Windows and Doors

"Next time, Don't ask Br'er Rabbit for Directions"

First Friday rolled on by again last week, with the PoetHouse presenting "windows and doors," and Lone Pine hosting new work by Cyr.  Whether it was the nice weather, or the fact that Bend was restless after January's lack of an art hop, downtown was packed with all sorts of folks(who am I kidding, it's cause of the wine tasting).  There were even people on stilts ducking through the door to the PoHo.  

cyr and her mom, and her piece titled "they say our tree won't grow back, but someday something will." This piece is a contripbution to Haiti.  She refills it with tiny photos, and people leave dollars clipped to the clothespins. 

another cyr piece- taken on one of our drives. this is Jo and our star balloon.

Cyr and I  being un-serious.  Jo and Brittany.  Tom and Shahar (my Israeli housemate).

Mike Bookey, Shahar, myself, Mary Booky, Cyr and Jo.   Mario Dickson's piece - Skeletal Silhouettes

Brittany Zendajas, Window to Summer.   Jason Graham, Red Dirt Door

Jefferson Johnson, assemblage.  My painting of Rachel Brown re-appears. 

sarah and christian

Cyr:  trespassers welcome

Tom Monson

the sarahs.

Sean Anderson overly optimistic

B Positiv

Jo Lundberg's original oil on canvas was the B Positv signature piece this year.

For the sixth year in a row, McMenamin's Old St. Frances School hosted the B Positiv Art Auction on Saturday night.   B Positiv is a foundation that was created in support of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Foundation in honor and memory of Hannah Pite- daughter of Poet House Friend Danny Pite, whose blood type changed from A to B positive after treatment for a rare form of cancer.  This year, Jo designed the poster piece for the event.  I contributed a piece for the second year in a row.  I'm not sure if results are in for the amount raised (upward of 8000 total I believe), but I was honored that my friend and Yoga instructor Molly bid on and won my piece.

Lori, Adina and Jo

person, tree, house- now owned by ms. molly clark.

Nostalgia: Where We Come From

Hands down favorite nostalgic toy: Fashion Plates.

I was  reminded of this wonderfully creative (let's not dissect all the cultural/gender connotations that could be applied) toy that I had growing up while Jo and I were watching Season Seven of Project Runway (burlap sacks, but that's another post).   

Basically Fashion Plates consisted of different templates divided into torso, legs, and heads.  One could mix and match each part to create an exponential varity of looks.  There were tennis skirts!  There were bell bottoms! There were leg warmers! There was Farrah Faucet hair!  This was the early eighties, after all.  The templates were then covered in paper and rubbed in charcoal (think the process you use on old gravestones), with colored pencils to finish the designs.

 OH! How I wish I had the Fashion Plates now- I would incorporate them seamlessly into my collages.

After finding this picture of a set online- I am amazed at how much this toy has influenced my aesthetic.  If you don't see the connection- just look at "Flocking Together Can Be Over Rated."  The line quality, the pouty lips, the suggested features, the hairstyle.  Wow.  This is where she came from.  If anyone sees a set at a yard sale- will you please pick it up for me?  I will pay you back.

Eat your Heart out, Tim Gunn.

When In Doubt, Clean it out.

just starting this one for next week's first friday...

view from Cyr's snowboard

I cleaned my studio on Tuesday.  Recycled probably forty pounds of magazines that I had strip mined for collage material.  Uncovered work I hadn't touched since October.  Moved my desk from one side of my cubicle to another.  Started re-cataloging scraps of paper.   Then I got to spend Wednesday up at the mountain under blue-bird skies.  Maybe it was the sunshine, or the spine-rattling splat I took, but my brain feels more uncluttered and ready for art.  And now, back to work.

started in October, need to get back to it.

a short yogic intermission

full pigeon, my absolute favorite.

Last Saturday, I competed in the Oregon Hatha Yoga Championships.  Competition and Yoga? Sounds odd, I know.  I trained to compete last year, but didn't end up going as I was out of town.  This year, I started working on the routine of seven poses in late October.  About twelve people from the Bend Bikram Yoga studio practiced intensely for the last two months, and each of us deepened our practice in incredible ways.  One of our teachers, Delana Miller, came in third place at the competition.  I don't know my score, or how I placed among the almost fifty other women, but the rewards of focusing so much on my practice and sharing that with some amazingly supportive and dedicated people was what made being on a cold stage for three minutes in a leotard in front of about a hundred people worth it.

standing bow and bow

upward stretching

Beautiful Losers

About twenty people gathered at the PoetHouse last night for a screening of the documentary Beautiful Losers.   It makes me want to go live in the studio...

we drive east to find art

Jo, Cyr and I went on another art drive today, first stopping by a pedestrian tunnel near Pilot Butte, then heading east on Highway 20.  Jo and Cyr had gathered a gold star-shaped mylar balloon to use as a prop, as well as an old lamp and a vintage suitcase.  I captured quite a few photos that I am going to use as references for collages, the mood both whimsical and lonesome.

I don't know what it is about these drives, we find the oddest things.  Driving through the badlands we came upon a huge pile of cinder that ODOT must use to salt the roads.  The ruddy color against the stormy sky was beautiful, scrambling to the top of the pile was rewarding.   Along the same stretch of BLM land we found an abandoned tiny play house, still filled with toys.   A gift left by superstitious ranchers to some feral child who was being raised by wolves, I imagine.