a meal

5" x  7"

it was one of those "oops" moments.  i left the door open to the pantry at my dad's house when i went up the street with my pal shirley.  amy, the golden lab with the heart condition, got to the lower shelf of said pantry and had herself a hearty meal. She obliterated (with the help of Buddy Lee and Scout): one bag of brown sugar, a box containing Special K cereal (including cardboard), one package of spaghetti noodles, one package of white sugar, and one bag of flour.  some dogs just can't help themselves!  she seemed fine for a while, but tossed her cookies outside.   in her sleeping quarters, she sounded somewhat like a college kid after shotgunning one too many pbr's:  breathing heavy and whimpering for mercy.  which not only makes me feel horribly responsible, but somehow makes me thank my lucky stars that i'm not the college kid i once was, on the floor, sweating and panting after one too many of this or that.  

here's a painting of a tiny heinz 57 bean pot, one small fragment of a collection of hundreds of pots in various sizes, shapes and colors that were collected by my folks.  you can tell i've run out of steam when all i paint are simple round objects.  oh well, what the hell: it's something.  goodnight y'all.

fragility

5" x 7"
reserved

after five hours of crackling country radio, a glass shattering rendition of chattahooche,  and a not-so-authentic bean burrito, i'm here.  portland, my alma mater, my home away from home.  it has an eerie familiarity, but something is different.  maybe the bushes are bigger, or maybe some of the trees are gone, or our house is a different color.  maybe it's just that i don't live here anymore.  this city, it is in constant flux, doing what cities do best.  i learned quickly not to get too sentimentally attached to the way things are, because they will never be the same.  never.

so really, i'm just here to visit my aunt june and uncle earl.  aunt june turns 93 on tuesday.  i surprised her on the phone tonight, and she was caught so off guard she couldn't remember exactly what she was going to say.  to answer the silence she went directly into the perplexing question of who may have stolen the smiley face balloons, which she bought at the dollar store, and used to mark her driveway for the garage sale, at which she only made a hundred and twenty five dollars, and hardly sold a thing...  and now the garage is full to the brim, by gosh you can hardly even walk a path through there!  aunt june, oh my crazy aunt june, white permed hair and rhinestone shoes...the woman who taught me the fine arts of domesticity: how i love her so.  and uncle earl, endlessly reminiscent on the way things were, pure-hearted as a  mountain stream... as timeless as they may seem, these two, my great aunt and uncle, are more fragile than before, and they will grow more fragile still.  and so: a pilgrimage.  i have landed.

love

5" x  7"
reserved for g. conklin

what's more american than baseball?  well i don't know, how about hotdogs? cheeseburgers? television?  no, i got it....weddings?  yep.  weddings.   we americans go to great lengths to make our weddings an extension of ourselves.  we express ourselves through fancy attire, table settings, the menu, the guests in attendance, the music, the ceremony, and all the other rituals that go along with it.  according to various internet news sources, the average american couple spends close to 30 G's on their wedding! yes: it's true:  thirty-freakin-thousand-dollars! that could feed a lot of hungry mouths, not to mention pay my mortgage for quite some time, or even send some kid to college.  all this, for the sake of love?  not to mention, statistically, 40% of those marriages will end in divorce.  hogwash!!  money doesn't grow on trees, and neither does love. shit, we're cutting down all the trees anyways to make houses for all our babies...  we americans better re-prioritize quick--or we're all gonna go broke.

 today, when i attended the sweet little backyard forest wedding of todd and vanessa, i was charmed. it was simple, and elegant.  the ceremony was ministered by a close friend, the flowers were living and growing in pots to be planted in the future, the food was homemade by the loving hands of family and friends, and instead of cake there were fresh seasonal berry pies.  it reminded my a tad of my own wedding, which happened six years ago tomorrow: something homespun, authentic, fun and easy, without the unnecessary bells and whistles:  something that truly celebrates the organic nature of love. 

missing you

8" x  10"
sold

i miss portland in the same ways i miss drinking coffee.  i miss the highs, and i miss the lows.  i miss the buzz, the crash, the confusion, the frantic running around like the proverbial chicken. i miss pulsing with an energy that is totally unnatural, yet intoxicating, fun and exciting.  i miss portland, and i miss my coffee in the mornings.  

these days i live in a rural area.  i wake up early, i drink tea, i go to bed early, i move slowly and methodically through my days, chiseling away at the notion of creating a life with longevity.  i see how i've slowed down, and i can feel how badly i needed that change.  when i lived in portland, shit was hitting the fan, and it was dire:  never enough time, never enough money, hand-to-mouth, broke all the time, frantic and stressed out.  but man, did we have fun.  i went to shows, i drank, i partied, i danced, i mingled, i saw art, i made art, i shopped, i ate every kind of food, i people-watched, i watched the landscape change as the city grew hipper, more fashionable, more desirable, and crazier all the time. so much happening, all at once.  it was a total clusterfuck, and overstimulating in all the best and worst ways.

but more than the city, i miss its people.  i miss my regulars, my neighbors, the folks i would see almost every day. those people were my semblance of community.  i left, and i haven't looked back much at all, maybe because it's painful, maybe because i spend so much time looking ahead.  but today, i miss those people, my people, a lot.

rough rider

8" x  10"
sold

i've always looked up to my brother joe.   he lives his life without compromise, the way he wants to, whether or not everyone approves (which they don't always).  that means a lot to me because i've always been one of those "good kids": living by the book, following the rules (more or less), and boring myself completely.  my brother, he has more cojones than most people i know.  he's fearless, daring, dangerous, and adventurous.  on top of it all, he can make you laugh from the gut, and he has a good heart. 

joe works on trains.  he's a conductor.   he spends hours upon hours on the rails.  it's a rough lifestyle, living out of a suitcase, sleeping in hotels, working through the nights, those long, grueling swing shifts.  it's dirty, grimy, stressful, and dangerous.  he's been on derailed trains, trains that broke apart, on trains that ran over humans and animals, on trains that nearly collided, he's hopped trains and chased trains and jumped off of trains and painted trains, trains full of garbage or metal or grain or petroleum or coal... it's his job and he does it with pride.  and i know from his photos that he sees some of the most beautiful scenery there is.   the backyards, the remote coasts, the open fields, the rivers and valleys, the underbelly of america. i imagine what it's like: the lull of the engine and the grinding metal, as he travels miles upon miles to bring the goods to where they go.  that's my brother joe.

innocence

8" x  10"
reserved for p. senter

i've been thinking about children a lot lately.  i love them.  i can be having a humdrum day and some kid will walk in the store and make my day.  i love their language, their inhibition, their energy, and their imagination.  i love to play, they draw the child right out of me.  many of my friends have kids, or are having kids, and i covet my special position as their "uncle jessie".  

in our store lies a treasure chest filled with toys that my mom collected, one by one.  it is every child's delight to discover that chest and dig through to find the one special toy that they will take home with them.  it's my heart's delight too, to hear the sound effects of one little plastic creature or another soaring through the sky or engaging in battle on the worn wood floors of the lucky dumpster.  it wasn't until i put that treasure chest out with a sign reading KIDS ONLY that i realized why mom collected those toys:  she wanted to be everyone's favorite auntie.  and i do too.

many people have asked me if i'm going to have kids.  my default answer has always been no.  looking at today's world through adult eyes, i see a hostile environment in a swift downward spiral. with pollution and disease and environmental exploitation and overpopulation at an all time high, it's easy to say no:  my conscience wouldn't allow me to bring such a beautiful, gentle and innocent creature into such a cruel world.  but looking at my friends, and their babies, and the hope and life and optimism and fun and energy that each child brings to my life and the lives around it, i must say, lately it's becoming more of a tossup.

chores

5" x  7"

some days there isn't enough time to do everything.  you run out of day.  the hours jog fast laps around you, taunting "neener neener!", and the list grows wild like blackberries.  some days you forget the list even exists, or at least pretend to forget, just to give yourself a break.  but it finds you again, that pesky list, running like a stock ticker in your head, after you've arrived home from a long day of gallivanting. you're back to the grind all over again.

doing a painting a day is like having a new pet to take care of.  it's easy to forget it's one of your new chores until you get into the routine.  it takes a while to get to know.  and when the routine is impossible, it just is, and you have to call for reinforcements.  either that, or apologize profusely when your care is haphazard, rushed, or simply overlooked.    today, i went about my day as if i were on vacation.  at 9:30, wiped out from the heat and driving and a full day of thrifting in far-off lands, i didn't want to do a painting at all.  but i did anyways, i picked the simplest thing i could think of, just to go easy on myself.  because we all deserve a break sometimes, right?