Now that I have tangerines on the brain, here's a stellar photograph. (be sure to click on the image)

image found at The Breakaway Cook

I am a (silly) dyke with whiskers!

photos by Katy Gerdes

Recurring Dreams: Wealth, Opportunity, Deep Joy

I am a deep dreamer... I have many kinds of dreams but the recurring ones have been on my mind lately, so I made a list. Some of them are replicas of the same dream over and over, some of them, like the ones below, are the same dream with different elements. I wonder how it can be that I have almost eighteen recurring dreams...

I call these the opportunity dreams.

In this dream I am walking along, sometimes in beautiful weather, sometimes in cloudy weather, and as I walk I look down because something has glinted in the light. To my surprise it's a quarter. Not only that but I notice in the grass a few inches away is a nickel, a spray of dimes and pennies. So I start to pick them up, who wouldn't? Happily, the more coins I gather, the more I find. Some of the coins are clearly old and worth more than their use as currency. Digging, I can smell the grass and feel the dirt. I do this until I have dug a wide hole in the boulevard... It is now that I notice that the coins are layered in the dirt and grassroots like pebbles, an endless supply of them as deep as I want to dig.

The other version of this dream has come in the form of clothing. In this version of the dream I have to find clothing for a job interview, a job that I am badly in need of. I am walking to a nearby second-hand shop: there are no other customers inside, there are lots of great clothes in great shape that cost little to nothing. The shopkeeper tells me I may choose what I like, take as much as I like, which I do until I have piles of clothing, more than I will ever need, each item exactly what I have been looking for. I am so happy I could pee.

I have had these two dreams multiple times over the years. They have never changed. Until recently I have woken from these dreams with a mild sense of disappointment; they seemed so real to me, how could I wake with such empty hands? Then I sigh and relish the joy I felt at having found what I needed. I feel relief from the stress of living poorly in my waking life.

In February of this year I dreamed a true variation, an exploration of this dream... A. and I are on the shores of Lake Superior at our favorite beach, digging for agates. This is a wonderful, relaxing and primary activity that comprises the bulk of our time here. Generally, A. is the one who digs throughout the entire day in search of the prize beauties, large banded agates or eye agates... She is tenacious and perfectly within her element while I have given in to napping after a few bouts of digging. I love the sound of the waves, the wind all over me, the sky...

In this dream I am sort of pushing the beach rocks around, half intent, half wandering in a meditation on the waves when I lay hands on a beautiful, deep red, walnut size eye agate that just takes my breath away (much like the one pictured above). Ha! I shout with glee! Then I see another one shining in the sun. Waves come up and wet the entire area... everything is awash in late afternoon sun and lake water. It's a stunning sight in the dream as well as in waking life to see the stones glistening like this. As with the coin dream, I have dug a large hole and have sighted multiple fistfuls of these amazing agates. Now I am laughing outright, staring at the slowly setting sun. I am aware that I am dreaming, I can feel myself laughing in my bed. I wake up completely fresh and ridiculously happy. Profoundly happy. I am in no way disappointed.

I can clearly see this for what it is: A vision of my own happiness, unending joy in the natural world and a message to myself that I am free to live my life without worry. There is enough.




smugmug.com (david englund, eye agate and large banded agate photos)
wmnh.com (small agate photo with black background)



































rockhounds.com (landscape agates)

The Scent of Light - Happy Solstice!

Like a great starving beast
My body is quivering

Fixed

On the scent
Of
Light.

-Hafiz

*photo: AFP/Yuri Kadobnov

i am running into a new year

i am running into a new year
and the old years blow back
like a wind
that i catch in my hair
like strong fingers like
all my old promises and
it will be hard to let go
of what i said to myself
about myself
when i was sixteen and
twenty-six and thirty-six
even thirty-six but
i am running into a new year
and i beg what i love and
i leave to forgive me

poem by lucille clifton
tulips by june k.

Lovely doesn't begin to describe this...

www.pbs.org

French 19th Century Blue Opaline Snake Paperweight, Appraised on Antiques Roadshow July 2003

Oh, Sweet Frabjousness!

It's been an awesome day: I slept in! which is no easy feat for me as I've been working at what my friend Beth refers to as "sparrow fart" - an hour so early you can hear a sparrow fart! - for the last ten years. I thought sleeping in was a thing of the past... It was a quarter to ten when I rolled my ass out of bed for breakfast at Victor's Cafe with friends Ruby and Miya where we proceeded to feast on a mango pancake and sub cuban toast;) Then on to some random snow sculptures in the uptown neighborhood behind Lund's that Al and I found totally by accident last night on our way home from said Lund's.

Onward to the Open Book Center where we happened upon artists hanging the new show for RosaLux gallery - sweet pen and ink by a guy who's name escapes me at the moment; pencil on paper by the other guy who's name I never got. I must go back and see it all put together! Then right next door to Big Brain Comics (yes, I am a GEEK!) where I found the best illustration magazine called Hi-Fructose and the latest installment of Terry Moore's Echo.

Once home I sat down to my computer and realized with frabjous joy that my blog has a follower! OMG, yo! So I started surfing... found some very cool sites... hifructose, phantasmaphile, amysteinphoto.blogspot, drawn.ca, thomglick.blogspot.

Now I'm eating chips and drinking a beer saying to myself that it's quite alright and not so bad to live happily and well.


*photo by Miya Rostein

I Honor the Twin Stars of My Day: Baking & Cooking

I had a moment the other day when I realized that I've been working as a baker for 14 years. I had no idea that my first job at the Hometown Bakery with Dan and Mary Lang in Morris, Minnesota would lead to such a wonderful career. As a visual artist I don't think it's much of a stretch for me to love the beautiful, process oriented world of pastry... at long last these two worlds have collided in a photograph of my own hands at work.

The world in which I could make a portrait of myself as a baker - in the way I love to make portraits, in the moment - does not exist. I am so often on the other side of the camera or lost in thought as I roll dough or I'm covered in a goo that has no business near a camera that I never truly imagined the power of seeing myself, my hands, at work in a photo like this. I like it.

*photo by Katy Gerdes

I Feel SO Much Better!!

*I found this image on Grace's Wild Pomegranate.

Found, from Digging In

www.digging-in.blogspot.com

Randomness via The Flaming Rose

The writer of one of the blogs I visit, The Flaming Rose, was recently tagged to write 6 random things about himself and invited anyone else who'd like to play to join in.
Here's some random info about the Conn.

*Image found at Jaunted

1: I love public transportation.
I first fell in love with graffiti riding the train through Chicago. I think this was the start of my life in art. Some of the most significant experiences I've ever had have been on city buses and trains.

2: I love to rearrange furniture.
The first time I ever moved a sofa I was 7.

3: I'm a voyeur. I love stuff like this: Normal Room.

4: I'm Learning to Love You More.

5: In college, along with friends Amy and Mark, I hosted a radio show called
Pebble, The Spoken Word Show.
We read Lewis Carrol's Alice in Wonderland, assorted poetry and played music ranging from classical to industrial.

6: I absolutely love winter.
I was born at 4 o'clock in the morning during one of Chicago's awesome snowstorms. My mom's car wouldn't start so she called the police who took her to the hospital in a paddy wagon.
Sometimes I wear flip flops in the snow.

*Image by Senor Codo

The Music Section: Patty Griffin

*Image from Notorious Meg

Blue Sky
The farther I come the farther I fall
Whatever I knew it was nothing at all
Nothing at all, just making me small
Smaller and smaller
I fall back

Sooner or later with a view from the ground
Chasing the race and the races run you down
Sooner or later with a view from the ground
And a tear in your eye
You say baby why cant we fly
Into the blue sky
High
Into the blue sky

Be my singing lesson
Be my song
When I tell you I'm falling
You tell me I'm strong
You say trees have grown tall
birds have flown high
Higher and higher
Goodbye goodbye goodbye
I'll fly over a rainbow
I'll be sun kissed
Sail around the planet Venus
And send a long letter
Way back home
That says all that I know
All that I know is the blue sky
High in the blue sky

The farther I come the farther I fall
Whatever I knew it was nothing at all
Trees have grown tall, birds have flown high
Higher and higher
Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye

Flipping a coin, hoping for the best

I Have Been Asleep

In the front yard of the apartment building where I live is a Mountain Ash Tree. It's a beautiful tree in an awful state of decline that I feel partly resp- onsible for. I know technically it's the landlord's responsibility to take care of this tree but he's too busy/un-invested to care and I've grown attached to it. I love it's shade, it's little orange berries and the variety it adds to the trees on our block.

I've been watching it's decline all year hoping something could be done...

The part that kills me is that by late spring when it became obvious that the tree needed care I sat right in front of it and asked it what I could do, but I didn't believe the answer. I did not trust the voice that said, loud and clear: Water.

I thought I was missing something. How could the answer be so simple? Water? Surely it needed more than that, something complicated like special fertilizer or friendly fungus or more sunlight all of which I know nothing about or cannot actually control. It's really up to the landlord though, why should I even care? After all, it's not my tree. My thoughts would circle back to this stupid argument every time I looked at this tree. A few weeks later I asked the tree again what I could do to help. Again the answer was loud and clear, as if someone stood next to me saying it into my ear: Water.

I decided to leave a message or three for the landlord and water the tree a few times. I tried to let go of a feeling I didn't think I had any right to. How could I feel responsible for something that's not mine? Since it's not mine to worry about, I don't need to take care of it, right?

Where am I going with this? ALL spring and summer I've been watching this tree die feeling helpless to save it, making up all kinds of excuses why it's not my problem. It sucks. It's a crappy feeling watching a living thing die and not trusting my place in the sequence of events. So two days ago I called a tree service for an estimate to remove the dead branches. They told me it's in a "serious state of decline, looks like it's water deficient, trimming the dead branches is not a guarantee to save it."

Why don't listen to myself? Why don't I trust myself? Why does someone else need to tell me it's okay to make a contribution to the neighborhood and to the living Green Bloods that I cherish?

I know many people would say it's just a tree, it's not your problem, blah blah blah... but why on earth would I turn away from an opportunity to practice what I believe? If I can do something, anything that's within my means to do, to improve the quality of life for myself and all fellows within my realm, why the hell wouldn't I?

At what point do I decide to work for the world I desire?



*photo by sbpoet

Time. Let me vanish. Then what we seperate by our very presence can come together.

For JayBee and Cosmic Monkey

There are two photographs in the hallway of my apartment. The first is at the start of the hall, the second at the end, is in front of my bedroom door. When I look at each of them I experience two things simultaneously: A deep desire to know the person in the photograph and an incredible sense of wonder at knowing the person in the photograph.

The first is of my mother. She's twenty-two years old, working as a roof layer. She's a single mother of four. When I look at her in this photo there's no doubt she's absolutely the most self possessed person I've ever met.

The second is a drawing that I made based on a photograph of me at age six. In the photo I'm wearing one of my favorite dresses, my hair is very thin and I have dark circles under my eyes.

I have carried around an unnamed grief my entire adult life: I cannot remember the first six years of my life. How is it that I can look at this photograph of myself and not intimately recognize and know myself?

What seems to be driving this all home is a book I'm reading called The Time Traveler's Wife. One of the main characters is, you guessed it, a time traveler. One example from the book that I particularly enjoy is when he and his seven year old self spend the night at the Art Institute in Chicago. They look at cavemen dioramas, meteorites and a rare and exquisite version of Audubon's Birds of America. This book is enormous. I've actually seen it because I grew up in Chicago and spent many hours at this museum. This scene is one I can easily put myself and my young self in.

If I could, just for a moment, go to myself at six and experience myself as fundamentally part of who I am today... who knows? I might not have an extra heartbeat.

*Photo by my Grandfather Andres

Missing Kelly

*Photo by Kelly Krahl

"A Very Important Meeting in the Realm at the Heart of the Moon"

Toumani is a child who was born in my hands. I knew Toumani as a child and I also worked a lot with his father, Sidiki Diabate, who has contributed a lot to sharing traditional culture between Guinea and Mali. I know Toumani as an artist today, and he is someone I admire and whom I will keep admiring. I know that Toumani has faith, he holds the key to Malian music, and ten million Malian artists live in his shadow.

I am Arma and Toumani is a Griot I am from the Songrai/Peul culture in the north and he is a Mande from the South. It's rare that musicians meet like this from different traditions. But there is something that unites us and it is art and culture, which have no borders. We both work toward the same goal, for the same things, therefore colour is not an issue, and musical differences are not an issue. This did not start yesterday. Whether you are Tamaschek, Peul, Hassabia, Songhai or Sonrai, you are Malian. Wherever you make your bed, you are still Malian.

I don’t need to rehearse with Toumani. I never rehearse when it comes to music, because the inspiration will come to me at the right moment; I know what I am doing, I know what I want. Music is part of the fabric of my body and makes my spirit grow. Sincerely, music quenches the thirst in my heart. It is my gift, my gift of knowledge. It is the same for Toumani: he is a phenomenon of African culture. The Kora is born with Toumani. There is no competition between us, no hate, no jealousy. You cannot be jealous of God and of what he gives. And with his instrument, Toumani is able to do whatever he wants. We never talked about the repetoire. We don’t need to plan ahead. We didn’t need to improvise. It’s perfectly normal that I know this material. First it was his father who told me about it. I know Toumani understands. For me, this African culture is part of the fabric of my life, of my inspiration and intelligence. This recording is a natural wish we all share.

These are songs which belong to a repertoire that goes back to a very artistically fertile period, the 50’s and 60’s. A time between the end of colonisation and the birth of the independence, a very important period. And I am very pround of it. This album was made in order to share our knowledge with the new generation, to bring this period back to life and show the significance of this time and the opportunities we had.

If you know something and don’t want to share it, then you are selfish. You came after someone, and someone else will come after you. You can’t learn the entire sea by heart. No. This is why God created waves in the River and in the Sea. Some leave, and some come. I met Keita Fodiba in 1956 when he was playing this music and he was my inspiration to pick up the guitar. Everyone needs to participate in making sure our culture is healthy, in helping preserve our heritage. And today in Mali, in Bamako, we are working so very hard to fight against the way the Third World is being plundered. And I hope that we will succeed.

-Ali Farka Toure

The first time I heard about Ali Farka Toure was when I heard his music on radio Mali when I was a child. It was really strange music for me , but very good. He’s one of the great, great, great musicians. Nobody does what Ali does. He is one of a kind; he is the lion of the desert, the lion of Niafunke in the north. And I am very proud to have met him and proud to be able to play with him and mix both our types of music. People will be very surprised when they hear Ali play Manding music, which is the music of the Griot people, on his guitar, because Ali is very famous for playing the Blues. He is a prophet of the Blues. All of us were so surprised to see Ali have a connection with this kind of music. He flicked one of his lion’s claws that no one knew about and produced these ancient pieces.

I said to Ali, “We must rehearse.” He said, “No Toumani, we’ll try to work together in a natural way. There won’t be any problem.” He took up his guitar, I had my Kora. Jerry had set up all the microphones ready to go. We played a few notes, chose a key and off we went... Voila. And it was done. In the blink of an eye it was finished. There was never any complication in what we did. We had already reflected on ourselves. There was a way of thinking within us that was strong. I know what I need to do for Ali and Ali knows what he needs to do for me... That’s what’s amazing. It will stay with me forever. That was the essence of this music - this complementary nature.

-Toumani Diabate

It was he beginning of the rainy season in July 2004. We’d set up in the beautiful “Toit de Bamako” conference room on the top floor of the Hotel Mande - looking out over the breadth of the River Niger. Fishermen in their pirogues moved slowly back and forth over the water. Then the pirogues would disappear , the sky would darken and with a great thunderclap, the recording console, the lights and everything else would go out.

Ali and Toumani were sitting opposite each other, close together. Instruments were tuned, microphones were placed, sound levels were set and off they went.

Each of them would suggest or remind the other of a song by playing the first few notes of the melody and that was basically it. Beyond the basic song structures, it was completely improvised. If one of them wanted to make a solo, he’d nod to the other. At times it seemed like they were just sitting on a groove (albeit a wonderful groove), then one of them would start damping a string, the other would follow suit, and you had this very detailed interaction that I didn’t fully appreciate until we got to the mixing stage. Every single note that both of them played was absolutely meant. For three days every afternoon they played for an hour or two. These sessions were very relaxed, but the concetration between the two of them was intense. The order that appears on the record is exactly the order they played it. There were no second takes. Nothing was edited. The only comparable experience I’ve had was the first Ruben Gonzales album, where every note played is what the record is. They hardly spoke during the sessions. They didn’t need to.

Sometimes I had the thrilling sense of eavesdropping on a moment of very special and intimate communication. Listening to this record, you’d think they played together all their lives. Yet they’d played for a total of three hours before this - spread over fifteen years.

I’d be so completely absorbed by the music. We needed absolute quiet in the room while they were recording since the Kora is such a very quiet instrument. A song would end and you’d realize you’d been holding your breath, hypnotized. It was terrible when those sessions ended. I wish I could have afternoons like that everyday of my life...

-Nick Gold

In the Year’s leading up to Mali’s independence in 1960, part of the struggle against colonial rule was the search for a modern - and indigenous - identity. Music played a crucial role in this.

Many musician’s, especially Mande Griots living on either side of the Mali/Guinea border, became involved in an informal cultural movement in which the guitar was the preferred instrument: it could emulate the sounds and styles of the local instruments but was not tied to any one ethnicity or ritual. They developed an acoustic fingerpicking guitar style, drawing on the interlocking techniques of Balafon and the delicate ornaments of the Ngoni. They composed new songs that had a lighter, more popular feel than the old Mande Griot classics, with rolling harmonies and laid back rhythms. The lyrics were often philosophical and often talked about the importance of passionate love, in defiance of arranged marriage, which even today in many parts of Mali remains the norm. Some local writers, such as the novelist Massa Makan Diabate, began referring to it as “Jamana Kura” - meaning “New Age/Era.” It was as much about the feeling and free approach to playing as it was about the songs themselves. It lasted from the 50’s right through until the late 60’s when the music of dance orchestras and apollo bands took over.

- Lucy Duran

(photo credits:Christina Jaspars, Mali)