Remembering, Memorial Day

Photo by Todd Heisler, 2006 Pulitzer Prize, Feature Photography.

When 2nd Lt. James Cathey's body arrived at the Reno Airport, Marines climbed into the cargo hold of the plane and draped the flag over his casket as passengers watched the family gather on the tarmac. During the arrival of another Marine's casket last year at Denver International Airport, Major Steve Beck described the scene as one of the most powerful in the process. "See the people in the windows? They sit right there in the plane, watching those Marines. You gotta wonder what's going through their minds, knowing that they're on the plane that brought him home," he said. "They're going to remember being on that plane for the rest of their lives. And they should."

Photo by Todd Heisler, 2006 Pulitzer Prize, Feature Photography.

Go here and begin with the first photo to read and see the whole story, including details about this photo . . . only if you are strong.

Go here to understand why remembering our past means so much to me. Enjoy your Memorial Day weekend and if you see a veteran, take a moment to thank him or her for serving your country.

Long Boats and A Long Way To Go



My Blog Wrangler is back! Sort of. Lately she's been wrangling apartment renovations (still ongoing but she's still on good terms with the contractor) and glaring at boxes that are in her way.  We still have about 50 zillion boxes in storage but her goal is to do one a day and be finished by Christmas.  I keep gently nudging her toward the 6 cartons marked "Dishes/Kitchen" but she's ignoring me so we continue using the Summer China (better known as paper plates) and eating a lot of take-out food.

Before all my art was packed up into boxes I took pictures of one of my latest efforts - boats. The one on the left has the weathered look I really like.

The original idea was to hang them on the wall somehow and thats the reason for the little hole in the bottom. But after fiddling around with them I couldn't actually figure out how I wanted to do it. All of the sudden I thought of fastening two together to make a pod. Susan suggested I might figure out a way to have them hinged so I could open the pod and put something in it. Somewhere in our pictures of our trip to New York City and Washington DC, which happened in the middle of our move, we have a picture of something similar. Once we find the camera again and upload the pictures I'll show you.

Thanks for keeping up with my blog.  Things are gradually getting back to normal, we are delighted with our apartment, have great neighbors and eventually I will have a studio set up and will begin cranking out whatever strikes my fancy. Where is the fancy, anyway?

Yesterday's Warrior

When I finally made it out of college it was 1966 and Vietnam was a dark shadow growing larger every day. I was young and thought I was bulletproof. My friend Jimmy and I decided we were true-blue American patriots and would serve our country by joining the Air Force and becoming fighter pilots. We would strut off to war, rule the air, collect medals, fend off adoring females and live a fantasy bachelor life.

Instead, we both got married, Jimmy died in a plane crash during pilot training and I wound up going to Vietnam to serve with a "Jolly Green Giant" helicopter rescue squadron that picked up pilots who had been shot down. That's how you get slam-dunked into being an adult.

I'd like to think I'd forgotten most of those 368 days of my life in Vietnam but somehow they float around in my subconscious. I made this piece early on in my reincarnation as an artist and never really thought too deeply about why I did it the way I did.  But you Blog Readers keep emailing me that you like my stories so Susan tells me I have to dig a little deeper. 

The figure does look like me; I wasn't free to leave Vietnam until the Air Force said I could; when I came back from Vietnam it was to a country that didn't like what I did so I kept quiet about it; and I tried to forget being there. My dog-tag, tucked into the wire around the figure, includes my blood type.

Today people tell me I'm a very "grounded" person. Maybe that slam-dunk in my 20's, followed by 32 years of having a corporate foot on the back of my neck made me "grounded". All I know is that making art makes me feel like I'm floating, light as a butterfly, all the time now.

Closer To Perfection

Not really perfect but closer to achieving the look I like -- weathered, mysterious, textured, ancient. This little guy is just about 6" high and is carefully packed away for our move.  The move?  Not yet but we are still packing stuff into boxes.  Where on earth did we acquire so danged much stuff?

Blog posts will be slim for a while but hang in there - we took 10 days off to go to New York City and Washington DC and do have some pictures and stories.   $14 for one little sandwich? Get real.

Where's Don?

Perhaps you were wondering why my blog posts have been so infrequent. Or maybe you didn't notice! The reality of it is that my Blog Wrangler and I have been getting ready to move. Stuff is everywhere and I have no idea where in the Everywhere anything is. These are some of the boxes we've put in storage at our new place because the new place isn't ready yet but the miracle of a potentially quick house sale set things rolling faster than we had EVER planned. We'll still be in Austin. More details once we actually get settled.

You probably won't see any posts for about a month, even though I have pictures of about 10 different pieces I have made. My Wrangler has said if it doesn't involve figuring out how to move from a house of 2700+ square feet (plus my garage studio) into a space that is 1300 square feet, then forget it. 

My New York friends probably think 1300 is big, but then they don't live in Texas, where size does matter.

Weaving My Story

When I got out of the Air Force the question was not Where to Go (I'm a native Texan, no question there) but instead What to Do? Susan was already finishing up getting a teaching certificate so I decided I would use the GI Bill money to get one also and we would both be Elementary school teachers. The counselors said that would be great, I could specialize in Grades 4-6 and Susan would be Grades 1-3 and it would make employment easy. 

They were right,  it was easy. I hadn't even finished the program before Susan and I were offered a team teaching job exactly as we had specialized, with the added bonus of free housing. The only hitch was that it was in McKinney, Texas, and the best way to describe McKinney is that it is 50 miles from a tree. We declined.

Susan taught for about half a semester and always says teachers are drastically underpaid. I never taught but that is another story for another day. Preview: It involves Arlo snarling in a kitty cage.

Backing up to school, the certification program required all sorts of Elementary eduction courses in order to give prospective teachers a broad background. We referred to them as Kiddie Lit, Kiddie PE, Kiddie Math, etc.

And of course there was Kiddie Art. My final project in that course was this wall hanging. Susan taught me the wavey stitch and I improvised the rest.  The Kiddie Art class was taught in the art building where all the real art students were and of course they sneered at us amateurs.  They were really ticked off when my piece was selected to be in the annual Art Student show.

Pod Peeps

I really get a kick out of making these Pod People or Penguin People or whatever you think they are. The ones above are high-fire glazed, each piece is less than 7" high.  The pieces below have been subjected to the raku glaze and firing and didn't turn out quite as successfully as I would have liked.  Shape and glaze, yes, but markings, no. I wanted a weathered, textured look and although I got the technique sort of correct I didn't "edit" down the texture markings the way I should have. I like raku firing because the results are relatively immediate, I enjoy the pieces that come out the way I want and take the other pieces as just another part of a learning experience. 

Warrior

Here's what is sometimes startling: I make a piece of art that I think comes straight from my head. Well, maybe not straight, maybe down a crooked path, a winding road, or a warped arc! But I think is definitely something I have created on my own.

By now you know we love to travel to visit art museums and soak up all kinds of art and be surprised by liking shows we thought would be blah. Whenever possible, which usually means while looking at pieces in a museum's permanent collection, we like to take pictures of pieces that catch our attention. The pictures aren't that great since you usually can't use flash in a museum. When we get home Susan uploads them to the computer in a separate folder and we look at them and reminisce and then they just gradually get forgotten.

Forgotten by me, that is. But Susan has a mind like a steel trap. This Warrior piece (about 15" high) was made about a year ago and never glazed so I finally I got the ultimatum from her to doing something about it or she'd start painting on it  When I finished it I really liked it and she did too but kept saying that it reminded her of something we'd seen.

Ta-da! Yes, I did create Warrior all on my own. But somewhere in the back of my mind I might have been encouraged to go down the road I did by the dim memory, nearly three years back, of this plaster, paint and metal piece by David Bates, seen at the Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth.  It's hidden at the back, sort of like an outcast relative, near the secret staircase we always use.

Male Head IV, David Bates

(detail), David Bates

Just goes to prove that there is nothing really new in the art world, just our newer eyes and minds. Somewhere, ancient cave painters are looking down at today's art world and saying "I already did that!"

Going My Way

Sometimes life completely confounds me. Sometimes I am fully flummoxed by life. Sometimes it helps to not listen to the news or read the paper. Sometimes I think God must be up there, shaking his finger at us, saying "Don't make me come down there!" (Did you hear an echo of your mother's voice just then?) Sometimes honest, hard-working people restore your faith in believing that we have not all sunk to accepting the Lowest Common Denominator in life.
 

Losing My Way

More maps. The idea of maps is sort of out of left field for me because I couldn't read a map if my life depended on it.  Susan's father was a pilot during WW II and she still has some of his silk maps. The maps were what pilots flying in the Pacific carried in case they were shot down. They were made out of silk so they'd be useful even if the pilot had ditched in the ocean. Hopefully they would be able to figure out where they were. In my case I'd probably have looked at the map and headed toward Greenland.

About this time you are wondering how bad my navigation skills can be. OK, I'll tell you. When we take our long road trips Susan is the navigator. She can read an upside down real giant-size paper map in the dark and doesn't even need the Google maps with the blue I-Am-Here button on them.

She plots our trips and tells me the highways and the routes we'll need for the next hour (we switch off the driving task every hour or so).  Then she tries to take a nap or read something. You know how some people swear and curse and people say "they cursed a blue streak"? If you want Susan's curses to turn the air Navy Blue all you have to do is say "Was that our exit I just drove past?"

The real fun comes when it's her turn to drive and I have to try to figure something out on the map because there's a detour or something unplanned, even though she highlights the route on the map. First of all, it's really big and hard to unfold the map without flapping it in her face. Second of all, I can't seem to get Google maps on my phone until we are really in the wrong direction. And I keep forgetting the I-Am-Here button. It gets really interesting when she grabs the map and tries to figure it out herself. While she's driving 70 miles an hour. And turning the air Navy Blue.