Patti Smith

It’s her birthday. It seems surreal that rock gods would have birthdays; I suppose that means they also go grocery shopping and watch TV too. Hmm, maybe. Patti Smith is some other species, some other sex.  She’s at the top, for me. Top music-making hero under which all others lay.

Kimberly

The wall is high, the black barn,
The babe in my arms in her swaddling clothes
And I know soon that the sky will split
And the planets will shift,
Balls of jade will drop and existence will stop.
Little sister, the sky is falling, I don’t mind, I don’t mind.
Little sister, the fates are calling on you.
Ah, here I stand again in this old ‘lectric whirlwind,
The sea rushes up my knees like flame
And I feel like just some misplaced Joan Of Arc
And the cause is you lookin’ up at me.
Oh baby, I remember when you were born,
It was dawn and the storm settled in my belly
And I rolled in the grass and I spit out the gas
And I lit a match and the void went flash
And the sky split and the planets hit,
Balls of jade dropped and existence stopped, stopped, stop, stop.
Little sister, the sky is falling, I don’t mind, I don’t mind.
Little sister, the fates are calling on you.

I was goin’ crazy, so crazy I knew I could break through with you,
So with one hand I rocked you and with one heart I reached for you.
Ah, I knew your youth was for the takin’, fire on a mental plane,
So I ran through the fields as the bats with their baby vein faces
Burst from the barn and flames in a violent violet sky,
And I fell on my knees and pressed you against me.
Your soul was like a network of spittle,
Like glass balls movin’ in like cold streams of logic,
And I prayed as the lightning attacked
That something will make it go crack, something will make it go crack,
Something will make it go crack, something will make it go crack.

The palm trees fall into the sea,
It doesn’t matter much to me
As long as you’re safe, Kimberly.
And I can gaze deep
Into your starry eyes, baby, looking deep in your eyes, baby,
Looking deep in your eyes, baby, looking deep in your eyes, baby,
Into your starry eyes, oh.

Oh, in your starry eyes, baby,
Looking deep in your eyes, baby, looking deep in your eyes, baby, oh.

Oh, looking deep in your eyes, baby,
Into your starry eyes, baby, looking deep in your eyes, baby

OMAKAI

This happened a while ago, but like many things these days I want to write it down before I forget.

The boy was saying “OMAKAI” — sometimes is a slow, wistful tone (Oh. Ma. Kai.), sometimes as an exclamation (OH-MA-KAI!!). We thought maybe he was bestowing upon us some Sanskrit blessing.

Then one day I said “oh my god” and he said “omakai.”

We figured it would be more dainty and proper if our baby said “Gosh” instead of taking a lot of people’s Lord’s name in vain, so we started saying “Oh. My. Gosh.” and “OH-MY-GOSH!”

Asher’s intonation uniquely mounts in intensity, so it’s “oh, ma, GOSH!!!” And he says it with such purpose. Like, I put his food out before him and he panted “oh, ma, GOSH! oh, ma, GOSH!!!”  Sometimes he just wanders around with a domino saying “oh, ma, GOSH.” Or sitting in the car: “oh, ma, GOSH.”

Kimberly Trowbridge

The Big Tickler Turns Into a Raincloud, Oil on Canvas, 2007, 96″ x 90″

Nicholas Nyland

Nicholas Nyland’s website

Eric Elliott

Artist’s Studio: View From the Easel, Oil on Canvas, 36″x 36″, 2008

Elisabeth Higgins O’Connor

No-name, (detritus foot), 2008, blankets, knit Afghans, pillows, mattress covers, couch cushions, negligee, thread, twine, 7′ x 3′ x 4′

Jenny Heishman

2gether 4ever, 2007

Kara Walker

Darkytown Rebellion, Kara Walker, 2001

Piñata!

When I was asked by The Stranger to make a piñata for Strangercrombie, my first thought was a cluster of breasties huddled together for warmth in Winter. But no, that wouldn’t work because I wouldn’t want them beaten to a pulp with a baseball bat. So, I was hard-pressed to think of something I would like to see smashed.

{Donald Judd 1966}

What I ended up making is White Cube Piñata (Minimalist Sacrifice).

Traditionally speaking, what makes a better sacrifice than something white and fluffy? When it is killed, what, then, will live?

I made a lot of little sculptures and drawings, which are not at all minimalist. I guess you could say that when you smash this piñata, content will come spilling out.

Making it was so much fun I could hardly contain myself and got a little carried away. Probably like most artists, I am always drawn to collecting bits of  discarded crap treasures that I’m convinced would make a great something that I could do something with someday. The day came. Matchboxes, toilet paper rolls, baby yogurt containers, matches, cocktail umbrellas, bubble wrap: All called to action and transformation.

Also, there are validations for a sensitive art world. I wanted to make minimalism giving back. [Because, really: For all the love we art-worldies shower it with, what has minimalism ever given us?? NOTHING.] After all, this is for charity.

Studio, Opened

On Saturday December 12th from 6-9pm, YOU are invited to visit my studio.

Studio 203
Equinox Studios (the old, blue Mastermark building in Georgetown)
6555 5th Avenue South
Seattle, WA  98108

I’ve just finished the first six paintings in The Song of Songs series.