Admiring: Midwife of Art, Ideas, and Healing

photograph by Carl van Vechten
April 12, 1934
via Yale Library

Mabel Evans Dodge Sterne Luhan was an influential salon hostess throughout her life, in Italy (where she hosted Gertrude Stein and Carl van Vechten, among others), then in New York (where she again hosted salons and also helped organize a post impressionist art exhibit). But she is perhaps is best known for hosting many great thinkers of her day at her home in Taos, New Mexico. Georgia O'Keefe, Carl Jung, Willa Cather, and D. H. Lawrence were among the visitors that Mabel invited to stay with her.

When her third husband moved to New Mexico, she soon followed, and when she arrived she was thoroughly moved by the landscape and the people who lived there. She saw the value in the pueblos' rituals and art, their connections to the earth and to each other. 

She was also interested in psychoanalysis and its ability to help people rediscover these connections, and she would invite guests that she believed could help her spread this "gospel" of reconnection to the rest of the world. Apparently her strong beliefs and goals also could make her manipulative and domineering. There are no perfect heros! But I admire her whole-hearted determination to bring healing to the world.

Practicing with Labyrinths

Labyrinth drawn on a church in Hesselager, Denmark
via Labrinthos

The beauty of labyrinths is that you can't get lost. As a spiritual practice, walking a labyrinth can help you develop security in following a path that you can't really understand.

Lately I've also been interested in the creative practice of drawing labyrinths (they're small enough you can "walk" with your finger). Did you know that the classical cross pattern (featured above) can be drawn by following a "seed" pattern? I wish I could go back to math class and learn more about labyrinth theory. I think there's something magical about arriving at a complex drawing from the beginning seeds of nodes and edges. It reverses the practice a little—you start with simplicity and arrive at a drawing you can't quite untangle without tracing the lines.

If you're interested in learning to draw labyrinths, check out Celestial Labyrinths, a website based on the book "Labyrinths and Their Secrets" (Labirinti i njihove tajne) by Adrian P. Kezele. I'm personally drawn to the Mercury and Venus labyrinths.

The Burning of Old Man Gloom

Old Zozobra circa 1938
via Zozobra 

Each year at the Santa Fe Festival, an Zozobra, or Old Man Gloom is burned, and today is the day of this year's celebration.

The Santa Fe Festival began in 1712, but it wasn't until 1924 that artist Will Shuster created the Zozobra effigy. Shuster drew from a variety sources for inspiration, including the Mummers parade in Philadelphia (in which participants would whip a scapegoat-type figure) and  the Holy Week celebrations of Yaqui Indians (they would lead a fire-cracker filled effigy of Judas around on a donkey before burning it).

"Zozobra is a hideous but harmless fifty-foot bogeyman marionette. He is a toothless, empty-headed facade. He has no guts and doesn’t have a leg to stand on. He is full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. He never wins. He moans and groans, rolls his eyes and twists his head. His mouth gapes and chomps. His arms flail about in frustration. Every year we do him in. We string him up and burn him down in ablaze of fireworks. At last, he is gone, taking with him all our troubles for another whole year. Santa Fe celebrates another victory. Viva la Fiesta!"
    —A.W. Denninger

The burning of the effigy at first glance seems rather violent and opposed to my general disposition to rehabilitate and recycle. But, I think there is a place for the symbolic destruction of burdens—the process of calicination in alchemical works is an important first step towards the goal of finding the Sorcerer's Stone. It's from the ashes of these burdens that the recycling can begin.

Bob Ross: His Grooviness

I'm always the last to hear about new memes, but nevertheless I want to share this lovely video by John D. Boswell of Symphony of Science, which I found on Drawn. I have a special soft spot for Bob Ross, particularly for his way of waving good-bye as though he was sending out the good vibes. 

For more background on this piece, visit the Washington Post's article here.

Magic Clouds, Jeweled Clouds

Nimbus II, by Berndaut Smilde

As if staring up into puff ball clouds wasn't enough of a treat, I've been enjoying clouds as works of art. I guess I'm still thinking of art as ephemeral and bound to the natural world, as in the flower mandalas of my last post.

Above is the magic smoke machine-created cloud, maintained by painstaking control over the temperature and humidity of the installations space.

Below are over-the-top Swarovski crystal-decorated clouds on view at Dumbarton Oaks.

Cloud Terrace, by Andy Cao and Zavier Perrot

If you like the subject as much as I do, try visiting the Cloud Appreciation Society, devoted to spotting clouds and cloud art. On their website, I discovered that a cloud I saw earlier in the year was a special Kelvin-Helmholtz cloud: a beautiful, wave-like cloud that is very prized by cloud collectors. I remember thinking it was a beautiful formation at the time, but there's something about putting a name to it that makes it feel like an accomplishment to have noticed it.

Sacred Space: Impermanent Gifts

Danmala, by Kathy Klein
via Colossal

What is it about us humans that makes us want to rearrange natural objects into patterns? When I find myself in a beautiful setting, sometimes the most natural thing to do seems to be to make some sort of "offering" to the beauty I find myself surrounded by. An arrangement of shells, in some attempt to align my own perspective with the greater landscape. An arrangement of rocks, as a greeting to others, a sign of recognition that my own perspective can blend with others'. 

Kathy Klein's danmalas are a good example of this kind of art. Visit her gallery to see a quilt of technicolor patterns, all created from flower petals. She describes "centering" herself and creating the art in a state of devotional silence. The designs she creates seem to pulsate from the blending of her state of mind with the natural matter she works with.

Some of my favorite art is the kind that is meant to be impermanent. There's something so poignant about making something, knowing that when you leave it behind, it will eventually be returned to the earth. There's something beautiful, too, in leaving the art to be discovered for others who happen to be passing by. I sometimes want to hoard everything that's beautiful, and making something that can be left behind is a good exercise in sharing and letting go, even if a photograph allows us to hold onto the art in some sense!

Shell Offering by me

Admiring: Mapper of Alchemy

Louise Despont laying out her work
(from her tumblr)

The work of Louise Despont reminds me of alchemical diagrams mapping out processes and visions. Creating her works on the paper of old ledger books, she uses muted colors to fill the pages with geometric shapes and curves. I found it difficult to pick a piece to showcase because each piece is so captivating in the way she balances simplicity of shape with complexity of design.

What do you see when you look at the circles above? A Buddhist wheel? A geometer's diagram? An ouroboros?

Admiring: Brave Artist

La Llamada (The Call) , by Remedios Varo

via wikiart

Artworks by Remedios Varo capture inner worlds that aren't always discernible in every day life. I love that she was courageous enough to paint these surreal visions, even if her viewers are as unaware as the citizens sleeping in the city walls, as in La Llamada, above. In many paintings, she honors women for having a connection to creativity and intuition, gifts that seem to come from a higher, otherworldy source.

Sometimes, this connection can make exhausting, inescapable demands, as in Papilla Estellar below. The woman feeds the moon ground up stars, but neither the moon nor the woman look particularly healthy or happy.

Papilla Estellar ("Celestial Pabulum"), by Remedios Varo

Sometimes, men are able to harness the "female" connection to dreams and creativity, but, as suggested in Troubador, they don't always feel safe in what they are doing.

Troubador, by Remedios Varo

Regardless of whether you agree with her differentiation of the genders, I do think it's true that getting in touch with dreamworlds can be scary and uncomfortable. Hence, my admiration for Remedios—she was truly a heroic artist.

Ritual for a Bad Day

Cherry Blossom, by Kirra Jamison
via Black Eiffel

Some days just throw it all at you, and all you can do is go with the flow. Here is my ritual for a bad day:

1. Listen to Joni Mitchell sing about laughing it all away.

2. Look at art that looks back at you. Looking at Kirra Jamison's art is like having a conversation with all the magic in the world.

3. Cuddle your dog after a good walk, and trade your worried human mind for calm dog mind. 

4. Eat the most colorful food you can find.

Music, art, food, love are the things that can reorient your whole day. I'd seek these types of "rituals" out even on a good day, but there's something about having a bad day that makes you cling/take refuge to those things you know to be good for you.

Which Color Do You See?

Jungla n.1, Carnovsky
via A Daily Riot

Jungla n.1 in blue light

This art is such a great metaphor for how we go through life. We all have our own filters that show only part of the story. Not that filtering is a bad thing; how else will you arrive at a narrative and meaning? But if the narrative isn't working for you, don't forget that you can change it!

Artful Folding

by Akira Yoshizawa
via Origami Maniacs

"I also want to make in origami the joy of living. In Buddhism we call it 'throwing your body to the ground to thank God.' It might be a little hard to understand, but that's the feeling I've been searching for and trying to put into origami my whole life."

    —Akira Yoshizawa, in Origami: From Anglefish to Zen

Akira Yoshizawa is famous for revolutionizing the art of origami. He invented the wet-folding technique and created the diagram system that is used today for origami directions. What I really love about him is his almost mystical concern for the living world—the story goes that he would create animals not with a goal of simply mimicking their outward appearance, but with an understanding of how the animals developed out of single-cell beginnings. 

"There are two ways to the style of Zen living. One is to know the space around you, to know the world, and accept it. We all inhale the same air, for one thing, so we share nature with one another. The other way is to know yourself, your feelings, and what's inside you. . . . If you know yourself and at the same time love nature and the people around you, the two ways of Zen will be united."

    —Akira Yoshizawa, in Origami: From Anglefish to Zen

Mucha's Prayer

"Our Father, who art in Heaven"
Excerpt from Le Pater, by Alphonse Mucha
via Art Nouveau

Alphonse Mucha is known for his advertisements featuring alluring Art Nouveau women, but he also created a beautiful book illustrating the Lord's Prayer (Le Pater). I happened to be visiting Prague when there was an exhibition on his work. 

For each phrase of the prayer, Mucha created a symbolic design, an illustrated scene, and a meditation on the meaning of the phrase. 

"Give us this day our daily bread"
Excerpt from Le Pater, by Alphonse Mucha
via Surface Fragments

"Give us this day our daily bread"
Excerpt from Le Pater, by Alphonse Mucha
via Art Nouveau

I love how personal and how thoughtful this work is! You can see the book in its entirety here.

Admiring: Creators with Thread

When so many women have produced such beautiful works of art, it's hard to focus on a particular craftswoman. But here are two women whose work inspires me. The hours they must have worked astounds me. Here I sit, cutting and pasting images—quite a different task than the quiet, patient work they did!

Erica Wilson, with her PBS show and books, rejuvenated the art of needlepoint in the years after the Second World War.

Erica Wilson 

Queen Mary created this rug over eight years, sometimes working seven hours a day. It has a million stitches in it.

Queen Mary's needlepoint rug

Feet

I'm looking at ledger art a lot these days, and I'm noticing that many artists were concerned with the feet of the animals. For example, deer and bison are often portrayed with their cleft hooves.

Buffalo Hunt by Cheyennes, by Making Medicine
via Jennifer Graber

I like these artists' perspectives. Can you imagine if instead of focusing on the face of a person, as artist focused on a person's feet? (And of course, there are paintings like Van Gogh's Peasant Shoes.)

Let's get grounded!

Witnesses of Tolerance

Tolerance, by Jaume Plensa
via glasstire

Driving through Houston, you may discover the seven sculptures of Tolerance by Jaume Plensa. At night, they are illuminated and sit like peaceful guardians, keeping watch over the city.

The figures are composed on individual letters. The artist grew up with a love for books and sees each letter as a symbol of the individual. Together, the letters come together to create language, culture, and humanity. 

Art, Poetry, Dream

I love the magic in Irene Belknap's art. The way her figures seem to measure the earth with their long triangular steps. The way fruit and wheels serve as reminders of time and no-time. The way her figure's dresses are often adorned with the poetry of David Whyte. What does it all mean?

Fall Back, by Irene Belknap

To the Feast, by Irene Belknap
via Chico Paper Company

Our Friend, Death

Madonna of the Sacred Bones, by Laurie Lipton
via Phantasmaphile

"My parents were atheists. We had no ceremony, no goodbyes, no "closure". My father instructed the hospital to cremate my mother and dispose of her ashes. She was gone, disappeared, zapped out of existence. I was left with Nothing... literally and metaphysically. Friends & family treated my mother's death like an embarrassment. They awkwardly murmured Hallmark platitudes before slinking uneasily away. Death is as forbidden a topic in modern society as sex was in Victorian England. 

When I visited Mexico in order to see The Day Of The Dead festival some years later, I couldn't help feeling envious of their approach to mortality. Families gathered on graves and picnicked, whole villages turned up with food for households in mourning. Death was treated as normal, even silly. Candied skulls grinned in their hundreds and skeletons danced in a fair-ground atmosphere. I decided to rebel against my heritage and create drawings inspired by the mood and atmosphere of the Mexicans. I decided to get in-touch with my bare bones. My culture runs from death, screaming. We worship youth, beauty and the illusion that we have all the time in the world. We frantically face-lift and botox, and throw pills, creams and money at death. We fool ourselves into thinking that death only happens to other people & only losers die. Skulls always look like they're laughing. Maybe the joke is on us?"

    —Laurie Lipton

Amen. Let's take the opportunity today to see death in a new way.

Happy Halloween!

Humans in the World

I just discovered the gorgeous art of Juan Gatti through Phantasmaphile, a favorite website of mine, and wow! What amazing work.

His art captures a feeling I've been having lately, of being no less a part of the growth and decay I see around me. Now that cool weather is finally coming to these parts, I find dead butterflies and moths sometimes on my morning walk. The cold was just too much for them, I guess. There's something fantastical about finding such a beautiful creature, waiting to be discovered. And there's also something heartbreaking about thinking how many little creatures must perish each cold night in the fall.

by Juan Gatti via Michele Filomeno

by Juan Gatti via Michele Filomeno

Click through to see more of his work—each piece is brilliant.

Sacred Space: Right Here

In my part of the world, rolling hills and big sky are reminders of spaciousness (in the loveliest of senses) and possibility. Just driving through the country yesterday was a pilgrimage for me. 

Western Oklahoma Sky, by Nancy Park
via Bold Brush painting competition

What parts of your environment do you find inspiring?

Be Part of Something Old

Autumn Leaves, by Sandra Dieckmann

"Young friend, be part of something old.

Be home here in the great world, . . .

where forest wants to be your house, . . .

where wee birds carry your wishes far

and sunlight reaches for your hand. . . . "

    —excerpt from "Naknuwisha," by Kim Stafford 

(via High Country News)

What a lovely reminder (post-birthday, for me) that our age is also tied to the much older, ever changing earth.