The Holmes Brothers at Ballard Park

Last Thursday, I enjoyed an outdoor show at Ballard Park put on by CHIRP, (usually they are on Tuesdays). It was free, the weather and the music were good. The Holmes Brothers , Wendell and Sherman Holmes and Popsy Dixon, are originally from Virginia. According to their press relase, the band originally formed in 1979, and it doesn't hurt that they have a lifetime of stylistic knowledge to draw on. They play heavy on the blues with fabulous vocal harmonies including a sort of quavery falsetto, a little rockin' jazz, tasty guitar licks, and a bit of country. There were many toe-tapping fast-moving songs, with a few glacially slow and subtle songs. And yes, this group may have some grey hair, but so did much of the audience, including me!

One nice feature of Ballard Park is its small size. You can park in town, walk into the park, walk out Through Ballard Green Apartment's parking lot, walk down towards Maine Street walk back up Maine Street and go into the same park entrance as before, and still hear the music. A concert and exercise too!

Subtle - I didn't notice at first

How a calculating MANIPULATOR works methodically
to cut out the opposition while looking innocent

Some of us, including me are slow to see the undercurrents.  And if you are the patient sort, you just shrug and walk away, without putting the pieces together. But consider:

Suppose every time you had a good conversation with someone in a certain public social setting, a third party literally inserted herself directly between you and the person you were speaking with cooing at them about how much she's missed them, beaming at them, hugging them, petting their hair, giving them her undivided attention . How sweet everyone thinks - but whoever you were speaking with instantly forgets about their previous ongoing conversation with you and begins speaking with the interrupter. Or she sits down on the other side of them while they are speaking to you and begins touching and speaking to them so they turn away and net result is the same - you are shut out.

Once, twice, three times, you shrug it off and walk away, chalk it up to the enthusiasm of the moment. But suppose this happened repeatedly literally dozens of times over the course of a year's time. And in your observations - she only did this to you.... Yet you remain patient and polite - and no one, not even your best friends notice or care or even believe you when you finally mention it, because she is kissing up to each of them in various ways cultivating their favor. Once only, you object in the moment as it is happening - such a mean person you are interrupting this tender moment between the interrupter and the person who only a second ago was talking to you. You begin to avoid speaking to others, lest you draw her attention to them. So now you are self-censoring yourself to avoid her behavior.

Congratulations. You are in box. What was formerly a happy place of connection is now a place of sadness and loss. What would be the point in continuing to go to that place? You step out of the box and go somewhere else. You don't say where.

A Bic pic – doodling again….

This pair of characters is now pinned to my bulletin board. It's drawing with a Bic on a little scrap of blue paper. I digitally eliminated the color.

The man seems to be studying something in the distance, the woman is evaluating her next move.Or perhaps they have just returned to their car to find it has been vandalized and are looking around to see who might be on the scene.

Or that is the story I tell myself about them. So much of our relations are like that.  Someone who hardly knows you is looking at you, telling themselves a story about you, piecing together your motives, your history, or pretending to someone else that they see you clearly.. It may or may not have any relation to reality, and may also be diametrically opposed  to the story you are telling yourself which also might have little reality to it.

"Alas poor Yorick -I  knew him well" - but did you? Hamlet gets away with saying that because he is speaking to a skull.....

Art vs the Artist: Disappearing into light

To much illumination and things get very hard to see. This photo, of some glass hung in a window, is a tad over-exposed, and forms of the glass bottles are barely discernible against the backdrop of a bright day.  I think this happens with people also.  An artists works are a brightness against which it is difficult to really see the flesh and bone, foibles and fragility. The works are larger than the artist. For instanse Wagner's operas are larger than his personal prejudice.  Then again, a given artwork may mean something completely different to each viewer, and something else entirely to the artist...

Litany of the car - my trail of debris

Cars - the personal space you travel in. We get attached to them. Well I do. I don't imagine I'm alone. We see the passing show from the front seat of our cars, the darkness illumined in halogen glare, the passage of time ticked off in miles.

I haven't had much luck with cars over my 40 plus years of driving. (Yes indeed - I am old as dirt!) I started my car career with a little white Chevy I bought from my Grandmother when she got a new car. Then I got married, and when that car started falling apart, we had an old VW bug and a huge Ford Van. In the breakup, I got the bug, he got the van. When the bug developed some bugs, my father took it.. He used it to fiddle with an experimental carburetor he was trying to build from plans in Popular Science Magazine.

I got something called an Astra, a used three-door hatchback. it was a little car I liked a lot - but my Astra was totaled nearly head-on by the student president of the local high school's Safe Rides club who was driving her daddies brand new caddie. I saw her coming around the corner in the middle of the road, and yanked the wheel to the side. As she hit me I could see her look of horror and HER HANDS IN THE AIR!!!! Idiot. I was lucky I lived through it. Afterwards she indignantly accused me of speeding. The nice policeman had to walk her back along the 100 feet of skid marks the caddie left after it hit my car....

Then came the Blue Renault - a five door hatchback that I bought new (my first) and paid off. I drove that car for several years and moved to Maine with it. In Maine its chief flaw was this - the heater and the defroster were crap. When my mom got rid of my by then late father's Plymouth Duster, (which had a fabulous heater) I took it and gave the Renault to my cousin's boy (who later totaled it during his first year of college)

The Duster had its own set of oddities. There was something mysteriously wrong with the onboard computer. I went through four of these. Though some tragic flaw in the design - when it rained (Snow and ice were okay) the car would not start unless I got out a HAIR DRYER and dried the computer casing. So for a year and half I carried a 50 foot orange extension cord and a hair dryer every where I travelled. Traveling home from Maine, in Massachusets town - on a bleak day when their were multiple accidents in that town because of conditions - the duster and I hydroplaned into a Mass Electric truck - which was completely undamaged.

I was carless for a time after that, and once I took the plunge again, I had a white honda civic hatchback for 11 years. What a great little car that was!!! BUT - in the end (no pun intended) - it got rear-ended in front of the Brookfield Craft Center by a giant red pickup truck, driven by a volunteer fireman. So much much for my great little car.

I bought a used Ford Escort wagon, a 96, that threw a rod six months after I bought it. i paid $1,500 to have a new engine head put in - but the repair left some metal fragments in one cylinder - and after a few weeks it started making a terrible grinding noise. There went another $1,500. It was never right after that. And neither was I after wasting that much money.

After a while I replaced it with a 2003 Toyota Echo a car I really loved driving - I had it for three years, then an idiot in a magenta jeep rear-ended me at a stop light. I was completely stopped - he was going 40 while yaking it up on a cell phone. JERK. I remember how wistful I felt when I learned it was totaled, when I went to the body shop to clean it out and say goodbye.

I liked that Echo so much I got another 2003 Echo. It wasn't quite the same but It worked well until this year. Frankly, I have had my calculator out. I have spent $1,105. on my car since January.

Despite this, Tuesday morning it refused to start. It clicked spastically while sounding anemic. It's already had TWO NEW BATTERIES, new front brakes with rotors and new front tires THIS YEAR and alternator belts replaced and the subsequently readjusted. It went all the way to New Haven Monday night so if its surly little alternator was working at all it should have charged. I asked the mechanics about this twice. I was assured the alternator was working. I have a love hate relationship with this car. There is NO love involved in my relationship with the dealer's service center.

So, I rolled it out of the garage, down onto the street to get the 13-year old car, (which still RUNS) - into the garage. I left the Toyota on the street. because I simply didn't know what to do. Saturday morning I discovered it had been hit by a passing car. The street was littered with headlight glass from the other car. My car sported a giant dent, and a street-side front tire bent all out of whack ( with attendant damage to the tie-rods, steering assembly etc etc.. SIGH.

Lucky though, while the nice lady cop was writing up the accident, a tinkerer from down the street was walking by with his granddaughter and their puppy Bobby.  He is now the proud owner of a new project -with full disclosure of its odd problems. At least doing the work himself he won't have to pay some pricy mechanic. He managed to roll it down the hill.... So at least I didn't have to pay to have it towed...

That's a lot of scrap metal I have left behind - I'd like to know the tonnage and multiply it by the number of drivers in the world.. I think we need more trains. .

Drawings: two dancers in motion

The figure in motion - that's one thing I am always interested in catching in a drawing... I envisioned these as a matched pair, and lines do seem to go well together.

Mixed Media: Blue Tears, an oil pastel

This work, drawn during my brief residence in Brownfield ME, (1991?) is done with oil pastel and water colors on paper. I love the huge blue tears.