One of the best things about summer is fresh fruit and vegetables available at Gardenworks and other good country stands. I rarely venture into supermarkets between June and September. We are scrambling here to prepare for the Creative Union Art Show Saturday July 24 at the Redux Art Gallery. Maria and I are selling potholders, fiber art and notecards for $15, no more. (There will be other regularly priced art works, paintings, jewelry, etc. at Redux before, during and after our show, just to be clear.)
I was wondering today if I will ever really take any time off. I’d like to, maybe next year. After I finish the sequel to my novel, the second short story collection, and the remainder of the children’s books due on my contract with Holt. I’d like to drive across the country with Maria taking photos and publishing them as a book (good luck with that. Publishers don’t like photo books these days.) Still, I’d like to do it. Tomorrow, finishing the perspective chapter on Animal Grieving. More to come.
June 28, 2010 – Humid, cloudy. Somebody asked me today why I bought Bedlam Farm in 2003. It had all sorts of problems, was in a remote and struggling town, and I knew nothing about farms or animals. Simple, I said. I was sort of crazy.
I was. A few years after buying the farm, I began to unravel, and had a world-class bout with mental illness, especially terror, confusion, loneliness and depression. I resolved to not end my life that way, and began to seek help and listen to it. My life has come full circle in many ways. I do not often feel the terror that marked several years of my life here. While I am by no means rich, or close to it, I have gotten the farm under control. In September, there will be four dogs, two donkeys, and two barn cats living on the farm, along with me and my new wife Maria.
I love writing memoirs, and will surely write some more, but my first love was always fiction, and I am so thrilled to be returning to it with “Rose In A Storm,” and my just finished short story collections. My first children’s book comes out in the winter. At the moment, I really want to focus on short stories. I think it might be my medium,and the farm surely lends itself to it.
Maria is steaming along as well, cranking out her potholders, shoulder bags, e-book bags, and cell cases. I am deeply committed to my photography, which I love more all of the time. The dogs are very settled. Lenore is a love machine, Izzy is a loving soulmate and companion, Frieda watches faithfully over the farm and Rose has been shuffling sheep around all summer. I look forward to the quiet and color of autumn.
I have come a long way, and been privileged to share some of the experience. I have a ways to go, but most of that I think is in managing my life well, being a good and loving husband and writing my stories. I am so glad I bought the farm, even if it was madness for a good while. Farms are inherently mad, I think, but evolving and miraculous as well. Sometimes it’s good to listen to the crazy side.
My favorite lens is still busted, still in the shop. Thinking about buying an Ipad for the book tour. It has a camera connection so I can upload photos. Cloudy, sticky. Working on short stories, and on grieiving book.
Writing my animal grieving book, I had two visions. In one a tree filled with pink parakeets called me back to life and away from fear In another, Izzy and I were on a hospice call with a dying boy, and I saw the important of loving dogs in conjunction with people, and not apart from them.
On art. I am not an artist in the sense I make my living from art. I make my living as a writer, and publishing, while changing, remains quite vital, as is story-telling. I think the question is whether people can afford to live creative lives in America anymore. People don’t have much money to buy expensive art, and life is becoming complex. We need health care, computers, can’t get loans from banks, etc. – you all know the rest. So many are forced into bad jobs, if they are lucky, working for vast conglomerates that could care less if they are struggling or not.
I see the Creative Union show in July as a protest as much as anything else. Nobody is going to make much money selling things for $15, nor is that the goal. But I love the notecards and see them as the perfect vehicle for getting my photography out into the world. Maria and I both have this notion – we talk about it all the time – that people’s ideas about art and creativity are changing, as they often do in hard or traumatic times. My idea is that the road back to reconnecting people and art is selling good things cheaply, so they can have it in their homes and appreciate it once more. This happened during the Great Depression. I think it will happen here. I have a name, a blog, FB and other tools that most artists don’t have, so all the more important for me to stick my toe out and see what happens. It is a celebratory thing. I have received wondrous new gifts in my life – Maria, my photography, an audience for my work. And I want to celebrate all of them. Maria is finding her own footing as an artist, and that is worth celebrating as well. She deserves it.
As to the larger questions surrounding art and America, it’s a bit over my head. In our own corner of the world, it is exciting to explore it. Saturday, 1 to 4 p.m., Redux Art Gallery (directions on their website). A celebration of love, marriage, fiberart, photography. Nothing more than $15. P.S. Stonewall notecards are in and up on the Redux site. Donkey, Bartleby, and Rose cards on the way.
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There are lots of other issues when it comes to art. Sometimes, I think art has become the work of the elite, making expensive works that people don’t want and can’t afford. Many of the artists I have met seem utterly disconnected from the public, and almost make it a virtue to create their work apart from people’s needs or tastes. One of the things I enjoy about working with Christine Nemec of Redux is that we pay close attention to what people like and buy. It matters. I think art has become disconnected from the public, which is why the public doesn’t seem willing to fight as hard for artists as the government fights for banks and auto dealers. Thinking differently about art may be a way to remind people that they need art, and can love it again.
