Boudhanath

Boudhanath Stupa, Kathmandu, Nepal

Going clockwise, the large Boudhanath Stupa sits while pilgrims make it move.  Its two eyes forever revealing and watching from up above. 

Surrounding this structure is architectural, colonial tiered places/homes/businesses/perhaps vacant.

                   There is a happy hum while the religious swing and touch the bells turning them as they make the circumambulation.

Monks sit here and there asking for offerings.

Older peasants are the ones that I love to watch, are they there because their time is close?

I watch their wizened eyes, crevasse faces, lined dark, tan, black Nepalese, Indians, Tibetan, Malays, Chinese and Caucasian too, as the pavement fills with walking faith.

Big Buddhas and small colorful, kitschy buddhas make their appearances like we will forget them.

The temple sprawls into smaller domes of white among the huge iconic masterpiece that is littered with several  hundred prayer flags giving hope to the day. 

lovely old pilgrim with prayer beads

May 7th, Kathmandu journal entry

Durbar Square, Kathmandu (durbar means "palace")

Watching the pigeons getting fed at Durbar Square - the place where kings were legitimized,

am told by a Nepalese man that these birds bring good luck.

They are fed generously and coo happily.

The flapping of their wings are insurmountable.

They fly in the mist of seated village folk, settle by several dozen maybe hundreds among the tiered 

temples, and sit on the heads of the gods and goddesses of old time Hindu Shivas,

they infest this place - they rule now.

They make it remarkable too, this gray bird of commonness.

taking off soon, travel notes and the reflective spirit

Soon Ken and I will be leaving Alaska for a seven week journey to Nepal.  We will arrive in Kathmandu, recuperate from the long plane ride and will stay in a comfortable hotel for five days.  (I understand that the Beatles stayed at this particular place.  Maybe it will be our most expensive of places as fifty dollars a night is often a stretch for us.)  Afterwards, we are headed to Chitwan National Forest for a safari.  We have plans to fly to Bagan, Myanmar, Bhutan or head to Tibet, but we are leaving ourselves open to see, feel, scour maps, talk to the natives and other travelers, and ask around to decide what would best fit our travel and budget sensibilities.

At this time in my home though, in Anchorage, Alaska, I begin to look around me and view my surroundings.  A deeper knowledge of place is emphasized and it's luxuries,  like water fountains, the fresh scented snow air as I am skiing in the bright sunlight and an abundance of things at my fingertips. The small things that we often take for granted, like a warm, comfortable bed, a clean couch, adequate lighting and an accessible computer is often much sought after in our travels. 



sunshine and its reflection in Anchorage, Alaska

Most of all, and what intersects these comfortable times of where I am now in the great USA, are the people that I meet on our excursions from all over the world - time spent traveling on planes, buses, hotels, and moments in small cramped coffee shops.  A connection on a universal level is met on my travels making it wondrous and magical.  Written below are just a few memories that stick out in my mind as being prevalent and worth recalling at this time.

After my mother's funeral coming back from the east coast, I took up a conversation with a woman seated next to me on the plane.  We were relating similar trip details, how our friends had changed, how life had become different in scope, experiencing sentiments of growing older and challenges of fighting depression.   

After the massive tsunami hit in 2006, Ken and I sat in a small café in New Delhi.  I had grabbed a stray newspaper on a nearby table and read the horrific headlines. I quickly exclaimed how we should fly back to the states.  Around us, people were going about their business, ordering drinks and food, the bustle of the afternoon was in full gear and the day seemed in total neglect of this happening.  


Me and Blue after a ski in Kincaid,
(the one I miss most while on jaunts)

Our eight hour drive to Agra from New Delhi to see the Taj Mahal was a hectic and frantic trip.  The driver, who weaved in and out of chaotic traffic, blasted the same local, popular Indian music over and over again for the course of the ride (and I wound up buying the tape soon afterwards in town.)  The Muslim tour guide, who led us inside the belly of the temple, couldn't be kinder, told us about his family and was elated to show us the massive marble mausoleum.  He was genuine, all welcoming, open and had a great sense of humor.  We shared similar insights and perspectives about lives.

On another bus journey in South Viet Nam, going through several border crossings at seedy stations wore us down.  There was an American family traveling with their young daughter and the father worked in the American Embassy in New Delhi.  How quickly you converse, share your insights and impressions with others especially if they are American.  We struck up an immediate conversation and later saw them on Christmas day.  They wished us a Merry Christmas, and it  struck a deep chord because it resonated heart felt sentiments. These bits of kindness are perhaps stronger because you are far away from home and I am sure that travel in foreign places puts you in a vulnerable zone.

There is a lot of waiting when you travel but I find myself wrapped up in a sensory store of fascination and it is acute visual eye candy.  Observation couldn't get any better.  I cannot begin to express the myriad of people you meet - the immediate bonding, the roundtable of discussions, the stray, brave young American traveling alone, a Montreal woman who we toured with us for two weeks, the German couple who we spent time seeing the Plain of Jars in Phonsavon, Laos, or the British couple, spending the day in the Borneo jungle observing the orangutans.  Australians are to be seen everywhere in Asia and I think they have taken the place of the American.  They can be brash, competitive, loud and confrontational but there is always the other side.  We spent some time with an Australian family in Bali and they were delightful in their scope and curiosity.  They wanted to know who we were as Americans and our politics. Ken and I sometimes remark about the families touring too - small babies slung on backs and children excitedly running close by their parents.  Everyone is happy to be out, you bond in this universal way and you become grateful for this advantage of experiencing the world.  It is a magnificent journey and worth fighting through the barriers of fear that have penetrated our world today.  Travel gives you hope and it adds another dimension to the soul and to the great spirit of awareness.

second half of painted ladies

Angry Lady, paint and oil stick on canvas, 35" x 30", 2013

The second half of this blog features more paintings on the figure.  Below,  Matisse's half  is my favorite.  I love Matisse, his colors and his stories or interiors of inside the frame of the picture.  Matisse was a great colorist and rival of Picasso.  While Picasso had a strong edge, Matisse felt that you should look at his work easily, like sitting in an armchair while enjoying the painting.  Going forward, I will be studying interiors to put my new figures into a story or narrative.

Matisse's half, paint and oil stick on canvas, 35" x 30", 2013

Clown Dancer is another work done rigorously.  I am greatly inspired and very energetic while making these works as this is a new body of artwork and the newness invigorates me.  At other times, I have difficulty of what to paint, what to say or if I have anything important to express at all!  This is usually an artist's dilemma and I often struggle with this happening.

Clown Dancer, paint and oil stick on canvas, 30" x 30", 2013

The bottom work titled A study of two is a continuation of more of these works.  Am looking forward to making more messages and putting these figures in a landscape.  At this moment, they are solitary and effective, hoping these paintings can stand on their own.

A study of two, paint and oil stick on canvas, 35" x 30", 2013

on spring paintings - the feminine and color, 2013

Self portrait in the studio, 48" x 48", oil paint and oil stick on canvas

Listed on this post are all new paintings.  I have been building on the concept of telling stories and at this moment, most of this work is figurative studies of more works to come.  Above, is a portrait of myself and it is housed in our dining room.  I usually put new pieces in my home to live with them and peruse them while I go about my business.  It helps me reflect and access the artwork.  At this point, I am happy with this canvas.

Yesterday and Today's Study I, 35" x 30", oil paint and oil stick on canvas

The next four studies are smaller.  Each work is 35" x 24" and can be termed as figurative paintings on canvas.  I enjoy working with the various colors and do a lot of mark making with oil stick and gesso.  My process is very immediate, as I paint, rub out, paint and erase creating the image I want to make, until the final picture finally shows itself.

Yesterday and Today's Study II, 35" x 30", oil paint and oil stick on canvas

These paintings are worked in the same fashion - painting or making scrawls while each image is done as mentioned above - erasing and painting while the picture evolves.  This process also builds texture and movement to each piece.  These works are also experimentations and designs with color.

Yesterday and Today's Study III,  35" x 30", oil paint and oil stick on canvas

Building ground is one of the more natural things that I do as a painter.  You can see various blocks of color in the background and at the same time this also creates edges to the paintings.  I try to fill the canvas and this to me is the most difficult task.  Balance and composition must all be working together to create a strong work.

on second thought, 35" x 30", oil and oil stick on canvas

The painting below - Gestural Studies - Not a walk in the Park carries a story.  Last week, I photographed myself and my dog walking around the neighborhood block.  The picture was a black and white shadow of our reflections on the snow.  It was my first piece completed in this series and I used this photograph to begin my painting process.  Photographs often give me ideas about what to do or how to proceed in the studio.  Never completely realistic, I enjoy making contemporary expressions that make us look at the world in a different ways.  These works force us to use our imagination.

Gestural studies - Not a Walk in the Park, 48" x 48", oil paint and oil stick on canvas

about place - black and white in another hue

Leaving my blog unattended felt like it was the right thing to do; several classes this past fall semester put me into a whirl of non stop activity.  I successfully taught four classes, all of them being different, creating a full pendulum of strengths and weaknesses from each one made me enjoy the trip of teaching immersion. Every semester, I learn from my classes and add these times to my repertoire as a communicator of insights and information.

Totem Sculpture, Tujunga Canyon, 1995

I took a short visit to Los Angeles early January where I visited the art scene, friends and experienced strikingly brilliant weather.  Coming back to Alaska's grim gray, I realized how spoiled I had become on my visit.  The colors in Southern California were hyper real to me; examining the lush plant life and being struck by the massive Pacific stirred a profound sense of nostalgia.  I had greatly missed the sea.  The weather in Los Angeles wasn't past 55 degrees, rising to 65 degrees in the full afternoon sun but Californians were taking advantage of their winter garb by wearing coats and boots. 

Blum and Poe Gallery, Culver City, CA,  January 2013

My trip to Los Angeles had become more of an adventure in seeing color as was my driving experience with my nifty rental car through the grand boulevards of the inner city with the spectacular southwestern views and waving palm trees.  It was easy driving to me, it was fast going with a constant stimulant to my senses, ongoing ruckus of movement and noise.  I realized why people lived here.  The weather is all welcoming and people seem less uptight, more casual, freer and open. I left Los Angeles for a reason and I wanted to leave, find another adventure, see another landscape and take a risk.

Blue and I out walking

Yesterday in Anchorage, as I was walking the dog I peered by the inlet and looked at the arrangement of the landscape.  Subtle colors of golden grasses became distinct as dark brown stick trees casted another shade adding to the white and grays. The looming mountains peaked through some the cloud layers with snippets of a possible and hopeful blue sky.  Colors in Alaska are muted but it has become my responsibility to find the soft colors beautiful in their own way.  Each time I look at the horizon, outside my window, down a ski trail or outside my car window while driving there are various and constant changes.  This is space in another grand way.  I sometimes question why I don't embrace this landscape so easily and find myself pushing it away.  Other times, I think it is like contemporary art, while I appreciate the grandiose of Alaska perhaps it is too new for me to love it.  Perhaps it is too overwhelming.  I also recognized that by seeing the Pacific, I had taken it for granted, and maybe that is how I react to Alaska's wilderness, it is at a distance but too close to me right now.  It seems like I need to leave a place to fully want it back and maybe that is okay too.  It is okay, and I repeat this mantra quietly quietly for today.

a morning visitation of bohemian waxwings

The other morning I was at my front table looking at the light.  Days are clear and cold here but the sun is blazingly beautiful.  Our loss of daylight goes quickly and I enjoy studying the sudden and swift shifts of projected sunlight - the darks and lights reflected on the snow which creates a pink glow to the grounds.

I noticed flocks of birds circling across the street and had seen these birds often around town but in smaller numbers.  Later that evening, my husband told me that they were Bohemian Waxwings.  I quickly grabbed my video camera and raced out the door.  Walking across the street, I watched the several flocks come and go, rest on several neighboring trees, and often, in one sudden swoop, they would take off and do this incredible dance throughout the sky.  I stood and observed for over fifteen minutes with my bare hands exposed to the frigid temperatures and I hardly noticed the uncomfortableness.

These moments are precious and magical to me.  It was a morning visitation from the Bohemian Waxwings and I had managed to be at the right moment, the right time when they arrived.  The next day, I saw a considerably smaller flock across the tree but they didn't stay long.  Happy Solstice!