From the Pacific Northwest – Part VIII

Musings in Autumn: Nevada Barr

“Anna drove with the window rolled down, breathing in the essence of autumn: an exhalation of a forest readying itself for sleep, a smell so redolent with nostalgia a pleasant ache warmed her bones and she was nagged with the sense of a loss she could not remember.”

Canadian Art – Part I: Stuart Slind

Artist Statement: “For me to be able to paint an image, I need to be able to connect it with my reflective intuitive life. If it has no personal meaning, I can not paint it. My painting is a personal, intimate practice by which I try to make real the more ephemeral emotional aspects of myself. In particular, that tangled area of hopes, faith and meaning.”

Below – “The Seine”; “Mt. Robson”; “Red Braid”; “Autumn Road”; “Cascade”; “Lakeside.”






A Poem for Today

By Carl Sandburg

Desolate and lone
All night long on the lake
Where fog trails and mist creeps,
The whistle of a boat
Calls and cries unendingly,
Like some lost child
In tears and trouble
Hunting the harbor’s breast
And the harbor’s eyes.

Musings in Autumn: Bill Bryson

“It was one of those sumptuous days when the world is full of autumn muskiness and tangy, crisp perfection: vivid blue sky, deep green fields, leaves in a thousand luminous hues. It is a truly astounding sight when every tree in a landscape becomes individual, when each winding back highway and plump hillside is suddenly and infinitely splashed with every sharp shade that nature can bestow – flaming scarlet, lustrous gold, throbbing vermilion, fiery orange.”

A Second Poem for Today

“I Know It Will Be Quiet When You Come”
By Joseph Ausländer

I know it will be quiet when you come:
No wind; the water breathing steadily;
A light like ghost of silver on the sea;
And the surf dreamily fingering his drum.
Twilight will drift in large and leave me numb
With nearness to the last tranquility;
And then the slow and languorous tyranny
Of orange moon, pale night, and cricket hum.

And suddenly there will be twist of tide,
A rustling as of thin silk on the sand,
The tremor of a presence at my side,
The tremble of a hand upon my hand:
And pulses sharp with pain, and fires fanned,
And words that stumble into stars and hide.

Canadian Art – Part II: Sabina Hill

In the words of one writer, “Canadian designer, Sabina Hill, in collaboration with aboriginal artists, creates original custom furniture art and installations which merges the rich mythology of West Coast native culture with a contemporary design aesthetic. Sabina skillfully integrates Native motifs into her work creating a unique, contemporary expression, one that evokes the natural beauty of the Pacific Northwest and celebrates the convergence of two distinct design cultures.
Her work tells a visual story rooted in First Nations iconography, presented through contemporary design, materials and an aesthetic informed by her artistic and architectural education. Dr. George MacDonald, former president of the Bill Reid Foundation and current director of Simon Fraser University’s Bill Reid Gallery of Northwest Coast Art, hails her work as “demonstrating the next phase in the development of North West Coast art and design.” Born in Vancouver, BC, Sabina is inspired by First Nations imagery, which is deeply-rooted in Pacific Northwest regional culture. Sabina graduated in architecture from the University of British Columbia and in environmental studies from the University of Manitoba. After founding her studio in 1993, she began to connect professionally with the First Peoples in 2000, as she sought to create works with a distinctly regional design esthetic–envisioning a collaboration with those who have been bringing the spirit of the land to surface through art for thousands of years.”

Below – “Salmon Wall Panel”; “Eagle Wall Panel” (with Andy Everson); “Swim Wall Panel” (with Mark Preston); “Totem Illuminate – Eagle & Bear” (with Mark Preston); “Raven Candle Surround, Tall”; “Eagle Candle Surround, Short.”






Sitting Bull (c. 1831-1890) was a Hunkpapa Lakota holy man.

Some quotes from Sitting Bull:

“For us, warriors are not what you think of as warriors. The warrior is not someone who fights, because no one has the right to take another life. The warrior, for us, is one who sacrifices himself for the good of others. His task is to take care of the elderly, the defenseless, those who can not provide for themselves, and above all, the children, the future of humanity.”
“Hear me, people: We have now to deal with another race- small and feeble when our fathers first met them, but now great and overbearing. Strangely enough they have a mind to till the soil and the love of possession is a disease with them. These people have made many rules that the rich may break but the poor may not. They take their tithes from the poor and weak to support the rich and those who rule.”
“The white man knows how to make everything, but he does not know how to distribute it.”
“Inside of me there are two dogs. One is mean and evil and the other is good and they fight each other all the time. When asked which one wins I answer, the one I feed the most.”
“It does not take many words to tell the truth.”
“If the Great Spirit had desired me to be a white man he would have made me so in the first place. He put in your heart certain wishes and plans, and in my heart he put other and different desires. It is not necessary for eagles to be crows.”
“It is through this mysterious power that we too have our being, and we therefore yield to our neighbors, even to our animal neighbors, the same right as ourselves to inhabit this vast land.”

Musings in Autumn: Hunter S. Thompson

“It is Autumn, as you know, and things are beginning to die. It is so wonderful to be out in the crisp Fall air, with the leaves turning gold and the grass turning brown and the warmth going out of the sunlight and big hot fires in the fireplace while Buddy rakes the lawn. We see a lot of bombs on TV because we watch it a lot more, now that the days get shorter and shorter, and darkness comes so soon, and all the flowers die from freezing.”

By Robert Frost

Out through the fields and the woods
And over the walls I have wended;
I have climbed the hills of view
And looked at the world, and descended;
I have come by the highway home,
And lo, it is ended.

The leaves are all dead on the ground,
Save those that the oak is keeping
To ravel them one by one
And let them go scraping and creeping
Out over the crusted snow,
When others are sleeping.

And the dead leaves lie huddled and still,
No longer blown hither and thither;
The last lone aster is gone;
The flowers of the witch-hazel wither;
The heart is still aching to seek,
But the feet question ‘Whither?’

Ah, when to the heart of man
Was it ever less than a treason
To go with the drift of things,
To yield with a grace to reason,
And bow and accept the end
Of a love or a season?”

Below – Andrew Wyeth: “Pennsylvania Landscape”

American Art: Nick Blosser

Artist Statement: “The subjects for [much of work] are places within the general area where I live in northeast Tennessee. . .I hope in these pieces I have extracted some of the particulars of the place each painting is based on, but I have also tried to not allow specific visual information to crowd out the internal response I had to each place. The drawings I use as sources for paintings are not so much about fact finding in process, as they are immediate responses to the personality of the chosen site. I then work toward getting something in the finished paintings that blends what I see with how I feel or associate with what I believe.”

Below – “Close Pine, Distant Pine”; “Woods in February”; “Long Shadows #2”; “Dark Limb”; “Landscape with Dandelions.”





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