Yes, there is such a thing as being a "little" decapitated

Look! a cow about to give birth. Be thankful for my bad photography, it blurs all the icky parts. I took this picture at a local dairy farm on the weekend. Part of me would have liked to have stayed to see the birth, but then this cow was glaring (yes, I'm sure glaring) and mooing loudly at me as if shouting, "DO SOMETHING!".

From my own birth experience that would mean rubbing lavender oil on her hooves, playing her Enya's soothing melodies, and telling her to imagine her body opening up like a rose. I read that last bit in a book about natural childbirth. Not exactly accurate. If they wanted to keep the rose metaphor, they should have written, "imagine a rose tearing into your body with it's acid dripping jagged glass petals while you scream repeatedly for those pain killing drugs you refused to have in your birth plan you misguided hippy mom to be!". And FYI, I can never listen to Enya again without getting crampy.

My daughter and I were alone in the barn when a farm hand came in and laughed, "She sure is agitated! and taking her time, normally they just lie down and out it comes" At that point my daughter was nudging me to leave, whispering, "this is freaky!"

Her comment reminded me there are less than a week until my kids start summer holidays. Dragging them to all the farms I love to visit during the summer months will be nearly impossible. So I've decided everyday, until school is out, to go and do something they'd hate, that I love.

Day 1 was a nature walk with the sole intention of looking closely at plants. An activity that would bore any person under 40 to tears, and probably a good many over 40 as well.

I'm more than halfway through a botanical illustration course and have acquired a naturalist's scientificky interest in plants. I'm feeling all sorts of possibilities for atonement. Me! plant murderer! I will learn and become a nurturer and protector of plants! But... then I ripped a plant out of the ground to bring home and study in detail... meh, whatever.

I recently read online about artists combining walking with outdoor sketching, nothing new, but slapped with a new label - sketchercising. I thought I should go do some plein air sketching too. While I was packing up my pencils and moleskin sketchbook, I realized... uh-uh, not for me.

A bear and her 2 cubs walked across the road not more than 20' from me recently, and the sightings of bear around here are constantly increasing. I'm not exactly afraid of them. What I can imagine is a scene where I'm sitting in the woods, dead quiet, deep in concentration drawing a plant. I'm so still a bear is right behind me eating berries unaware of my presence. I shift, making noise, the bear startles, and has one of those all too human reactions, swats me in surprise. A swat from a bear could result in a little decapitation, and yes, there is such a thing as a being a "little" decapitated. Uh... so no, I'm drawing house plants. Here's a botanical sketch I did of an orchid last week.

The Yin and the Yang

I'm sort of recycling posts here. Here's the popular video, "Where is Matt". If watching this to the end, you feel nothing, I suggest you contact a surgeon and have the cold, dead stone that is your heart replaced by something living. If that's unsuccessful, remain in the dark side and watch the parody, "Where the Hell is Shut-In Matt". Funny.

Where is Matt?

Where the Hell is Shut-In Matt?

Land Art

This picture could easily be interchangeable as an image of my backyard edible landscape project or ...my brain. Either way, neither have a lot going on at the moment.

Now that all the big structural stuff in my yard is done, I walk outside everyday, look around and think, "now what?" I've confused myself by reading too many garden design magazines. I have to shake off the seduction of wanting some expensive outdoor living space. One that will make me forget that I'm in the middle of suburbia, but instead at an English country cottage or maybe a Tuscan villa. It's takes big bucks to create that kind of illusion. I'm also being reminded that it would be impossible to maintain that illusion because right now I'M TRYING TO BLOCK OUT CRAZY GUY WHO IS HAVING HIS DAILY MOANING AND RANTING SESSION.

My original purpose was to really make use of this land; function over form. But I do want to create a beautiful environment as well. Transforming land. I can't think of anything more elemental in human activity. It's what we're about as a species, molding our environments, control and organization. Sadly, the idea of just letting something BE goes against our natures.

An idea for a conceptual art project would be to not touch this space, just see what blows in and grows over the course of ten years, recording the changes and details in various artistic ways. I can pretty much predict what weeds will appear and end up dominating the space, but I might be surprised by some native fern or a few annuals from some other garden finding their way here. Eventually a tree or two would probably grow when I'm old, then dead. Thinking of this reminds me why I'll never be a conceptual artist. I can't see much point. But it does make me think of 2 different large environmental art projects. (To be fair, I have yet to see either one in person, and I'm sure will never see the first, but with conceptual art, well, it's the concept that matters the most, yes?)

Husband and wife team Christo and Jeanne-Claude, best known for draping fabric over, around and through BIG things: bridges, islands, Central Park, the Reichstag, are at it again. For over a decade the Over the River Project has been in the works. In the summer of 2012, 9.4 kilometers of the Arkansas River will have a translucent ceiling of fabric above it for 2 weeks. My first reaction: how stupid and maybe harmful to the environment? I have discovered they do carry out extensive studies as to the environmental impact with their projects (as they must). The results in this case have reported some of the following: some Big Horn sheep could die of stress, eagles might fly into the cables suspending the fabric. On a human scale, traffic will be congested with gawking tourists. Gawking tourists may get bit by the heavy population of rattlesnakes.

I'm more concerned about the sheep.

There isn't some big philosophical point to this art, it really is about spectacle and as for the wastefulness of it, I've softened my stance a bit thinking of these 2 words - Las Vegas. If ever there was an example of wasteful spectacle it'd be building a city full of luxury hotels and swimming pools in the middle of the desert. So Christo's and Jeanne-Claude's big projects do leave me with a little food for thought - the ego of humankind knows no limits and now has the resources to carry out it's whims. Okay, nothing new, but is there ever?

The second art project that I DID warm to was Mark Dion's Neukom Vivarium. An old tree that had fallen naturally and in the process of decay was transported, including the organisms living on it, put in a specially built glass housing. Inside, a carefully controlled environment replicates the conditions of the trees' natural setting. In a way, no different from the Amazon exhibit at a zoo or an aquarium, although in this case, the environment wasn't recreated to mimic a faraway place, but transported relatively intact and sustained. This piece does point to the idea of letting things be and how difficult it is to replace what's lost.

Dion says,

"I think that one of the important things about this work is that it’s really not an intensely positive, back-to-nature kind of experience. In some ways, this project is an abomination. We’re taking a tree that is an ecosystem—a dead tree, but a living system—and we are re-contextualizing it and taking it to another site. We’re putting it in a sort of Sleeping Beauty coffin, a greenhouse we’re building around it. And we’re pumping it up with a life support system—an incredibly complex system of air, humidity, water, and soil enhancement—to keep it going. All those things are substituting what nature does—emphasizing how, once that’s gone, it’s incredibly difficult, expensive, and technological to approximate that system—to take this tree and to build the next generation of forests on it. So this piece is in some way perverse. It shows that, despite all of our technology and money, when we destroy a natural system it’s virtually impossible to get it back. In a sense we’re building a failure."

As I look back to my 66' strip of dirt, along with the vegetables and berries, I know that I'll fill one corner with native plants, a little recreation of what once may have been here. And yet the plants will be bought at a garden centre and were probably imported from another part of the continent. I suppose that's irony.

Getting away from the processed life

Here's my daughter and husband flying a kite at the beach.
This is at least one activity I've been doing while neglecting this blog.

I wish I could excuse my lack of blogging for something impressive. I wish I could say I've been incredibly prolific and created a mind blowing amount of fantastic artwork. I wish I could say I wrote a novel and to celebrate I've been throwing fabulous parties every night with tapas that have garnishes of caviar I squeezed out of a 10' sturgeon I caught with my bare hands as I parasailed along the Fraser River.

But no.

I dunno what the heck I've been doing. Experimenting with art materials that have noxious fumes may be partly to blame for my inability to think of what to write on this blog. Mostly I've been carrying on with the ebb and flow of life.

A friend challenged me to 30 days of shopping for nothing but necessities based on this article she read. No big deal, I hate shopping. I am the antithesis of the girly woman who just has to have those cute pair of shoes. I cut my hair about once every summer Olympics. I buy because I have to with the exception of books, art and art supplies. Those are my little luxuries. So I've taken her on and made it a family affair. No shopping for anything but food and necessities like toilet paper and soap. No snack food, no Starbucks, no food bought that is individually wrapped or processed and ready to eat out of it's container.

Today is day 1. I had to stop myself from getting a latte and sandwich for lunch as I was running around town. I stopped myself from buying crackers while food shopping. As I stood in line at the grocery store checkout, I was pleased by the purity of my goods - apples, lettuce, flour, all the staples, nothing frivolous. I'm committed to making as much as I can from scratch for the next month. Then I spotted the June issue of Chatelaine magazine and I remembered my friend Patricia was featured in an article, so without a second thought, I bought it.

Day 1 and I failed.

Ironically, the article is about how to stop spending money in the recession with a subheading that reads, "The joy of frugality". Ah well. Tomorrow I'll be back on track and if anyone would like to join in the challenge, let me know.

Since I'm on the topic of money and our glorious consumption of stuff, you may remember this post mentioning The Yes Men, activists who upset the status quo, posing as leaders of corporations and world organizations. They're back with a new documentary. It looks like good fun. The kind of laughing in spite of yourself, squirming in your seat fun with the added benefit of making you think. These guys have balls, ovaries, guts, you name it and they feel more relevant today than ever. Here's the trailer....

Kid Stuff

Weaving Intangibles
acrylic, ink, pencil, thread
Ellen Sereda

I never tire of putting my children into my art. I do however have a few half finished portraits of my kids in idyllic settings - the beach, near pretty flowers in the park, all very cliche and certain to never be finished. A camera catches these moments in time better than a brush or a pen. But let me loose with other materials, like thread so I can do some wonky sewing, then add a crow and I'm a happy artist.

I have an astonishingly good memory of childhood. Luckily my childhood was pretty normal and happy, so a good memory isn't a curse. I don't romanticize those years or long for the perceived innocence of them. If you watch children for any length of time, you'll realize naivety is not the same of innocence. An example this past weekend:

Me to my youngest daughter: You need to apologize to your sister for poking her in the eye.

Her: But I didn't mean to poke her eye!

Translation - I meant to hurt her in another part of her face and not get caught

The lecture on my part went on about the importance of taking responsibility for actions and making amends. She then started mumbling under her breath, "I don't know what you mean, I don't know what you're saying". In my frustration I blurted out, "What! are you Billy Bob Thorton?!" I was so pleased with myself for getting in a topical reference even if she didn't know what the hell I was talking about.

Kids at any age are fascinating to watch and listen to. They share some of the qualities of manic depressives. Their highs are really high and their lows are like the end of the world. The key difference of course is everything in childhood is so transient, nothing lingers. Their best friend is their worst enemy until another day passes and it's all reversed. I think what we most treasure about the memory of childhood is not innocence but the intrinsic qualities of children that lead them to explore, imagine and discover.

One of my favourite picture books is Maurice Sendaks', "Where the Wild things Are", a simple book that has just the right balance of excitement and fear. When I heard a movie was being made from it, I thought, NO, not another Cat in the Hat, trying to flesh out a 32 page story into a bad Hollywood moneymaker. But then I saw the trailer. This might be good. An Arcade Fire song in the trailer? I am sold. (I just noticed if you have a 14" computer screen, the trailer will be cut off when you view it. Click on it to get the full widescreen version on YouTube)

**Just a note for those of you who subscribe in a reader. Yesterdays post didn't seem to show up in any feeds. 2 posts in 2 days? Quirky I know, can't imagine it becoming a habit.

Turning Over a New Leaf

I read a blog last year by an extreme plant lover. She wrote about plants having feelings, consciousness and good karma associated with being good to plants. If this is true....

I...am...screwed.

However, I am convinced that my plant above, a philo - whatever, a green houseplant of some kind, is dying not so much from my neglect as it is from fright. I think it's being haunted by the ghosts of all the plants I've killed...uh, yeah, I guess that doesn't help my case any. But I'm changing, really. I feel bad. I've been learning a lot about plants as I have a big project in the works. With the help of this book....

I will be turning the side of my house (about 1/3 of my yard) from this....

to something a little like this urban homestead. 1/10 of an acre in the city of Pasedena has been cultivated to produce 6000 lbs of fruits and vegetables a year.


We've started work on this. I chopped down a 15 foot bamboo patch that had mostly died from our particularly harsh winter. My husband has started the plans for grading the yard and getting together the wood. Eventually we hope to make more of our property productive. I wonder how our neighbours would feel about a mini wheat field in the front yard. Baby steps...baby steps. First, I need to get good with my karma and try to save my poor houseplant.

Art Workshop

Untitled (work in progress?)
Ellen Sereda

I had the privilege of taking an assemblage workshop this past weekend given by artist Michael de Meng. I would love to show you pictures, but in my worry to make it there on time I forgot my camera at home. Thinking I would arrive early, I ended up late. My sense of direction is freakishly bad. I'm like a homing pigeon whose been given Timothy Leary doses of LSD. I start out with good intentions but somewhere along the way the journey gets wildly confusing.

I am glad I wasn't too late because it was one of the best workshops I've ever taken. We transformed ordinary, in some cases extraordinary, boxes, containers and found objects into strange and compelling works of art. Michael has a great spirit and I learned a lot. Not the least, I faced my fear of power tools. In truth, I didn't actually use any. After improperly locking a cutting tool on a dremel and have it fly off a few feet, I got an itty bit nervous and asked someone to kindly cut something for me. Okay, I'm a wimp, but now I see the amazing options in using these tools and I'm psyched to try again. I may even go off and spend a few hours just slicing up cutlery for the heck of it.

My piece above was meant to hold the ceramic figurine I made a few years ago. When I came home, I scrounged around my house for more things to add to this assemblage and the ceramic piece has now just become part of the narrative. I'm a pushover for narrative. Not narrative that is obvious or definite, but ambiguous, mysterious and layered. That's why I was taken by Michael de Meng's work when I first came across it several months ago. His transformations of objects into a strange new reality are mesmerizing. Bits and pieces of junk and often some interesting obscure paraphernalia are made into a haunting, cohesive whole. When you examine them closely you notice more details emerging from murky depths of oily and rusty paint finishes. Far more articulate reading about his work can be found here. He is also the author of Secrets of Rusty Things: Transforming Found Objects into Art.

Also check out his blog for the video of his recent trip to the Dead Doll Island in Mexico. Bizarre. We're planning a Mexican trip soon, I'm disappointed we'll be nowhere near this place, although my daughters are more than relieved.

Here's a few examples of de Meng's work:

Sienna

Adaptations

Hot

High Seas Misadventure

Apparently my sea legs were amputated when I went whale watching this past weekend. While people aboard the boat were marveling at the sight of 3 gray whales close by I saw nothing but the inside of a barf bag.

I wasn't the only one. About a third of the passengers were also sick. One of them was my youngest daughter. My other daughter was terrified of the big waves thrashing the boat around like a scene from The Perfect Storm. Yes, I'm inserting my moment of high drama here. The worst was that I couldn't be any comfort to my kids as I was hacking up several vital organs from my body and I WAS SURE I WAS GOING TO DIE. The crew (who sort of did look like the cast from The Perfect Storm...coincidence?) comforted my kids so well that I vow to go out in the world, attain incredible wealth and come back one day and buy them houses and BIGGER boats. I love them and I don't care who knows it.

In calmer waters, I managed to get this photo of stellar sea lions lounging in the fog. Probably not the best animal to come across after enduring an intense bout of sea sickness. You can smell them a mile away, literally. It's been measured, for a good mile the stench of them travels. They are stinky.

One the bright side (and there always is one), I went back to the cottage we were staying in and felt the most intense joy over a warm shower, a couch that was immobile and the heat from the fireplace. I have never taken that much comfort in comfort before. It was almost worth the experience (actually no, not even close).

Aside from the whale (not) watching expedition, the trip was wonderful. Here's a few shots of the beach a short path away from our cottage.

Below is the bog walk we went on in Pacific Rim National Park. Some of these trees are hundreds of years old and would normally grow straight and tall, but the soil is so acidic they end up stunted and deformed.

I can't help including this humorous cartoon. It's about the twitter rage and hey, it's relevant (sort of), because there's a whale in it, one I didn't miss.

Whale Song

The lengthy post I had in mind will have to wait. I'm off. I will be walking along the chilly beaches of Tofino and travelling the open waters of the Pacific hoping to see some of these. I have memorized this song from my childhood and will be singing it loud and strong until the whales come...or the other passengers throw me overboard.