fuente, full of tuna

It takes a village...



Lope de Vega
got the picture back in 1600's Spain: the glory, the darkness, the gory, the triumph. What else is there.
Having written between 1,500 to 2,200 plays during his life,
Fuente Ovejuna, based on a real story, tells a tale of the power of
the people united.

Early exposure to this drama in its language of genesis, bless Spanish teachers again, melded with that of Coconino County, surely influenced the newest version of the play: Fuente Full of Tuna

Demon kat crossed with li'l angel, Lope's back:


Lying in a work titled Portable Confessional, which Li'l Lope would soon destroy in a fit of creative fervor right after this photo was taken, one can only think that he was dissatisfied with its syntax. so was I.
A keyring of the pope, blessed by his holiness no less, hung from its middle.
Exhibited in several shows, perhaps destined to be a masterwork.
Now a cat bed.

Time to march on and give up the cross seems to be Li'l Lope's
familiar message and so it goes.

Back to senior: poet, soldier, scholar, priest, lover, sailor, prisoner, writer, rich man, poor man, Lope did it all. Always found the escape hatch of reinvention just as he was about to be trapped.
Lived nine lives in the course of one.

As fate would have it, Li'l Lope jumped the fence for the first time today.
Hard to keep 'em down on the farm, now they've heard the chickadee.
True to form as his namesake, the more you try to contain him, the crazier he gets. Could it bea those café anthems piped in on streaming mimi chanteurs.org all day long. Wailing about freedom from love, freedom to love, freedom from the Germans, freedom from it all.

Which is all the fuente ovejuna-ers wanted. Free to be.

And they make it so:
pardoned for the crime of self-defense against a tyrant
by those in plein aire control, the village is released, united,
to breathe the intoxicating air of liberation at last.

so the power-brokers can achieve the ultimate goal of mano a mano warfare,
using the villagers against Muslims.
Defeat of the infidel is assured in the face of a village
united.

maybe the next cat will come back as Joe Campbell Junior and help 'splain some things.

morning after

the day before i left town,
what should appear but giant cookie-cutters
on the street,
and people shoveling
gray grit madly into place.

the next morning, it was back on the bus again.
just before we left, i got this shot of birdfeet.
but what it would be
remained an utter mystery.




until now.
thanks to darling fridamorelia for staying in town
to witness and share the finale:


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fuente/origen

historia de una vida en diez imágenes
a life story in ten pictures

la familia


buen can


buen pan


color vivo


raíces enredados


montón de flores


mucha moda


muerta con corazón

(por ophelia en cafépress)

santos colgados


mujer del diablo


(por jesús lucas lorenzo, pintor)

translation:

source/origin

the family
good dog
good bread
bright color
tangled roots
tons of flowers
lots of fashion
dead girl with heart
hung saints
devil's bride

como México, no hay dos

speech, less

"there is but one México."
literally: like México, there aren't two.

what is it with twoness.
am i being too literal?






seems to be another level, always




the way México is lived



and how it is visited



by twins within



seeking sun in shadow



and water.



one went,


two came back.


or maybe it's
the other way around.



hasta pronto, love,
mk

y entonces, me voy

and so, I go













No los olvidemos, todos vamos para allá.

Let's not forget, we all go there.

Till I return from México, cuídense bien.

more fruits

show news

good news:
this figure is going to show via the Life Studio traveling show; one work per artist. Four locations, four nights.

the two above her were others i submitted.

life drawing fueled by my professor Dale yelling, "LOOK AT THE ASS!" together with the book:The Nude, A New Perspective by Gill Saunders, published in 1989, helped launch me on a hunt which has lasted 20 years.

from my perspective:

enter the space
again
to face the nature
of the body
is the softest
and the hardest
thing.

claim your space
practice done
weapon in hand
prey ahead
senses open
game on
your move.

thrust
parry
jab
falling
with little
grace
you thrash
pray not to
crash.

held by
the scent of
pursuit
you can't stop
tick tick tick
pose over
hit the brakes
clutch the ground
look if you dare
put it aside

next pose please.

fruits of summer

o the waning
light
makes me
take stock
of the harvest...

"i think it's done now"
with thanks to the
English and Spanish
teachers and
their endless demands
to edit edit edit
till you go stark raving mad and can do
no more.
here is my zen garden,

fini:



and on to more fruits...
that was one mad crazy shoot
starring the glamorous
Danielle
lots of people and dogs
stared at us in the park.
the images are on
my etsy site.
thanks, D.



i had tomatoes on the brain...
(is that where the shapes come from
or is that sangría)



ever since my friend Nancy delivered these beauties in
a Prada bag.
trug, schmug.
thanks Martha: i'll make do with
the demon bag instead.
paper is so chic.

guardians

sunspot lynx



watches fallen warriors




rise from green shade



to birth new blue

a tenting we will go

in the beginning


she watches


two bees


before take-off


to no avail
exit blocked


resigned to repose


in the shadow of painting


and states of grace


the reality


hits home


like Bacon at dinner.