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Archive for the ‘Biographical’ Category

Remedy

Posted in Biographical, Favorite Things, Motivation, Painting, tagged , , , on December 3, 2015| 3 Comments »

close_chuck_2

I’ve written lately about the funk that I was in, how I was experiencing a crisis of confidence.  This has made approaching my work difficult and I have been wracking my brain trying to find inspiration or some new catalyst to drive me forward.  But deep inside I know that the remedy is just pushing aside my insecurity and doubts to do the only thing I know that has helped me in the past– get to work and paint.  I came across this post from several years back with some advice from Chuck Close that pretty much sums up this cure.  Here it is:

chuck-close-phillip-glassI’ve been a fan of the work of Chuck Close for some time, admiring the grand scale that much of his work assumes as well as his evolution as an artist, especially given his challenges after a spinal artery collapse left him paralyzed from the neck down in 1988.  He regained slight use of his arms and continued to paint, creating work through this time that rates among his best.  He also suffers from prosopagnosia which is face blindness, meaning that he cannot recognize faces.  He has stated that this is perhaps the main  reason he has continued his explorations in portraiture for his entire career.  The piece shown here is a portrait of composer Phillip Glass that was made using only Close’s fingerprints,  a technique which presaged his incorporation of his own unique form of pixelation into his painting process.

His determination to overcome, to keep at it, is a big attraction for me and should be an object lesson for most young artists (and non-artists, also) who keep putting off projects until all the conditions are perfect and all the stars align.  Waiting for the muse of inspiration to take them by the hand and lead them forward.  Sometimes you have to meet the muse halfway and Close has this advice for those who hesitate:

The advice I like to give young artists, or really anybody who’ll listen to me, is not to wait around for inspiration. Inspiration is for amateurs; the rest of us just show up and get to work. If you wait around for the clouds to part and a bolt of lightning to strike you in the brain, you are not going to make an awful lot of work. All the best ideas come out of the process; they come out of the… work itself. Things occur to you. If you’re sitting around trying to dream up a great art idea, you can sit there a long time before anything happens. But if you just get to work, something will occur to you and something else will occur to you and something else that you reject will push you in another direction. Inspiration is absolutely unnecessary and somehow deceptive. You feel like you need this great idea before you can get down to work, and I find that’s almost never the case.

Amen to that.  The process provides the inspiration.  I’ve stumbled around for some time trying to say this but never could say it as plainly and directly as Close has managed.  Thanks, Chuck.  I think I’ll take your advice and get to work.

chuck close at work

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Imperfection/ Redux

Posted in Biographical, Early Paintings, Quote, tagged , , , on November 21, 2015| 2 Comments »

GC Myers-2001 Seeking ImperfectionI’ve been taking a stained glass class for a few weeks now, trying to shake up my routine and thought process a bit.  In going over my work there with the instructor who is teaching me on a one-to-one basis, I try to explain that while I am seeking to learn proper technique I am not shooting for perfection.  I am looking for expression and things like rhythm and harmony.  It made me think of the painting above , Seeking Imperfection, which was the title piece for my second show at the Principle Gallery back in 2001.  I am re-running a post from a few years back that better explains my search for the not-perfect aspects of our world.

_______________________

Imperfection clings to a person, and if they wait till they are brushed off entirely, they would spin for ever on their axis, advancing nowhere.

–Thomas Carlyle

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I was thinking early this morning about a comment made yesterday by Linda Leinen about how we go through life, starting fresh and clean, and progress as we absorb all that life deals out to us, leaving us somewhat scarred. It reminded me of  the title of  both a painting and a show that I did many years ago called Seeking Imperfection.  It remains one of my favorite titles, probably because it best describes my own relationship with perfection.

I’ve always been somewhat uncomfortable with the idea of perfection or the search for it.  Perfection is the antithesis of our humanity, at least in how I view it, and to seek it is to deny our imperfect natures.  We are flawed and scarred characters in a world that is definitely not perfect except in those rare moments when all of these flaws coalesce into instances of harmony and beauty.

That’s kind of what I hope for and sometimes see in  my paintings– harmony and beauty despite the inherent imperfections.  I can find flaws in any of my paintings but I don’t cringe at the sight of them.  Instead, they make me glad because in seeing them I recognize my connection to them, can see the struggle in trying to create these moments of harmony.  A pit here, a dot of stray paint  or a rough edge there, a bristle from a brush trapped in the paint– it all speaks to me, saying that it can be whole and harmonious-  beautiful- despite the flaws.  Perhaps not a bad way to view one’s life.

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Riding It Out

Posted in Biographical, tagged , , on November 10, 2015| 2 Comments »

GC Myers- Riding It Out 2015I was and wasn’t surprised by the reaction to my last post where I noted a recent period of being deeply down in the dumps.  Almost instantly, well wishes and advice came from many quarters and to all of those who offered kind words I extend my most heartfelt gratitude.  The reaction was very reassuring, to say the least.  But that doesn’t surprise me as those people who might read the blog or follow my work tend to be feeling, empathetic beings.

But I was a little embarrassed by the reaction.  I mentioned in the post that  I thought about deleting the whole thing and it was just for that reason– I didn’t want to appear needy, begging for validation and attention even if it came in the form of pity.  And I didn’t want to show any signs of my own vulnerability.  The stigma of having one’s insecurity labeled a weakness is a powerful silencer for many people who suffer depression.

But I decided to let it go out to the world.  After all, I have always exposed both my strengths and vulnerabilities in my work and in my words.  Emotion and response to it is the basis for my work at its core.  Vulnerability is, in fact, a strength and certainly not a weakness in that realm.

In fact, exposing that vulnerability and not worrying about masking it is the key, at least for me, to climbing out of the hole.  That allows you to move, to break the paralysis of fear and lost confidence.  And sometimes the simplest movement provide that spark.

For me, it was combination of a couple of things.  First, I began to take lessons in stained glass.  Just focusing and concentrating on mastering a new process helped block out the negative thoughts and opened up new avenues of potential.  Second, I simply set my mind on clearing the cattails from one edge of my pond.  It is  mindless labor that finds me in waist and chest deep water  where I reach as deep as I can into the murky water and try to tug the whole reed and root from the pond’s bottom.  It is a grueling task, leaving me with a sore back and hands that ache severely this morning when I try to bend my fingers.

But while I am in the water in my chest waders,  I block out everything but the task of the next group of cattails ahead of me. But it is instantly satisfying to see the progress as the reeds begin to disappear, revealing the beautiful surface of the pond that I built about seventeen years back.  Seeing it without the frame of reeds that has been blocking my view brings back the pride in its creation that I often feel when I look upon it.

I have often thought that I was as proud of the pond as any painting I have ever done.  There is something wonderful in seeing how it spawns life around it.  The fish and frogs and the herons and occasional ospreys who feed on them, the yearly invasion of tiny toads migrating from it, the deer and other animals who drink and eat at its edge, the blackbirds who build elegant nests in the cattails, the dragonflies who hover inquisitively in front of me as I stand on the bank, the turtles who splash into the water from an old half submerged log, the coyote tracks that crisscross it in its frozen months, the bats that shoot across it in the twilight feasting on the bugs who rise from it,the ring of irises around it and the water lilies in it that provide sparks of bright color– they all come together in a wondrous way.

The pond has done much for those creatures and now it once again does much for me.  How could a person not begin to feel better after a few days of quietly working in that environment?

And I do feel better with each passing day, with each new effort to move ahead.  Thank you again for your concern.  It humbles me.

PS- The painting is another new small piece that I call Riding It Out.  Fits the subject, I suppose.

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Nobody Knows

Posted in Biographical, Music, Recent Paintings, tagged , , , , , on November 8, 2015| 12 Comments »

GC Myers- Nobody KnowsI’ve been in a pretty deep funk lately.  I wasn’t going to write about this at all though I am sure it seeps into the writing that I do post.  But in the name of transparency I thought I would share a few words on the subject.

I have often experienced down periods (or funks as I call them) throughout my life.  In the recent past they are less frequent and last for a relatively short period of time, mainly due to having built up some knowledge in how to pull out of them.  There is a general disinterest in most things and a dulling of emotions as well as a loss of confidence where I find myself questioning everything I think I know.  I feel tired and listless and anxious to the point that I can’t focus fully on much of anything or get anything done.  For example, writing this blog has been a tremendous chore over the past several weeks.

As I say, I can usually work my way out these within days or a week or so.  That has been the gift that my painting has presented me over the past two decades.  But this recent bout has been  a doozy with a complete collapse of confidence in everything  that I do or  have done.  I felt dead inside and paralyzed in every way, fearful to move in any direction.

This extended to  my work, that one thing with which would  normally  buoy my emotions, to the point that I couldn’t even pick up a brush.  The mere thought of it formed a giant knot in my gut, as if actually painting would provide proof of the doubts and fears that were eating at me.  I kept putting  off working on a couple of commissioned pieces or starting any other new work and worked only in fits on another project that was several months late already.

But slowly I find myself creeping out of the pit.  Small goals and small steps forward.  Yesterday I finally picked up a brush and worked on a couple of very small pieces, such as the one shown at the top.  And much to my surprise, I felt that spark once again, a positive emotion generated.  It just felt good again.

So, I see a light at the end of my tunnel.  And believe me when I say I am running toward this light.

As I said, I wasn’t going to write about this here.  In fact, I still am thinking about deleting the whole thing even now.  But I won’t.  I’ve tried to maintain transparency in how my life translates into my work and this is certainly part of my life.  It might be that bit of darkness that underscores the lightness in my work.

I don’t know but at least I feel like thinking about it once again.  And that is a good thing…

So, for this week’s Sunday morning musical break. let’s listen to one of my all time favorites, Sam Cooke, who I believe could sing any song and make it sound incredible.  I took a shortened title from this song for the piece at the top, calling it Nobody Knows.  Of, course, the song is Cooke’s upbeat version of the  old spiritual Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen, which might seem a bit on the nose for today’s entry.  But it feels positive and so do I.  So, give a listen and have a great day.

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The Decisive Moment/ Redux

Posted in Biographical, Favorite Things, Painting, Quote, tagged , , , , , , on November 3, 2015| Leave a Comment »

I didn’t really feel like writing this morning.  Just one of those things. But I had come across this post from about three years back in the past day while working on another project. It’s about a piece that I really like for many reasons and I wanted to share both the painting and the words that go along with it today. 

GC Myers- The Decisive Moment 2013-sm“There is nothing in this world that does not have a decisive moment.”

–Cardinal de Retz  (1613-1679)

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This is a new painting, an 18″ square canvas that carries the title  The Decisive Moment.  Photographer Henri Cartier-Bresson , a favorite of mine, took that phrase from the quote above and used it to describe that moment in searching for a image when the photographer makes the creative decision to snap the photo.  But I see the term at play in everything we do, everything we are.  We are all the result of moments of decision.  Every day offers us new choices for moving ahead and very seldom do we ponder where these often simple and mundane decisions might ultimately lead our lives.

I think about this all the time when I consider the course my life and career has taken.  Several of the galleries in which I show came about as the result of a series of random decisions and if any of those choices leading up to the final result had differed in any way, my entire life might be completely different.

Even the beginning of my painting  career might not have occurred if I had decided that working off a ladder on that September day twenty years ago was not a great idea. I would not have fallen and would not have found the time or inspiration to begin painting. Maybe it would have come anyway at some other point but who knows? And would that decision to follow painting at that later date yield the same results?

I see it in genealogy as well.  When  I look at the charts that show one’s whole ancestry laid out in an ever widening mesh of connections all I can think is how we are all built on a huge set of random choices and pure chance.  If any single one  of those thousands of connections had not been made the whole mesh that brought us here would fall away and our very existence would not have occurred.  If one ancestor had not returned from the many wars, if one ancestor had not been the lucky child that survived the many diseases that took so many children in the earlier days of our country, if one ancestor had turned left instead of right and not met that person who became their other half— it’s a  delicate dance of moments that leads us all to the here and now.

That’s kind of what I see in this painting.  I wanted it to be a simple composition that had a sense of  the drama of the moment and the realization of  all of the decisions that led to that moment.  This piece was done for a couple, Claire and Richard,  that Cheri and I met while we at Yosemite, one rainy afternoon when we happened to sit with them over tea at the Ahwahnee Lodge.

We spent a pleasant hour in conversation and learned a lot about their lives and how they came together.  I won’t share that info here out of respect for their privacy outside of saying that Richard is a Brit and Claire a California girl who chanced across each other a number of years back and maintained a long distance romance.  They were married and celebrating their anniversary at the lodge.  Their story  made me think about how many random decisions had to be made for them to come together at all.  When you think about where we are and how things could easily be different it makes every moment, every decision, take on greater weight.

So, savor and enjoy the moment.  It may seem innocuous now but it may change your life in ways you could never see coming.

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The Man Who Couldn’t Cry

Posted in Biographical, Early Paintings, Music, tagged , , , , , on November 1, 2015| 2 Comments »

Gc Myers -Exile Series 1995 smNovember sneaks in on a gray and damp Sunday morning this year.  It’s one of those months that bring about mixed memories.  Some, like those from Thanksgivings from the past , are warm and fuzzy while others bring much different emotions.  For instance, next week marks twenty years since my mother died.  Hard to believe that it’s been so long, a thought that comes to mind every year at the beginning of November.

I try to not remember Mom in terms of those last pain-filled months leading up to her death, instead focusing on better days and moments that I hold in my mind.  Despite that,  November reminds me of those last days and I find myself digging through the files to look at some of the images from my Exiles series that were painted back when she was going through her final days in 1995.  Looking at them now brings back a rush of emotions and memories, some that I try to avoid most days.

But ultimately, you can’t avoid those things we all must experience.  Life has its own way and we have to accept what it gives us as a gift.  Perhaps those painful moments and the tears we shed are proof of the preciousness of that gift.

I don’t fight back the tears in November.  Like any gift, I accept them now with what I hope is gratitude.

That brings us to this Sunday’s musical interlude.  I have chosen Johnny Cash‘s cover of the Loudon Wainwright song, The Man Who Couldn’t Cry.  I really like this version of this song about a man who finally learns to cry,  becoming a real human.

Have a great Sunday.  And if you feel like crying, go ahead…

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Monster Movie Matinee/ Redux

Posted in Biographical, Favorite Things, tagged , , , , on October 31, 2015| 9 Comments »

Monster Movie MatineeThis is a repost of one of my more popular posts.  I still get people contacting me who have come across this and have memories of Monster Movie Matinee, the Syracuse-based show that ran for many years at 1 PM on Saturdays.  In the years since this ran back in 2009, a documentary has been made which chronicles the show and its effect on the many kids who found themselves glued to the couch watching classic (and not so classic) horror films.  More clips and photos have come to light including the intro at the bottom.  If you are interested in the documentary you can get more info at its Facebook page, Monster Mansion Memories.

Hope you have a very scary Halloween! Or not– it’s not necessarily a holiday suited to everybody’s taste.

Monster Movie Matinee 1With Halloween falling on a Saturday this year, my mind switches back to past Halloweens and all the things that go with them.  Part of my normal Saturday routine growing up was to be in front of the TV at 1 o’clock to watch Monster Movie Matinee, a show out of Syracuse that ran for a couple of decades and showed classic ( and not so classic, as the years went by) horror and sci-fi movies.

It was a great kitschy broadcast.  It would start with the camera panning in over an obvious model of an haunted-type mansion on a hill as eerie monster movie music played.  It was hosted by Dr. E. Nick Witty (I think this is supposed to be funny but it eludes me) and his assistant, the wretched Epal.Epal on Monster Movie MatineeYou never saw anything of Dr. Witty but his long emotive fingers.  His voice was kind of a bad Bela Lugosi copy that played perfectly for this type of show.  Epal, played by the station’s longtime weatherman who also played other characters (his other main character,Salty Sam, introduced me to Popeye cartoons) on a number of other shows, was covered in rough-edged scars and wore an eyepatch.  He seemed to constantly erode as the years passed.

They had storylines that they used as they introduced the films, little vignettes that ran from week to week.  Goofy stuff but fun.  They let the movies they showed be the real stars and I saw most of the greats through them.  All the Frankenstein, Dracula and Wolfman movies were in regular rotation in the early years mixed in with a plethora of lower quality, monstery B-movies, which kind of took over in the later years.

215px-Creature_from_the_Black_Lagoon_posterI remember one wet and dark Halloween Saturday back then spending the afternoon watching one of my favorites with Dr. Witty and Epal.  It was The Creature From the Black Lagoon.  It was a movie that was shown at least a few times a year so it became part of the kid memory bank.  It was the story of a group of geological researchers sent to explore a fossilized skeletal claw-like hand found up the Amazon where they encounter the Creature, a rubber-clad Gill-Man who makes repeated attacks on the research vessel, finally abducting the babe girlfriend of the main scientist.

Originally in 3-D in the theaters, was a pretty stylish 50’s monster movie.  Pretty good quality, actually.  The Creature was a great costume, very sleek and somewhat believable- at least to the kid sitting on the couch with the Fig Newtons.  It had nice underwater photography of the Creature gliding after his prey and also had great sound and music that really enhanced the story.  It wasn’t the scariest but it kept you involved with the story.   I always felt more of a connection with the Creature than I did with the crew of researchers and actually felt myself kind of rooting for him at times.  Much like King Kong, he seemed sadly alone.

That wet and dark Saturday many years ago seems to come to life now whenever I think of the Creature or Halloween, for that matter.  I remember the light.  The smell of that living room. Funny how certain things, even the smallest trivialities, imprint on the memory  when coupled with something important, as Halloween was to a kid.

Today I’m thinking of that day and that lonely Gill-Man and Dr. Witty…

 

 

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WWVGD (What Would Van Gogh Do?)

Posted in Biographical, Influences, tagged , , on October 30, 2015| 1 Comment »

Van Gogh Still Life- Blue Enamel Coffeepot, Earthenware and Fruit 1888When I came into the studio this morning there was a question waiting for me in my inbox.  In response to yesterday’s post, a blogger, JM Nowak, asked : I wonder what van Gogh would have thought? What would he think now about the popularity and sales rate of his Art? Would it make him feel more confident and self-assured…I wonder?!

The question set my mind in motion.  Would have recognition in his time affected Van Gogh’s work?  Would it have changed the arc of his evolution as we know it?  Would his style have changed to meet the will of the market if he had started to sell his work at the time?

These are hard questions.  Part of me is selfishly glad that we will never know, happy in the fact that his work came about in just the way it did, relatively uninfluenced by the market or the words of critics.  Though I do have to confess that I wish he had found some sort of satisfaction or happiness in knowing that his work became so loved and revered.

But his work evolved in much the same way as outsider and folk artists who toil for the absolute necessity of self expression, without any outside affirmation.  There is a sort of pristine purity in this that presents an interesting dichotomy:  established artists crave this purity that they can no longer have and the artists with it often desire the acknowledgment that the established artists receive.

Can the line between the two be walked?

It makes me wonder how my own work would have evolved without the galleries or patrons who have supported me these many years now.  Would my own arc or direction be the same as it is now?  I think it would be different if only for the assurance that  that the knowledge that there are waiting eyes to see your work brings.  That in itself propels the work forward at times.

But it would undoubtedly be different.  But whether it would be better or worse is debatable.  It might be narrower in scope just because I might be more tempted to follow an even more personal and esoteric path.  But I’m not really sure about that because the real question would be how long would I be able to continue without some outer affirmation for the work.  Would I be able to maintain the passion or would I abandon the work or continue to follow Van Gogh down that  vortex of madness which he ultimately followed?

A lot to ponder at 6 in the morning…

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Exceptionalism/ Redux

Posted in Biographical, Influences, tagged , , on October 17, 2015| Leave a Comment »

GC Myers- Reaching to Time sm

I was checking the stats for my blog this morning.  One of them is a list of most viewed posts from the prior day.  I saw the title for one and it didn’t ring a bell so I checked it out, finding that it related in a way to a post from earlier in the week when I wrote about an unusual character in my wife’s ancestry.  As I said, it’s wonderful running across great stories from one’s family history.  But on the flip side, when you come across a story that is tragic or just sad it sticks with you in a different way.  I thought I’d rerun this post from back in 2010 because in the last few paragraphs the story relates to how I view my Red Tree:

I woke up much too early this morning.  Deep darkness and quiet but my mind racing.  Oddly enough I found myself thinking of a person I had come across in my explorations in my personal genealogy.  It was a cousin  several generations back, someone who lived in the late 1800’s in rural northern Pennsylvania.  The name was one of those you often come across in genealogy, one with few hints as to the life they led.  Few traces of their existence at all. 

 At the time, it piqued my curiosity for some reason I couldn’t identify.  He was simply a son of  the brother of one of my great-great grandparents.  As I said, you run across these people by the droves in genealogy, people who show up then disappear in the mist of history, many dying at a young age.  But this one had something that made me want to look further.  I could find nothing but a mention in an early census record then nothing.  No family of any sort.  No military service.  No land or property.  No listings in the cemeteries around where he lived.  I searched all the local records available to me and finally came across one lone record.  One mention of this name at the right time in the right place, a decade or so from when I lost sight of them.

It was a census record and this person was now in their late 30’s.  It was one line with no other family members, one of many in a long list that stretched over two pages.  I had seen this before.  Maybe this was a jail or a prison.  I had other family members in my tree who, when the census rolled around, were incarcerated and showed up for those years as prisoners.  So I went to the beginning of the list and there was my answer.

It wasn’t a prison.  Well, not in name.  It was the County Home.  This person was either insane or mentally or physically handicapped and was living out their life in a home when they could or would no longer be cared for by family.  It struck me at the time that this was someone who lived and experienced as we all do and who has probably not been thought of in many, many decades.  If ever.

This all came back to me in a flash as I laid there in the dark this morning.  I began to think of what I do and, as is often the case when I find myself wide awake  in the dark at 3:30 AM, began to question why I do it and what purpose it serves in this world.  Is there any value other than pretty pictures to hang on a wall?  How does my work pertain to someone like my relative who lived and died in obscurity? 

In my work, the red tree is the most prominent symbol used.   I see myself as the red tree when I look at these paintings and see it as a way of calling attention to the simple fact that I exist in this world.  I think that may be what others see as well– a symbol of their own existence and uniqueness in the world. 

If I am a red tree, isn’t everyone a red tree in some way?  Isn’t my distant cousin living in a rural county home, alone and apart from family, a red tree as well?  What was his uniqueness, his exceptionalism?  He had something, I’m sure.  We all do.

And it came to me then, as I laid in the blackness.  Maybe the red tree isn’t about my own uniqueness.  Maybe it was about recognizing the uniqueness of others and seeing ourselves in them, recognizing that we all have special qualities to celebrate.  Maybe that is the real purpose in what I do.  Perhaps this realization that everyone has an exceptionalism that deserves recognition and celebration is why I find it so hard to shake the red tree from my vocabulary of imagery. 

 Don’t we all deserve to be a red tree, in someone’s eyes?

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The Flying Angel

Posted in Biographical, Favorite Things, Neat Stuff, tagged , , , on October 14, 2015| 4 Comments »

flying-angel-3This is basically a rerun of a story that I first posted back in 2009.  I’ve mentioned before that I enjoy doing genealogical research, digging back through layers of history, trying to put together a sometimes very complicated puzzle to reveal certain connections.  Sometimes it can be relatively boring, going through generations without finding a visible compelling story.  But once in a while you stumble on an ancestor with heroic traits and an exciting story to tell.  Or one who is a scoundrel who makes you wish you hadn’t found out so much about them.  But one of the great pleasures I take in doing this is coming across the life stories of ancestors that are just plain good tales.

One such is from my wife’s family, the story of the lady they called the Flying Angel.  Her maiden name was Magdalena Dircksen Volckertsen and she was born in New Amsterdam (now Manhattan) in the 1630’s, her father a builder of the earliest homes there for the Dutch West Indies Company.

Her first husband ( not in my wife’s family line) was a privateer for the Dutch West Indies Company.  That is to say, he was a pirate hired by the company to attack foreign ships and competitors in the area.  Called “Captain Caper” for his daring, he was killed in an Indian attack that was the beginning of the Indian Wars of 1655.  Magadalena was left a young widow with an infant child.

Two years later she married Herman Hendricksen Rosenkrance, called “Herman the Portuguese.”  The name came not from his nationality ( he was from Norway) but from his service as a mercenary for the Dutch company in Brazil where they forced their way into sugar growing areas controlled by the Portuguese.  Finally forcibly repelled from Brazil, Herman and his cohorts were sent to New Amsterdam to engage the Indians there.  Herman stayed on as a settler, supposedly running a tavern of low repute called the Flying Angel, the origin of Magdalena’s nickname.

Magdalena had quite the temper.  On her wedding day to Herman, after downing multiple beers, she was walking with her sister just above what is now Wall Street in NYC when she passed and insulted the fire warden.  What was termed a street riot broke out and several weeks later  she was yellow-carded by Peter Stuyvesant, meaning she was expelled from the settlement, sent back to Holland where she and Herman bided their time for two years until they were finally allowed to come back, provided they did not open a tavern or sell spirits.

The following years were a series of adventures involving Indian Wars  (one that had Herman being captured and staked out in the sun before he was able to escape), various  legal troubles, some involving Magadalena throwing beer in the faces of a number of  men, stabbings and accusations of selling liquor to the native Indian population.  They ended up living up the Hudson, near Kingston, where Magdalena lived into her 90’s.

It’s rumored that in her later years, she would chase Indians from her property by running out at them, yelling and shaking a large goiter on her neck at them.  How could she not live past 90?

It’s just an interesting footnote in our history and the early settlement of NY, one that you don’t hear much about.  I’m always excited when I come across such stories, especially when there is a small personal connection.  Magadalena and Herman would be my wive’s 8th generation grandparents.

I’m not sure how proud she is…

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