Category: Short Essays Page 7 of 14

Whether you do art or appreciate looking at art, to really get into it you have to work at it. The impact of art may be immediate, and hanging with it will bring thoughts that are triggered by that art no matter what art form you choose.

If you are an aspiring artist, your unique, individual expression will start consciously, and slowly morph into the unconscious. It takes a long-term commitment and determination to “emerge” Emerge means that you’ve found your path and you are following your voice. As you do so, your voice will slowly change as you mature, perfect your skills, and try new approaches.

It is important to have a work place, a studio, with no interruptions where you can leave your stuff and come back to it. It is essential that you “inhabit” your studio even if you don’t feel creative. Your surroundings will convince you. You may start with doubt, but that will quickly change once you start.

Thomas Merton, a monk, says it best…”Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time.” As we work at our craft, the world shrinks as we fully inhabit our creativity. There is no better place to be. Once you mindset kicks in, your awareness changes and things start to happen. You are onto something, a theme emerges and you go with it. “happy accidents begin to occur” which you recognize and incorporate.

Don’t rush, pause, stand back, make midcourse corrections. There’s nothing wrong with walking away with an unfinished piece. Something tells you to stop and refuel. I am a collage artist and when I’m stuck, I leave the project and let it sit. It calls me back when I’m ready to proceed. When I have an idea, I walk about my daily business brainstorming that idea until I HAVE to return to my studio and follow the idea. Don’t be afraid to be impulsive and don’t call yourself an artist because saying that holds you back. Better to say “I’m not an artist yet, I’m still in the starting gate.”

Nancy bought an Oster bread maker at a yard sale for $3.00. She downloaded a 50 page instruction booklet so we can make our own bread. Translate we to me.

The machine gathered dust for more than 2 years. “When are you going to make bread? That was my prompt to try the automatic break maker and read the instructions first. “Today” I responded. This should be easy. Load the ingredients and press start.

The machine was brand spanking new.  I read ten pages of the instructions. The rest of it were recipes. I picked the first recipe on the list – white bread. If I followed the instructions, all I had to do to make bread was to press one red button and wait 3 and ½ hours.

I found a recipe for white bread.I needed yeast and powdered milk which I didn’t have. I went shopping. After not finding powdered milk at three super markets, I finally found powdered goats milk. Close enough. So far I’ve spent an hour and no bread yet. I read the instructions again after assembling all the ingredients. The recipe called for Gold Metal (better for machine bread) flour. We only had King Arthur flour.  I drove back to the super market to visit the baking isle. The baking isle had four brands of flour. Finally I found Heckers unbleached flour “perfect for bread machines because of its higher gluten” content. I liked Heckers for two other reasons…the picture on the front is of a little boy with a huge knife carving a huge loaf of bread. the fact that their company started way back in 1853 suggesting to me that this was the flour the bread machine.  Now it was bread making time. My mouth started to water just looking at the little boy with the huge knife.

There were a few warnings in the instruction book. Don’t let the yeast get wet. All ingredients must be measured accurately.  The ingredients called for water first followed by the flower, sugar, salt, goats milk, soft butter, and finally yeast on top as far away from the water as possible. I measured everything very carefully. So far I’d vested in 2 hours time and 20 dollars and I had to made an expensive loaf of bread.

I closed the top and pressed start. There is a small window on top. I looked in with a small flashlight and the mixture turned into a white wad slowly turning. The kneading process was taking place. The machine does everything. I’ve measured and loaded and now the wait begins 3 1/3hours.

The house slowly smelled like a bakery. I checked after two hours, then three hours, then hung out in the kitchen waiting for the “ding” sound the machine made. By this time, the machine and I had become friends.

The busied myself in the kitchen, washing dishes, putting away the left over ingredients, arranging things in the refrigerator. Another peek…ten seconds to go. The countdown, a drum roll. Ding! Ah, now let’s see my very first loaf of bread with the help of technology. I raised the lid and saw a loaf of bread. I lifted the pan and slid it out onto the counter. It had a nice brown crust, spongy interior, and smelled like BREAD! The loaf looked like a block a big square block, not like a store bought loaf of Wonder bread.

I let the bread cool, then cut two slices that were equal to a slice and a half of a regular   bread slice. I made two open faced sandwiches with turkey, cheese, mayo, and lettuce.

That loaf of bread cost $20 and took two hours of my time and my friend, the automatic bread maker 3 ½ hours. I now have a new respect for supermarket bread. While passing pushing my shopping cart, I grab a loaf and keep going. Total time? One second. Total cost? $3.50.  But the taste, the crust, a freshness… this is far superior bread. I approached the bread machine, patted it and said “Thank you.”

An old girlfriend had only one bowl in her tiny apartment. She ate her only meal from that bowl. She is a yoga teacher, thin, and has the appetite of a bird. I thought about her bowl as a symbol of simplicity and hunger. Children holding a bowl with hunger written on their faces stopped me cold once too often. I’m going to start using only a bowl for nourishment. I get edgy when seated at a fancy dinner party where the place setting is fifteen pieces. Where’s my bowl?

I remembered her as I prepared a small salad in a medium-sized bowl. I thought…I am living large. My bowl is always full. I will never go hungry. In fact, I think about food way too much. I need to live more like a bowl than a lavish dinner setting.

A bowl could represent the entire Universe. Although no one knows what the shape of the Universe is, a bowl is just as good as any. The Universe holds itself together within its rim. A full bowl represents a step on the food chain. I make Potato leek soup from the produce at Homecoming Farm, where my wife and I have a work/share in a community of supporters. Whether my bowl is empty or full, it holds energy which is passed on. I am, along with my bowl, part of an interconnected web of life. When I volunteered at a soup kitchen, I watched the guests faces as a volunteer ladled soup into their bowl. I don’t have that look on my face when I accept a bowl of soup. My circumstances are different.

I had a friend named Linda who was a ceramicist. We became friends. When she visited my house, she brought me four soup bowls that she made. That was fifteen years ago. Only one of those bowls survives. Every time I use that bowl, I remember Linda. Cupping that bowl, I hold the world, indeed, I hold the Universe. As I eat the food in my bowl, I share that same process with millions of others who may only use their bowl a few times a week. My bowl reminds me to restrain myself.   I can do with less and get along just as well.

1. Everything is made of invisible particles.
2. The elementary particles of matter –
“the seeds of the things” – are eternal.
3. The elementary particles are infinite in
number, but limited in shape and size.
4. All particles are in motion in an infinite void.
5. The universe has no creator or designer.
6. Everything comes into being as a result
of a swerve.
7. The swerve is the result of free will.
8. Nature ceaselessly experiments.
9. The universe was not created for or
about humans..
10. Human society began not in a Golden Age
of tranquility and plenty, but in a primitive
battle of survival.
11. There is no afterlife.
12. Death is nothing to us.
13. All organized religions are superstitious
delusions.
14. Religions are invariably cruel.
15. There are no angels, demons, or ghosts.
16. The highest goal of human life is the
enhancement of pleasure and the
reduction of pain.
17. The greatest obstacle to pleasure is not pain;
it is delusion.
18. Understanding the nature of things generates
deep wonder.

SWERVE:

‘”If all the individual particles, in their infinite numbers, fell through the void like raindrops, nothing would ever exist. But the particles do not move lockstep in a preordained single direction. Instead, “at absolutely unpredictable times and places, they deflect slightly from their straight course, to a degree that could be described as no more than a shift of movement.” p. 188

The slightest swerve sets in motion chain reactions. “Whatever exists in the universe exists because of these random collisions of minute particles.”

from: The Swerve; How the World Became Modern by Stephen Greenblatt

Since 2009, I have been placing benches in the Manorville Hills County Park. The objective is to build safe rustic-style benches and place them in appropriate spaces within this primitive setting. There are no benches, bathrooms, or security at the present..
John Burnley suggested the location for another bench. Mark Harrington and I met John in the parking lot off route 111. Mark and I unloaded the bench parts after driving east on Hot Water Street. We carried a plank, two legs, shovel, hammer and nails to the location. We used emergency access route #5 and hiked about 45 minutes to the site. John knew about this because he’d already visited it. He set up a beach chair and used the bucolic scene to do some writing. It is a hill with a bald and steep slope. A bald is an open place with few pitch pines no shrub layer, and a nice smooth carpet of pine needles. It is one of the many magical places that are quiet, peaceful, and beautiful in this park. The park is located in the core area of the NYS Pine Barrens Preserve. There are no structures at all.
We selected a spot to put the bench, dug two holes, set the legs in, back filled, lined up the seat, and nailed it to the posts. I brought a map of the trails and a contour map of the area. I thought I knew where this place was. I showed John on the Eastport USGS topographic map. I concluded that the steep valley was right next to a deep kettle hole. “No” said John. He pointed to an area north of my prediction. I agreed with John because while were there because I heard Long Island Expressway passing traffic. It was farther north from Hot Water Street than I thought.
As we left, Mark tied a blue hanker chief to a tree trunk to mark the place. We will call this place Burnley Hill and Burnley Bench. Since John hikes in this park very often, he is a valuable resource for other locations.
These rustic benches are meant to allow hikers to take a break and rest. Undeveloped County Parks need help. The park does some maintenance. It is used by mountain bikers, horseback riders, and hikers. The current program is there is no accurate map and none available for first-time visitors. The more hikers, the more eyes to see illegal ATV’s, dumping, excessive erosion, vandalism, and even fire.

I love spinach and grow it. A pile of steamed spinach with pat of butter sends me into convulsions.

I never seem to be able to plant enough spinach seeds. Once harvested, a huge number of leaves are necessary for a good sized portion.
I plant spinach twice a year, spring and fall. Spinach bolts in hot weather. It is a cold weather crop. But, I can carry this to the extreme and grow and harvest in winter as well.

The spring crop is slow to start. This is because it puts most of its energy into growing deep taproots. It relies on a water supply below the ground surface.
I like the Cookabura variety because it is savoyed. Savoy means crinkly leaves. The spinach leaves have texture which is gone after ten minutes of steaming. IRThis is because spinach is 85% water. It takes a lot of plants to supply enough for my wife and I. each plant has a rosette of leaves. I always clip (don’t pluck) the two biggest leaves which allows for more growth. I can harvest leaves for two months in spring, and again two months in fall.

I start in spring when the soil is loose and cold. As the seeds sprout and growth starts, the progress slowly speeds up. Being impatient, I inspect my spinach every day and water and weed. I like Johnny’s Seed Company. There are ten varieties to choose from.

I protect the plants in winter by putting mini-greenhouses over the plants. Any clear plastic container works. I cut the bottoms off quart seltzer bottles and pop them over the plants.

Today, January 15th 2017, I harvested enough leaves for two small portions. Growth is slow but none of the plants have died despite sub freezing temperatures. Although it is considered a tender leaf crop, my spinach, with their life-saving bubble green houses will produce all winter long. Although considered an annual, my spinach keeps on going. It is my vitamin A and C. it is loaded with minerals. The best way to absorb its minerals is by juicing. Once I’ve harvested, I have lots of recipes to choose from. But, for me, steaming for ten minutes and boom on the plate, over my taste buds and into Tom’s tummy.

BIRDS

In one of the glass cases at Dublin’s Natural History Museum, I saw a  bird with a red breast labeled “Robin.” It is half the size of our American Robin I saw this bird on a shrub in the ancient cemetery in Glendalough. The stuffed magpie and jackdaw were new to me. At Rock of Cashel ruins, we heard the calls of jackdaws who flew about and nested in small square openings in the rock wall. The jackdaw is in the crow family.

The first floor of the museum is a long 70 foot hall filled with taxidermy. Most animals had no connected habitat. A huge skeleton of a Right Whale hung from the ceiling. The stuffed rhino’s glass eyes stared like security camera. One tiny specimen, the least shrew, could fit into a teaspoon, “the smallest mammal” on the label. The wood floors creaked and on the walls, many antlers from the Giant Red Irish Deer. On both ends of the hall, iron grill work and mosaic tiles caught my eye. I made a rubbing and captured three different designs.

FULFILLED DREAMS

I imagined two things I wanted to do in Ireland…see flocks of sheep on broad, green pastures; and listen to Irish music in a pub. We did both.  Driving along the Irish Sea coast, a flock of huge black-headed sheep grazed along the roadside. Hedgerows prevent drivers from pulling over out of traffic. We found a pullout, and had a rare opportunity to linger and photograph. These sheep were the largest I’ve seen. Some looked the size of a pony. The sheep are raised for meat, not wool.  We had lamb stew in the restaurant in the Hunt Museum and loved it. We had great views of the Shannon River in this charming café during our first whole day in Ireland. The castles, the museums, and the cathedrals were astounding.

Our last night was spent in the Old Ground Hotel in Ennis near where we would depart next morning. I asked the clerk at the registration desk if there was pub that featured Irish music. “Cruise’s,” she said. We had dinner in a small room with a fire blazing. Its fuel was peat, which doesn’t crackle like wood. I wanted to visit a peat bog. This desire in and of itself will require another visit to Ireland. Nancy and I decided that Ennis was the town we’d stay in to tour the west coast on our next trip. Ennis is a portal for tourists that visit the scenic towns and cliffs. We walked the town and decided this was the next destination.

Three musicians set up in front of a fireplace, a bagpiper, banjo, and flute players. After sipping pints of tangy Irish brew, then began to play in 4/4 time, a foot-stomping pace that quickly penetrates everybody. Nancy started to dance a reel. The musicians blended with shrill pipe notes, the sharp plunks of the banjo, and whistle tones from the flute. The waitress said “Come in August for the festival. There are 400,000 people here!” Nancy and I chose January for our trip for the lower overnight rates and in between time as Nancy returns to her MFA writing program soon after we return.

Nancy has an Irish passport and is ¾ Irish. One of her goals was to return to her grandfather’s farm in Rosenallis which is in the midlands. The other goal was to reconnect with her second cousins, Betty and Polly in Dublin and Wicklow. She thinks she recognizes the place after several trips up and down narrow roads with hedgerows that block peripheral viewing. But a new stockade fence blocks the courtyard. Later we learn the old house has passed out of the family.

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