FROM THE ASHES.

Driving home from Oregon yesterday took seven and a-half hours. As I rolled into the county, local radio announced a burn of 450 acres near Mountain Ranch, the area that took the brunt of the Butte Fire. The Butte Fire is considered the worst for home losses in the state from a single fire.
The day before I left, I managed a quick trip to the local Arts Council Gallery for a look at their exhibit entitled History From The Ashes.
There is no joy in picking up cherished or simply common objects from your burned out property. Mostly sadness, tears and awe that anything recognizable survived the conflagration.

We know art is healing. And there is something about picking through the ashes that must be common to all of us. I watched on television as folks did just that after Katrina. The flood, destroyed as completely as fire.
When my house burned to the ground in Michigan, I remember finding  my melted marbles and my mother's  jar full of precious coins. The wafts of smoke coming from the ashes, the strong smell, the bent bed springs and melted cook stove didn't make me give up hope that I might find a heart shaped plastic locket my grandmother gave me that contained a tiny rosary. Of course, it couldn't possibly survive, but my 8 year self believed in miracles.

Items found, were given an artful setting of remembrance.

Or put together to form a sculpture or a mobile.

One survivor made a fabric wall hanging, with burned out spars of trees surrounded by wild flowers. A reality, wild flowers, rain fed, follow a burn.

Dead bushes and trees amid new grass on this canvas.

You can see my face reflected in the glass covering a spectacular photo by John Slot of the borate bomber releasing its chemical fire retardant.

And this photo by Katie Clark of a partially burned home with a surviving flag.

The most spectacular piece in the show is this shawl, positioned like an effigy with burned offerings at its feet. The shawl was made from the ties that bound hay bales distributed to land owners. Hay spread on bare ground, an effort to help prevent erosion. This artist washed and dyed the pieces. She softened them enough for weaving and wove this shawl.
It is a good feeling that something pretty, or remembered or useful rises from the ashes of despair and we can all see through to their recovery and healing, as art surpasses the ashes.

I’m an admitted collectiholic, but there is no 12 step program for one such as me. It may be from having depression era parents who were savers and never threw anything out that had a hint of future usefulness. It is a philosophy that suits me, and spills over into everything I do.
If I have two of something, it begins to look like a collection and I end up with 15 t-pots, or 5,000 magazines. (You think I’m kidding.)
The problem comes when you run out of room. I have a wall of shelves in by office. Every picture album, every vacation scrapbook, albums of the features I had published, souvenirs, nick-knacks. Then over the albums, I place wall hangings because there is no room left on the walls to hang anything. I have 15 pieces, paintings and artifacts of some type hanging on the wall of my office.

No matter how narrow a wall might be, it has something on it, like these beaded rings from my trip to Africa.

If there is a wall, it is filled from floor to ceiling. And, I love and enjoy my treasures. And for many years, with growing children, I resorted to easier to store items made of paper. Just yesterday, while assembling  several different stamp collections to go to the thrift store, I found  notes that made me laugh:
HANZOFF!  Or I’ll sic my dirty P.E. clothes on you-they walk under their own power.

and:  Mary kenny hitted me   sally and kris wont play with me.
Silly stuff.

And, I’ve kept my mother’s name collection. She would sit with her cup of coffee in the morning and read the paper. Her rule was to only collect names of people whose last name was an adjective, verb or noun. Like Earl Silver, Rita House, Cathleen Clinker, Susanne Doubled. It had to be spelled correctly.  Then she expanded it to humorous name juxtapositions like: Mrs. Rum divorced her husband and assumed her maiden name, of Selma Sober. Warren Nipple married Carla Breast. Jean Sucker married Roscoe Candybar.  Dr. Michael Fox is an animal psychologist. I put it out for the thrift store, but took it back. Who would want something like that? She has a couple thousand names in her book. I finally decided nobody would want it and I loved her beautiful writing and took it back. See?  Downsizing is tough for some of us.

My entire brick wall has pictures of birds on it.

My son, Doug, built me five floor to ceiling cases to hold my magazine collection. I had to take a pick-up load of magazines to the dump. I’ve had guests who remove and examine every magazine.

I have plenty offers of help. People who say, I’ll help you. If you haven’t used it in a year, its time to get rid of it. OMIGOD. I shudder and quake at the thought. But, I know it is freeing and that my kids have warned me, “we are just gonna toss this stuff.”

It is painful and conversely freeing to get rid of  “stuff”. Jim estimates 5 years. I’m hoping for two.
It is something I have to do and can enjoy my stuff one last time before it gets tossed

TIME OUT.

I didn't do anything yesterday but swim, read, paint and eat. I wanted to go to a polo game in Indio, but Jim wasn't up to driving anywhere so we just stayed home. The above sculpture I thought of naming Back Pain, or  Writers Block, and then decided on Constipated as in our activities were constipated yesterday. (This sculpture is in a Reno arts gallery.)

This unusual bench came from the same gallery. The first word of the bench spells Inhale.

And, again from that gallery, this is a water "dish". Rain collects in a circular trough near the center and holds water for birds or other small critters. Their "rock" collection is unusual.
Since my bike was stolen, I've been think a lot about bikes and this painting is one I liked really well but I've forgotten where this painting hangs.

I'm a fan of Rene Wiley and she recently did a series of paintings on bikes that I liked so I'll post a few of them. Her gallery is in Galveston, Texas on Post Office Street.

Her paintings are for sale on-line, as well.  This is Green Cruiser.

Colorful Cruiser.

Blue Cruiser.

I think I'll try to paint bikes, though yesterday I started with palm trees. The only problem is, I have yet to get another brush. Maybe today.
I'm hoping to do the Walking Off Pounds program again today at 9:00. The snacks I ate yesterday should disappear today, right?

WARM DECEMBER.

A long day yesterday, getting through a colonoscopy, one of those unpleasant procedures we don't like to talk about. My son took me to lunch afterwards in Lodi. It didn't seem like a good idea to carry an expensive camera along with me, but I always have my tiny Canon as a spare. On the way home, I stopped for a haircut and a pleasant visit with friends in Angels Camp, Bill and June Foster. We had a glass of wine and went through their scrapbooks on Turkey and Nepal. The night was so warm, we could sit on their deck and enjoy the moon in our shirt sleeves.
This is December. When I got home, Karen told me the water situation is so drastic, our water company warned we will be water rationing with huge fines, up to $1000 for overages. This weekend I have to decide what plants should be allowed to die by reducing my sprinkling system to half.  I could see it coming.
My friend John Seiferth had a sign from the 1970's during a long-term California drought. It was before I was blogging and I didn't think to get a picture of it.   KEEP IT MELLOW YELLOW. IF ITS BROWN FLUSH IT DOWN. Oh, boy. As my kids used to say. Gross!
I know the drill, shorter showers, curb your garden water, don't water your car, fill your dishwasher full before turning it on. Don't let the water run while brushing your teeth.
I decided I needed to do something soothing so I went through some picture albums.  I like benches, fun signs, barns, mailboxes, birdhouses, artwork, teapots, rugs, quilts, and I take  pictures of stuff  like that wherever I go.


I love this painting so much, I keep a copy of it on my desktop. It was in a Museum somewhere, but I've forgotten where. I was just grateful they allowed me to photograph it.


This is a painting of Rene Wiley's alley series. She has a gallery in Galveston, Texas.


This painting is by Lawrence LeVeque.


This is another of Leveque's. I met the artist and when I bought this painting from him,  I didn't think to take his picture. Darn. He gave me great advice on how to keep your oil paintings healthy. I have a big painting in my dining room I've allowed to get sun damaged. It happens slowly.  It only took sun for a short time each day in the winter. I didn't notice it until the damage was done.
 

I still have medical appointments in the coming days. A mammogram and an echogram, plus never-ending paperwork. From my compromised credit cards, I have to make arrangement for those bills that were automatically drawn from those credit cards. It is easy to forget, until you get that phone call.

NOLAN BARRAS, SKILLED CRAFTSMAN.

Meet Nolan Barras, a skilled wood worker, carver, model builder, stained glass artist, painter, furniture maker, clock maker and probably other crafts I know nothing about. He is uniquely talented to be capable of such varied work and all of it self-taught.

He was just putting the finishing touches on his current project. All of the horses move up and down on their posts. When finished it will have a motor to make it go around and play music.

Here he holds a beautiful wood burning he did.

He has about ten of these carriages, fully assembled and  waiting to be painted.

It all started with this clock. He built it from scratch when he was a young man. He saw a picture of an expensive clock and he thought, I can do that.

Both sides of the clock are hand tooled leather. He got married, had children, worked and never did another wood working project for 30 years. “I always liked doing that clock and I finally got time to play with wood.”

There are clocks all over his house.

He must have had 100 clocks in his house and workshop. Anyplace you could put one.

And if you are going to build clocks, why not a lighted cathedral with figures that travel around a track and go in and out the door.

You can see that pendulum is moving. Luckily, he doesn’t have to hand wind any of these model clocks, they have a battery. Nolan sends for the kit, but all of that filigree work is carved  by him and he has the right equipment to do it. Then he assembles them, sands and paints them.

And, if you are going to make a lighted chandelier?  Why not five of them?  There were two already cut and assembled on the floor just waiting for their bulbs and electrical connections.

The clocks were a dominate theme, but this man’s talent amazed us.

He had hundred’s of crosses, of every size available,  already machine tooled. Why so many, asked Jim?  He said, “I gotta have something to do and this is what I like to do.”  He is 86 years old, and we saw no television in his house. He reminds me of older people who give you the secret of their longevity when you ask.  “Just keep a doin’”, is the usual answer.

He builds dioramas and hand carves and paints all the figures like this Cajun band.

Or this brawling, rip-roaring western bar scene.

Did I mention that he paints?  There isn’t enough wall space so he built rows of screens from which to hang them. 
Every nook and cranny of his house is filled with artwork of one kind or another. The carnival horse on the left is an example of his stained glass work. He did small cathedral kits made from paper. He said he had more trouble assembling paper creased churches than the wooden ones.

Then there are the doll houses with his hand carved furnishings. This one must be five feet long.

The center of this room is filled with buildings. The glass figure of a “female”  butterfly is more of his stained glass work.

Some of the buildings are small; many are lighted.

In some years past he skillfully hand carved and built a credenza. This is the top piece with his initial.

He no longer has room for big projects. At one time he and his wife had a store where he sold his carvings, but it has been closed for many years, and his wife died six years ago.

He hand carves pictures on beautiful woods and shellacs them.

Some of his hand carved pieces are painted and framed like this bowl of flowers. The flower petals are 1/2 and inch thick. Very unique.

With all the ends and pieces of wood, he carves little figures like these. He has them by the box full. He has two places that sell his work. “They sell a little.” he says.

When there is no room on the wall, the paintings sit on the floor and lean against something.

And, if you build clocks you collect clocks, too. He had several old clocks and then this Rube Goldberg type clock. He’ll probably figure out how to build one  some day. He is so multi-talented and skilled. It was a pleasure to meet him and he enjoyed showing us his work. Jim marveled at his eyesight, that he can still see well enough to use fine power tools and sharp carving knives. I’m so glad I got to meet Nolan Barras of St.Martinsville, Louisiana.