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.”

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.’

The very different Daedalus and Icarus (ca. 1869) by Frederick, Lord Leighton.

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.

And Icarus appears in the virtual world of Second Life, here in the Second Louvre.

In fact, there’s an entire website dedicated to images of Icarus in art.

And of course, there’s always Iron Maiden.

*****
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!

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 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!

By the way, here’s Bob in real life.

He’s a handsome fellow, isn’t he?

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.

St. Judoc
Linoleum block print, 2010
Open edition

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.”

Indeed.

Wikipedia sums up her life wonderfully:

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.

The art is by Giselle Potter, who is the author and illustrator of a wonderful book about the virgin saints, Lucy’s Eyes and Margaret’s Dragon.

And here is an excellent collection of poems and essays about Christina, from the website of artist Cynthia Large.

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

Banks and banks of sweet peas on an early portion of the trail.

Not many hikers; lots of bikers and joggers.

A spiderweb catches the light and the dew.

A bee gathers nectar at the summit.

After visits to my old Peet’s store on Lakeshore Ave and to Walden Pond Books, my favorite bookstore in Oakland, and to Creative Framing and Gallery, where I’ll have a show this summer, I decided to visit the newly-renovated Oakland Museum of California.

Wow.

Just wow.

The Oakland Museum of California (or OMCA, which is much easier to type) was built in the 1960s, a classic cast-concrete box of that era. True, it included hanging gardens and intriguing open spaces, and was often mentioned in architectural literature as a perfect example of its style, but the galleries were previously dark, dreary, and often dead-ended into strange little cul-de-sacs. The exhibits also showed their age, the labels incomplete or damaged, the lighting inadequate, the taxidermed animals a bit tattered. (The museum has three sections: art, history, and natural history.)

Now? It is gorgeous. It is amazing. It is worth spending an entire day visiting. And that’s even without the natural history section, which is still under renovation.

I visited the California History section first, and was met with a stunning variety of Native American baskets, tools, and gear, all clearly labeled, explained, and set in context. This segued into a section on the arrival of the Spanish conquistadors and missionaries, and then into life on the Spanish missions. Each transition made sense, and what used to be those dark cul-de-sacs now contain small interesting asides, such as how artists traveling with the European explorers recorded the people and animals they encountered. Thus the museum leads you through California’s history, with good content, excellent physical materials, and spaces to stop and learn more on one’s own –with real books (and not just monographs from OMCA), and comfortable chairs (appropriate to the period, no less, so the 60s section features bean bag chairs, while the turn of the century has mission-style furnishings): so much more, and more appropriate, than the usual museum computer kiosk that’s merely a nod towards depth.

I was so excited! This was great! And then I was so stressed: I only had two hours on the meter, and time was running out. On to the art galleries.

And again: wow wow wow wow.

They are light. Airy. Open. No more dingy little dead-end alleys, but clear paths between styles, and eras, and subject matter. You can see connections between artists, and their work, and their predecessors, and their successors. And one of the things I liked best was that the extensive and excellent OMCA collection of photography not only had its own area in the galleries, but was also interspersed with other art, again giving context and depth to the experience. And again, reading areas, with books, and comfy chairs, and good light.

So go, go soon, go often. I (almost) wish I still lived in Oakland, just so I could be a regular visitor. You will not be disappointed.

Hip hip hooray, Oakland Museum of California! Well done!

But I think I’m still experiencing the mellowing effects of our day at the spa. This morning we slept in, I made coffee, we played with the cats and worked on our various web presences. I hauled a ‘free!’ table out to the side of the road, we played with the cats some more, and by the time I hit the hiking trail it was 11am. So like Noel Coward’s mad dogs and Englishmen, I was out in the mid-day sun.

Yes, it’s been ages since I’ve gone hiking, thanks to too much art (if there is any such thing). So I went to my favorite go-to park, Wilder Ranch State Park.

The sun was bright, but there was a good sea breeze to keep things from getting too hot. The hills are definitely in their ‘tawny’ phase, but there were still abundant wildflowers.

And bees.

I started out on the Wilder Ridge Loop, climbing steeply. Oak trees by the side of the trail offered welcome shade. I love their twisted branches.

After a couple of miles, I turned on to the Twin Oaks Trail. My plan, since it was hot and I had forgotten my sunscreen, was to head for the shadier trails. This worked as far as sunburn is concerned, but what I didn’t think about was the shade is in the canyons, meaning my hike had a whole lot of ups-and-downs to it. Oh well, it’s good exercise.

After about a mile on Twin Oaks, I joined the Eucalyptus Loop Trail. There really aren’t any eucalyptus on this trail, except for a sentinel line of about 10 old trees at the trail’s head. Instead, it is a mix of oak, chaparral, and redwoods, with a couple of streams thrown in for good measure. Here some spiderwebs catch the sun.

Every so often, the woods would open out into another meadow.

The Eucalyptus Trail led to the Old Cabin Trail, and thence to the Wild Boar Trail. No boars were in sight, but if there had been I bet they’d have liked these berries.

And soon, my first glance of the ocean. This is looking out over the Monterey Bay, with Big Sur and Monterey in the distance. Not too shabby a view, eh?

It was all downhill from there, down to the historic buildings, goats, sheep, chickens, and gardens at the ranch that gives the park its name.

I am a happy hiker!

Incidentally, there is an annual 4th of July celebration at the historical buildings of Wilder State Ranch every year, where they celebrate the 4th of 100 hundred years ago; this year, it will be 1910. Freshly-made ice cream, strawberry shortcake, hayrides, and good old-fashioned fun. Come out, support your state parks, and celebrate!

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.

Next year, you should all come.