There are some pieces in my studio that will always be with me , some because they are very personal pieces, virtual parts of my memory. Others because they are somewhat lacking and I wouldn’t want them out in the world. Then there are some that stay simply because I want them here. This piece is one of those.
It is painted on a piece of our old upright piano , the lid that opened on its top. It’s about 8″ tall by 62″ long. You might think that this painting is about the heavy clusters of Red Roofs but for me this is a piece of escape. That cool blue ribbon of water that cuts through this painting, shown only in snips, is freedom to me, a rushing current to carry me away from the noise and chaos of the gathered village. Or better yet, I could become the river and move easily and forever– hopefully– through the land, joined with the other waters of the world.
I find myself thinking a lot when I look at this piece, which I do most everyday as it is mounted above the large window in my studio. It gives me pause and makes me think about being quiet internally, stilling the spinning wheels. But most of all, it makes me wish I was that river.
I call this piece Wish I Was a River, sort of after the Joni Mitchell song, River. However, her chorus goes “ I wish I had a river…” Maybe I’m being greedy here but I want to be the river. Maybe I’d let her skate away on me. I don’t know.
One of the benefits of having my studio located in the woods is the opportunity to watch the wildlife from a fairly close perspective. I have known all manner of animals over the years, from the mother raccoon and her kits that took up residence for a short time in the roof of my first, more rustic studio further up in the woods, and the everpresent deer that often nap in the shady lawn outside my studio windows to the coyotes and bobcats that I have captured on my trail cam and have ran across in person, as well.
I get to see how the animals interact, how they break down into family units and establish order. How they survive the elements and their habitation among us humans. Their survival instinct is powerful, a hard thing to see at times but powerful, nonetheless.
Over the years I have witnessed many deer with legs that have been broken, most likely from a misstep or an encounter with a woodchuck hole. I am always amazed at their ability to persevere and prosper. There was a doe several years ago who came around with a front hoof dangling, completely broken away from the leg above. Eventually she lost the hoof completely, leaving a stump. But it didn’t stop her. She actually had 3 or 4 fawns over the next few years and it was only when she walked slowly to feed that you recognize that she was missing a hoof. In full flight, she moved as fast as the other deer and managed to evade predators and hunters for years.
I currently have a black crow that haunts the pines in front of my studio. He came to my attention early in the winter. I saw crow tracks in the snow that went from the studio all the way down the long driveway, about 1/5 of a mile. I couldn’t understand why a crow would walk throught he snow when he could fly. This went on for several days until I finally caught a glimpse of him, ambling up the drive. It was a badly damaged wing that hung off of his back to one side. He would walk and hop with real determination and was seldom alone. There was normally a group of crows that accompanied him, cawing to him from the trees above and sometimes coming down to walk with him. I got the idea that they sometimes let him know what was ahead or behind, acting as his eyes in the sky.
I thought about trying to capture him and get him to an animal rehabilatation specialist such as the unit at Cornell but he was always quick to spot me and would disappear into the woods with surprising speed. He was even aware and suspicious of me when I watched him from my front windows.
His mobility has improved over the past six months. He hops quickly and to my surprise has developed the ability to take flight for moments at a time. Not for very long distances but enough to carry him to low branches of the trees from where he can hop to higher branches. Once he reaches the top he will glide, without flapping his wings, to a point quite a ways down the drive from where he will commence his walk/hop.
I really admire his grit and evident intelligence. I have gotten into the habit of putting out for him the poor small rodents that my studio cat, Hobie, captures and kills in the woods around the place, laying them at my feet proudly as gifts on a daily basis. I have watched him and his kin find these small gifts a number of times and I think he understands the gesture. Doesn’t make him any less wary of me but that’s okay. He gets an easy meal and I get to see that the mice and moles go back into the big circle quickly. Win/win.
Here’s a really nice rendition of Joni Mitchell’s song Black Crowfrom Diana Krall. Just right for a Sunday morning.
It’s always a little disconcerting to come across someone, a performer or artist, that is well on their way to a brilliant career yet remains completely off your own radar. That’s how I felt the other day when I saw a segment on the CBS Sunday Morning show, where a reporter, Bill Flanagan, was talking about music to give this holiday season. He talked about the new box sets from the big names then he talked for a brief moment about a 21 year-old British singer/songwriter named Laura Marling who he said, “ Is not only wiser than her years – she’s wiser than MY years.”
He also said that older listeners would hear echoes of Joni Mitchell and Leonard Cohen and that young listeners would hear the voice of a new generation coming into its own.
Pretty high praise. I decided I had better check out this person.
Wow.
I was knocked out. There were tons of videos out there and going through several, I couldn’t find one that wasn’t verging on brilliant from this very young looking girl with a sad, detached blankness on her face. You could hear traces of the artists he mentioned in the easy phrasing of her lovely voice which made it somewhat familiar but there was indeed something new in her synthesis of what she had absorbed in her very young life. Something well beyond her years. It was all just wonderful, even the music from her earliest album released just days after she turned 18. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t stumbled across a talent this big before now.
But thankfully, I have. As I said, there is a great number of her songs out there online and I have yet to find a clunker. Here’s a newer song called Sophia. I was captured by the line from its chorus–… I am wounded by dust…
There are some pieces in my studio that will always be with me , some because they are very personal pieces, virtual parts of my memory. Others because they are somewhat lacking and I wouldn’t want them out in the world. Then there are some that stay simply because I want them here. This piece is one of those.
Redtree Times 