Drithelm was just your average Northumbrian guy, until he died and came back to life. Thereafter, he split his earthly goods into three lots, one for his family, one for his children, and one for the poor, and became a monk. He shared his vision of the afterlife –its rewards and its punishments– only to those he thought would heed its message.
He spent most of his time in prayer and mortification, often combining the two by praying in the frozen river nearby. To quote the Venerable Bede:
And as that place lay on the bank of the river, he was wont often to go into the same to do penance in his body, and many times to dip quite under the water, and to continue saying psalms or prayers in the same as long as he could endure it, standing still sometimes up to the middle… And when in the winter the half-broken pieces of ice were swimming about him, which he had himself broken, to make room to stand or dip himself in the river, those who beheld it would say, “It is wonderful, brother Drithelm, (for so he was called,) that you are able to endure such violent cold;” he simply answered, for he was a man of much simplicity and indifferent wit, “I have seen greater cold.” And when they said, “It is strange that you will endure such austerity;” he replied, “I have seen more austerity.”
Here’s another print from the etching class I took this spring at Cabrillo College. It’s called Icarus Over the Boardwalk.
Icarus was the son of Daedalus, a gifted Athenian craftsman and inventor of the labyrinth used to imprison the Minotaur. Daedalus himself was imprisoned on Crete by King Minos after Daedalus gave Ariadne a clew (ball of thread) which she in turn gave to Theseus, who then defeated the Minotaur. Ever the visionary and inventor, Daedalus fashioned wings from wax and feathers, with which he planned to fly, with Icarus, from Crete to freedom.
The one catch was that the wings were held together with wax; fly too close to the sun, and the wax would melt, and whoever so erred would plummet into the sea. Daedalus took care to warn his son.
Icarus, thrilled with the freedom and joy of flight, forgot all about his father’s warning, and soared up close into the sun’s rays. The heat melted the wax, the feathers loosened, and Icarus, as warned, fell to his death.
On some nights, if the wind is right, I can hear the trundle of rollercoaster wheels and screams of terror and delight from the Santa Cruz boardwalk. It’s a fantasy world in its own right, and in the evening, when its carnival lights come on, attracts lost souls of all sorts to its orbit. Why not Icarus?
This print is an etching with aquatint. It was actually a test plate, with each of the rays coming from Icarus etched for a different length of time. This version was burnished to soften the edges between the timed rays, and has a second color selectively applied.
The myth of Icarus has been a popular theme for artists for ages. Here is Landscape with the Fall of Icarus (ca. 1558) by Pieter Bruegel the Elder. Icarus is on the lower right, his legs splashing in the water, evoking the Flemish proverb: ‘No plough stops because a man dies.’
And the very excellent print, Icarus by Hendrik Goltzius.
I was not familiar with this print, but my Icarus seems to be a combination of this one and the small figure of Daedalus flying in the background.
*****
You can see Icarus Over the Boardwalk, and a whole lot of other prints and paintings, at my current solo show at Creative Framing & Gallery in Oakland.
The reception is at the end of the show, Saturday, August 28, 6:00 - 8:00pm. Please join us if you can!
On Monday I wended my way north to Oakland, my old stomping grounds, to hang a new show at Creative Framing & Gallery. I’ve known owner Heather Piazza for a few years now, first through the Frank Bette Center in Alameda, and then through Four Oceans Press, an independent print and publishing company. So I was delighted when she asked if I’d like to have a solo show at her shop. Yes, please!
Here are the boxes of prints, ready to be unloaded and hung.
Hanging is not always easy. Heather says “Darn painting; why won’t it hang straight?”
I thought I had brought too much work, but there are lots of interesting nooks and walls, and I just barely had enough. Here’s one corner:
And a space near the front window. I can count nine brand new pieces in this photo, and overall, there are 13 new prints and paintings. I’ve been busy!
I am obviously very pleased with the way the show looks.
Tales of a Traveler
August 2 - August 29, 2010
Creative Framing & Gallery
5015 Woodminster Lane, Oakland CA [see map]
Reception: Saturday, August 28, 2010
6:00 - 8:00pm
Please come to the reception! We’d be delighted to see you.
This past spring I took a most excellent etching and aquatint class at Cabrillo College. Now I’m finally getting around to scanning and framing some of the work I did. Here’s the first scan:
This is “Bob”, with our feline friend Bob posing on his favorite perch in the back yard. It is an etching with chine collé, a process where a decorative paper is embossed into the base paper during the printing process.
I learned a lot during the class, both technical information and new ways of looking at printmaking. I jumped into making prints feet first after returning from the Camino de Santiago, picking up some linoleum and cutting tools and just going at it, trial and error. I learned a lot that way too, and have fallen in love with the whole idea of multiples. The main difference I have found between my way of printing block prints (inking with a brayer and using a small press) and making etchings and aquatints is the freedom and innovation of playing on the press itself. That is, once the print has been etched, there is SO MUCH you can do to it after that. You can just do a basic print, or wipe the ink creatively, or apply the ink to specific areas, or do chine collé, or, or, or… it seems like an infinite realm of possibilities. (And yes, I’m planning on applying some of these ideas to block prints, too.)
This is one of the prints I’ll be showing at Creative Framing and Gallery in Oakland during the month of August. I’ll be hanging the show on Monday, and the reception will be at the end of its run, on August 28. Come by and visit!
Judoc, also known as Josse, was the son of a Breton king. There doesn’t seem to be much of a record of his life or doings, except for his taking a pilgrimage to Rome at some point in his life, after which he renounced power and fortune and retired to become a hermit. There is mention of locals who took to worrying him for miracle cures, which I suspect inspired him to move further from the madding crowd.
His biggest claim to fame comes after his death. It seems that in the middle ages people just couldn’t leave the dead alone, moving their bodies from place to place, or just dropping in for a visit. Judoc’s brethren discovered that his body remained incorrupt after death, and that his hair, beard, and nails continued to grow — to the extent that his successors in the hermitage had to cut them from time to time, lest they fill his crypt and flow out into the church.
Saint Christina the Astonishing, also known as Saint Christina Mirabilis, died at a young age, and then, astonishingly, came to life again in the midst of her funeral mass.
She immediately floated to the ceiling of the cathedral, to escape the stench of sin that emanated from the congregation.
She was not finished with her astonishing behavior. She told the congregation that angels had brought her to both purgatory and hell, where she recognized many acquaintances. She was then brought to heaven, where she was “regarded with a favorable eye” (according to her biographers) and given the choice to remain there, or to return to earth and, by leading a life of suffering and example, relieve the torments of those in purgatory and gather new souls for heaven. She chose to return, and is quoted as saying about her planned life and penances, “It will be so extraordinary that nothing like it has ever been seen.”
As chronicled by her contemporaries, she threw herself into burning furnaces and there suffered great tortures for extended time uttering frightful cries, yet coming forth with no sign of burning upon her. In winter she would plunge into the frozen Meuse River for hours and days and weeks at a time all the while praying to God and imploring His Mercy. She would hop around on one leg exclaiming “Look upon me o Lord, for I am like unto a flamingo.” She allowed herself to be carried by the currents down river to the mill where the wheel “whirled her round in a manner frightful to behold” yet she had no dislocations or broken bones. She was chased by dogs that bit and tore her flesh. She ran from them into thickets of thorns, and though covered in blood she would return with no wound or scar.
I’m not the only person intrigued by Christina the Astonishing. Here is Nick Cave singing about her.
In his book, Making Saints: How the Catholic Church Determines Who Becomes a Saint, Who Doesn’t and Why, author Kenneth Woodward notes that “A saint is always someone through whom we catch a glimpse of what God is like.”
I like that god may be like unto a flamingo.
Christina the Astonishing
Linoleum block print, 2010
Open edition
I time-traveled this past weekend, back to 16th century Scotland, as I participated in my first-ever Renaissance Festival as a vendor (in fact my first-ever festival of any sort).
In some ways it was a good fit: a lot of my prints relate to that period. I displayed prints from the Camino de Santiago, my set of fairy tale prints, and prints from my new series on saints. So the subject matter was dead-on.
In other ways, it was not such a good fit. My displays are too modern, even with fabric draping the metal display grids. And my observation is that the vendors who did best were those who serve to self-perpetuate a Renaissance festival, such as swordsmiths and people selling period costumes.
Most importantly, it was a great learning experience. Things I learned include how much work it takes to travel and set up a tent (a LOT, even if it’s local and I can go home at night); how much gear and art I can fit in my van, and how to pack it most effectively; how to set up my display on uneven ground (bungee cords to the rescue). I already have a different display idea in my head, should I do this festival again. And by getting ready for this event, I also got ready for the two or three I have scheduled for the fall: clear bags, mats, and backing boards are all on hand in good supply; I can now accept credit cards; I have plenty of prints framed and ready to hang. Now I can concentrate on new images I have queued in my head.
So on to Open Studios! And in the meantime, here are some images of this weekend’s Scottish Renaissance Festival.
The archery field was right next to my tent. This man knows what he is doing; many did not. Be very afraid.
Ladies go shopping, wine goblets in hand.
The best dragon costume, ever.
A juggler entertains the crowd.
Ladies strolling by.
A lady and her owl.
A pony walks past vendors’ tents.
Mary, Queen of Scots passes by with her retinue.
The Loch Lomond highland games were going on at the same time. Here are photos of burly men in kilts, throwing heavy objects.
Ta-da! Another show of my prints is now officially up and running. Composed primarily of my Fairy Tales series, this show is at the Santa Cruz County Government Center, on Ocean Street here in beautiful sunny Santa Cruz. The show will remain up through August 19.
This time I am not alone; I share the building’s hallways with four other artists. And I must say, it’s a really interesting mix of really good work. Besides my linoleum block prints, there is metalwork and jewelry by Carol Webb; an excellent series of paintings about voting by Myra Eastman; moody pastels of houses and seacoast by Jan McGeorge; and lively abstract paintings by Dana Lee Weigand.
Here’s my wall of prints:
I also put up my three prints about violence against women by the entrance to the building:
Here’s the official listing!
And a general view of the main hallway:
On a personal note, I am quite fond of the County Government Center, because it’s where Sarah-Hope and I got married two years ago. Everyone we encountered was incredibly helpful, enthusiastic, supportive and generous. So I am quite pleased to have my work there, and hope I can give some pleasure back to the people who helped make our wedding day special.
First Friday
The exhibit at the Government Center is part of First Friday Santa Cruz. So please come join us on Friday, June 4, 5 - 8pm, at 701 Ocean Street. Meet the artists, enjoy the art, and sip some wine. It will be fun!
Anderson wrote his fairy tales in the 1830s, during the height of the industrial revolution. It was a time of great contrasts between rich and poor, owners and workers. The Little Match Girl reflects this era, with the poor little girl trying to sell matches to indifferent passers-by on a freezing new year’s eve. Unable to sell her matches, unable to return home from fear of her father’s anger, she huddles in an alley and lights matches to keep warm. Magically, images of a happy holiday appear in the matches’ circle of light, ending with the little girl being carried away in her grandmother’s arms.
In my version, the girl is looking at one of the holiday scenes that appear. She sees holiday revelers: the haves, the robber barons, the investment bankers, the top 1% who control 42% of this country’s financial wealth. They enjoy themselves heartily, oblivious to the plight of the poor.
And the girl? Why can’t she go home? Perhaps her parents, foolishly, believed they could afford a balloon mortgage, and have been forced into the street when their house was foreclosed. Perhaps her parents were laid off, and since health care is tied to employment in this country –still, even with some health care reforms– all their money goes to paying for medicine for a sick family member. She fears her father’s anger; perhaps she and her mother would be better off in a shelter for battered women, but state budget cuts have closed their doors.
Did I say this was a story about the industrial revolution? Unfortunately, it’s a tale for our time, as well.
The Little Match Girl
Linoleum block print with hand coloring
Edition of 22
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There is a lot of interesting contemporary work based on this story. Here are some links for you.
• An interesting interview with David Lang, composer of the Little Match Girl Passion, winner of the 2008 Pulitzer Prize for music. He talks about the story and its imlicaitons and his reaction to it. Well worth the visit.
I participated in a mini-marathon of printing as I got ready for my current show at the Simpkins Swim Center, and fell behind in posting my new prints. So here’s another: Rumpelstiltskin.
You are probably familiar with the story: A poor miller goes to see the king on some random business, but, in the worst stage-parent manner, tells the courtiers that his beautiful young daughter can spin straw into gold. Of course he is whisked to the head of the line, for what ruler can resist such a story? The king has the daughter brought to court and installs her in a room packed full of straw, with the instruction that she must spin it all into gold before daybreak, or she will be put to death. The poor young girl is distraught, until a strange little man appears in the straw-filled room and promises to take on the task for a reward. This happens for three nights running, with the upshot being that the king wants to marry the girl –the phrase cash cow comes rather rudely to mind– and the prize demanded by the little man escalates to her first-born.
I’ve chosen to illustrate the poor girl locked into the chamber with bale upon bale of straw — a veritable cathedral of straw. (I did, in fact, refer to photos of the Romanesque abbey church of Saint-Philibert in Tournus, France, when I drew the columns and arches.) She is overwhelmed by the volume of straw, and in despair.
I suspect most of us can relate to the feeling of too much to do, being dwarfed by a gigantic to-do list, without the faintest idea of how to get it all done. At least we don’t have a death threat behind it!
