed centuries of time to my face. I might have been on the Moon! Masses of brush would be contrasted to the hard blue sky as the evening would crash with a lit full moon creating assemblages of wonderful color and arrangement. The wake up morning light was clear, casting a yellow glow on the surrounding mountains and desert fields.

The biking wasn't difficult for me, while traveling the long roads could sometimes be monotonous the paths were redeemed by the heat. That glorious constant sun kept me reeling in the miles which seemed effortless as this keen energy source beat on my legs and the side of my face; I felt fantastic and would end fantastic at the end of the day's ride. You could describe some of the trails as jeep trails, dusty and soft red dirt and other times if you weren't careful you could speed down an incline to some deep ruts that could throw you out of control.

Above, is one of my favorite pictures. I took about four hundred pictures of the desert and choose thirty to post on Facebook. We ended our rides sitting and chatting around the fire; good camaraderie and assortment of characters sparked our adventure. The food was wonderful with a healthy balance of fresh fruits, salads and fish or meat. We were given choices and a varied menu each morning, lunch and dinner. Our guides, Brin and Ben, were there to help and suggest alternatives if there were any questions to where to ride. Most of it seemed impromptu but I admired this because the trip was tailored to every one's needs and fitted every one's comfort level. Hats off to the Alaska Dirt Divas!

last night's poem

just for a moment I thought I smelled the excitement of lingering sea air, ocean big with expectations of tomorrow

now, rain drops hit and miss my ears making sounds of random the night time, bedtime when the dark is back

a small breeze seems to catch me though, filling the room with another type of enchantment

summer strands

It is Monday morning and a quiet time to reflect, again, and these spells seep into my days as I observe the state of affairs, our country and our direction. While working in the studio, I put on NPR; my favorite news channel keeps me up to date and in tune with the rest of the world but I shut it off too, focusing on my paintings for space to think and to resolve creative questions that need my full attention. However, the news seems overpoweringly gloomy and full of despair and I cannot help but sink into this attitude that our condition is indeed unstable.

Above is a shaped tapestry. During the past few months, I set up three work stations in my studio. One consists of painting larger works with smaller drawing/painting studies. The second and intermittent activity are the tapestry wall hangings and constructed pieces that are physically demanding and throw a wrench into my psyche as a painter. These pieces are sculptural and I find myself wrestling with these works; the canvas and paint, the sewing on top of sewn remnants forces me to struggle and realize how little I am in control of this travail.Shown above and below are sketchbook entries which is my third area of the studio and the most fun to do. My sketchbook is like my time off. These drawings are bits and pieces of history that I have collected over the years but have decided to enter them into one book. On the other hand, I have taken reproductions from discarded art books and transformed them to coordinate with other pages. I like the pairing of each.

August landscapes

With the beginning of August, summer shifted drastically - light became dark early in the am and then the rains started. For me, this weather was productive and I found myself in the studio groove working on smaller landscapes studies. This ample time of activity will change too since school starts and I will be busy catching up on income. Above, is my favorite study of trees. How many times can you duplicate trees and reinvent landscapes?

Above and below are more studies on nature landscapes. They are mixed media paintings. I take a lot of remnants that collect from around the house; odds and ends of fabric and old photos and other scraps seem to show up in my artwork. These bits of paper or college materials build a nice foundation or I call it a lift to heighten the work. They invigorate me. You can glue and tear off these extra pieces of paper or objects and the result can push you in another direction.

Monday's contemplative

While I listen to Berlioz's La Damnation de Faust, I sit and stare out the window at the waving trees against the light gray of the sky realizing how I love the constant changing of weather from day to day. Am not a big opera buff either but decided to explore more of this expression while working in the studio and around the house. (I also picked up Verdi's Otello) but now as I observe the outside, I think about what I have done here since my move to Anchorage ten years ago. Here are just a few things worth mentioning in no specific order:

1 - My dog Blue, who is a 130 pound Newfoundland lies asleep by the door. She has been around our home for close to seven years. During that time, I have learned how to groom her, clip her gigantic nails and pay attention to her delicate health of fragile limbs and allergic ears. We manage to take walks through the grasses and down to the creek where she loves to cool her paws.
2 - I have learned how to handle a mountain bike and roam the hillsides of Anchorage with fellow bikers. This group dynamic has challenged a different entourage in my life and tested my ability to see people from other parts of the town. Learning to bike on a treacherous terrain too goes with part of the cyclist journey; long winding bumpy grounds sometimes laced with roots, rocks and an odd assemblage of growth can spin you into the air over the handlebars if you are not careful.
3 - I have been able to teach art appreciation and drawing classes at the University of Alaska; being immersed in a learning environment has helped me grow to know more about the art that I do, why I do it, what it really is, and expand this knowledge to the community.
4 - My studio is behind my house and every day I take a short walk behind my home and climb the steps to my sacred place. Never have I had this luxury in the past. The time I can spend on my work has been fruitful, long, thoughtfull periods mixed with unproductive spans of creative blocks while some of it has been ground breaking and other times monotonous. Living here in Anchorage has given me a different perspective of place in contrast to a large city. Big city pretentiousness has begun to peel off of my shoulders little by little.
5 - (Need I mention the incredible setting and nature parts that surrounds my periphery while I drive to places around town and can visit on a daily basis?)
6 - Being able to travel and see parts of the world has advanced my artistic persona. My partner of ten years is a great companion; we have reinvented our home, our lives to fit a fulfilling existence while I envision more adventure ahead.

P.S. - Days ago I was battling with the half full/half empty dilemma. Today, I am in the full mode and recognize how quickly the contents can drain from the glass. Saying that, I feel that I lifted the jinx and can exclaim good times!

shifting landscapes of experience

Shifting landscapes are a series of studies on line, color and space using oil stick and paints. They are casual and abstract renderings of the environment that I see around me while I frequent the outdoors. I reinterpret these surroundings in another way aside from the traditional landscapes that are easily recognizable such as visable mountains, trees, creeks and the lush green that inhabits the Alaskan summers. My works are progressive and ongoing studies and looking at these images can change day to day.

These two works, pictured above and below are studies on clouds. Many times when I am working in the studio, I have no idea where my drawings and paintings will lead me. They are manifestations of the collective unconscious, a Jungian concept that includes a universal library of human knowledge, or sage in the man or the very transcendental wisdom that guides mankind. Jungian theory focuses on dreams and symbols. Certain archetypes are the structure of the collective unconscious such as birth, death, power and failure. I studied Jung in California and as I write this I feel the need to reimmerse myself back into Jung's writings. While at college, I started out as a psychology major and delve into languages, gradually changing to the fine arts after moving to Los Angeles, California. Writing this blog helps me sort out my thoughts and inner/hidden reflections and uncovers the past bringing new discoveries to the present.

summer and time

Long days with light and uninterrupted periods of space to reflect and to spread out in the sun maybe watering each plant attentively with quiet is a luxury. These gems dominate my summer until I think about the Atlantic Ocean long ago, so vast and sparking with glittering stars atop the surface. I once laid upon my stomach on the sand loving each sensation of time, observing the small tubular water drops that lingered on my tan arms from a recent dip. Feeling my warm breath, I never wanted this moment to vanish. Hot, humid days of people parading the shore with that stunning horizon that I looked at a million times but didn't see and didn't take the time to reflect upon its greatness until now, as I miss this thirty years later.

Summer days can be all absorbing. I make sure I have time to observe the birds, the heat and the blue in between the spaces of the tree leaves as they wave saying how happy they are. Light chime songs are competing with the sounds of the wind that dominates this occasion. I cannot tell the difference between the beauty of past/present. They melt into one. They are inseparable.