These days, individuals can end up more isolated and self-involved than ever, with the shift from a "me-focus" to a "we-focus" proving difficult. Attention of any type, even if it’s harmful, tends to allure. This is when judgment gets clouded and mistakes are made. Age-old problems, like manipulation, take on fresh force.  No matter how technologically savvy we are—how many "friends" we have on Facebook—basic human-to-human "communication glitches" abound. These need to be dealt with in real-world time, and have real-world consequences. 

Manipulation comes from those whom we least suspect and expect  It creeps up and masquerades as kindness and generosity. Then, suddenly, there’s a wakeup call—a financial, emotional, or physical price to pay to the person who claims to be offering assistance/friendship "out of the goodness of their heart." Alas! The one who’d encouraged us to count on them really had their own agenda all along.  But, ultimately, even this manipulator loses too. The relationship needs to be severed and things can never be the same again. Trust and respect is gone, as well as a whole lot more. Time to move on, as this poetic reflection explains…

Dear Manipulator

You were so nice, so kind
I was so blind

Disengaging was hard to do
But it enabled me to grow

When self-esteem is down and we don’t have adequate support networks, we are all the more vulnerable and susceptible to those who survive/thrive on manipulative behavior.  Manipulatolrs usually seek attention to help assuage their own wounds, longings, and lackings.  Exagerated gestures and finding ways to become indispensable may be a ploy to help the manipulator appear valuable to others, as well as important in the wider world.  But, tension mounts when the manipulated feels trapped or deceived.  Self-protection (hopefully) kicks in.  Breaking free takes courages.  It also leads to loss. But loss leads to learning.  Know better for next time!

Earlier blog entries that discuss related topics include:

Reciprocity, Feb 8, 2008

Give to Give, (poem), Sept 5, 2007

Keep Your Word, July 25, 2007

A and B List Friends, July 8, 2007

Friends Help Friends, December 7, 2006

Have you heard of WAYN (Where Are You Now?)? An interesting concept! I hadn’t until I got repeated e-mails from them a few months ago. Apparently, an acquaintance had added me as a "friend" and I needed to confirm that we do, indeeed, know each other. The first notification said I had three messages waiting for me. Then, a matter of hours later, I got another notification stating that I needed to "confirm friendship" and that I had 11 messages waiting for me. (I didn’t respond.) And, just as WAYN stopped e-mailing, another unknown (to me) Canadian/Ontario social networking site began, Two Ones.  Another "acquaintance," apparently, wanted me join him there. Only two notifications this time. (Again, I didn’t respond.) How many on-line social/networking groups can one join, and be active with on an on-going basis—especially if invitees who already know each other (and are seldom in contact) off-line?  More to the point, how much time is it possible to spend on-line?  What’s happened to old-fashioned ways of going out and making "real live friends"—spending actual time with people you’ve known for a while , or would like to meet in person.  As many others have done, for professional reasons, and due to "friends’" urging, I joined Facebook, Myspace, and Linked In.  However, I have only been moderately active with one of them—Facebook.  This is the site that where the majority of people I know (or one might believe I know) seem to be active, for one reason or another… 

Keep your eyes open—and camera handy—wherever you are, even close to home.  Nature will surprise, delight and astonish if you give her time and consideration.

Some things are easy to pass by. Others make us stop and pay attention:

• Tree stumps by a dried up river bed:  Connecticut, US, November 07

• Frost coated fallen apples:  Liverpool, UK, December 07

I have been touched, today, by all the remarkable tributes to Tim Russert, NBC Bureau Chief and Moderator of Meet the Press.  Most Sunday mornings, his voice has been "background entertainment" while I’ve done household chores.  He was a fixture whom it was hard to imagine wouldn’t grace television news and debate well into old age. 

Tim’s sudden heart attack yesterday was yet another reminder to all of us that life is precious and we can’t have complete control, especially over its endings.  When someone as unique and admired as Tim is gone from our world in moments, without warning or preparation, we are stunned and ache.  From President Bush to regular viewers, everyone seems to have a reflection to offer, a deep fondness for this role model and outstandingly successful professional who remained a very down-to-earth family man and personal friend to so many.  My sincere condolences to all those dear to him.  He will be sorely missed.

At times like this, it’s hard not to think of more private individuals too, and their endings—those who haven’t enjoyed public success or recognition in their lives, those without family and friends who’ve supported and encouraged them. When their time comes, will it be recognized how their lives were meaningful or how much they could be missed?   How might things have played out differently for them, given a chance, voice, or simple luck?

It’s clear that we all leave our mark on the world in different ways, others’ impressions shaped by how we’re remembered or forgotten.  The following poem is dedicated to those who pass in greater silence and anonymity.  Maybe there was more to say about them, but there was no one to say it? Maybe their lives could have been happier and more fulfilled, but there was no one to spur them on? What might they have said if they could have written their own eulogies?  Perhaps this is one possibility?

AFTERWARDS

It was all up to me.

At the end of December (07), I was on a another transatlantic flight.  I’d just visited a family member who was sick and ended up sitting next to someone who was returning from her mother’s funeral. Personal experience with funeral trips, as well as long-distance illness concerns, compelled me to pull out my notebook and record these poetic reflections.

Planes

Planes are for vacations
celebrations

Planes are for all kinds of reasons
Of life, reveal the many seasons.

In 2007, I seemed to take a number of plane flights back to back.  Flying Toronto - Munich, in November, I put pen to paper, and wrote this poem.  It’s always interesting to have a little notebook in bag when traveling, all kinds of interesting reflections to record…

 

In North America, 24/7 schedules make it hard for us to keep up with ourselves.  Every day of the week is the same and work hours seem to have no beginning or end.  We have to be "on" all the time—with a Blackberry or cell, even while walking the dog or at the grocery store.  We think we’re saving ourselves time—trying to create more space for leisure—but are we really?  There’s always something else to do and another qualification to have.  It’s not just knowing how to do what we do, it’s knowing how to present and sell it.  And for that, you probably need writing or computer skills (that might have nothing to do with the job in hand) as well as a factory connection in China. Slowing down and switching off aren’t usually an option if you want to get ahead.  No time for bed!  Then there’s the relationship you don’t have, which frees up more time for work and disables you further from having any personal life at all.  Then there’s the diet you can’t stick with because convenience food is convenient.  Also, if you’re in the middle of a home renovation, you probably won’t have your kitchen fixed, properly, for at least another year.  Whatever can go wrong offers new challenges—takes time beyond the 24/7 that you don’t have in the first place. There once was a movie about working 9 - 5.  Can you believe it?!

I am exhibitng my spring fine art collection "From Doodlemania to Organic Art" at Toronto Art Expo, March 6 -9, 2008 (Toronto’s Metro Convention Center). After the event, I will offer behind-the-scenes tidbits pertaining to this "happening" and its organization on this blog.  What artist participants experience and what the general public notices, will likely be interesting (and different)… Participating at the Florence Biennale had predictable bumps (some of which are already recorded on this blog).  Showing artwork in a foreign country with different ways and standards is always an adventure!  In Toronto, however, and due to the heavy costs of participating at an event that’s not in its infancy, my expectations have been higher…  Let’s see what happens!

My booth is 401 u/l.  It’s on the upper level, in the far back left-hand corner, at the bottom of aisle A and adjacent to the toilets.  Please stop by and say "Hello!"  Hang out for a while!  Look for sping colors and feelings. I hope to create a "cozy, welcoming corner":  a little sanctuary tucked away in an overwhelming, large, noisy hall.  

Painting through a  "long, cold, lonely winter," this "Litttle Darlin’" has been crying out for spring—imagining it in a myriad of shapes and colors. (Please click the link just given and listen to the You Tube song that you’ll find there!)

The paintings on display, I hope, will lift the spirits, and hearts, of Art Expo visitors.  Oh, and, by the way, most of them are for sale!  The Art Expo mandate is that only originally work can be displayed and sold there.  Reproductions are available to order, outside of the show…

You don’t have to look very far to see Londoners are going "green."  Their awareness and habits are revealed in a few quick snaps from my overnnight visit there last September.  

An electric car

Organic food businesses, as advertised on this van

City of Westminster recycling at Covent Garden

A carbon neutral taxi

A wooden playground

There’s also a free magazine for pick-up in the doorway of many stores, called New Consumer.  I chanced on its fifth birthday edition last September (07).

We research some hotels in advance.  Others, are found by chance.  When the Florence Biennale travel agent billeted me at the Hotel Cellai, I didn’t know what to expect, but ended up being surprised and delighted. This boutique hotel, I think, might enhance any arts enthusiast’s visit to Florence—epitomizes the Florentine spirit and its evolution. 

Originally, a small bed and breakfast, the premise has been in the Carvallo family for three generations—passing from grandmother to daughter to son.  Francesco, the current owner/manger credits his three decades of "international renaissance education" with strongly influencing his hotel’s remodeling and expansion.  The Cellai now has 70 rooms, and is brimming with artwork, ornaments, fine furnishings, and old-world charm. Each room is different from the next and the lounge areas are comfortable and intriguing.  Magazines and books are are in key locations throughout, opened on pages with special quotes, images and articles.  Also, various contemporary artists’ canvases are exhibited on a rotating basis in a living room area.

Although the hotel looks complete the way it is, Carvallo is in the process of adding three more common areas:  a billiard room (with a purple-clothed table).  Geometry is one of this designer’s passions, and the room’s intention will be to give a sense of the "forces of the universe." The second addition will be a "love room"—one that’s not really intended for use, but to be viewed as an installation of sorts, built around a red velvet sofa (from a 1890 - 1905 "pleasure house").  "It cost a fortune," Carvallo admitted, reminding that people will be looking at it, not sitting on it.  There’ll also be special mirrors (from another "pleasure house").  Finally, there’ll be Libertine prints, showing people flirting. The third, and final, new space, will be a wine bar with books and silk curtains.  20th century style will be set off to advantage here, with black and white photos from 1920 - 1970 being an important decoration (from Carvallo’s extensive personal collection).

Interior design, according to Carvallo, is like "a medicine" for him.  His own home celebrates the 1940s - 60s, but has paintings from the 17th, 18th, and 19th centuries as well.  Carvallo especially loves still-lives from the nineteenth century that have dark backgrounds and Italian origins—mostly from Florence and Naples.

Carvallo appears a modest and diligent man, and blushes when telling that his interior designs have been featured in niche magazines. He is also very excited about another space, adjacent to the hotel, that is also nearing completion.  It is to be called the "Spazio Bianco" (White Space).  This is where his designs will have a chance to leap into the contemporary world (beyond the 17th, 18th, 19th, and 20th centuries).  He loves the idea of covering centuries, room by room, as he has done so far.  The "Spazio Bianco" (White Space), as its name indicates, will be totally white and have a wooden floor, also painted white.  Carvallo is particularly looking forward to creating special effects in there.  The simplicity of the decor, he thinks, will offer unique possibilities, like to change the color of the air.  

The event space/gallery is 150 square meters, and will be the hotel’s cinema, if there’s no special event or exhibition happening.  Carvallo plans to show Italian black and white movies from 1948 - 1968 (from his personal collection).   He’s also looking forward to playing there once a week, with his band, "The Pink Freuds."  Carvallo is the vocalist.  In the band, there’s vocal, piano, guitar, electric guitar, and drum.  Apart from a female lawyer, all the other band members are male—and professionals with significant day jobs:  an architect, economist, town planner, and geologist (responsible for Florence’s public water systems).

Carvallo’s attention to detail shows everywhere, and not least in his agenda for the event space/gallery.  The product line "San Zanobi" (local oils and wines) will be available for tastings.  Then, once a month, vintage dresses will be shown, from a flee market close by.   And, there’ll be a salon-type atmosphere with literary readings and art shows.  Carvallo is "connected," so the offerings are guaranteed to be interesting!  Cecco Mariniello, the number one (and reclusive) Italian childrens’ book illustrator is the Cellai’s postcard designer—and, right now, these postcards are "giveaways"!

Carvallo doesn’t have a secretary, and says he makes all his own decisions and designs.  His days are long and guests catch him fluffing cushions early morning, or with papers all over his desk well into the evening. In the day, he drifts in and out, covered in dust from construction. Carvallo explains how, in Italy, "Everyone wants to change things themselves, and put in their soul…and then there’s Italian mothers who ‘kill’ Italian boys…"  His own mother, at 83,  went paragliding in Florida recently, and his father lived a healthy life until his passing at 90.  Carvallo’s mother still helps out at the Cellai, and he says he’s appreciative of that.  "Traditionally, Italian men talk but don’t do.  Women do…," he stresses.  Carvallo might just be an exception to his own rule!

Carvallo is hoping to open all his new additions this spring.  Then, he’s planning to start selling artifacts that he’s collected, as well as artworks from displays.

At the Florence Biennale, sitting at my exhibit most days, I had a lot of time to reflect on what was happening there.  I either doodled my thoughts in a sketch book or wrote them up as poetry.  Here’s a poetry sample:

Please take a moment to be in touch with a friend who doesn’t have a Valentine, and let that person know how much they mean to you/you care about them.  A simple phone call or e-mail may be just enough!  If you’re happy—and fortunate to have attention from a "special other"—try to be extra sensitive to whose circumstances are different.  Though Valentine’s Day (February 14), gives many a cause to celebrate (and for commercialism), more folks than seems fair feel uncomfortable as it looms. This poem tells a little more:

VALENTINE’S DAY

Loved?
I’m not sure about that

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Add to Valentine’s Day, Ontario’s first annual Family Day, four days later, February 18, 2008.  Apart from proving an inconvenience for some in the business world, this second "relationship-rejoicing" day may add to singles feeling more out-of-place (a significant percentage of the local population).  According to February’s Village Post, its very name is "puritanical," and just begs for satire!

 

Reciprocity can be tricky sometimes. There are those who give in order to receive, those who give in order to mutually benefit, and those who like to take but not give back.  Those who give to give, no strings attached, are exceptional.

In real life, we see this with dinners, gifts, phone calls, and so much else.  Certain individuals always seem to offer a whole lot more for a whole lot less.

In cyberspace, gaining "reciprocal links"—like having "friends" on Facebook—has become a supposed indicator of success, popularity, and networking ability.  In recent weeks, I’ve noticed an increase in offers to exchange links, so as to raise Google rankings. But, what might "virtual-reciprocity" imply to the non tech-savvy? Because we exchange a link and list another web address on our site, does it mean that we endorse it too? If we decline a request to exchange a link, what is the message that we’re giving back?  That we don’t like or approve of it?  Will someone list us without us having to list them?

Because, for now, I don’t have distinct link lists, I try to include as many links as possible in blog entries and website text.  Requesters who’ve taken time to review my sites usually understand—and see a place where they might be inserted.

A Florence Biennale artist who has just requested a reciprocal link exchange is Ann Haessel. A fiber artist from Alberta, Canada, you might like to check out her site.  Unfortunately, I did not get a chance to see her work at the Biennale.

Other entries on this blog also offer perspectives on RECIPROCITY.  These include: 

Give to Give, (poem), Sept 5, 2007 

Keep Your Word, July 25, 2007

A and B List Friends, July 8, 2007

Friends Help Friends, December 7, 2006 

The "January blues" are legendary. Then comes February, and moods sink lower. Is there anything that can be done to help? Some are too familiar with the pain (not just in January or February, but year round) and don’t need to have it explained (like in the poem below). Others are able to escape it— supports, special advantages, or attitude making things easier.  Living in warmer friendlier climates (or taking a sun break) can also be helpful.  But this isn’t always possible.  In cities such as Toronto, known more for aloofness and coldness than ambiance and joie de vivre, extra efforts need to be made.  It’s important to be aware of those around us, and check-in on them—include, invite, encourage, or reciprocate.  At least, try and offer a smile or "hello," even to someone you don’t know.

FEBRUARY FUNK

Looking good on the outside
Doesn’t dull the pain within

Do you know that pain?

Under the nose
In the throat
Around the eyes

An upset that you feel
Even if others don’t see

Do you know that pain?

Maybe you don’t
Likely you won’t

Do you know the sadness of
Loneliness
Hopelessness
Helplessness
Despair?

Seeing that others, clearly, don’t care

A "Please"
"Thank you"
"Sorry"
"Well done"
Might pick up someone else’s day

Few brave enough to show the way

Don’t ask "Why?"
Ask, "Why not?"

CONFIDENCE

Confidence is driven by others
Not just ourselves

We know, ourselves, what we do, feel, think
What’s right, wrong, uncomfortable, or easy

Others affirm, deny, encourage, avoid
Enable and disable

Contribute to who we are and can be

It’s who surrounds us
And who doesn’t

It’s what they say
And what they don’t

How they respond
Or not

No matter our strengths and weaknesses
Failures and successes
Feedback and allegiance matter
 
Others indicate the worthwhile, and the not so
Include and exclude
 
What we’re left with is up to us.

I’m thrilled to be contacted by those who enjoy my poetry. Earlier this month, Susan Kusel, of the Wizards Wireless Blog, wrote to ask permission to include excerpts from my Kilimanjaro series on her "Poetry Friday." Her brother, Russ, was due to climb Kilimanjaro, and she wanted to provide him with inspiration. How wonderful! Last week, after Russ returned from his successful ascent, Susan posted her own poem to honor his journey. Comments back to both blog posts, by readers, and Russ, himself, were, affirming, touching, and thought-provoking. Siblinghood at its best!

Heath Ledger’s unfortunate death has generated much discussion about its nature—whether it was accidental or not. From the LA Times to Time (and beyond), it’s become a major news story!  Close family and friends of the deceased insisted right away on "accidental causes." Noone likes to think about, admit to, or acknowledge the "S"(uicide) possiblity, at anytime.

Media have provided a lot of extra/invasive hype, with many presumptive questions.  Naturally, suggestions of foul play abound, with analyses of the actor’s distresses.  Whatever the truth might actually be, we’ll never really know. Sadly, the one person who could have told us isn’t around anymore.  Apparently, he was found alone, face-down and naked on his bed, by service providers (his housekeeper and his masseuse).  Close family were thousands of miles away, and the face that Ledger gave to the world in his many outstanding film performances was, obviously, not the face he wore privately (of late).

Ledger was famous. That’s why we get to hear, see, and read about him, and his final days and hours.  But, there are many other individuals, just like this movie star, dying every day—and in our own midst. Their burnout, despair, frustration, and loneliness cannot be remedied effectively.  Accidents and non-accidents happen, closer to home and all the time…

No matter the nice things said and done after a "loved one" is gone, nothing can make up for what was not said and done when he or she was alive (manifesting that all wasn’t right). The "take-home message" is to be more mindful of those around us continually—and sensitive to our interactions with them.  We truly never know how we might affect someone else, and what the consequences might be.  What’s not a big deal for you, might be for someone else. Everything adds up.  And, sometimes, just one more disappointing encoounter may be that one more too many…

This following simple poem, "Depression Alert," is an important one to remember. I included it (below) in tribute to Ledger. His untimely death provides an opportunity to share sentiments that might not have gained exposure otherwise.  Think of those with whom your life intersects. Perhaps they need a little more attention, consideration, and follow-up than you’ve been able to give them till now.  We may all be "busy," but…

DEPRESSION ALERT!

The places you don’t go
Clothes you don’t wear
People you don’t see

Another funeral.

Poems 15 and 16 provide closure to my Tanzanian travels—reveal their legacy and an after-trip evaluation of sorts.  (Please don’t forget to check out the other Tanzania Safari Poetry blog posts before and after this one.)  Next, I’ll share the lessons of Kilimanjaro, which, I believe, helped prepare me for the Florence Biennale experience!

15.  From JRO to YYZ

It wasn’t paradise
But it was very nice

16.  Trip Evaluation

Recognizing what’s good
The important understood.

 
Poem 14 was written on the journey home.  (Please don’t forget to check out the other Tanzania Safari Poetry blog posts before and after this one.)

14.  2 Degrees C in Toronto—Light Snow Falling

It’s a long way back from Africa
Dreams fade to realities
Magical moments diluted in airports

Planning for what, where, when
Already.

Poem 13 describes final game sightings, heralding the trip’s conclusion.  (Please don’t forget to check out the other Tanzania Safari Poetry blog posts before and after this one.)

13.  Day 9

Penultimate game drive
Not as alive

Gracefully and elegantly close our trip
Of magic a real sip.

Poems 11 and 12 describe personalities we met along the way—highlight less typical cultural exchanges and adaptations.  (Please don’t forget to check out the other Tanzania Safari Poetry blog posts before and after this one.)

11.  Safari—Day 7

Bats by night
Bows by day

Journey back
Dust hard to swallow.

12.  Safari—Day 8

Masai village resort
A transitional place
Others set the pace

For me, not a happy feeling
We lie in our cozy beds at night
Their experience, more of a fight.

 

 
Poem 9 explains how campers’ fatigue had set in.  Poem 10 describes a more active way of taking in the landscape and meeting its people—cycling.  (Please don’t forget to check out the other Tanzania Safari Poetry blog posts before and after this one.)

9.  Safari—Day 6

Chips, spaghetti, canned veg and mince
Usually food that would make me wince

At this point
Anything tastes good
Stomach understood.

10.  Safari—Day 7

African biking
Like its hiking

Another day in Africa
Luxuriating in the moment
Not thinking about what might be elsewhere
Details swirl, but no heavy care.

Poems 6, 7, and 8 describe experiences in the Ngorongoro Crater area, where wildlife was more sparse and a slight safari-fatigue was manifesting.  (Please don’t forget to check out the other Tanzania Safari Poetry blog posts before and after this one.)

6.  Safari—Day 4

7.  Monkey Picnic

8.  Afternoon Drive

Though not close
Of excitement provides a dose.

Poem 5 describes the most potent people experience—with the Masai. (Please don’t forget to check out the other Tanzania Safari Poetry blog posts before and after this one.)

5.  Masai

Masai Masai everywhere

Spontaneous visit done
A lot of fun
Everyone won.

Poems 3 and 4 are the second two Serengeti poems. (Please don’t forget to check out the other Tanzania Safari Poetry blog posts before and after this one.)

3.  Safari—Day 3/1

Warm breeze
Flapping tails
Zebras relaxing
Nothing taxing

Worries and cares
This hour we have none
Except with nature
To be at one.

4.  Safari, Day 3/2

National Geographic yellow jeep
Wide angled lens pops out
Not a peep.

Many Kilimanjaro climbs are followed by a safari, and ours was no exception.  Also, poetic reflections kept on coming, and will be included in the blog posts immediately following.  You might also like to look back at my other poetic safari experiences from 2006:  general observations, as well as those specific to experiences in Botswana and Zambia. 

The 16 poems from the Tanzania trip have slightly different emphases and perspectives. Though there are many aha moments, the magic of first-time marveling isn’t quite as pronounced.  Also, having just climbed Kilimanjaro, any experience, no matter how special, is hard to juxtapose.

All 16 poems will be posted chronologically (over 9 blog pieces, which includes this one).  The first four poems were written in the Serengeti, which, for me, was the most potent wildlife experience. 

Poems 1 and 2 are the first two Serengeti poems.

1.  Safari, Day 2

The chorus starts well before dawn
Songs and signals
The volume rises

2.  Safari Recap—Day 1 - 2

So many herds
So many terds.

 

 
The two poems that follow look at transitioning back to reality—our own world of others and the Tanzanian roadscape that we found ourselves traveling through (Kilimanjaro, behind and above the clouds and the meaning it may imbue, personally and locally).

8.  Explaining to Others

Explaining to others
Is hard to do

9.  On the Road

Bougainvillea
Dashes of pink
Makes you think.

 
The following two poems look at impact:  after-climb thoughts and reflections.

6.  Day 8—After Climb

Up there
Down here

7.  Day 8—Camaraderie

With some you can
And others you can’t

Continuing onward, upward, forward
No markings on the trail ahead
Spontaneity instead.

 
The first of the next two poems describes approaching the final ascent.  The second records having made it to the top.

4.  Day 5

Nearly there
In the world without a care
Except getting there

Applying lessons learned along the Machame Way
To a very different N. American every day.

5.  Day 6, Kili Ascent:  Success

Strong in body
Strong in mind

Those who did.

 
The two poems that follow here are mid-climb, on a long Day 4.

2.  Kilimanjaro, Day 4/1

Equal when challenged
Challenged when equal

A group spirit endures
To everyone, a round of applause.

3.  Kilimanjaro, Day 4/2

Candy wrappers show the way
Who would have thought?
Toilet paper marks the spot
Who would have known?
Cell phone signals around most bends
Who would have guessed?

Contrary to the N. American way
Something to remember
A take-home gift with which to play.

Climbing Kilimanjaro was truly a life-changing experience—one I’ve been savoring almost daily since returning.  Some of the details are fading and the final hours of the ascent are a little sketchy.  Only talking with those who were there with me helps, and explaining to others properly is difficult sometimes.  However, from Day 3 of the climb, my wordscapes (poetic ramblings) started up, and I’m very glad to have them to look back at now.  These are where I record details and  feelings in the moment (or shortly afterwards). Even those who weren’t with us on the climb, I’ve found, have the opportunity to get a better sense of what transpired by giving this poetic journal a quick look.   

All poems will be entered chronologically.  The first Kilimanjaro poem is included below, and eight more will be divided between the next four blog posts.

1.  Kilimanjaro, Day 3

No I can’t
Yes I can

Can we, will we?
Yes please!
Thrill me.

I’ve developed an interesting (and practical) habit of being in one place but posting blog entries about another.  When my paintings shipped to Florence at the end of October, in preparation for the December Florence Biennale, I shipped myself to Africa (Tanzania).

It was a long-time special dream to be able to climb Kilimanjaro, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I, or the the mountain, would have to realize it.  What perfect timing to get out of the mind and into the body!  After 10 months of uninterrupted painting and related duties, I was ready for a different type of physical challenge—something I didn’t know would test my mental and emotional strength too.  

If you look back to my blog entries for the end of October, 07, you’ll notice the one from the 24th is entitled Endurance, and the one from the 28th is entitled Stamina.  Ironic!  On reflection, I’m clear that my best training for climbing Kilimanjaro might have been painting for the Florence Biennale! Please check out my Candid Artist Ramblings list, posted on my birthday/rebirth (October 19), the day I set out for Africa.  My sudden and acute awareness of transferable skills and attitudes has been eye-opening and educational since.  

I wasn’t the fittest person in the group, I also hadn’t done enough (almost any) training.  So, how did I make it to the top (be in the 50% who do, and the only woman among peers)?  I think three factors helped:  

1. I had the proper clothing (and wore it)—really took time to organize packing and followed all formal instructions from guidebooks and informal instructions from travellers who’d succeeded previously.

2. I didn’t try to be clever or take chances in any way—used poles, ate and hydrated well, listened to the guides in going "pole, pole" (slowly, slowly), and took the necessary meds.  Thank you Diamox (altitude sickness inhibitor)!  Even though this drug made my hands and feet tingle relentlessly, it was a very good friend and support.  

3.  I didn’t go on the climb with the idea that I had to make it all the way.  I was aware that I might not have the capacity to do so, and could forgive myself weaknesses.  Competition was not what this journey was about for me.  It was more of a spiritual quest about being there and experiencing whatever was meant to be—and accepting it, while still fit and young enough to get myself over there.  

The lead-up days to the final ascent were a honeymoon of sorts.  The final ascent was a whole different story—nothing similar—the most challenging physical endeavor I have ever faced (and no one had informed me about properly).  What kept me going on the final ascent?  Three gifts:

1. The camaraderie of those with whom I was climbing and our attentive guides.  

2. The not knowing what was coming next and not having been prepared for the worst—being in a situation I could do nothing about and just getting on with it.

3.  The not-giving up factor, once I was so close, and because there was no real reason to.  How could I go down (in still bad weather conditions) if I hadn’t made it up?  We’d been climbing for six days and, at the 11th hour, I couldn’t justify turning back. It was the same way down if you made it up or not,  and I couldn’t find a good enough reason to turn around.  Not thinking about what I was actually doing or the discomfort of continuing also helped.  Automatic movements and focusing on other thoughts—and struggles—became a lot more meaningful and empowering. I acknowledged that I never really give up, no matter how awful the task is, making the climb a metaphor for so much more.

For the last hour I wept my way up, partly out of pain, partly out of emotion—maybe more out of emotion. I couldn’t turn off my tears or howls. The tears froze and the howls got absorbed by the wind.  The feelings were intensely private.  But, as discussed later with climbing peers, appropriately universal.  These guys had had their own emotional releases too!  Reaching the top, we all embraced.  It was a magical moment in a glacial wonderland where we were too cold and tired to take photos or stick around.

On October 29, 07, back in Moshi, I was able to check e-mail, and saw that a friend had forwarded a New York Times Sunday Magazine feature article by Tom Bissell about his own Kilimanjaro climb, "Up the Mountain Slowly, Very Slowly." It had been published the day before, on October 28, 07.  What a coincidence!  And, even more interesting, Bissell had been based in Rome, pre-trip—unable to fully-prepare himself, either…

Art has value, and value isn’t always financial. Just as it is counterintuitive to put a price on human life, it can be the same with art.  Outsiders don’t really know what’s gone into a piece’s actualization—how much of the artist, him/herself, and how many hours of skill development and dedication.  Art’s value can be unquantifiable, but the market demands to know and set a price.  What does the market take into account?  Training, experience, reputations, originality, popularity, marketing buzz, or trends.  Much rests on possessing the right style at the right time for the right audience.  Talent and hard work might have little influence.  Those who get noticed and are in high demand might have the least to offer.  We’ve seen this in the entertainment and other (trend-setting) businesses.  Art that is precious to some might not be to others. Over time, art accrues sentimental and commercial value (that can be quite distinct from each other).  It becomes part of our homescape, and gets passed from generation to generation.  Many a time, art is able to be reproduced and gain mileage.  One piece volumized has more worth than could ever be imagined.  Sometimes, artists have the tools and ingenuity (or back-up team) to make this happen.  Most of the time, they don’t.  Alas, great art is usually recognized and acknowledged long after its creator is around to enjoy it.

Artistic creations are frequently private, but all the more interesting when shared.  The individual who makes them is often just a transmitter for the collective consciousness.  Whatever needs to be expressed, or seems to be going on in a particular environment, might appear in a painting.  If and when we’re ready to see it, we do.  Otherwise, the imagery might be enjoyed at face value.  Also, there may be nothing beneath the surface that needs to be looked into more.  Art is simple and art is complex, as are we.  We see what we want to and ignore what we don’t.  Or, we see more than we’re supposed to and make a fuss about what’s not important.  Interpretation is everything and interpretation is nothing.  Only the creator of a piece knows its real essence and intention.  Or, maybe he or she doesn’t… Anything others say about a piece can be projection.  Or, maybe they have insights that are objective.  Having some distance from the work under review—not knowing every brush stroke that’s gone into it—can enable the viewer/critic to see something the artist might have missed (or not realize is there).

For some, art can be infinite.  For others, it signals natural or man-made limitations.  Art takes money and time.  Some have a lot of both.  Most don’t, so vacillate and negotiate—try to obtain and balance the two.  Art takes money to create, it also takes money to buy.  Art takes time to create, and time costs money, as well as a whole lot more.  How much a painting costs might not be commensurate with the amount of work that’s gone into developing it.  The power to paint and the power to buy come from different sources, but are intertwined.  What’s fair and what’s not change according to who we are and what we need and can realize .  Awareness matters, as do tenacity and being able to go the distance.

Art is whatever you, as artist, or others, as viewers/critics, may want it to be—at the time of creation or afterwards.  All kinds of purposes can be served by what’s been made visible.  Whether metaphors and symbols are evident or not, various kinds of measures are made clear, from within and without—religious, political, idealistic, romantic, aesthetic, or?  Art has an unrivaled ability to give voice to secret yearnings, hidden agendas, and almost-forgotten dreams.  Art puts artist and viewer, alike, in places they might never travel in real life.  It wets the appetite and makes anything seem possible—at least in the moment.

Most artists create art because they yearn to do so.  It makes the unconscious conscious. It also has us realize that powers greater than us are at work when we least and most expect it.  The pieces we are gifted with (as creators or viewers/critics), result from creative processes that are part of a bigger picture (no pun intended) and plan.  They help put things in an out of perspective—enable us to dream, remember, wonder, forget, and more…

In order to be a professional artist these days, simply being able to make art isn’t enough.  You have to be a writer, marketer, networker, gallery aficianado—while having computer savvy too (24/7).  In addition, it’s beneficial if your resume lists formal training (from the right schools/with the right mentors).  This is aside from needing to be a handy(wo)man—knowing how to build and adjust the structures necessary for your artistic creations. Also, resources you might not be able to earn through just selling artwork can come in very handy too!

If it’s worth it, it’s going to take time—an indeterminate amount of time.  Nothing else has to matter except taking things to where they need to go, and have them feel right, or right enough.  And while it’s important to be prepared to put in as much time as needed, it’s also important to know when to stop—recognize when a piece might be finished, or have gone as far as it can go with the skills and experience that you have.  When a piece is rushed, it shows.  Every brush stroke that is deliberate reflects effort and care—respect for the work that is being accomplished.

A painting can be like a puzzle.  You don’t always know what’s going to be easy to solve and what’s not (speaking as artist, not viewer).  I try to learn from and remember every step along the way to know better for next time—have things flow more easily.  An area that seems daunting one day might not be the next.  Or, something that looked good one day, may not work out when other elements are added.  Constantly keeping the whole picture in mind may be a better way to proceed, but this can’t  always happen.  Sometimes, we get stuck on one part for no good reason.  The day goes by, and we feel no further ahead.  Then there’s the good days, when everything works, and you can’t explain why.  The brush is magic in your hands and the paint does exactly what you want it to do, or exceeds expectations.  You wonder, "Who’s painting this piece?" The same happens in writing and other expressive/creative arts.  These are moments to savor  because the times of struggle are usually a lot more familiar and frequent.  But, it’s only because of those struggles that we see the difference and appreciate what we never thought might be possible.  To understand happiness, we need to understand sadness, and so it goes with painting too.

So much of life is luck and timing—and the artist’s process can demonstrate this.  We’re fortunate if we’re able to choose what we paint, though our preferences and outcomes are usually influenced by what’s happening around us.  Painting for the Florence Biennale exhibit has given my work a purpose, focus, and appearance that it might not have had otherwise.  I was influenced by space requirements and deadlines.  I also had to be mindful of making imagery that could have universal appeal.  Then, I had to consider my repertoire—my skills, talents, history, and comfortable subject matter—what I may and may not be able to accomplish at this stage of my career.  Finally, there was the budget—an issue that I didn’t want to have prohibit the quality and dimension of my work.  But, it did.  Whether we like it or not, most artists need patronage of some sort.  Art is an expensive business and can’t be made properly without funds—especially where large public exhibits are concerned.

Being organized matters—even, and especially, as an artist.  Better painting happens for me when my desk is tidy:  correspondence caught up on and phone calls made.  Then, I can shut the door on the studio and just focus on the canvas—no distractions or rambling thoughts and preoccupations or interruptions.  Some days, I know from the start that I shouldn’t have attempted to paint at all.  There’s just too much else distracting.  Other days, I regret not carving out specific time to paint—unable to forget about everything else that has to be done and needs to take priority.  We all have different needs and obstacles and must find what works best for us individually.  For me, painting is a sacred act and privilege, something for which I need to enable quiet space and time in order to reap maximum rewards, experience-wise.  I want a piece to be as whole as possible, unpolluted by the vicissitudes of the hour.  Of course, this is an idealist attitude, but it’s nice to be able to dream and hope.  Painting is also interesting because it is influenced by surroundings and happenings, states of mind and energy levels.  Perhaps because I’ve spent some time practicing art therapy, I’m more concerned with art-making that’s product oriented than art-making connected to the exploration of emotions.  This, however, can prove more difficult when creating abstracts—or so I’ve found.

I wonder about prices a lot—what’ll be fair and what’s not, what works for me as the artist as well as for potential purchasers.  What’s value for money.  What’s value for time.  What’s value for originality and devotion—a piece of my spirit translated to and revealed on canvas.  I try not to think about the middle (wo)man—a gallery or dealer who could jump in and take 50% with an "easier sale."  It can be more prestigious to have that middle person—kind of like having an agent as a writer.  It means you’ve already been weeded out, approved, validated, or regulated and relegated—sometimes, even put your soul on the auction block.  But, just as there are iterary agents who will work with you and those that only have their own profit margins in mind, there are artists’ representatives who are like that too.  Everyone needs to make a living.  At the end of the day, consider who’s starving and who’s not.  These are thoughts constantly floating in my head, as I find it difficult to put energy into trying to get noticed, bought, and valued, while still trying to create.  This isn’t a hobby anymore!  Creating takes soooo much time and skill perfection.  Then, why do potential purchasers insist on bargaining down, like they were in a shuck haggling over a (mass-produced) souvenir memento? Do they realize the time, energy, and dedication put in to what’s been painted?  Could they ever have the skill, talent, or perseverance to make anything similar?  Do they know the real worth of the object created beyond what’s a good deal to them?   Do the bargainers respect the creations or take advantage of an artist’s need for cash to keep up the métier? Ironically, many potential buyers get paid 10 times the dollar rate for work that’s less demanding, and think nothing about submitting invoices to their clients to be paid in advance.  My rambling thoughts on this subject are not about bitterness or jealousy—they’re about others knowingly trying to take advantage.  Of course, there are some artists who let their comrades down by producing inferior work that secures higher prices, just because of hype.  This happens in fashion and other fields too.  Then there’s experience and earning your price point.  But, again, no set path is clear.  Look at Google and YouTube—how quickly they become major monetary successes.  The artist’s path is hard to juxtapose.  For some, networking is everything.  Others don’t have to network.  Regardless, most artists know when they’re doing a good job and the details don’t matter.  The work speaks for itself.  While it’s important for potential purchasers to be prepared to pay appropriate prices, it’s also important for artists to know and expect their true worth—not forget what went into the pieces they’ve made.  Those who slop things out and get big bucks for so-doing—no heart in their work—let down more serious folk.

Ironically, today, many who award grants might not really understand what the artist’s process is all about.  They’re just doing their job, and detached from the players involved.  Then there’s the peer review committees, made up of individuals who too often have their own interests and biases.  And, for those applying for grants, the competition is steep—anyone and everyone who wants to survive in an artistic field needs revenue.  If you can’t work a regular job while creating, what do you do?  Give up?  Many are forced to.  Others go into debt.  Those who keep on going, if they don’t have personal safety nets or private supporters, have to get creative with other fund raising strategies.  And, when you put your creativity into fund raising, you’re taking it out of artmaking.  There’s only so much creativity to be had.  Therefore, you have to hope for kind individuals who you can jump on board to help see you through—assisting with their business acumen to gather the necessary $$$.  Artmaking, when it’s not a hobby, but for public display and enjoyment, is a community service and gift.  An artist, in many ways, is just a transimtter—given opportunities and skills (from outside of him/herself) to put out what others might not be able to do.  Mix a little talent and energy with dedication, industry, and perseverance and a public servant is born, one who needs "patronage" (an old word seldom heard).  Yes, what happened to "patrons of the arts"—those who used to finance artists’ endeavors in front of and behind the scenes—a big reason why art history is so rich and extensive.  It’s only in the last few generations that these types of givers and doers seem to have diminished.  In an age when materialism and quick fixes appear more important than genuine hard work, creative struggle, and innovation, culture and the development and maintenance of "higher" (non-hightech) arts are in jeopardy.  The inability to find support—for the honing of skills that used to gain esteem as a matter of course—is a growing problem, not unique to artists’ predicaments.

JK Rowling discussed her sadness/loss as she completed the Harry Potter series.  Though my work isn’t of the same magnitude or duration as Rowling’s, her sentiments resonate with me.  My Biennale exhibit has been a year-long project—a huge part of my daily identity.  I’ve known such overwhelming expreriences before—for instance, after completing each one of my published (and unpublished) books and each one of my academic degrees (BA, MA, Ph.D., Fine Arts Diploma).  Even for the type of person who puts their all into what they do (professionally, academically, personally) build-up and pull-back can be immense.  They’re also a special gift to be treasured—sadly not in everyone’s reach.

Painting can be physically and mentally draining. It can also elate and energize.  When you put your whole self into your work, and concentrate hard for hours on end, don’t be surprised by how exhausted you might be by the end of a session.  Some days are easier than others, but we never know, in advance, which ones.  (Positive) attitude doesn’t always induce positive outcome.  Art-making is usually more random than formulaic (in my experience).  No matter the rituals that some painters try to set up and try to stick to, not everything can be predictable.  And, if you’re a perfectionist (like me), you’ll go on and on till things look exactly right.

My earlier paintings didn’t take me as long to complete as my later ones do.  A normal expectation would be to be speed up after gaining more experience.  Not at all.  For me, the reverse seems to be the case.  The more you know, the more nit-picking you get (at least in my case).  Standards elevate with a trained and practiced eye.  You see more and what to do even more.  You become critical and less tolerant of what might have slipped by previously.  Each and every detail matters.  Work cannot be "second-rate."  Even if no one else sees your model’s set-up, you have a responsibility for as accurate a rendering as possible (I believe).  You know what should and shouldn’t be there and want to stay true to that.  The pressure is huge, but you have to know when to back off, and learn what’s reasonable and what’s not.  Otherwise, the task becomes impossible.  Sometimes, the positioning isn’t perfect, but you consent and relent to adapt, discovering a slight divergence isn’t so bad after all.  Almost perfect is often better than completely, as you’d once hoped.  Knowing when to calm down and relax about the details is perhaps one of the hardest lessons (at least for me)—can make or break a painting.

My paintings aren’t slapdash.  That is they’re not the type of spontaneous "process pieces" that are dabbed down without thinking.  On the contrary. Surprisingly, thinking is a big part of what I do, as are feeling and intuiting.  Some painters, certain realists for example, might calculate and measure where each element goes and exactly how.  That’s not my way.  I do plan a lot—spend hours on set-up and composition, but still like to leave significant detailing to chance.  For instance, I won’t force a mood or color palette that’s not within my capabilities of the moment.  I also like to guesstimate—even embellish aspects that cry out to me for extra attention.  Consequently, my portraits have caricature-like tendencies and my still-lives are more whimsical than realist.  Then there’s my abstracts, a melange of freedom, control, and spontaneity—more representational than abstract and more abstract than representational.  We see and do what we need to at the time (usually without knowing it)—artist and viewer, alike.

Creative minds are frequently distracted.  An idea surfaces and it’s hard to rest until it can be recorded and/or realized.  My creative bursts come in words and images.  One day it’s words.  Another it’s images.  And, when I’m in the mindset for one the other fades. I can either write or paint, but find it hard to do both together. Over time, I’ve come to know when I’m "off’" or "on"—can be creative or not, and how.  And, I can’t always choose those times.  Some of them are very inconvenient, like today.  I really should be up in my studio painting, but have a word explosion I can’t contain. I need to finish writing this passage—express what’s on my mind while it’s still mulling.  It’s been active for a long time, every day while I’ve been painting.  The thoughts have been there, but the verbalization hadn’t reached a stage fit for sharing—until today. I need to get it out now!  Tomorrow, I’m hoping things will be different.  I have a deadline to meet with my paintings.  The day before yesterday was good with respect to staying focus on painting.  I painted, and painted, and painted, and didn’t get tired.  In fact, I couldn’t eat, drink, or speak on the phone, I was caught up in what I needed and wanted to do, energy growing with each technical difficulty overcome.  I love days like that!  Days with no time limits put you in another place. They’re rare and special, and one of the main secret gifts painting/artmaking/creativity can bestow on those prepared to go the distance—travel bumpy roads on routes you’re not sure can take you anywhere.

 

Painting takes time—more than you might have under normal circumstances. You need to be prepared to give up many other activities (and breaks) in order to paint seriously, proficiently, authentically, and optimally.  This means attempting to stay with the task by preventing (social) interruptions that may be detrimental to your process.  Vacations, weekends, evenings—times when others are relaxing—start to disappear.  Painting takes over and becomes all important—has to be all important.  It’s not a job like any other.  It’s a vocation, and something you can’t always do on command or within a set time frame.  You have to be prepared to go the distance, even when you’d prefer to be doing something else—not have to endure so much isolation.  That said, if you took time out, the ache of not being there to finish your painting may make other experiences less enjoyable.

How much stamina does it take in order to be a serious painter?  A lot!  Even if you sit down and don’t stand, there’s energy exerted—mental as well as physical.  You’re constantly engaged in your process, focusing and concentrating—stepping forward and back, planning and calculating, trying and retrying, doing and undoing.  Sometimes mental gymnastics exhaust. Other times, the sheer physical strain of keeping steady hands, stretching up and down, or twisting, turning and bending provide a work-out you weren’t anticipating.

 

Painters need to be resilient.  Not every piece will work out how you wish it to.  However, there’s no knowing others’ responses.  All you can be sure of, as artist, is that you have to keep on plugging away—no matter how you feel.  The more you practice, the better your work will become, even if you’re the only one who notices.  Putting your best effort into what you’re doing while you’re doing it is what counts.  Short cuts don’t get you to your destination any faster.  Slowly and surely provides more certain foundations and a better route guide.  Even without a teacher or lesson plan, progress is always possible.  We all learn from personal mistakes.  And, since we’re usually our own severest critics, it’s unlikely there won’t be any mistakes (or answers) found.

Artists/painters have qualities that are special to their vocation.  Others may identify with these, and have similar feelings about what they do and how they do it.  I’m curious to compare.  But, right now, I can only speak about my own day-to-day experience preparing the Florence Biennale exhibition collection (and everything associated with it, beyond its actual painting).  The reflections that follow are listed and recorded in the order they emerged:

1.  Endurance
2.  Stamina
3.  Sacrifice
4.  Creative Pressure/Release
5.  Strategic/Conscious Painting
6.  Noticing the Details
7.  Painter’s Fatigue
8.  "JK Rowling Syndrome"
9.  Support/Patronage/Grants
10. Prices
11. Organization
12. Serendipity
13. Puzzle
14. Time
15. Artist Plus
16. (Special)Gift(s)
17. Message(s)
18. Limitations
19. Sharing
20. Preciousness/Value

The next 20 blog postings will each display a different "Buon Appetito!" painting with a reflection following (in the order listed above).  The "Buon Appetito!" paintings will be displayed alphabetically.  Bananas, Beans (Mixed), Blueberries, Cherries (Red), Chocolate Truffles, Dried Fruit and Nuts, Grapes (Green), Grapes (Red), Jelly Beans, Kumquats, Licorice Allsorts, Olives, Onions, Pasta, Peppers, Raspberries and Blackberries, Rice Snacks, Strawberries Sweethearts, Tomatoes.  Each reflection will follow the order shown in the list above and doesn’t have a specific relationship with the image that it follows.

Last night, the newly launched Yonge/St. Clair Good Neighbours’ Fund held its first community celebration/fundraiser at Grano, which from all reports in was a great success.  The event was on behalf of my Florence Biennale exhibit.

Here are some quotes included in the Good Neighbours’ Fund brochure: 

"St. Clair to ArtWalk and the new Wychwood Barns project, to the recent success with Luminato, we have a great deal to be proud of here in Toronto. I am proud to be part of a small effort to make up for the misguided cancellation of the Public Diplomacy Program which used to help fund artists to show their works abroad.   We are truly blessed to have such a talented artist in Susan Makin living and working in our Riding of St. Paul’s.” 
CAROLYN BENNETT
Member of Parliament
St. Paul’s, Toronto

"I have always felt that all arts (and crafts) benefit by rubbing elbows with one another, so I am happy to see food and the visual arts doing just that at The Good Neighbours’ Fund Celebration.  Congratulations on your launch!  Having had significant support from my own community over my life, I am a firm believer in initiatives like this one.  There’s no better place to discover and
support talent than close to home. Very best of luck to you!"
LAURA CALDER
French Food at Home
Food Network, Canada

(Earlier related blog entries include:  Toronto Preview—Florence Biennale Exhibit, Yonge/St. Clair Innovation—The Good Neighbours’ Fund, and Why Canadian Talent Moves Away from Canada.)

Instead of giving a thank-you speech, I read the poem that follows—written especially for the event.  For those who weren’t able to make it to the event, and those who’d like to know more about it, I thought this was the best place to share what I said:

From Boston, to Toronto, to Florence—and Back?

Painting happily in Boston
An invitation arrived

Long live the Good Neighbors’ Fund
For whatever assistance it can provide
Nurture the dreams of other talented Canadians
that they stay in Canada
Not feel forced in other countries to reside.

Big thank you to Justin Skinner for his October 11 news piece in the City Centre Mirror today. Please click on the link to take you there http://www.insidetoronto.com/News/Centre/article/32066 or read text from it below:

NEW FUND SEEKS  HELP FROM GOOD NEIGHBOURS
Grassroots charity will support local artists
BY JUSTIN SKINNER
October 11, 2007 11:14 AM
 
When local artist Susan Makin was invited to enter some of her work in the prestigious Florence Biennale, an international arts competition, she was understandably thrilled. Her excitement turned to disappointment, however, when attempts to find funding to pay her way there came up dry.

For information on the fund, including how to make an additional donation, e-mail goodneighboursfund@gmail.com

Just a "housekeeping" notice.  DocSusan’s blog will remain with Blogsome for now. The DocSusan Blogger blog has just been removed.  Each provider has its benefits, but since this blog is already quite established on Blogsome, with many links to it here, it’s best that it stays put.  Apologies for any inconvenience or confusion caused by the attempt to change address.

 
Yesterday (Sunday) afternoon, it was a treat to attend Toronto’s 18th annual Word on the Street celebration.  Not only was it a picture perfect autumn day, but it was also exciting to pick up on the energy at Queen’s Park Circle—experience so many Torontians’ thirst for reading, learning, and communicating being quenched. 

I went home feeling refreshed and revived—an interesting contrast to the evening before when Nuit Blanche festivities had skimmed the same location.

Apart from the booths and readings, a variety of performers engaged the crowd, informally, a key ingredient I thought missing the evening before (or perhaps they’d been active in zones I hadn’t managed to cover).

Give to give
Not to receive

Knowing about giving
And growing through giving
Makes life worth living
For all of us…

There are many perspectives on "giving," and this poem offers but a few.  As with most everything, it’s important to take responsibility and make the extra effort to do the right thing, individually as well as together.  By coincidence, Former President, Bill Clinton, was interviewed on the Today Show, today, about his new book, GIVING:  How Each of Us Can Change the World.

The well is dry—temporarily!  Yes, believe it or not, I’m almost wordless…and exhausted.  Put the finishing touches on the last of my 20 Florence Biennale paintings yesterday, and took them to the photographer’s.  Next week, the whole collection should be online, as well as on exhibit in Toronto.  This will be the first holiday weekend of the summer (Labor Day!), when I’ll, (hopefully) be able to take a day off and relax—ride my bike and give the dogs longer walks.  With a new dog bicycle basket attached (since the beginning of the summer, and unused), I’m anxious to enjoy the great outdoors.  Remember, not only have I been in my studio 24/7, Lev and Sage have too—super-loyal studio assistants.  A lot’s going to be happening over the next few months, and I look forward to keeping you posted more regularly.

Peek in my studio to see beginnings, middles, and endings.  This poem, however, is about more than my artwork—even if it might have caused the thoughts behind the words…

 
Beginnings are good
There’s hope, adventure, anticipation—all that interesting stuff

Some spend longer in each phase
Some are luckier in one phase than another
Some learn from experience
Some never will.

Please don’t poach/steal DocSusan’s sharings.

My post, Painting and Perseverance, seems to be the most popular one on this blog (so far). Therefore, I’m sure many of you will identify with what I’m about to discuss…

My artwork (visual and written) takes hours to develop. That means, what’s posted here doesn’t come cheaply or painlessly. My time, effort, imagination, and resourcefulness have value. And, poachers know that, even if they claim ignorance and innocence.

This popular copyrighted image has been on tour—without permission or supervision. I’m delighted that it has a wider audience in a variety of locations like this one. But, credit needs to be given where credit is due—to its originator, MOI!

 
The wonder and dedication with which I created this painting will always be mine—part of its spirit, value, and specialness (perhaps why it appeals to so many others). Lazy others’ quick mouse clicks can’t be compared in any way—and don’t transfer ownership or authority over it.

This is a gentle reminder to respect the contents of the DocSusan website and blog. Please enjoy viewing them, and send links to others so they can enjoy them (directly) too. Please don’t simply click, drag and repost or reproduce, in your own or another’s name or anonymously. You will be found out—eventually!

If you like my images or written entries, please know better than to take without asking. It’s clearly stated throughout the website and blog that permission needs to be sought to (re)use them in any form. And, if it’s granted, you should give proper credit to the source—direct links to their originator and the DocSusan website and blog. This is only FAIR and reasonable.

Also, please remember that many of my creations are available for sale. Purchase requests are gladly received at blogs@docsusan.com.

THANK YOU for your understanding, cooperation, and support!

We enjoy daily outings, but don’t manage to get to the countryside or parks often enough—perhaps why I know that city dog-walking, in Toronto, can have unexpected inconveniences…

Stroll along St.Clair’s south side, from Avenue to Yonge, and if you have canine companions you’ll likely be carrying their poop all the way. I did until a rubber container appeared outside a vacated office building/construction site, chained to a post.  Thank you to the kind person who thought to put it there!

Then there’s the stretch from St. Clair to Cottingham on the east side of Avenue, where you’ll see just one (over-stuffed) "litter-only" bin next to the Cottingham bus stop.

Take a look at all the recycling items inside…

And, on the subject of Avenue, did you ever notice some of the lamp posts there?  It’s nice that they have decorative banners attached up top, announcing the newest show in town. 

But, what about down below?  How sturdy is their infrastructure (something we’re now starting to worry about since the Minnesota bridge collapse)?  This one looks like it could take a tumble (flimsy naked iron rod revealed on the right hand side)!

On certain Toronto streets, there’s a paucity of public garbage containers.  And, even if they were there, Councillor Paula Fletcher, it seems, would prefer they remain poop-free.  In April, 07, her push for Torontonians to "poop, scoop, and carry" received significant attention.

Is it fair to focus garbage issues on relationships with (wo)man’s best friends?  The suggestion to walk poop home to your "green bin" or leave it somewhere en route, and remember to go back and retrieve it later is impractical and unrealistic.  I’ve tried it!

Toronto has other garbage problems…  Brimming blue and grey boxes, placed outside private residences the night before recycling collections, appear to invite interesting responses.  Not only is evidence of neighbors’ drinking, eating, and other (not-so) personal habits displayed for all to see, but growing numbers of career-rummagers are finding original ways to make a quick buck from them.

Then there’s "regular garbage".  How many residents keep all the rules?  Some are still seen dumping in public receptacles, even ladies from nice homes.  They’ll sneak out early in the morning or later at night, not to be noticed.  And, those who don’t wish to wait two weeks for the next recycling pick-up, stuff everything together as they did before, for the alternate week’s general trash collection. 

No matter how diligent some of us try to be, green bins are often seen to be more popular with raccoons than humans—easy to push over and open in a quiet alley.

By the way, if you want to read more about racoons, the National Post’s feature article, The Other Torontonians by Robert Fulford (from July 21,07) is entertaining.

Let’s be realistic—and honest.  Standards are set very high these days by what we think is true, but actually isn’t.  Magazine touch-ups are an obvious way to recognize how what’s raw and real gets distorted and embellished. 

Lindsay Lohan is an over-played but obvious example. First, let’s take a look at her Elle (September 2007) cover photo, which is only the latest in a series of magazine cover photos.  Then, let’s take a look at her July 24 (07) police mug shot.  Show business would have her appear one way. The law clearly shows her another way…  

How has Lohan gone from that to this or this to that?  Is it fair to blame someone/thing else? Is it even fair to blame her, or her family, friends, and entourage? Is it our business, anyway? Not really—except if she’s a danger to others, which is highly likely with an arrest for drunk driving and cocaine possession.  But, then again, DUI, is no big deal these days—or so it seems for young celebrities.

Paris Hilton, after her promises to stop partying after her DUI jail time, was soon back to her frivolities. Then there’s her off-on "best friend," Nicole Richie, also up for DUI jail time.  Apparently, a boyfriend and pregnancy are the "two major influences" that will break the "bad ‘pattern’" in her life.  Imminent motherhood, she believes, will make her more responsible.  But, shouldn’t she be more responsible first, in order to merit being a mother?  A tad confusing! Or, maybe, not.  We’ve all heard about Britney Spears, and seen how she defends her motherhood foibles.

Sadly, in a society where decent role models don’t seem to get the news coverage they deserve and appropriate consequences are sorely lacking, anything seems to go and be acceptable.  No press is bad press, especially when it can generate $$$$$.

Some people are seen to have it all, and squander what they have.  Others have very little, but are genuine—turn out better human beings, no limelight necessary.

Why would we want to emulate images/icons that are contrived and fleeting—represent actualities that only exist on a glossy page, offering glimpses of what might never be possible or sustainable?

The "too good to be true" is around us everywhere.  Sometimes, we ignore it.  Other times, we’re ready to be taken in by it.  It all depends on how vulnerable (and/or gullible) we are. Self-esteem, need, greed, and fear can cloud judgment, as does peer pressure and bullying.  So, finding ways to keep things in perspective—not relying on perception being reality—is important. Be aware:

1.  Promises are only as good as those who make them.
2.  What happens quickly can unhappen more quickly.
3.  Even it’s free now, you’ll be paying for it later (and probably a lot more).
4.  The easier it is, the less value and longevity it might have.
5.  Telling the truth might get you into trouble.  Not telling it can get others into trouble.  And, when others are in trouble, you may no longer call the shots—they will.
6.  Just because you’re sure of yourself, it doesn’t mean others are sure of you.  And, when you’re sure of others, you might not be sure of yourself.

We all want to think the best, dream of a better tomorrow, and have hope for the future.  It’s a natural survival instinct!  However, what’s more important is to know where, how, and when to draw the line—not be taken in by ourselves, as well as others.  Regardless, we never know how long we have, or how forces beyond our control might change everything in an instant.  Take, for instance, the bridge collapse in Minnesota—a sad reminder and wake-up call, like most unexpected tragedies, to stop dwelling on the superficial (and those who are impressed by it).

When I write, it’s often to deal with challenging subjects.  Sorting them out on the page gives them voice and meaning.  My writing makes me (and others) think—dares to express what we don’t always want to hear or know and acknowledge. It’s raw and real, and gets to the heart of matters that can be far from funny. This doesn’t have to be seen as a bad thing.  Honestly, it takes courage!

When we put ourselves out there and share, positive happenings can follow.  Also, the opportunity to share is valuable in itself.  Usually, what’s important to one person, is to another. And, those who had no previous knowledge of what’s been revealed may have some "aha moments."

A Today Show concert series interview with Tom Higgenson (July 24, 07)  of Plain White T’s fame, focused on the group’s breakthrough number one hit of the summer, "Hey There Delilah" (from the album "Every Second Counts").  Higgenson explained that his song-writing changed after a car accident.  He’s come to realize, "The more personal that you get in what you write about, the more people have probably gone through those same things, so they can relate to it more…"
 
When I paint, it’s often to escape from and provide relief for the challenging times focused on in my writing—whether I realize it at the time, or not.  I have a natural inclination to create something that’s pleasing to the eye and change the mood (mine and others’)—picture things more optimistically.  Whimsy, bright colors, and pleasing subject matter drive me to new places, making others smile along the way.

Listening to "Hey There Delilah," I realize how words put to music can take the heaviness out of what’s being said, while still getting intended messages across.  I’m less able to do this because of the way I divide my words and visuals.  The words that I write are presented separately from the paintings that I paint (for now), offering two distinct impressions—and moods.  Though I, myself, realize I’m not just sad or happy at any one time, readers and audiences taking in one or other modality, by itself, might not recognize this. 

Life is a constant balancing act for most of us, something that makes finding and developing a variety of outlets for creative self-expression (that work separately or together) a natural instinct and survival mechanism.

A painting doesn’t work out every time.  So, how do you know when to give up and when to keep persevering?  What keeps me going?  And, what have I learned through trial and error?

My experiences have been to:

1.  Try, try and try again.  If you’ve tried your hardest, and still feel stuck, or are not getting anything else done, move on.  I usually put a two-week limit on such a process!

2.  Do things in small chunks.  Work on it.  Leave it.  Go back to it.  Bit by bit, changes happen, and hard work and patience pay off.  Some of my better pieces are an outcome of such a methodology!

3.  Never throw anything out right away.  If you don’t like how something’s going, leave it for a while.  Over time you may feel differently, and be prepared to go back to it—with fresh eyes and hand.  At a later stage, if you still see things the same way, you’ll be more justified in moving on.  Nevertheless, someone else might enjoy it, just the way it is!  There’s a gut instinct that’s hard to deny.  When I know something’s "wrong" for me, it usually is—even if it is not for somebody else…

4.  Take a break from certain subject-matter, then go back to it fresh.  For instance, if you’re painting onions, and they haven’t been turning out how you were hoping, take an onion break.  When you come back to them, don’t think of the piece you did before.  Start fresh, and you might be surprised with the results.  By doing this, I realize, I’ve guided myself, quite naturally, away from previous pit-falls, putting more effort into areas that were problematic before and learning and growing on the way.

5.  Recognize that not every piece can be a great one.  A rhythm and energy emerges over which we have no control.  It effects creative powers, technical skills, and imagination, alike.  Regardless of what others think and favor, we, ourselves, know when we’re "on," and when we’re not.  I’ve had to accept that I need to go a little easier on myself—that painting has a for-ever learning curve…

6.  Step back and see the story that artwork may tell over time.  When I’m down on myself—usually for being technically incapable, I look at my journey, and recognize what I couldn’t do before, wondering how I got from there to here.  Practice, practice, practice, and not giving up, despite the time and effort required, usually, are what get me to the place I’d like to be (even if others don’t recognize it—or see the marketability of my work).

7.  Remember there’s art and there’s ?art.  Many galleries and dealers are only interested in your work’s $$$$$ value, and will tell you that quite bluntly.  However, true artists, don’t just paint with sales in mind.  Their non-scientific brains won’t let them work that way.  I have come to hope that what I produce will find or create a market.  It’s what I know and can do, authentically, and anything else would be forced—probably not work out as others might like (at least for me).  

8.  Accept that art is more of a "business" than ever.  To "get there," it seems, you don’t just need to know how to paint, you need to be computer/internet/ marketing savvy, as well.  Some artists who appear to be more "successful" have teams of assistants behind them—able to put them out there/turn them into "brands"  with multi-media clout.  I do what I can as a one-woman operation, and ache when spending less time painting and more time on all the other "administrivia  necessities"…

9.  Marvel when a painting works, or surpasses expectations.  Being able to paint is a gift that not every one is able to develop to its full potential.  Be thankful for managing to fit in the time and application to be able to take the calling/talent as far as it can go.  I am truly grateful each time a piece comes anywhere close to meeting my unreasonable "standards."  Sometimes, I don’t realize it at the time, but others (positive) feedback often helps keep me going…

10. Know that we all have limits and options.  Not everyone makes the choice to try and paint/values the vocation.  Some shudder at even the thought of holding a brush.  Others announce, quite categorically, that an experience in elementary school has put them off for life.  It’s not good to always be making comparisons with other people.  But, sometimes, I realize that showing the courage to pursue painting is something many others shy away from—even before experiencing all the struggles entailed.  I know I need to pat myself on the back, more often, simply for not giving up!

Last week, I was surprised and thrilled to receive an e-mail from British publishing house, Jessica Kingsely, the publisher of my book, Therapeutic Art Directives and Resources:  Activities and Initiatives for Individuals and Groups.  This book came out in 2000, but appears to still be going strong.  Sigma Press, I was informed, are going to publish a Korean version shortly!

Curious about art therapy in Korea, I did a quick Google search.  In her May 07 bulletin, Paula Howie, President of the American Art Therapy Association, mentions having been keynote speaker for the Korean Academy of Clinical Art Therapy.  There are now thousands of art therapists in South Korea!  I also found a feature article in AsiaNews.it.

It’s easy for an opposition party to make promises.  Being able to carry them through, if they’re reelected, is what will really count.

A July 5, 07 media release was headed, "Liberals Would Restore Funding to Promote Canadian Culture Abroad."  This round-table, headed up by Stéphane Dion (Liberal opposition leader) was a great initiative, and suggests hope for the future. That said, it might have been nice to see a more representative sampling of creative types quoted—including some who weren’t invited to participate and aren’t already famous.

While Canadian Liberals, it appears, are anxious to boost funding for the arts, Canadian Conservatives are preoccupied with their endorsement of Nascar…

CBC television’s week-nightly show, Today on Politics’ last episode before the summer break included much joviality about the Nascar backing.  So, afterwards, I perused Prime Minister, Steven Harper’s, governmental website to see what his most striking personal interests seem to be.  Cat foster care and hockey, apparently.  His wife, Laureen, is described as enjoying riding her new motorcycle in her "spare time"…

Did you know that, according to the Toronto Star newspaper, Dashan Mark Roswell is China’s best-known performer?  A weekly Star feature asks Canadian expatriates what it is like to live abroad, and invites readers to send in their own stories.  

Roswell was asked if he still sees the world through Canadian eyes.  He responded that he’s not sure  what "Canadian eyes" are. He admits that there are parts of his personality that have been shaped by China.  But, he is still as Canadian as he’s ever been. He thinks that one of Canada’s greatest assets is its lack of a strong national identity.  He stated, "I have no clearer idea of what it means to be a Canadian than anyone else…"

Just wondering:  Had Roswell remained in Canada to work, would his talents have developed in the same way?  Could he have had such a successful and original career in the arts here? 

I’d been feeling very tired lately—more so than usual.  What had I been doing differently?  Drinking coffee. 

I’d let the occasional small soya latte turn into a daily large—something I’d allowed to have happen before, with similar results.  For a few weeks, I’d feel great.  Then, suddenly, exhaustion overwhelmed.  It’d be hard to sleep and hard to get up. 

Right now, I’m a week coffee-free, and more awake. Nevertheless, I miss the habit—and have been pondering why…

It’s not so much about the coffee, itself.  All the rituals surrounding a "coffee-tude" are even harder to give up.

Usually, whatever one person is feeling or talking about, others are too.  The morning after writing my "coffee poem," (pasted in below), I had the TV on as background, while painting.  A rerun of Rachel Ray’s Valentine’s Day show caught my attention.  Her guest, Dr. Timothy Brantley, the author of a book called, The Cure:  Heal Your Body. Save Your Life, was giving a more scientific explanation of "coffee habit consequences."
 
It was clear that what was happening to me wasn’t in my imagination, and the treatment plan I’d put myself on (to abstain, for now) was the right one.  Just a week in, I feel a lot less groggy!
 
Like with anything else, it’s important to remember that tolerances and responses can vary—and moderation is always good.  What works (or doesn’t) for me, might be different for you.  Also, don’t forget, a lot of coffee shops have become cozy daily hang-outs for many—kind of like pubs used to be in Britain.  They’re not popular just because of their coffee…