away

with waning blogging energy,
i have reached the inevitable and
painful crossroads
of taking an indefinite hiatus from
love letters to ignatz.

i am so grateful to those who have
followed my writing and pics for
the past 4 years under 2 consecutive
blog sites.

with no definite return date in sight,
i leave with a link to the latest show i am in,
The Sketchbook Project.
organized by Art House Co-op out of Atlanta,
soon to be located in Brooklyn, it is a huge undertaking,
with 3,000+ artists from all over the place participating.

this exhibit features sketchbooks which are checked out, library-style,
to provide a tactile and personal experience for the viewer.
the topic “How to Save the World” was randomly assigned me,
then i had to work like mad to fill a Moleskine sketchbook
in the approx 3 1/2 weeks i had to complete it
by the time i found out about the show, entered, and paced at the mailbox daily
for the blank book to arrive.

the eventual goal of the project is to house the sketchbooks in a permanent collection library
in Brooklyn in 2010. the show opens in Atlanta and travels to Brooklyn, Los Angeles, Saint Louis and Chicago.

a little gallery of images from my sketchbook submission are posted
online, as well as a portfolio of about 60 of my works.

blessings to you all. and to all the chupacabras, seers, visionaries, imaginers and dreammakers out there,
i know you're real.

blues

thanks to Iryna on etsy for including my moon in man painting in her gorgeous blue treasury; it will be active till late on Tuesday, the 29th.
merci!

happy

happy holidays

11 11 + 2009 = 11

salem:
perhaps best put by a thoughtful visitor
2 'weens ago.
"Touristy, tacky, sophisticated, historic, beautiful, shabby quaint."

'nuf said,
ditto for me.
but being there
in the afterthroes of the ween,
on Nov 1st which happens to be
mi cumpleaños
was still a thrill.

despite the
colorful real witches,
little costumed
dogs in the streets,
and flores at
the witch memorial,







Día de Muertos
'twas not.
unfair to
compare:
undoubtedly.

repelled
as if by unseen
force at the entrance
to the psychic fair
in the downtown mall,
i couldn't book a reading
if my life depended on it.
the rank air of
commercialism had
curdled all enthusiasm.

so i began a meander,
taking
wrongturns
feeling lost
until i found
the perfect sinner's
café selling slices of
7-layer chocolate cake so
decadent,
it took 3 days to eat.




the majikal scent
of torte must
have reawakened
canid instinct
b/c i made a beeline
to the burying place w/out knowing how.

feeling at home
finally
seeing the tacky blue
flashing neon
ferris-type-wheel
foiling graves
in grim foreground
to its
frivolity
with no apology



particularly given
the puritanical bent of the 'yard,
i wished hard
these stones could
pulse warmth
on this cold cold day
spared for a moment
from majorculture
judgment.






blessed bea.

life in the moment

shout it out

when things began to darken,
sudden recall of the invisible army standing in support did wonders
to bring the light back,
just like this double rainbow perfectly bridging the pond which my two adjunct rainbows walked beside.

in the midst of fantasy 1,023: "Surrounded by the Buffalo Stampede" my attention was drawn upward, to the real 180 deal.

a man partially shrouded by his hoodie passed so i asked maybe a bit too energetically, "Did you see it?" He kept saying "Yeah, it's ridiculous" and walked away shaking his head.

a woman ran along the upper path some time later.
i had moved below, transfixed like it was summer and i was watching the great Karl and the other Flying Walendas on the trapeze at The Enchanted Forest again.
another inspiring, gravity-defying act that would be over soon too.
the suspense was killing me.

opening my mouth to shout "Look!" at the lady, the emerging sound came to a sudden halt. faint white lines snaking from her T-shirt up to her ears became clear.




when rainbows leave, where do they go?

its spirit was palpable long after the demise.
in the final moments, most of the arc gone, a sharp blade of spectrum thrust behind trees focused on their own passage remained.

the wooden tomahawk bought with saved allowance take away 45 years (or was it a few Sundays ago) at the Indian Village of the New York State Fair, in the booth next to the dancers' Turtle Mound, sits on top of books piled on the dresser.
always keep it close during sleep.

two blades: in shiatsu "setsu-shin", the cutting through of hands like knives to essence.

one life: same play; another act bridges back to the starting line. curtain rises
curtain falls. tomorrow we open again after taking it on the road.
it's been a hell of a run.

with shout-outs of gratitude today and über-saturated bouquets to members of my
invisible army; make that tribe.




among the many, to:

Denise for rescuing American Eskimo Dogs and for bringing the effervescent Mahriah to me and Bea.




and to Lori and Antonio, devoted followers of my blog...thank you both!!!

Check out one of Antonio's paintings, the wood series is among my faves:




all the connections
simply gorgeous.

healing touch

Back from Philadelphia, and into the whirlwind of an elementary school art room, yowza...
and most happy to have completed Level I training in Healing Touch for Animals as a result of the jaunt.

Blessings and gratitude to Carol Komitor, founder of HTA and my initial teacher; to Mary Beth, workshop coordinator par excellence and HTA practitioner; and to Kim, horsewoman with a way with equines without compare. Also to Carol, Dave, Eric, Taline, Sniffer and Sparkle for babysitting Bea for a couple of overnights and putting up with her "i can beat up my dog bed and i ain't even in the circus, yet, antics" and to Aunt Teresa/Aunt Tree, madcap cartoonist and songstress, who cared for the effervescent at times katz.




The result of HTA experiences, which include the small animal component completed last spring, has been among many things a deepening of relationship to the four-leggeds with whom i co-habitate. It has taken months to even mention it; its force has taken me beyond words.




warp speed ahead...... the show must go on
back in the art room, in full fall splendor and bloom with an energetic kick-off: game on.
As we closed last year, we were told to "take anything personal" off the premises, due to massive remodeling of the building over the summer.

(Imagining) i was fleeing (diva deportation fantasy #316) and could take only a few important pictures from the hundreds (actually probably way more than that) of visuals stored in my files,
herewith the collection i grabbed the last day, fearing destruction of them all otherwise:




Funny, what you touch
and vice versa.