A friend gave me some old burlap bags from coffee beans. I draped some of them over Jesse's latest chair. Within minutes he had made a nest and was sleeping happily. (The man with the waxed and polished head was from the CLT airport last Tuesday)And here's a little print of some indigenous housing and the blow up paper box, carved from a rubber block, touched with white gouache.
Wednesday, September 20, 2017
P and I and two of my bros and their wives from Colorado and Mississippi converged in New Orleans with cousins this weekend-plus-Monday to help celebrate our beloved aunt's 100th birthday with her. Above and below are my usual airport sketches.
We had the great fun of staying in an airbnb two houses away from the house we lived in the year P and I and M and D moved to NO for P to finish his engineering degree. This wonderful old neighborhood was the one I grew up in, near City Park and the bayou. E was born there.
We made a beeline for our favorite coffee shop, the Fair Grinds. The colors in this tiny place are almost the best thing about it!
On Sunday after the Fair Grinds we strolled around our old haunts, the exotic tropical plants everywhere, horsetails blooming merrily around a garbage can. After Sunday afternoon's party we went out to the lake front for a little party before dinner and after the big party. Since my bros and their families and my cousin live far away from us we used every minute to hang out- dinners every night, river front walking Monday night, etc.
Not a sketch, but my favorite picture of my aunt and her friend at the party.
Monday morning P and I walked around the old neighborhood some more, this time to the NOMA sculpture garden and the old Casino, which is now a Morning Call in City Park.
Around 10:00, when the heat and humidity drove us inside, we went to the French Quarter with my cousin D and went to the voudou museum, where I overheard two guys making a prayer following the directions on the right in front of a prayer stump. One asked the other: What did you wish for? The other said : Impeachment!
More at the voudou museum.
Sadly , we had to come home yesterday morning. I loved looking down at barges and ships on the Mississippi.
Friday, September 15, 2017
The sheep, unattended by the bulls, are piled up like stones in a New England field.
Then they seem to sense me, and one by one they lumber to their feet and face northeast.
Meanwhile the three erstwhile guard bulls are lounging and chewing their cuds under a tree across the road. No conclusions to be drawn.
Wednesday, September 13, 2017
So the hurricane has passed through us and left in its wake a sulphurous yellowy light and some playful steers.
These guys were joyfully licking each others' heads and backs,
playfully mounting each other,
and generally playing in the still- puddly field after Monday night's fierce wind and slanting rain.
And here's a reminder that in watery places boats belong close to houses.
Sunday, September 10, 2017
Plow Day happens in September on the college farm when area farmers who use teams of animals to plow gather at a field on the farm and plow the field.
This year there were a couple of teams of mules along with percherons and other draft horses.
I asked my friend K to point out those of her many collected objects that seem especially numinous. This rusty metal mantis and small carved wood woman--
this odd metal hedgehog's head on a marble slab, a totem rock that I found and gave to her-- and then I saw this fascinating little etching labeled Birdie by an artist named A. Fedar,
and a flying pig made out of raku-fired clay.
Thursday, September 7, 2017
I made this book right after Hurricane Katrina. I grew up below sea level in New Orleans, and water was our element. This watery time seems right to ponder the implications and adaptations of living below sea level.
I can remember going to sleep to the distant sound of a pumping station after a rainy day.
I wasn't living in the city during Katrina, but my first of several hurricanes occured when I was five years old. My Dad carried me down the street to the big church on Esplanade, later took me outside to see a patch of blue sky that he told me was the eye of the hurricane.
Graves in the neighborhood cemetery were above ground.
From certain streets in the French Quarter we could see ships passing on the river at second story level.
In the dark ground-floor basement of our raised creole cottage was a drain through which water rose frequently and ominously. Crawfish holes rose their clayey collars in our side yard.
From the ferry the city looked dwarfed by ships.
I loved watching clamshell-laden barges slipping past my bedroom window during naptime when we lived briefly in Lakeview near a canal that has since been filled in.
Mediums used: water-soluble crayons, absorbent ground, pen, paper plate lithography, watercolor, diluted fluid acrylic base on Arches cover wove paper; with cover image of mica, encrusted sand, and digital output.
Wednesday, September 6, 2017
A clever if curious adjustable walkway and floating dock in Bear River, NS-- another good example of working with instead of defying nature ( and then praying to be spared when nature does its natural thing, such as a tide or a storm)