Tag Archives: Collage

A little haunting

After dinner while K watched a taped Patriots game, I made a slideshow. It’s in the middle of the post. A few stills follow.

Montage of old collages about fear

But first the original collages of the running girl. In them, her urgent need to escape emerged from the iterations. The double/triple exposures that form the basis of the slideshow, seemingly of their own accord, continue that feeling. The way she comes in and out of view heightens the sense of imminent harm and also, perhaps, points to the way trauma damages one’s ability to stay in the body.

I couldn’t sleep last night. Eventually got up and read. I came across an article about Emmett Till which you can read here.

Short version: a journalist hired to write about Till’s murder for Life Magazine (this was after the two men were acquitted), couldn’t get releases from two OTHER murderers, so he just WROTE THEM OUT OF THE STORY.

The journalist could be tried (could have been? Sorry, it was 3:00 in the morning) for accessory to murder after the fact.

The current article makes plain that not only was it journalistic malpractice and very possibly illegal, the omission generated more terror in the Black community than had they known there’d been four perpetrators.

If two men were capable of THAT, what’s next?

Paris Collage Collective prompt. I now see the girl running in negative space with leaf as hair. Do you?

Maybe the sense of haunting had something to do with the twentieth anniversary of 9/11. K and I watched a Frontline episode — America After 9/11. Oh my god the lying politicians. The lazy press. It underscored a pithy tweet I read which said that we would have been better off as a country if we had literally done nothing.

The personal impact of the tragedy is rendered beautifully in this memoir piece: Hero by Liz Ackert.

Four of the hijackers spent their last night on earth in a discount hotel less than a mile down the road.

The place has long since been torn down.

P. S. Just went back and found a post about dreams the week before 9/11. And a Tarot card pulled (The Tower). Interesting to look back. A little haunting.

Henri — rain only

On Friday, K and I were up in Winchester buying clethra and oak leaf hydrangea for the shady corner of the new fence. The garden staff was sliding pots into dense rows. Puzzling. I wondered what was going on.

“We’re getting ready for the hurricane.”

“What hurricane?”

You mean to tell me I consult Twitter for two hours a day and heard not a blip about Henri?

Time to add WBZ to my timeline.

Anyway, we entertained Friday night (it’s been so long!) and planted on and off on Saturday, all while keeping a close eye on the weather reports. Upgraded to hurricane! Sliding west! Not getting a direct hit here in the Boston area, as it turns out. The eastern side passes over us now, delivering intermittent, heavy rain.

It’s a nice sound, the rain. A good day for: a lap blanket, crossword puzzles, and soup!

This happened BEFORE the storm, by the way. What can I say? Fence not even two weeks old and it’s the third time a neighbor’s branch has taken out a panel. Excuse me for being annoyed.

In happier news, Deb sent me a color treasure.

I don’t know what it says about me, but untying that crocheted ribbon was the most exciting thing I’ve done in a long time!

Already applied a speckled piece to a moon in progress. Immediate elevation of the surround. Reminds me of a traditional quilter who once opined that she included a few Kaffe Fassett squares in every composition because they reliably improved the piece as a whole.

I kind of love the blue shawl’s accidental contribution here. Windows are new.

Lastly, I am more than a little surprised that I’ve continued with the Paris Collage Collective’s weekly challenge. It’s almost September! Look at me! (I abandoned Roxane Gay’s monthly book selections way back in May. Found that keeping up had a way of turning reading into homework. Who needs that?).

I’ve bounced between purely digital compositions to purely paper to amalgams. The digital layering that includes quilt-photos and/or a paper collage seems to offer the most depth.

Also, it’s getting so that when I select photos for a double exposure, previous prompt responses come up. That’s fun. I notice other contributors including past-week elements as well.

Check out #pariscollagecollective on Instagram. Almost all of the contributions are impressive.

Made the above (not a prompt response) before I knew about the hurricane. But it must have been in the ether.

Enjoy your Sunday! If you’re in the northeast, hope the storm’s impact is minimal!

4/20’s new meaning

Giana Floyd, George Floyd’s daughter

From now on 4/20 will live on not just as a day to celebrate pot but as a day to remember that a murderous cop was held to account.

I cried when I heard that the jury found Chauvin guilty on all three counts. A choking ugly cry. Gasping.

While I know this is not the end of the war (Al Sharpton) and that the verdict was only possible because it was captured on video, seen the world over, followed by a year of protests and the collapse of the blue wall (Jason Johnson), I want to breathe the relief of a decision well made.

Yes. Yes we get how broken we are that the outcome was not certain here. But let me exhale with gratitude.

Thank you jurors! Thank you “bouquet of humanity” aka witnesses who took the stand! Thank you remarkable prosecution team! Thank you protestors! Thank you cops who took the stand and spoke the truth!

Tomorrow I will lament the fifteen year old girl who was shot yesterday. Tomorrow I will share my outrage at how swiftly Republicans are seeking to outlaw filming police and protests but today: relief.

I shared this 53 second video over on Instagram but I’ll share it here, too. Synchronicity turned the Vogue model’s outstretched arms into something reminiscent of a prone, injured body as the day went on. Unintended but fitting.

A way to go

In the past, the chakra work I’ve done was in-person and not just in-person, but in-person with people I knew and trusted over a span of many years.

We called it Sacred Meditation, as devised by Richard Moss. It both started and ended with the heart center.

A very different enterprise! I wasn’t quite prepared for how an unbounded exercise working from the root up would go. And even more, I wasn’t sure how much to share about what was arising. This is a public forum, after all.

Meanwhile, out in the world, a new confederacy was forming and the number of bodies falling from Covid kept escalating. Both staggered the mind.

I’ve emailed Acey. Let her know. Also suggested that my overwhelm was a testament to her intuitive power and how she communicates.

Would it make a difference if there weren’t absolutely catastrophic news stories unfolding like tidal waves? Perhaps.

After some more thought, however, I realized that I am brave and curious enough to keep doing these exercises.

Hear that? I’m pretty brave.

What I’m not prepared to do with any amount of ease or elegance right now is talk about any of it. So what? I’ll dip in and out and share the pictures. See how that goes.

Putting up the tree and collage

Putting up the tree — there’s that red silk again, draped at its base — brought home the hollowness of this upcoming holiday. There will be no gifts underneath. No flurry of excitement opening the gifts. No stockings stuffed with chocolates and homemade ornaments.

Before I go on: all I care about this year is that everyone stay healthy. That’s it. That’s all that matters.

Home Depot was packed. Worse, one of the staff bagging the trees wore her mask below her nose. What? I hated her just for putting us in the position of wanting to demand that she pull it up.

Note: Massachusetts case numbers are UP — way worse than they were back in March.

Having recently discovered (through the use of my new oximeter which also measures heart beats per minute) that my heart rate is often elevated, I walked away, turned my back, and breathed.

Fortunately, K didn’t need the sawing or bagging service and told her just to lean the tree on a rack while he paid. Loaded it himself.

I plan to turn my back on grievance more in the New Year.

Another example: my next door neighbor lets her yard fill with weeks’ worth of leaves before having her crew come which means when then arrive, we’re in for a long while of noise. Think: twenty five minutes versus two and a half hours.

I doubled up on ear protection and retreated to the cellar. Breathe! So, so preferable to gnashing my teeth, pacing to the windows to check progress, and feeling grievance.

The basement studio is a mess but nevertheless acts as refuge. Building on yesterday’s collage, I made a quick tracing of the surfer to use as a pattern.

Left side of silhouette needs work. I also found another collage (below) rife with female imagery and also created a simple new one — the lady with archeological find on her head.

Cookies are in the works. At least I can share THEM with the boys — as long as I can find a time when there aren’t seven or ten people waiting in line at the PO.

Thank you for the pecans, Jen!

I might have complained a while back about how I wasn’t about to go to Costco for the all important pecans. They had the best price, three recipes require them, blah, blah.

First, a Georgian friend offered to pick me up some. I declined (but thank you, Ms Deb Lacativa!) Then without telling me Jennifer, who hales from Alabama, went off and bought me a pound.

Tis the season to be grateful.