Co-la-la-lage evening

mixed media painting

“Soft Light” at the top of the stairs at ‘The Loft At Liz’s’

 

 

Last Saturday I sped from the art fair in Sierra Madre over to the Co-La-La-Lage reception – a juried show of the Collage Artists of America at The Loft At Liz’s in West LA.  (Well, it started with driving at the speed limit but of course it was stop and slow through downtown and we slowed to a crawl on the I10 – there was a wreck just before my exit.  Ah, yes, I love LA.)  The upstairs gallery was crowded.  I think most of the 30 artists in the show attended the reception and brought others too.  There was an awards ceremony (no, I didn’t win anything), but having two of three paintings accepted into the show was an honor.

 

mixed media painting

Gentle Storm at ‘The Loft at Liz’s’

 

 

One of the disappointments of the show is that the paintings did not have labels on the wall next to them.  I would liked to have added the cards that have the poems that each painting has alongside the card, but it just wasn’t an option.

 

 

 

 

 

 

mixed media painting

 

I was interested in some of the mixed media pieces as I have a collector/friend who is looking for a mixed media piece for a certain place in his home, so I took a few shots of these when I got a chance and the crowd cleared.

mixed media wall sculpture

mixed media sculpture

mixed media sculpture

“Potus’ Bedroom”

 

 

This one was one of the prize winners.  The artist said that it contained everything that was apparently important to him.   Sadly the way that CAA sends emails I can’t open the content of all of them, so I’m not able to tell you the names of any of the other pieces shown (other than mine), or the artists’ names.  Ah, technology.

New Poem

Thought I would put a poem up instead of artwork today.  This one didn’t make the cut for my latest book but will likely be in the next one.  This is entirely from my imagination, I last built a snowman in January 2001 and it was not so big, I only had an inch of snow to work with.

Snowman

Off with the frozen gloves, so stiff with ice,
Off with the cozy beanie from my head,
unravel the scarf that’s wrapped around me twice
and the earmuffs so ugly they’re only fit for bed.
Off with the coat that’s the warmest thing I own,
off with the sodden Uggs that are starting to sweat,
wiggle the toes that are still in the frozen zone,
peel off the socks so the toes can start to melt.
On with the kettle, get the cocoa out,
splash in some vodka for an extra treat,
sip it while I admire, without a doubt
the fact that I’ve built the best one in the street.
Under the porch light my five-foot snowman glows
with coal black eyes and a big fat carrot nose.

A cold poem

So, just before we’re thinking about the thaw, here’s a recent poem.  It’s been quite a while since I built a snowman – 16 years, in fact.  I was just hunting around for things on which to write sonnets and somehow dug up this subject from a dusty back shelf in my brain.

Snowman

Off with the frozen gloves, so stiff with ice,
Off with the cosy beanie from my head,
unravel the scarf that’s wrapped around me twice
and the earmuffs so ugly they’re only fit for bed.
Off with the coat that’s the warmest thing I own,
off with the sodden uggs that are starting to sweat,
wiggle the toes that are still in the frozen zone,
peel off the socks so the toes can start to melt.
On with the kettle, get the cocoa out,
splash in some vodka for an extra treat,
sip it while I admire, without a doubt
the fact that I’ve built the best one in the street.
Under the porch light my five-foot snowman glows
with coal black eyes and a big fat carrot nose.

Kudos as inspiration.

Recently I read on someone’s blog (sorry, can’t remember which one of you it was, or whether it was even on WordPress….) about the power of poetry relative to other verbal communication.  This sprung up.

Poetry.

In the war of words,
Tolstoy of communication,
Poetry’s the nuke.

A brief poetry reading

This lunch time I will be reciting a few of my poems for the Borrego Springs Art Guild luncheon.  It has been a while since I have been able to attend, so I was thrilled that this coincided with being asked to read.  Beth selected four newer poems, two of which I’ve previously posted on this blog and two are sonnets from the Bucket List item “Writing more Shakespearean Sonnets than William himself”.  This is one of the ones that I had time to write on the quiet Friday at Cave Creek a couple months ago.

Arborial

I only wish to grow up in the sun
and spread my leaves to catch delicious light;
to harbor birds when resting from their flight
and push my roots down, down it is such fun
to find the water and the food of earth
that complements the vapor of the sky.
What if I don’t succeed? I must still try
to appreciate the world that gave me birth
and praise the god whose name I’ll never know
who did decide to make a verdant tree,
just one of who so happens to be me
who loves to sway and branch, make leaves and grow.

I pray that men will never cut me down
so I may long, long wear this leafy crown.

[stunned silence]….[dial tone]

I guess we all have heard about these scam phone calls from people who claim to be your friends from Microsoft, talk you through helpfully giving them free access to your computer and all the personal files on it.  Quite scary for the uninitiated.  But I think my answers are worth a share.  (Of course if real Microsoft tech support people really do* need to call you back about a problem, they’ll know your ‘ticket’/problem number, and you’ll be expecting them anyway.)

Usually the house phone is Unplugged unless I need to make a call, because of cold call tele-salespeople, survey takers and scammers.  However after a recent rainstorm the phone was having problems so was Plugged In so Frontier could contact me to coordinate fixing it, leaving me vulnerable.

[ring]

Me: Hi

Scammer: Hi… is this Jeni?  Jeni Bate?

Me: Yes.

Scammer: Hi Jeni, this is Linda from Microsoft.  About your computer….

Me: (thinks: oh, really? Your accent doesn’t match your name, Linda.)

Good answer: 

Me: Oh, Hi.  Which ticket number are you calling about? I have three tickets open with you.  Which one are you calling about?

[long silence]….[dial tone].

Better answer:

Me: Oh cool, you’ve fixed it?  Can I come pick it up?

Best answer:

Me: Oh wow, have you tracked it’s location?  Have you informed the police?

 

 

 

A surprising poem…

… sometimes I really don’t know where these come from.  My mind is a very interesting place to live, it seems; or at least the back porch swing at night a vodka tonic is a nice time for it to go off for a wander among the stars.

Assassin’s Interview.

I only need to know if you can do the evil task.
I don’t quite wish to meet the man behind the perfect mask.
You say that you can execute as you’ve done in the past,
Some questions better left unanswered, others, best unasked.