banks of the ohio 2

I struggle to find inspiration on a blank page..my thoughts get in the way..my expectations block my view..i enjoyed the process of making this work..i was stuck in my institutional apartment with a blank sheet of paper when i decided to venture outside..i went to the closest river bank, a newly installed urban water shed restoration project..i jumped over the fence and sat on the rocks by the river...my color choice was limited but i liked the challenge..drawing from real life helped clear my mind and i found it was much easier to be fully present and let my work unfold as it interpreted the world around me..

banks of the ohio

...beneath the surface of the water lies the unknown..i was talking to my friends the other day and they were married on the ganges in india..they hired a little boat and boat man who took them into to the middle of the river.. they both jumped off the boat into the water...micah, the women came out immediately and in those few seconds she had experienced the sensation of many bones and lost souls..although she actually visually couldn't see anything while under the water her mind was bombarded with images..i remember after living for over a year in northern england that i longed for a swim in the sea.. we drove about an hour to the nearest beach which had small waves and a brown color..the mud banks along this coast were slowly being washed away and the ocean absorbed this mud... i entered the the brown foam and attempted to frolic in the waves but but the murky water was uninspirational and that was the last time i ventured into the water while living there...sometimes i enjoy that little panic of the unknown that lies in the water beneath my body..like in my friends lake where you have to wade through murky mud in order to enter the cool water or floating in the ocean just past the wave breaks and wondering where the sharks are...

mary don't you weep

Slavery is the USA's greatest wound.  When researching the origin of spirituals I revisited the lives of slaves and how inhumanely they were treated.  Drums were outlawed and the only songs they were permitted to sing were hymns.  They managed to concentrate on the stories that had meaning to their current situation (ie: Moses and how he helped slaves escape from Egypt with the parting of the red seas.)  Coded messages were woven into these spirituals which helped them plan escapes and poke fun of their masters. Polyrhythms, call-response singing, and melismatic vocals were retained from their African origins.  This dirty wound may never heal completely and the weeping may continue indefinitely.

american folk song

I have resisted the American folk song tradition and for years it symbolized White Conservative America to me.  I think I have experienced mainly watered-down versions of the songs, sung badly in coffee shops or street corners.  As I begin to pay closer attention to the lyrics and begin to understand their rich, diverse origins, I am starting to see the juiciness that lies within.  I'm fascinated with Lomax's distinction between the European vs African Style.  He writes, "If the Negro emphasis is on the improviser and his chorus, the white is on the solo song rememberer and his silent audience".  I am so white but I strive to to connect with the "African the dwells inside me" especially when playing music.

topa topas

down n the valley

The east-west valley of Ojai holds one safely protected from the outer metropolis of Southern California. We first lived in the Upper Valley, 1000 ft above Ojai, and the Topa Topas (highest mountains in the region) greeted us every evening with its rock stripes lit by the pink sunset rays. I grew up in the San Fernando Valley, upon it's floor was covered with track homes that looked so similar that after returning home from abroad years later I lost my way.  Even though I grew up in Woodland Hills, after living 10 yrs in Ojai, I have adopted it as my hometown.  Growing up in the suburbs of L A contributed to my lack of identity and sense of place but when I lived in small towns in Italy and England I began to experience local community.  However these places were  too foreign to call my own.  Ojai claimed myself and my family and embraced us with its beauty and nuturing.  We have now ventured from "our hometown" but whenever I hear the word "valley" Ojai appears first in my mind.

u r my sunshine

fire balls that make up the cellular structure of disease and knowledge