in love with art

i am in love with art always and forever, it feeds me & calms me...
thank goodness for the artists that inspire me so...

this month's Orion features art from Tara Donovan, who tranforms everyday objects like tape and tar paper, buttons, and pencils, into sublime landscapes rich in texture and light... William Fox writes "When she manufactures such vistas, Donovan reminds us that these materials are now so ubiquitous they are becoming the landscape itself, the object displacing the subject." You will lose yourself walking amidst this mountain and valley.





...and then there is the work of the utterly exquisite & talented ms.theresa ganz,
a former NYC girl who now resides in SF and will be opening her show at the
Steven Wolf Gallery at 49 Geary Blvd on Sept. 7th (5-7pm). Perhaps a trip there will be my birthday present to myself...
her organic formations of photographic leafy content are purely delightful and remind of my days running wild through pine forests, watching deer walk amid the morning dew, and eating peas from the pod on the vines in mama's garden. Please visit her jungle pinups and feel obliged to wonder at the sliced depths of Eden...

big island hawaii; a piece of good earth

Purely delightful ol'captain Cook..
Simply
stunningly
Beautiful..
each & every cranny an'nook
The spinners came a'greetin
"Aloha! Mohalo."
The fishes swam a'teemin
in the crystal
pool a'gleamin
Jumping swimming gliding feeling seeing
things you never thought you would see
diving flying napping frying -
not even one bit caring
when things go awry
this is the calming effect of the ocean -

a world alive -

only
with much concentration, solice, & conservation
and when the lava flows and meets the sea
magic begins for all to see...
all who can look beyond themselves,
at least...



It's an uncommon theme,
this beleiving in something so much bigger for us all,
than us all..

But it has buried its seeds, and now it is growing
and now it is taking force
and now it is a whole new bird taking flight
a whole new wave to ride..
this beleiving in something that is not only bigger than us,
but smarter than us too!
But it is not new..

it is older than you or me
it is older than our ancestors
it is older even than the ancients
it was perceived, but over time ignored or beaten,
by our elders,
our adam & our eve..
it is not a word but a concept -

that god is in the water, not simply in the air..
not merely mythic being,
but reality & everything all around us,
and may not even
need a name

but just a reverence
for each & every living thing,
for not just the amazing but the seemingly arbitrary,
all the creatures
every current..
not only bits and pieces of god,
but of us all as well..
and a whole lot more.

That rock,
this bug,
that twig, blossom, or tree..
could be the key to life prolonged,
or our undoing.. eternal upsetting.
It is still our choice
whether or not to value these things,
but for how long?

grown things 2

the earth turns and heads south toward the winter....
i am amazed by resilience in life;
a life that is often choked by fumes of carbon destruction, canabalized consumption...
we are eating ourselves alive say the scientists,
hush, hush says the government,
thumbs up say the oil execs,
cry, cry say the mothers at war...
we keep fighting each other with underhanded, subliminal weaponry;
with back handed glances and deeply wounded pasts spat out on the ground.
we are the ones who turn blind eyes to the masses who live in peace until someones says they no longer can,
who go wild with the loss that those other reign down upon them...
blown apart by their grief,
in denial of any advantage even their mass can offer,
assured only in their right to defend and condemn...
but it is those others, the oppressors, who must see the might of human spirit, who must change in their path of ownership and wealth compiling,
to become something better than greedy animals, who feel right in doing all things, even horrible, masty, bad things in the name of commerce.
shame, shame say the shaman
who watch the night sky growing dimmer and dimmer beneath the ugly glow of emperialism;
who struggle and sway beneath the burden of our modern age,
who may yet blow in the breeze and get lost amid the ashes of the human failure.
if even the ashes survive.
god, may we please forget about our own selves for just a moment, step beyond this earthly materialistic rat race, as they say, and find ourselves once more listening to the stars and holding dear to every piece of life we find?
please can we learn that we are not the only ones who are worthy of a place in your heaven, or the chance for a better existence elsewhere, or even right here? that we are not the only species worthy of life and a place on this planet?


who guides the hand that acts willfully or woefully to spite another? can we not chop it off and grow a new hand, which only loves and preens?
am i merely the mad hatter's daughter which my husband implies, who lives only in fairy tales, and cannot truly understand reality?
is not reality, too, fluid and JUST?
how can the world hear my one voice, which speaks through the leaves and dines only on god given things, watches signs in the fire and sounds so utterly lonesome in the nighttime?
...but look
at my plants...
how they dance and sing.