click on image
Actually, the first animal I saw on our safari was a warthog. He was right at my feet as I walked down the path to our hotel room when we arrived in Botswana. I stopped to take a picture. He stopped grazing and lunged his stocky body at me, made some kind of grunt and walked off. My heart was in my throat as I timidly followed the path to my room.
After buying a gift of sugar and powdered milk, my friend took me to her mother’s home to meet her family. A taxi drove us outside of town where we were dropped off near an old wood bridge; someone was giving the bridge a new coat of paint. It was a beautiful day. Peach trees were in blossom Player flags on high poles were fluttering in the breeze. We walked the rest of the way past water fountains, past pigs and a cow in bamboo pens, past hunting dogs tied up in front of a home and past clothes hung up in the sunshine. Looking ahead of me, sitting up on top of a hill, was Karma’s mother and sister traditionally dressed with their black hair cut in the traditional style. Not having a telephone, they didn’t know we were coming. I was offered yak butter tea or tea with milk and sugar and maze, “corn picked, fried and pounded.”
After tea my friend took me into a beautifully decorated prayer room which, among other things, had a photograph of the Dalai Lama, an altar and a cabinet filled with twelve holy books collected between carved boards, wrapped in orange cloth with blue, orange and gold ribbons. The older ones were made up of pages of calligraphy wrapped in silk and tied with a silken ribbon or leather. The classification system consists of tiny satin flags, color coded to match subjects. I painted with my friend’s three year old niece. She was shy, but I gave her a few crayons and paper. In a few minutes she was drawing, too.
They didn’t know I was coming, but my friend’s sister had prepared a full meal. We ate in the livingroom with her mother, sister and niece. The meal consisted of red rice, spinach, cheese potatoes cooked with onions and chilis, pork and green ferns from the forest. I asked how they had prepared our meal since they didn’t know I was coming. They grow their own potatoes. The rest of the meal was prepared from dried foods they had in their home,
This day was special, never to be forgotten.
The Wind Horse, shown on the the imprint of a prayer flag is a luck-bringing symbol. This horse can bring good luck, life force, health, influence and merit. On his back is the Flaming Jewel, a spiritual warrior, capable of fulfilling all wishes. The spiritual warrior is carried past the many obstacles leading into the sacred world. The word for Wind Horse (Lungta) has come to mean luck.
I found the wood block in Thimpu, when I was snooping around the shops near the contemporary art school. Using printers ink, and stamps on mulberry paper I made up some small pieces. I started to make an limited edition of five Artist’s Books on mulberry paper. They are scrolls about 62″ high. Now there are only four. I tore up one last week while working on an idea. The torn pieces may be incorporated in the finished product. This print shown above may be added to one of the scrolls. It’s a work in progress. (As usual click on the image to see it bigger)
I bought pint cans of oil based paint from City Paints. I made my stretcher bars, stretched my own raw canvas, even used rabbit skin glue. My brushes or hands were loaded with oil paint. The five or six foot canvas would be on the floor. I’d tear into it putting down how I felt. Phillip Guston was my hero. Elizabeth Murray and Jennifer Bartlett were my classmates. We painted and talked about Mark Rothko and Roy Lichtenstein while we listened to classical music and jazz. And then, we painted and we talked some more. When I was up in front of the graduate review board they asked me to talk about Andy Warhol and his Brillo soap pads. I think I was into Matisse and Joan Mitchell at the time,
That’s what I wanted to do today. I wanted that big canvas on the floor. I wanted to let it all out. Instead, I looked around, found some old scrolls I was working on about Bhutan. They weren’t precious anymore. I took them apart, reassembled them, tore them, just played around with them for awhile. What am I going to do? Just show up. Just go to the studio.
I don’t know where anything is in my studio. I got sick, the ceiling needed to be restored big time. Friends moved everything out of the way. The ceiling got done. I had the old broken linoleum floor tiles taken up while we were at it. During radiation I kept drawing, then transformed my studio into a gallery where I exhibited my 80 Drawings in 80 Days. Now that’s over. Still, I haven’t put everything back. I can’t find anything.
Something is brewing. I don’t know what. I think painting is trying to come back. The Yuban coffee can held my brushes in college. It still holds some of my brushes. The other day my daughter said, “In your will I want you to leave the Yuban coffee can to me. When I was a little girl I thought the picture on the can was you, mom.”
(Click on image to make it bigger)
Listen
Alcohol painted eye
recites garish truth
Hot chilies, fresh
ginger and pepper shout.
Green cardamom pods sizzle,
coriander and cumin crackle.
Red chilies roast above
the charcoal fire.
Yogurt is whisked.
Devotion
Temple dancers shadow smoke,
pierce woven sunlight.
Blessings balance fierce tongues:
worship spills saffron song.
Priests prepare flowers and cloth.
Fresh flowers and food are brought.
Clanging, shouting, dark and light,
sweet sandalwood, incense burnt.
Tradition wrapped crowds chase
autumn silver throne.
Lord Shiva and Parvati are put to bed.
(Click on image to make it larger)
Birla power
Tata trucks
Leaf plates stitched
Earth swept
sunlit
barefoot
chili
Saris
goats
monkeys and a pig
Dark skin
between
Thursday
wires
dust
electricity
Two bullocks
a Honda bike
and
bangles
men dressed
in white
Darkness falls
headlights
when
An evening lamp
is lit.
Mitered bamboo picks
stitch leaf plate.
The cow is served dinner.
(click on the image to make it bigger)
Brass
nose rings
earrings
fingers and toes
silver pins in her hair
market day
(click on image to make it bigger)
(click on the image to make it bigger)
Behind the Veteran’s Building 2001
Handmade paper using plant life from Napa, CA. pen and ink, watercolor,
Parchment paper, ink jet print, stamps, raffia, plastic
7 x 5 inches
It’s really easy to make your own paper. All you need is some scraps of paper, a blender from the kitchen and a framed screen. You’ll need some felt to sop up the excess water. After collecting leaves and tiny flowers I made the pulp. Before the new piece of paper was dry I inserted straw for a tie. One day when my husband and I went on a hike, I jotted down some notes along the way. When I made this book I just just left the notes the way they were, made the font really tiny and printed it. The grasses and tiny flowers were collected during the hike. This kind of handmade book is called a single signature book, an Artist’s book.
