Hello. It's Me.
Thanksgiving Prep

Dear Folks, Pretend that It's Monday



Gratuitous adorable baby pic to get your attention. 

I plan to post on Mondays - or rather, I plan to  do the following: 

 I am about to launch a newsletter. Isn't that an amazingly 90's concept?? Except I seem to be the only bumpkin under the log regarding this new - err - old - medium of communication.  Seems like during the last few years when work has crushed my soul and ground my creativity into stale crumbs, all the au courant bloggers have switched to this more direct, controllable outlet. It appears it resolves many issues for me, including acting as a  swift kick in the butt to keep me on a regular schedule. 

I'm investigating, organizing, and getting ready. 




November All Soul's Month (in my life anyway)



It's All Soul's November all month at my house. I set up an altar on the mantel to honor all our deceased family members. You probably remember the stunning painting Estelle Kline gave us after my mother died. A friend of the youngest's and fellow MICA grad,  the kindness and generosity displayed by Estelle was overwhelming. 

My daughter did a beautiful pencil sketch of my Dad from a sketch he had done while in India during WWII. Unfortunately, I cannot find a photo of it and it has been packed away, awaiting our putting the house on the market and hopefully subsequent downsizing. 

In front of the painting, I placed a shallow plate with three large pomegranates in front of the painting about two weeks ago. Maira Kalman (oh yes I'm a-gonna name drop) told me that if I leave them alone, they will eventually turn brown and dry out, and the seeds will rattle inside. I love the idea of the story seeds concentrating into bits that can be felt and heard. Unfortunately, one has developed a soft spot and is about to be chucked. I think I should not have had them touching each other. So I will try again with new ones. 

I light the votives at night. I have collected tokens of my family from all over the house. There's the house number "2"  and house key to my maternal grandparents's house. Dad's pipe and his photo.  Mother's Day gifts I had given my Mom over the years. A small ceramic car that The Baby painted and gave to Mr. Pom on Father's Day. It reminds me of a VW, which always reminds me of Granny, Mr. Pom's mom.  




The Sicilian pottery vase just to the left out of frame belonged to my grandmother. (It's always the maternal side; I don't have a thing from my father's family.)  It is a gorgeous pattern of large bees and I love the vibrant colors. Apparently it fell to pieces at one point in its life and my grandmother painstakingly glued it all back together. It could not be more precious to me and is a symbol of spirit's endurance despite odds. The clock is just the ticking reminder that life is short but family love exists from one generation to another through the stories we tell. 



I will have a knee replacement in 16 days. (The other knee had a TKR five years ago and it's the strongest part of my body. ) I don't want to  look back on these weeks as time wasted. My plan has been to write in the morning and paint or draw later in the day and in the evening.  Between doctor appointments and PT, I am just getting into this groove.  Has anyone been following Soundbreaking on PBS? It's a new series showcasing different aspects of the music industry and artists. Last night I watched the first two episodes. The first was about  the role of the music producer in developing the distinctive sound of an artist.   Amazing behind the scenes film of the early Beatles and Elvis, etc, as well as those groups who would not use a producer - such as Sly and The Family Stone and Joni Mitchell. The second episode,  "Painting with Sound",  showed the evolution of Phil Spector and his creation of "the wall of sound", which all contemporary artists adopted thereafter.  Impossible to watch this series without e singing along at the top of your lungs. Perfect accompaniment to  a painting session. 


For now, let a melody counterpoint the anxiety that is running through our days.

See you next Monday.