I had a fancy schmancy quiz all figured out but it was the first time using the app and it conflicts with some ghost in the machine and was making the entire post invisible (told you it was a ghost issue).
So here’s the quiz in just plain text until I figure it out. Give your answers in the comments section, ok?
1. Match the ‘Sometimes’ with the ‘I Should Have’.
Sometimes it’s because the other person doesn’t have time to talk and I don’t realize it.
Sometimes it’s because I think who I am talking to wants me to keep talking but they actually want to say something.
Sometimes it’s because I am so excited about the topic I don’t get the message that those I am talking to aren’t.
Sometimes it’s because I’ve told the story or given the coaching lecture to the same people before and don’t realize it.
Sometimes it’s because I want something resolved RIGHT NOW but the other person isn’t ready to have it resolved yet.
Sometimes it’s because I am just full of myself.
a. I should have seen their eyes glaze over.
b. I should have seen them looking at their watch or phone a number of times.
c. I should have seen them give a big sigh.
d. I should have heard them talking among themselves.
e. I should have seen them try to get a word in edgewise.
f. I Should have done all of the above.
2. Match the word on the left with its language on the right.
IGAV
RAZ
CHAT
PAGBUBUTAS
KEDELIG
TRÅKIG
LANGWEILIG
скучный
TYLSÄ
NUDNÝ
WOTOPETSA
ZERIKARLI
a. Czech
b. Estonian
c. Finnish
d. German
e. Nyanja
f. Uzbek
g. Haitian
h. Swedish
i. Russian
j. Galician
k. Tagalog
l. Danish
3. All these words have the same meaning in English. What is it?
Jane was eating lunch in the little bookshop bistro on Main Street. She sat reserved and composed, her hair pulled back with a nondescript band into a well mannered ponytail. She ate her soup silently, not moving her body much and never looking up. She didn’t look sad, just self-contained. Her clothing was baggy, not revealing too much of her figure and the colors were muted.
As she finished her meal a big, loud, wildly dressed man came in the bistro. He had on leather pants, fur vest, denim shirt, silver bolo tie, gold earrings, bright orange and purple cowboy boots and a big black cowboy hat. He had a big beard, his hair, part black part purple, was in a braid and he had 3 big rings on his left hand. He walked over to the woman eating her soup leaned over her and gave her a big kiss on the mouth.
She smiled and said, “Are you done shopping now?”
He said, “Yep, and you’ll be proud, I only got 3 shirts, 2 pairs of pants and one hat. Oh, and I got a new pan and some dishtowels and a plant and a new trashcan for the kitchen. But that’s all I got!”
She laughed and said, “Ok, I’m done. Let’s go.”
He scowled, “what a second, I want to find that cookbook I read about online.” He walked towards the back of the store.
She turned her head and saw me watching their interaction. She smile, rolled her eyes and said to me, “Whatchya gonna do, right? He wants what he wants and if he’s happy then our house is happy.”
He came back quickly with two books and exclaimed, “Look, I found the recipe book but also that book, ‘How to Organize Your Life and Closet’ I’ve been wanting.”
Jane got up, went up to the register and paid for the lunch and books. She said, “Ok, Willy, now we have to go home. The playoffs are on in 2 hours and I need a nap before that.” She went out the door, holding it for Willy.
I had a completely different quote in mind this morning when I went into my studio to draw. But I saw a scary looking eye in the napkin pattern and drew the eye. That led to a fish, which led to a number of other fish, which led to them looking like they were about to attack something or someone which led to a woman on a beach covered in wounds and scars.
I didn’t intend it, much like the many things we say and do that hurt people. There is a scene in this past year’s Oscar winner for best picture, Birdman, that illustrates this perfectly. The main character is freaking out about the possibility of being humiliated by the press and the public if the play he is directing and acting in (as well as having written) turns out to suck. He asks another character, a woman he is sleeping with, “Aren’t you worried about being humiliated?” She says in response, “It won’t be the first time I’ve been humiliated.” He says, “Of course it won’t be.”
She stares at him and says, “You’re an asshole.” She walks out and he is left completely baffled, having no idea why she said that or why she is mad.
He is baffled because he had no intention to hurt her feelings. But her feelings were hurt nonetheless. It was an imagined hurt that led to a real wound. He later realizes that what he said hurt her feelings and apologizes to her. He doesn’t apologize because he intended to hurt her and he is now sorry. He apologizes because he realizes it doesn’t matter if he intended to hurt her. What matters is the effect of his words hurt her.
Dangers all Around
There are dangers in life, real scary dangers. Some we can see coming, like the severe weather we have here in Oklahoma. Some we don’t ever see coming, like an earthquake in California. And some we understand as part of the risk of everyday life, like driving a huge hunk of metal down a road, flying in a giant tube in the sky, or being in a relationship with another human. Those are real and wounds from them going wrong can be real wounds.
There is enough danger in reality, no help comes from adding imagined danger to the things that wound you.
This and all other napkins are for sale as originals or as prints. Coming soon The Napkin will be a secure ecommerce site and you will be able to buy direct. In the meanwhile, please email me at marty@napkindad.com to inquire.
As pretty much all the Napkin Kin know, I am a runner and a coach of runners. It’s actually my part-time paid job. I coordinate the 10k and 15k training program called Pathways for Fleet Feet, a specialty running and fitness store here in Tulsa. I’ve been doing it for 5 years now. We have 4 sessions a year, ranging from 8 to 12 weeks. We have had up to 170 participants split between 3 locations. They run 3 days a week with another run or cross training they do on their own. I typically run with them 5 days a week between the two main locations.
Pathways, fall 2014
To coach all these runners I have over 20 volunteer coaches under me. All the coaches have been participants in a Fleet Feet program, most of them having gone through Pathways at least once. We are a tight knit group, many having ran and coached for 3-4 years with me. They not only coach but they also train for their own races, usually 1/2 or full marathons. They are incredibly supportive and encouraging to those they coach, and they are the same for each other. I think many of them would say their best friends are now those they run with.
This past week we had one of those coaches, Crystal Gee, go down. This wasn’t down by twisting an ankle or getting overheated. This was down by something far more severe. We had just finished our final training run for our goal race, which was to occur two days hence. A final training run is a very easy, casual affair. We don’t run long (it was only 2.5 miles) and we don’t run hard. We are doing what is called a taper, easing out of the heavy training so our legs and bodies will be fresh for the race. It’s also a celebratory moment for everyone. We have finished the training and we are ready! The air is filled with excitement, nerves, relief, last minute details about the race and much encouragement from the coaches and fellow runners.
Crystal and Angelika
Crystal helps lead a group with another coach, Angelika. It had been a great final run and Crystal was in fine spirits. She hung around the store for a bit after the run with the rest of us but soon had to leave to pick up her daughter. She said goodbye to Angelika and walked to her car. Moments later Angelika got a call from Crystal. She was in her car, still in the parking lot. She told Angelika she felt really bad and something was very wrong. She asked her to come help her. Angelika went to her car, no more than two rows away, and found her slumped over towards the passenger seat. She was in pain, saying her head felt like someone was squeezing it terribly. Angelika pulled her back toward her to see what was the matter. Crystal tried to get up and out of the car, Angelika trying to keep her in her seat, telling her not to get up. Angelika asked if she wanted her to call 911 and Crystal said yes. That’s the last she said. As Angelika called, Crystal slumped towards the open door and basically slid out of the car onto the asphalt. Angelika was able to help as she slid out so she didn’t fall and hurt herself further.
Crystal and Angelika
Meanwhile I was among the usual crowd at the front of the store after the run. I looked over when I saw a small fire EMT truck show up out in the parking lot. I went over to see what was going on and found Angelika kneeling over Crystal. Crystal was on her side and was rhythmically moaning with pain. She was drenched in sweat which initially made some think she was suffering from some sort of heat exhaustion. It was pretty obvious though that this was more than that. What, we didn’t know.
Crystal could not have asked for a better co-coach to come to her aid, not just because of the friendship, but because Angelika is a nurse. She was in command of the scene. She made sure her breathing was not obstructed (she had thrown up a few moments earlier). When the paramedics arrived Angelika gave them all the important information, heart rate, blood pressure, etc.
Fellow Coaches
The paramedics took over with her still assisting while others started to work on contacting her husband. It wasn’t easy since her phone was locked and we couldn’t talk to her. We got the emergency information from the store records and another coach, Caddie, tried to call but there was no answer.
We went through her purse and wallet looking for other phone numbers. Another coach, Susan, found some and tried to call them but to no avail. One of the other coaches, David, had been friends with Crystal for over 10 years and figured out the best thing to do was to start Facebook messaging some of their mutual friends to get the message to her husband, mother, brother, etc. Communication started flowing at that point.
David and Crystal
Angelika, David and I went to St. Francis hospital, which was right across the street. Angelika actually works at St. Francis so after Crystal’s best friend Natalie arrived the two of them went back to see her. David and I waited for the family to arrive and when they did we told them what had happened.
At this point it was pretty obvious she suffered a brain trauma of some sort. Maybe an aneurysm, maybe a stroke, we didn’t know. but we did know that Crystal was in for the new race, the race of her life to beat this and recover. David and I left after the family arrived. Angelika stayed a while longer helping out in the ER.
Why Are We Here?
Two days later two things happened. Pathways had our goal race, the Aquarium Run 10k, and Crystal had brain surgery. They couldn’t find the source of the bleeding the first night but the next day they found it and went in to repair it. It turns out it was a stroke from an aneurysm.
At races we usually gather for a big group picture. I used the opportunity to ask a question of the group I have asked during training over the years, ‘Why are we here?’ My answer that morning, as we dedicated our run to Crystal, was ‘because we can’. We sometimes take it for granted but knowing Crystal’s situation drove home the truth that we never should. We never know, do we.
Pathways ran the race strong and victoriously, hoping that Crystal would feel our love and strength as she ran her own, far more dangerous race. Many of us wore ‘Running4Crystal’ bibs on our backs in addition to the usual race bib.
Marty’s extra race bib
The next day my wife, Linda, and I went to the hospital to deliver a card that the Pathways and Fleet Feet family had signed. On the way there I thought of another reason ‘why we are here’. We run so we are in shape, so we are fit. That may seem obvious but you then have to ask why do we want to be fit? It’s not only so we are healthy in our day to day life. It’s so we are healthy in times of trauma. Crystal has the race of her life ahead of her. The fact that her heart, muscles, lungs, bones and even her brain, are strong and healthy from running, will no doubt help immeasurably in her winning this race. I told this to her family in the hopes of encouraging them as they run the race alongside her.
Crystal’s New Race
As of today (Monday April 13th, 2015) Crystal is resting comfortably after having successful surgery Saturday. She is going to be weaned from the respirator and brought out of sedation so she can start her road to recovery. We believe things worked in her favor so far. She was able to call Angelika before she started to drive off. Angelika is an incredibly competent and sharp nurse, she knew what was happening and got her help immediately. The hospital was literally right across the street and she was in expert hands within minutes. The start of Crystal’s new race was harsh but filled with good timing and good people.
We have every expectation that she will run the rest of this new race she has in front of her victoriously. We will be cheering her on.
Last year my friend and fellow napkin artist, Nina Levy, submitted and won the annual Tuaca Napkin Contest (Tuaca is a liqueur). She couldn’t submit again this year so she encouraged me to enter and I came up with this napkin as my entry. Here is her winning entry from last year.
Why Lions
I included lions because the research I did showed the lion was integral to the Tuaca company heritage as an icon and a brand identifier. Other than that addition I pretty much drew a nice moment to enjoy a cool drink on the rocks.
Sharing and Winning
It will be up online at the Tuaca Napkin Gallery as soon as they see it doesn’t break their rules (I can’t show a drunk human or lion for example) and/or not perverse in some way. I hope you will go there and share my napkin on your social media platforms. While there isn’t a formal voting element to the contest I would hope a lot of shares might indicate to the judges the popularity of the drawing.
The winner gets some nice swag and a check for $5,000.00 from Tuaca. I would like that!
My response at the time was, “Here’s my thought on it. Unless the expectation of a woman wearing something different everyday is going to get you fired or demoted if you don’t adhere to it, then the decision is on the woman. It’s not about society’s pressure, or other women’s expectations or anyone else on the outside saying anything, it’s the woman making the decision on what to wear who is responsible for the decision. We constantly talk about how we are suppose to NOT worry about what others think. As a woman, if you believe that AND you like the idea and reality of wearing the same thing most every day (or even more than once a week) then wear it and be confident in your choices.”
But that is a bit simplistic of a response from a man and creative artist point of view. Since I am not a woman, I wanted to find out more about why or why not my female family and friends think.
Here are my questions:
Is ok or not ok to wear the same outfit more than one day in a row, in a week, etc.
What are your rules for that and why do you have them?
What do you think when other women break those unspoken rules?
If you don’t like the rules because they are expectations from outside, why and how do you get around them, or do you?
What wider opinion do you have about this?
Here is what my wife said about it. She would wear the same earrings or shoes, no problem. Jeans as well. But a skirt, dress or blouse? No, she wouldn’t. Why not I asked. She said it might show she doesn’t have much to wear (meaning she’s poor to some degree) and that it might smell, or people might think it smells even if it doesn’t, just by virtue of it being worn more than once. She said if she was traveling she might be more likely to repeat an outfit.
Retweet and Share
I would love to know what you think of the drawing and givea retweet or a share of the image and the blog post would be great. Use the hashtag #sameoutfitdifferentday to connect to others talking about the article.
Keep the conversation going among your friends, male and female, see what they have to say.
Bonus Points
Where do the texts on the towel come from?
This drawing and any of the napkin drawings are for sale – original or print. Please email me at marty@napkindad.com to inquire.
When I was growing up my father was often angry. He wasn’t pissed off at little league games or piano recitals (and I am grateful for that), but he was angry at many things for many years.
Life got pretty difficult in the early 70s due to his drinking, and the drinking of my mother, who was inebriated most every single day for years. The alcohol brought out intense, angry battles between them, with us three kids being collateral damage along the way. My older sister and I were teenagers during this time and we often got in arguments with them as well. Most of my arguing with either of them basically was telling them to get their shit together, that they were the parents and we were the children and I wished they would act like it. It was frustrating and unstable, not only for us two older ones, but especially for my younger sister, who was between 6-9 years old during the worst years.
And it got worse before it got better, a lot worse. But it did get better. My mother and father both stopped drinking. My father’s anger, while never complete gone, was greatly diminished and well within what could be considered ‘normal’.
20 Years Later
I don’t remember my father telling me he felt shame from all those years of anger, but I think that was one of the main emotions he felt. Why do I think that? Because when it was my turn 20 years later to be the adult with problems of alcohol and anger, that is what I felt.
What do you think?
From your experience, does something begun in anger eventually end in shame?
A few days ago I had a client meeting at Starbucks. I stayed after it was over to drink the rest of my coffee and draw. Two women were having a conversation close to me, one facing me, the other away, and it seemed I could get in at least a quick sketch before they left.
I did a quick pen and ink napkin drawing. What was interesting was both of them were sitting up straight. Neither leaned back in their chair, except briefly. The one facing away was particularly still the entire time, sitting on the very edge of her chair.
A few days later I finished the napkin drawing, coloring it in a somewhat fanciful way, not really worrying about accuracy because of the other drawing I did of them that same morning.
The Sketchbook Drawing
I took a chance they would stay a while and brought out my sketchbook and did another, more detailed, drawing of them. It probably took about 45-60 minutes to do the drawing.
Because they both sat so straight and still it was a great opportunity to get more in depth with the shading.
When I got home I immediately started working on the drawing. I like the finished drawing; the colors, shading and mood feel right. The only part that bothers me is where the two arms meet in the bottom middle of the drawing. It flattens things out in an odd way, making them look like they are next to each other instead of one being in front of the other.
Connecting
When I finished they were still talking. I usually draw people who are alone so it’s no big deal to come up to them when I am done drawing and show it to them. I may be interrupting something but it’s not going to be a conversation (unless they are on the phone/facetime, etc, in which case I don’t interrupt). In this case I knew I would be interrupting a conversation but I felt it would be worth it.
I showed them the drawings, first the sketchbook drawing, then the napkin. The women who was facing away, Elizabeth, didn’t seem to be appreciative of the interruption, which makes sense, since I WAS interrupting. Megan, who was facing me and whose face you see in the drawings, seemed more enthusiastic but still muted in her response.
And that illustrates why drawing two strangers and showing it to them is harder than drawing one. There is the consideration of the other person to take into account when responding to the artist. The dynamic of three is a lot more complicated than the dynamic of two. It’s the same reason that while I understand the desire & need, it can often be awkward when someone escorts a model to a photo shoot. The model is responding to the escort at times, instead of to me as the photographer. And it’s the reason that while people may dream of a menage a trois it barely ever happens in real life because it would be way too complicated (no, I haven’t).
I usually like to get a photo of the model with the drawing but given the situation I decided it would be too intrusive and didn’t ask. I always regret not asking. But I gave them my business card and told them the drawings would be done and up on ‘The Napkin’ by next week. Hopefully they will come see it.
Yes, she had to stay at her brother’s apartment Ruth told their mom. Yes, she knew that meant mom would have to find someone else to let the dog out to go pee during the day, but she still needed to stay over there.
Ruth made a list of things she needed to do before she got there and another list of things to do after she arrived. The final thing on the first list was to pick her brother up at the rehab place. The first thing on the second list was to recheck his apartment one more time for any alcohol. She found none.
She cooked dinner for her brother, who was uncommunicative and surly. They watched TV until late then he went to bed. She wasn’t comfortable going to sleep until she was pretty sure he was out for the night. She finally faded off around 4am, sleeping on a fold-out couch in her underwear.
What the Fire Did – Chapter Two
She was aroused from a dead sleep by the smell of smoke. She immediately started coughing and her eyes started burning. She couldn’t see. She yelled for her brother but got no response. She crawled to his door with her t-shirt over her mouth, trying to breathe. She touched the doorknob and it burnt the palm of her hand. She called for him again but got no response. She crawled back towards the front door and opened it. She got up and ran down the stairs out onto the lawn.
Ruth was in pain, her legs felt hot and she smelled burning flesh. She saw a TV news truck, an ambulance, a cop car and a bunch of people hanging around, many pointing at her. She collapsed in front of the ambulance just as a paramedic was coming towards her. They were able to get her on one of those rolling beds they use and started to investigate what her injuries were. She was able to look back at the apartment for a brief moment and saw 3 buildings burning, including the middle one she had run out of.
She was whisked off to the hospital where she found out her legs had been pretty badly burned. She was exhausted and pretty much passed out once she got out of the ER and into the ICU. She was awakened again and again for various reasons but it was all a blur.
What The Nurse and Doctor Did – Chapter Three
When she awoke the next morning she was jolted by seeing the massive bandages on her legs. She felt like the world started spinning as she realized where she was and what had happened to her. She dropped her head back on the pillow and let the world spin.
When she raised her head back up a nurse was walking in. He introduced herself as Samha, asked how she was doing and explained what was happening. She had her burn wounds cleaned out a bit last night, they were covered in a cream to help loosen the remaining dead skin, then they were wrapped with gauze to protect them. This dressing was going to be taken off this morning and her wounds examined by the doctor. Then they would be cleaned again and dressed again. This would be repeated twice a day until she was ready for a skin graft, if it was needed. She told her the rest of the medical treatments would be explained by the doctor when she came in.
Ruth was about to ask about her brother when the doctor came in. She was perhaps 50 years old, had wiry salt and pepper hair pulled back in a pony tail and wore black rimmed glasses. Her full lips were covered in a deep but bright red lipstick. As much pain as she was in, she wanted that lipstick. She thought it very weird that she thought that. The Dr. smiled and started talking as she looked down at the chart. She introduced herself as Dr. Fernandez. Ruth asked her straight out, “What happened to my brother?”
Dr. Fernandez looked at her with kind eyes and said, “Your brother wasn’t able to make it out. I am very sorry.” The world started spinning and she dropped her head back once again.
What Her Dad Did – Chapter Four
She pretty much slept through the first 2 days. When she awoke her father was there. He had brought Ruth her phone, her tablet, her latest Vogue magazine and a book that had been on her nightstand. He had also brought a small rolling suitcase with her makeup and other toiletries as well as a underwear, various tops and a sweatshirt for if it got cold.
Her mother would be at the hospital later, her father said. She had an appointment at the funeral home and had to take the dog for a walk. Ruth didn’t mind. She would rather see her father anyway, less stress, less guilt, less feeling inadequate. She knew her mother loved her, but she also knew she loved her brother more. She would figure out a passive aggressive way to indirectly blame Ruth for his death, she had no doubt.
There was a food tray on the rolling thing, she didn’t know what those things were called. Her father asked her if she wanted to eat and she realized she was very hungry. She wolfed down the salisbury steak and mashed potatoes, not caring in the least that it tasted institutional. She actually smiled when she got to the Jello cup. It was her favorite flavor, grape.
What the Fire Did, Part 2 – Chapter Five
Ruth and her father talked for a long time about what happened and he filled her in on some details. The fire had started in the apartment next door. A burner had been left on under a frying pan and the leftover grease in the pan had caught on fire. They think it had caught a dishrag that was next to the stove on fire and that it had fallen to the kitchen floor and caught the a little kitchen rug and part of the cabinet door on fire. That led to the entire kitchen going up.
When the people in the apartment realized what was happening it was way too late. They ran out the door and the air coming in fed the fire even more. The kitchen wall was the shared wall with her brother’s bedroom and the fire took out that wall almost immediately. It’s very likely he was dead from smoke inhalation before she had even woken up her father said.
What the Nurse Said – Chapter Six
When her father left she had her dressings changed. She was completely grossed out to see her legs so violently stripped of skin, glistening with bubbly disgusting wet…she didn’t know what it was. What is under your skin but before the muscle called anyway? It didn’t matter, it was terrible and that’s all she knew.
If that wasn’t enough, it hurt like hell to take of the bandages, clean the wound and put new bandages on. She decided this recovery process would be a good ‘enhanced interrogation’ technique for spy masters. She knows she would tell anyone anything they wanted to know to stop this pain, that much was for damn sure. She was glad Samha the nurse wasn’t asking questions though because he would have blushed at her confession. As bizarre as it sounded, even to her, having this incredibly handsome but gentle man tend to her wounds was just about the most loving thing that had ever happened to her in her life. She thought it extremely unlikely these two things would ever be combined, but right then they certainly were.
She thanked him, telling him she could never do what he did, it was just so hard and so gross. He then said something that changed Ruth’s life forever. He said, “But it’s actually very easy to do because I love you.”
“You love me? What do you mean, you don’t even know me.” She responded.
He said, “Is what I am doing a loving thing to do for someone?”
“Yes, of course.” she said.
“And that means I love you.” he said with a light smile.
He was just about to the door when he turned and said, “I know you are the same you know. Your mother told me of how you cared for your brother. I think you are a lover, not a fighter.”
Ruth sat stunned. Love, loving, lover. All of a sudden she understood the connection.
What Ruth Did – Chapter Seven
When Ruth got out of the hospital 5 weeks later her father picked her up and drove her to her apartment. As soon as he left she went down to her car under the car port. She tried to start it, fully expecting the battery to be dead but it wasn’t. She was nervous about driving, her legs were so weak and she had a stick shift that demanded a pretty strong left leg for the clutch. She gingerly drove around the apartment complex parking lot, realized it wasn’t as hard as she thought it would be and drove straight to her brother’s grave.
She sat on the wet ground and talked to him for a long time. She told him she had tried to get to him and apologized for not being able to save him. She asked him to say hi to Grandma and Grandpa, told him she would take care of his record collection. She told him about Samha and what he said about love. She said that that one comment had clarified exactly what it was she was to do with her life. She hated that it took such a tragedy she told her brother, but she wanted to let him know that his death had at least one good thing come out of it, his sister now knew her purpose in life.
After she left the cemetery she drove back to her apartment. She sat down at her computer and wrote an email to her friend Mandy from college. She knew Mandy was off in Thailand helping at a orphanage, having seen a few Social Media posts of hers over the past 6 months. Ruth wrote asking if she needed any help.
Epilogue
Ruth joined Mandy at the orphanage a month later. Mandy actually ended up coming back home to the US 3 months after that. Ruth however stayed at the orphanage. She met the love of her life, a co-worker at the orphanage who was raised in the local village. They were married 3 years after she arrived. They adopted one child from the orphanage and named him Samha.
Ruth lived with no regrets, loving deeply and completely the rest of her life.
Many of you will remember Monica Lewinsky, the White House intern caught up in the 1998 Clinton impeachment scandal due to her affair with the President. She recently gave a TED talk about public shaming, something she knows a lot about. It’s a fantastic lecture and she brings up what I think is a horrible aspect of contemporary life, even more harsh than when she was in the center of the storm, and that is public humiliation and shaming.
Miles of Headlines
She had a number of great lines in the lecture and this quote was at the top of the list. It perfectly updates the old quote about walking a mile in someone’s shoes to apply to our current world. To really understand what the people most affected by public humiliation and shaming, think about living through the headlines and publicity they have to live through.
Compassion and Empathy
What she is asking for is to be compassionate and empathic in the cyber world as well as in the real world. Now, it’s important to clarify one thing. Feeling compassion for someone does not mean you are absolving them of guilt. Being empathic does not mean you don’t approve of some serious consequences for their actions or words. Having both in your repertoire of responses simply means you treat that person as you would like yourself to be treated, with understanding.
Influence and Power
Here is her suggestion for action;
The theory of minority influence,proposed by social psychologist Serge Moscovici,says that even in small numbers,when there’s consistency over time,change can happen.In the online world, we can foster minority influenceby becoming upstanders.To become an upstander means instead of bystander apathy,we can post a positive comment for someone or report a bullying situation.Trust me, compassionate comments help abate the negativity.We can also counteract the culture by supporting organizationsthat deal with these kinds of issues,like the Tyler Clementi Foundation in the U.S.,In the U.K., there’s Anti-Bullying Pro,and in Australia, there’s Project Rockit.
We talk a lot about our right to freedom of expression,but we need to talk more aboutour responsibility to freedom of expression.We all want to be heard,but let’s acknowledge the difference between speaking up with intentionand speaking up for attention.The Internet is the superhighway for the id,but online, showing empathy to othersbenefits us all and helps create a safer and better world.We need to communicate online with compassion,consume news with compassion,and click with compassion.Just imagine walking a mile in someone else’s headline.
I agree with her. I would love to hear your ideas and suggestions as well.
Ted Talk
Here is the video of her talk.
You can go to the written transcript from there if you prefer to read it.
“Good art should illicit a response of ‘huh? Wow!’ not ‘Wow! Huh?'” – Ed Ruscha
Denver
Whenever I travel I like to check in advance to see if there are any cool museums I should hit. I often am wanting to see the architecture as much as the art. In 2009 I hit the jackpot with the Denver Museum of Art. It’s an amazing structure that had amazing art inside.
One of the pieces there was this one, ‘Molten Polyester’ by Ed Ruscha. I hadn’t seen any of his work in decades, since I had been in graduate school. I had no idea he was doing these larger pieces with epic mountains and words and it resparked my interest in his work.
Molton Polyester – 2005
Words
As a Napkin Kin you know how much I like words and that almost every napkin is a combination of words and images. Then it’s no surprise that one of my favorite artists over the years has been Ed Ruscha. His use of words, sometimes laid over recognizable images and sometimes just on a gradient of color, have always been compelling and thought provoking to me.
Ed Ruscha by Dennis Hopper. 1964
Ferus Gallery
His first recognition as an artist came in the 60s when he had his first show at Ferus Gallery, a groundbreaking space in LA that championed a number of California artists, including Robert Irwin and Richard Diebenkorn, already in the ‘Artists I Love’ series.
Large Trademark with Eight Spotlights, 1961
An interesting side note for those who think New York is and always has been the first city of art in America. It was at the Ferus Gallery in 1962 that Andy Warhol had is very first solo art exhibition. It consisted of his Campbell Soup Cans and 5 of the paintings sold. They cost $100.00 each. The gallery owner, Irving Blum, decided all the paintings should stay together and cancelled all 5 of the purchases. Just imagine what they would be worth now if the collectors had been able to take possession of the paintings.
Ruscha was firmly in the grips of the new pop art aesthetic when he started. He liked using the images of the world he saw, mundane and non-elitist, similar to Warhol, Johns and Lichtenstein.
Ed Ruscha – Standard Station, 1963
But he had a subversive side that pushed further than simple pop visualization. He added an element that he said was based purely on his visual curiosity, as in, ‘I wonder what a standard station would like like if it were burning.’ And there is that innocent, gee whiz, element to it. But there is no denying that culturally and socially he was making a statement.
Ed Ruscha – Burning Standard Station, 1965-1966
He took it even further when he depicted the new heart of art in Los Angeles, the LA County Museum of Art, opened just a year earlier, burning down. This wasn’t a generic gas station, this was biting the hand the fed him. I remember this painting for two reasons. One, I was taken to the LACMA soon after it opened by my parents. Number two being it was right next door to the famous La Brea Tar Pits, home to long-deceased dinosaurs.
Ed Ruscha, Los Angeles County Museum On Fire – 1965-68
Liquid Words
In the late 60s Ruscha started doing paintings of liquid in the shape of words.
Lisp – 1968
Sometimes it would be water, but other times it would be a liquid connected to the word, as in ‘Ripe’.
Ripe – 1967
Adios written honey is another example. By having the ants stuck in the honey we know who the ‘adios’ is meant for. But it also allows us to abstract that idea out to larger situations that could include humans. It’s literal and metaphorical at the same time.
Adios – 1967
Unconventional Media
The painting of fruit juice or honey to look realistic is one thing, but taking non-art materials and actually using them as your art-making material was another step. Ruscha, influenced by Duchamp’s readymades and other artists using found objects, started to do the same. One of his most interesting series in that vein is the gunpowder series.
It’s simple enough, he drew with gunpowder instead of graphite. It looks the same in many ways but he liked something about it’s texture and how he could work with it. It was not lost on him however that simply using the word ‘gunpowder’ in his list of materials was part of the artwork and the meaning.
Quit – Gunpowder and colored pencil on paper – 1967
Self – Gunpowder on paper – 1967
Eye – Gunpowder on paper – 1970
No Words
He also started doing work with no words at all.
Man Wife – 1987
Strong Healthy – 1987
And what does he do when he uses no words? He leaves blank spaces where words would be then titles the pieces so that you believe the title fits into those spaces.
Sentences
Eventually Ruscha started to incorporate whole sentences into his work. They were mundane and unremarkable in their reference to the everyday world but when disembodied from their usual context became rich in possible meanings. As usual though, there wasn’t any one interpretation that was right or wrong.
Pay Nothing Until April, 2003
I Don’t Want No Retro Spective – 1979
Of course, as one might expect given Ruscha’s inclination towards word play and irony, this painting became the cover of a retrospective book on his art work.
The Act of Letting A Person Into Your Home – 1983
Oklahoma
In doing this piece I came across something about Ruscha I didn’t know; he was raised in Oklahoma, where I now live. It actually has found it’s way into his work in many more ways than I realized. From his cross-country travels from Oklahoma to LA where he discovered his love for the landscape and the iconic gas stations along the way to the use of the words Tulsa and OK again and again in his work, Ruscha always remained connected to his roots.
Tulsa – 1967 – Gunpowder on paper
OK – 1990 – Lithography
Tulsa Slut – 2002 – Acrylic on canvas
This is from a series he did on palindromes, words or phrases that can be read the same forward or backward.
No Man’s Land – 1990 – Acrylic on canvas
Even when he doesn’t use words he is still often asking a question, ok?
Meaning and Questioning
One of the questions that gets asked about Ruscha’s work has to do with meaning. What is he trying to say, what does he mean? I think the best way to understand Ruscha’s meaning is to replace the word ‘meaning’ with ‘question’ since he isn’t really much of an answerer or a propagandist. He reminds me of a visual Paul Simon. Simon’s lyrics often stop short of an clear storyline, instead they give pictures and hints about meaning. Ruscha does the same thing and that’s why he is an artist I love.
In 2013 Ruscha was named one of Time Magazine’s 100 most influential people.
Resources
This is not an exhaustive showing of his work or explanation of his place in contemporary art or art history. There are incredible resources to explore if you are interested in finding out more about his work and life. Here are just a few.
Betsy heard it first as she was running her usual Saturday morning run. She had a long training run that morning and had decided to run through some lightly used trails that criss crossed open fields in the State Park behind her college. Most of the students who ran stayed much closer to home, usually running around the campus perimeter on the sidewalk. But Betsy liked the freedom and open space of getting off the beaten path. It allowed her time to let her mind wander creatively, something she sorely needed on a regular basis at her school.
As the sound got louder she looked up and saw something streak across the sky. It hit the ground within 50 feet of her, creating a big indentation in the grass. Once it hit it stayed put, not rolling, not tipping over. She ran over to it, stopping a short distance away, expecting it might be hot. She held her hands out as she walked slowing towards it. She felt no heat so she continued until she was arms distance away.
It appeared to be made of rough, porous stone. There were inscribed lines radiating out from its center and bright jewel-like lights in between the inscribed lines. She touched the stone, then one of the lights. When she touched the light a quiet tone played. It sounded like it was coming from everywhere at once. She touched another stone and a different tone, equally as quiet, played. She continued touching the lights, trying to hear how many different tones the object could play. She figured out that it played what seemed to be eight tones in one octave and the another eight tones exactly one octave higher.
She tried touching two lights at one time. When she did that the object played a chord. The two tones of the two lights and a third complementary tone. All the tones and the chords were incredibly beautiful to listen to. Like the clearest bell she had ever heard.
Betsy spent the next 3 hours playing the object. She found out she could make a tone repeat regularly if she held her finger on the light for 3 seconds. She found if she quickly tapped a light twice it would play the light’s normal tone and a harmonic tone at the same time. After about an hour she felt her cell phone vibrate in her pocket. She brought it out and found that her music player was notifying her that a new song had been downloaded. She went to the player and found the song. It was untitled with no cover art, no information about it at all. She played the song and heard the object’s tones. It was the sounds she had been playing.
She put the phone away and went back to playing the object. She learned more tricks and methods and came up with what she thought was a pretty cool composition. After another hour her phone vibrated again and another song from the object had been downloaded. It was the composition she had just come up with. She did this one more time, increasing the complexity and rhythm of the composition and one more time the object sent the music to her phone.
She realized it was getting late and that she had to get back to her Sorority for a big event that night. She tried pushing the object, thinking she might be able to roll it to an out of the way place. That way maybe no one else would find it and she could continue to play it. However, there was no moving the object. She would just have to hope it was still there when she came back.
Chapter Two
The event that night was a mixer with a fraternity from a neighboring school. The girls all went over to the frat in a bus. Some of the girls had already started drinking at the sorority house and were tipsy by the time the party started. The guys were all vying for attention by doing stupid party tricks or dangerous stunts out the windows and on the roof of the frat house while the girls oowed and awed.
Betsy was bored with it all and decided to find a quiet room where she could listen to the songs she made with the object. She walked into a 3rd story bedroom. Her head was down looking at her phone and she was just about to push play as she entered when she heard a grunting sound and looked up. A young woman was on the bed being held down by a large burly young man. He had on the frats sweatshirt but his pants were down around his ankle. The woman was topless, her bra in the man’s hand, which was also pinning her arm down on the bed. Her skirt was up around her waist. The woman screamed, ‘Betsy, help me!”
Betsy dropped her phone and leaped towards the man. She tackled him and the two of them fell off the bed and onto the wood floor. Just as the man started to raise his fist to strike her Betsy heard the object’s music starting to play. The man’s arm fell and his twisted, angry face lost all expression. He went limp and blank.
Betsy jumped off him and turned to look at her Sorority sister. It turned out to be Selena, one of the new girls, one she hadn’t really met except for at the rush party a few weeks earlier. Betsy asked if she was ok, if he had raped her. Selena said no, he hadn’t actually penetrated her yet but he was just about to. Betsy quickly turned back toward the man, double checking to see if he had gotten up, but he hadn’t. She picked up her phone, shut off the music and called 911. The ambulance was there within 3 minutes, as were the police. They all dealt with it as they should have; having a counselor available, taking her to the hospital, testing her, taking photos and arresting the man.
Chapter Three
The would-be rapist, a student named Bradford, eventually woke up from his stupor. He contritely confessed to the police that he had attempted to rape Selena and that he would have if Betsy hadn’t stopped him. He said he didn’t remember anything after she tackled him except some weird music as he went down. He said he had no idea where the music came from and the police chalked it up to him being knocked out cold. He was tried and convicted of attempted rape and was sentenced to 10 years in prison. He would get off in 7 if he behaved himself.
Betsy was hailed a hero by Selena, her sorority and the entire school. She got a call from Good Morning America to be interviewed about the incident and it became a national story. Time magazine did an article on the everyday heros of America and she was #12 on the list. A guy who saved puppies was right above her at #11. She tried to explain that she had no idea why he went out like a light the way he did, but most people credited it on the blow to his head as he hit the floor. It went well with the story of her being strong and fearless and there wasn’t much she could do about it. She wanted to tell someone about the music playing a part in it but she knew it would make no sense. But even if it had made sense it wouldn’t have mattered. The next time she tried to play the music it had all disappeared from her phone.
Because of all the attention and activities surrounding her saving Selena from being raped she didn’t get back to the field with the object in it for almost a week. When she did go back the object was gone. There was an indentation in the ground, but that was it.
Chapter Four
Fourteen years later she had her second and final run in with violence. She was driving on the freeway, her two kids in car seats in the back when a truck cut her off in traffic and slammed on his breaks. She just barely avoided smashing into him. The man, red-faced and angry, got out of his car and stomped back to hers.
She was scared to death but was able to roll up all the windows and lock the doors before he arrived. He started yelling obscenities at her, telling her she was a danger to society, that she should learn how to drive and that he was going to teach her a lesson. She turned to the front media console and pressed the emergency call button she had programmed. As she did this she took a quick look in her rear view mirror. She saw her 5 year old panic stricken, about to cry. But her 7 year old was calm, looking down and playing with the old cell phone her mother had given her as a play toy.
As she got 911 on the line and told them what was happening the man violently busted in her side window with his elbow. She screamed as he reached in to grab her neck. She grabbed his arm instead and pushed it towards the steering wheel. She pressed his hand against the wheel and Hit his elbow as hard as she could. She heard a sickening crack. He screamed in pain while at the same time bringing up his left hand. In his hand was a gun. He was in the act of aiming it at her face when she heard the music. It was the music of the object from so long ago. The man went blank just as the rapist had. He dropped the gun and dropped to the ground.
She turned quickly around to see how her kids were. Her 7 year old looked up, smiled and said, “That’s my favorite song. I made it up myself.”
This and all napkin drawings are for sale, original or print. Please email me at marty@napkindad.com to inquire.
Curiosity
One of my favorite characteristics in my daughters is their curiosity. I love how they like to talk about anything and everything. I like how they are up for most any activity, even if it’s something they haven’t tried before. I like how their attitude towards new people and places is enthusiastic and welcoming. I like being that way as well. It’s a true positive in my mind.
Curiosity can lead to being easily distracted, it’s true. It also can lead to not having strong opinions about certain things because you are open to any number of directions. For example:
Random person: “Marty, Do you want to go to the beach or the mountains?”
Me: “Well, both are cool, both have interesting things to do and experience, I would be happy either place.”
Or
Random person: “Marty, Do you want to eat sushi or Greek?”
Me: “Well, both are cool, both have interesting tastes, both would be an adventure so I would be happy eating either cuisine.”
See what I mean? It can be negative in some situations.
Choosing
But since I eventually have to choose I try to remember choosing one of those doesn’t mean I am not interested in the other one. I am just choosing one direction in the here and now. The future? who knows. Hopefully I will be able to go in the other direction in the future!
Are you curious? How does it affect you positively and negatively?
Drawing and commentary by Marty Coleman
Quote by Thomas Jefferson, 1743-1826, American politician, farmer, inventor
She was sitting across from the man, staring out at the planes landing and taking off. He observed her in between checking his email, an intriguing diversion from the drudgery of catching up with a week’s worth of business.
She was sunburnt head to toe, glowing a deep orange/red. Her hair swept back from her forehead in cornrows to an arc as if she had a headband on, but she didn’t. From there her hair fell in tight, sharp waves to her shoulders. Her top plunged low, revealing a long expanse of skin, mottled and pealing. It had that rich deep tone that said she’d spent many a day in the sun. There was the faintest view of a tanline at the edge of the blouse, but even that area was dark, as if she had taken her straps down every time she had laid out to sun.
She had on a colorful print top, bright blue jeans rolled up halfway up her calves. Her calves were well defined and she had on a new pair of running shoes. She sat upright but not stiff, holding her purse as it nestled on top of a woven basket bag that she had obviously bought while in Mexico.
Chapter Two
She caught him looking at her at one point. She smiled and said, “You look trustworthy. Would you mind watching my stuff while I go to the bathroom?”
He responded with a smile and a nod, saying, “Actually, I am an international thief. But you are lucky, my forte isn’t stealing suitcases in airports so you are safe. I will watch your stuff.”
She took her purse and went off. He did his best to not go back to looking at his phone, wanting to actually pay attention, just in case someone did try to steal her suitcase and bag. Instead he looked around at all the tourists. He noticed a lot of bright clashing colors on a gaggle of middle aged women gathered around the tequila bar. He enjoyed seeing the the young man, a perfect specimen of male studliness, except for the sock tan line mid way up his calves. He was deeply tanned above, and white as a sheet below. A young woman walked up to the stud and kissed him on the lips, then handed him a Starbucks cup. She was wearing shorts and a bikini top. He couldn’t help but wonder if she would be cold on her flight home. He hoped she had a sweater.
The sunburnt woman came back and handed him a water. She said, “Thanks, I figured you might be thirsty from the hard work of watching my bags so I got you a water.”
He said, “Thanks, I am thirsty so it’s perfect timing.”
He introduced himself as Paul, she laughed and introduced herself as Paulina. He said, “Really, No joke?”
She said, “Yep, really named Paulina. Named after my Grandmother who came from Slovakia.”
Chapter Three
Paul and Paulina started talking about the usual things; where they stayed in Puerto Vallarta, how long they had been there, what they had done while they were in town, where they lived back home.
She had come to Puerto Vallarta alone, had spent 8 days at a small boutique hotel on the beach north of the city, and now was headed home. Her home was in Minnesota where it was currently -7º. She was not happy about returning but she was happy she had missed a week where the temperatures had been even worse. Her mom had told her in a Skype call that it hadn’t got about above -10º for 3 days in a row. They had 25″ of snow in the past 2 weeks that had really started to affect the salon’s business she said.
He meanwhile told her about his trip. He had actually not been on a vacation per se. He was down in Mexico looking for a vacation home. He had spent 5 days looking at villas north of Puerto Vallarta near the small town of Sayulita. Turns out she had actually visited Sayulita during her stay, going with another woman she had met at the hotel on a day trip. Mostly they had shopped but they also got massages on the beach. It was one of the highlights of her trip she said.
He asked, “The massage was that good?”
She said, “No, it wasn’t good at all actually. The masseuse was fine but my friend, who I just met the day before, turned out to be a moaner while getting her massage. She was laying right next to me and I was afraid she was going to have some sort of Mexico beach massage orgasm right then and there. It freaked me out so much I couldn’t relax at all. But it was also so funny I couldn’t forget it. I told my mom about it when we Skyped the next day and we laughed so hard we cried.”
He cracked up saying, “That would do the same thing to me. I would probably have told her to shut up!”
She said, “Part of me wanted to, but part of me felt like it was her massage and if she wanted to moan, who’s business was it of mine to tell her not to, right? Plus I barely knew her!”
She told him she had loved the little town though it did seem a bit overrun with tourists the day she was there. He agreed saying he liked being close to it, but not too close. He had found a house just north of Sayulita, on the way to the even smaller town of San Francisco, where there were fewer tourists. He had bought the house and was now returning home. His home was Chicago, where he owned his own business doing IT consulting for mid-sized companies wanting to expand their capabilities.
Chapter Four
Right then the flight was called to be boarded. They both got up and realized they were on the same flight to Chicago, where she would transfer to another flight to Minneapolis. They finagled a change in seats with the stud couple and sat next to each other. By the time they landed Paul had pretty much decided she was the one. She had decided he was as well. A week later he drove to Minneapolis to visit her. She came to Chicago 2 weeks after that. Within 2 months she had moved to Chicago, gotten a job a PR firm and they were a couple. A year later they had a destination wedding in Sayulita with 5 members of her family and 5 of his in attendance.
They lived at their villa in Sayulita for a month every winter, even after they started to have kids. They had 3 and they all learned Spanish fluently. He eventually sold his business, making a killing and bought a larger villa, big enough for both their families to visit at the same time. The moved to Mexico for good and she did PR consulting for hotels in the area. He became a stay at home dad and started a bilingual blog that became a world wide hit in the mommy and daddy blogosphere.
I had to take my wife to work this morning and took the early morning opportunity to go to Starbucks on the way home and just hang out a while. I drew one of the Barista’s doing her job. She was pretty busy and seemed surprised and somewhat uncomprehending when I first showed it to her. I gave her my card and told her I would be posting it later in the day, after I colored it.
Most people I draw actually never come to the blog to see the drawing and they never contact me to get a copy. I always think that is odd, knowing that if someone drew me I would be all about seeing the final result later. Some do contact me though and it’s always a pleasure to make a new friend in that way.
Here it is in the Starbucks, uncolored. Becky had already moved on to another spot behind the counter but I wanted to get the pic anyway just to remember some colors.
As many of the Napkin Kin know, I live in Oklahoma. The state of Oklahoma has been in the US national news, and even the international news, in recent weeks due to the legislature passing or attempting to pass some pretty bizarre laws. To use just two examples; they have wanted to do away with AP history classes because they show too much of what has been ‘bad’ in America. Just yesterday the State House of Representatives voted to do away with granting marriage licenses because it might make some court clerks go against their religious beliefs to give a license to a gay or lesbian couple.
And of course unless you have been living under a rock you have also heard about the SAE Fraternity at OU being video taped singing a racist chant on a party bus that included the N word and a reference to lynching.
Pointing the Finger
What do these all have in common? They all show someone (a state or a fraternity, it doesn’t matter) pointing the finger at another group and defining them negatively. The people making and defending the AP curriculum are defined as ‘Unamerican’. The lesbian and gay couples wanting to marry are defined as perverted and sinful. In the chant the African-Americans at University Oklahoma are defined as ‘undesirable’ (a euphemism for sure) as pledges to the SAE fraternity, which is bad enough. But even more despicable, they are also defined as less than human, worthy of lynching simply for being black. If one was attempting to be funny you could also see them pointing the finger one row back and saying, ‘It’s all Obama’s fault!’
All three of these ‘definitions’ can potentially hurt the person being defined. This is especially true when the finger is pointed at young people who may have not yet found their own identity. Without their identity being strong, they can be led to believe the definition is true. You see it happen all the time, a woman believing she is worthless because her abusive husband says so. A young African American believing they can’t achieve something because they have been told they aren’t smart enough or strong willed enough, to make it happen. A young progressive citizen being told that they are Unamerican because they dare to question the perfect US of A.
But the definitions do something more. They hurt the definer as well. Those SAE Frat boys are missing out by never truly knowing any African Americans. The conservative county clerk is hurt by not seeing the love, care and competence with which the lesbian or gay couple are raising their kids. The conservative misses an opportunity to see how others have been affected by the history of the US in ways he and his forebearers may not have been.
Giving the Finger
If and when this sort of thing happens to you or someone you care about, tell them to do this. Give the offending party the finger. I don’t actually mean flip them the bird. I mean, take whatever finger is pointing at you and bend it back to point at the pointer. That is where the definition belongs, with the one doing the defining, not with you.
This drawing, as well as others, are available for purchase, original or print. Please email marty@napkindad.com to inquire.
Drawing and commentary by Marty Coleman
Quote by Toni Morrison, 1931- not dead yet, American author and poet
The world is full of judgment. Some of it is necessary. It’s important for us to judge risk, for example. When I went bodysurfing on vacation a few weeks back I loved it. I was raised on the beach bodysurfing and I was in my element. But I hadn’t done it in a long time and I took a few waves I shouldn’t have. My judgment wasn’t on target. As a result the waves slammed me into the sand hard enough to scrap my elbow to the bleeding point, much like a really bad rug rash. Later in the week I was much better at my judgment and had nothing but good and safe rides.
The Bad Label
Labeling is a form of judgment. It’s not the judgment of risk. It’s not the judgment even of preference or desire. It’s the judgment of simplistic stereotyping. It’s the judgment of ego and insecurity. The women pictured above have very different bodies. Someone will label the one on our left as ‘obese’. Not in the medical sense, but in the judgmental sense. Someone will label the woman on our right as anorexic. Once again, not for medical reasons, but for judgmental ones. The label is applied not to help the person being labeled, but to satisfy the labeler. The label gives the labeler comfort, it puts them higher up, it gives them moral worth because they aren’t obese or anorexic. They are better than those two women.
Negation
And when we label like that, we not only judge but we negate. We are blind to who they really are and thus we negate all other elements of their character and humanity.
We negate whether they are kind or loving or sacrificial or patient or brilliant or funny or great parents or fantastic business people or talented artists. We deny ourselves the chance to know who they are because we are so intent on our own moral and social comfort that we would rather just label, judge and be done with it.
How do you avoid doing that in your life?
This, and all my drawings, are for sale, original or print. Please email me at marty@napkindad.com to inquire.
I have been remiss in posting these days, first due to our vacation to Mexico. It was nice but unproductive work-wise.
No, this is not my leg and foot. It belongs to my sister-in-law, Earlyne, who was sitting next to me.
The death of my Father-in-Law, Tom Reynolds, which I wrote about in my last post, was right on the vacation’s heels. I have been getting the house ready for a slew of overnight guests (yes I vacuum, dust, mop and make beds) and then there are all the social and ritual events that go along with someone passing away.
These were the machines he was hooked up to in the hospital.
Coming Up
I have a number of sketchbook drawings I did over the vacation that will be coming and will be continuing the winter series I started with last week’s piece.
In addition I am working on another ‘Artist I Love’ piece. This painter is contemporary and uses words, any idea who it might be?
Where Am I?
If you know me from Facebook you know I do a lot of ‘Where Am I’ posts, where I take a picture while I am out and about, near or far, and then post it with the question, Where am I? I don’t always make it easy, sometimes so much so that I can’t even remember where I was.
Here’s a random one from the past that shouldn’t be too hard.
Where was I?
Photos and commentary by Marty Coleman. Photo of the painting by Jerry L. Thompson
As the song and bible passage goes, To everything there is a season. This has been a recent season of death for me. This isn’t a bad thing, it’s a natural thing. And no, I am not the one doing the dying, at least not in the short term. But in general I am at the age when one comes in contact with death a bit more frequently than when younger. In the past week specifically my father-in-law, Tom Reynolds, and a friend, Oren Miller, have died. A little over a month ago my Aunt Jean died. My father, Skeets Coleman, passed away less than a year ago. In addition I have a friend, Charlyn Shelton, almost die in a car wreck. On social media many of my friends have shared about their loved ones passing away as well. And so I have been thinking about death recently.
Sunny Mexico / Cold USA
Two weeks ago my wife and I took off on a vacation to Punta Mita, Mexico. It’s on the Pacific Coast, just north of Puerto Vallarta. We went with her brother and sister and their spouses. It’s the first vacation of it’s kind we have ever taken together. On the surface it seemed like we planned it pretty well. Mexico was at 78-80º every day while almost all of the US was below freezing with ice, snow, wind, sleet and general weather misery.
Winter Brings the Sweetness
But there was more to this trip than the good timing of being in warm weather while our homes were in freezing temps. There was also this: We all bought trip insurance because my wife’s father, Tom Reynolds, wasn’t doing very well. He had been battling cancer for over 12 years and it finally seemed to have got the better of him. While there was some hope, it was slim. But we made our best guess and thought it would be best to go on this trip sooner than later and so we did.
But with a day and a half to go in the vacation we got the call. He had taken a turn for the worse and was in the hospital. We did our best to figure out early flights home but it was not in the cards. That meant in spite of the situation we were going to be in Mexico one more full day, leaving the morning after that.
We had a choice to make. We could lounge around the pool and ocean, static and disconnected, giving us time to dwell on our not being able to get home, or we could go out and do something. We chose to go out and do something. We spent the day at a small beach village a few kilometers away from the resort. We ate, we bought some gifts, we walked around the town. We found a real estate office and fantasized about buying the various houses that were pictured for sale in the window of the office. We people watched. I took a lot of photos of scenes on the street.
We hadn’t forgotten about Tom, but we still had to live in our circumstances. And while we had some guilt for not being there or being able to get home right away, we also had enhanced gratitude for our lives knowing that someone we loved wasn’t far from being at the end of his. In other words, it was the winter of his life that gave a portion of sweetness to the summer of ours.
Warm Life in Winter
We did make it back on schedule and went straight to the hospital. Tom was holding his own but the overall situation wasn’t looking good. The cancer had spread to his brain, he had had seizures, his blood pressure had fallen then risen and he had contracted pneumonia. He was sedated, in no pain that we knew of, and had a ventilator doing his breathing for him.
Yesterday morning, 5 days after we returned, we got another call. His blood pressure was falling and his meds were maxed out, they couldn’t adjust for that anymore. We were told to gather. With his entire family was around him those closest to him told kind and funny stories about him. They told of his passions and eccentricities.
One of the great things about his family is they were raised by him and their mother to be musical. Linda’s sister taught music and choir in high school for decades. Linda had been an opera singer in her past and their brother had been in choirs as well. And so, as we gathered around him, they started singing his favorite hymns and some of our favorites, among others. I sang in the background or hummed along as I was able. But a lifetime of them knowing how to sing with each other came out and soft transcendent harmonies of love and beauty sent him on his mysterious way.
And then he was gone.
Warmth of Life in Summer
But we aren’t gone. We remain alive. We still eat and breathe and sleep. We still laugh. We still tell stories and wonder about things. We still worry about others. We still create and talk and love.
With a loved one’s passing or winter encasing us in cold we tend to see the negative, and it’s hard to argue with that. But ask yourself this: when do you most frequently hear admonitions to enjoy life, to embrace the joy and to live in the moment, to not let any opportunity pass by where you can let a loved one know (or a stranger for that matter) that you love them and are there beside them. Who do we hear that from the most? From one who has lost a loved one or almost lost their own life. It’s that brush with death that brings out in them the passion for life, right?
Running Life
After Tom died yesterday we lingered around the hospital until the funeral home came to get the body. We then went to lunch. After that it was time for me to go home and shortly thereafter I went to my job coaching runners. It was my first run in almost 2 weeks (I slacked off in Mexico, don’t judge). It was cold, foggy, misty and a bit windy. And I loved it. I loved it because I was alive to love it.
What and who are you alive to love?
Drawing and commentary by Marty Coleman
Quote by John Steinbeck, ‘Travels with Charley – In Search of America’
“What good is the warmth of summer without the cold of winter to give it sweetness.”
I turned 60 last month and posted ’60 at 60′, a sort of list of things I want to do this year. One on the list was ‘visit 6 new places’ and I am at #1 on that list this week.
I am in Punta Mita, Mexico. It’s north of Puerto Vallarta by about 45 minutes. I was raised in San Diego, California as a young boy but surprisingly never went farther into Mexico than Tijuana. So this is my first time beyond the border.
I am here with my wife, her brother and sister, and their spouses. The 6 of us have wanted to do something like this for a while and two of us turning 60 was enough of an excuse to make it happen.
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It’s an all-inclusive resort, Iberostar. I was a bit worried about that since my preference would be to experience Mexico more directly than through this filter. But it’s turned out to be better than expected and very easy, something a few our party really wanted.
The key for me so far has been to choose as authentic a direction among my choices as I can. This means that while the restaurants and buffets do have ‘American’ food they also have pretty amazing Mexican food choices as well. I continue to choose those.
We’ve been on one excursion so far, to Islas Mariettas, two islands off the coast of Punta Mita. One has a hidden beach you have to swim through a cave to get to. It really isn’t hidden, a lot of tourists go to it, but that’s ok, it was a cool experience and not that crowded in the morning.
So, Here’s an example of ‘authentic’. When we got off the boat I had to go to the bathroom and didn’t want to wait until after the bouncy drive back to the hotel. The little spot filled with fisherman and others, music, smells, carts, dogs, fishing nets and beer bottles. The bathroom was not going to be the sterilized American style, I knew that much. But it was the best smelling urinal I had been in in a long time due to their life hack of throwing their used limes into it to compensate for the smell. It’s been my favorite part of the trip so far.
This quote brings to mind one of my favorite lines in a song lyric: “Sometimes you are blinded by the very thing you need to see.” It’s from a song by Mary Chapin Carpenter, one of my favorite singer songwriters ever. What I like about it is how it continually teaches me to see things as clearly as possible, even those things so bright and shiny, so ‘perfect’ that they blind me. They might be the very thing I need to see.
And this quote is about the same thing. Am I aware of my blind spots in life? My attitudes, that are so ingrained as to be unseen? My behaviors that I have rationalized for so long that they are now completely legitimatized and seldom questioned?
Obscured
In a car, the blind spots are those areas that are blocked by the car itself. The frame of the car holding up the roof, the hood bulging out in front, covering the engine. Visors, mirrors, seats, decals, and more also add to the visibility problem.
And how are we trained to compensate for those things? We are taught to be slow and deliberate, to be methodical. We are told to move our head and body to see around the obstructions.
This can be applied to our attitudes and behaviors as well. Stop and think. In my words am I perpetuating something I have not evaluated and considered in a long time?
Looking Deeper
The other way we do this is by seeing only the surface of something. We deem something as being without value in its current state and so we overlook it. How we see the elderly is a perfect example of that.
I remember way back when I lived in San Jose, California. The pastor of our church had been fired and we had an interim pastor. He was very old, retired as a full time pastor and now just filling in as an interim when needed. On one occasion he complimented me on my suit, which included a short waisted Eisenhower style jacket. He pointed it out and said he thought I looked sharp. After that I started to look at him more closely. He wore well tailored and stylish clothes that were appropriate for his age and position. He dressed better than 90% of the men in the congregation, that was for sure. That led me to imagine him as a younger man. I saw him romancing his wife on the dance floor, looking sharp in a military uniform, and any number of other activities he might have done back in the day, all done with panache and style and a twinkle in his eye, which he still had.
We became ‘shake hands at the steps’ friends, talking about the sermon, complimenting hats, jackets, vestments, etc. He turned out to be one cool dude.
What are you missing in your blind spots?
Drawing and commentary by Marty Coleman
Quote by George Herbert, 1593-1633, English poet
This and many other of the napkins are for sale. Please inquire at marty@napkindad.com to find out more.
Heather played her horn for 3 hours, the entire length of the gallery opening. Her legs were cold the entire time.
Chapter Two
When she got home and undressed she realized she had forgotten to put on her pants that morning. Heather was relieved because she had been worried she might be getting bad circulation issues in her legs like her father had.
When I graduated from UC Santa Barbara in 1978 I moved to the San Francisco Bay Area. Within 3 months of my arrival the Mayor of San Francisco, George Moscone, and City Supervisor Harvey Milk were assassinated by former Supervisor Dan White.
Three years later a bust honoring Mayor Moscone, created by the artist I am highlighting today, was unveiled. Here it is.
The artist is Robert Arneson. Take a close look at the detail picture. Can you see the ‘Twinkie’ and the ‘bang, bang, bang, bang,; on the pedestal? Those referred directly to the assassination, along with the imprint of a gun on the backside. As a result, the bust was rejected by the City Council and not put in City Hall as expected. The other result was Robert Arneson and his art became known throughout California and the nation.
I was at the start of graduate school at San Jose State University and learning about the fantastic artists that practiced in Northern California. There are already two of them in this series, Wayne Thiebaud and Richard Diebenkorn. And another was Robert Arneson.
Robert Arneson, 1930 – 1992
Arneson was a co-founder of the california ‘Funk Art’ movement of the 60s and 70s. He was not a painter but a sculptor using ceramics combined with non-traditional objects. He was breaking the mold of what ceramics should be by moving away from functionality and creating political, social, artistic and personal statements driven by his personality, aesthetics and beliefs.
Self
I thought about not putting a photograph of him in the article because, well, here… take a look at who his subject matter most often is.
Kiln Man‘Pic’, 1980, Lithograph. Photo courtesy of Rob Corder‘Brick Bang, 1976‘Head Lamp’, bronze with wood and bulb, 1992
Humor as Social Commentary
Obviously you can see he is very funny and works that humor into his art. But it’s more than just silly humor. It’s using humor as satire, and farce to make a statement about the social and moral issues of his time. He is in that long tradition in art that reaches all the way back to Honore Daumier in France, through to William Hogarth in Britain and on to Thomas Nast in America to name a few. Satirical art that pushed the powers that be by lampooning them has continued into the present day of course, with it’s most tragic manifestation being in the murders of the staff of Charlie Hebdo by Islamic terrorists in France in January, 2015.
It takes courage to make fun of people for a reason, and Arneson didn’t shy away from it. But, as with the great satirical artists before him, he often wasn’t pointing so much at a particular person as he was using that person as an example of a larger corruption, a more widespread idiocy in society or morals.
Colonel Hyena, ceramic on metal base, 1985Hiroshima UrnNuclear Warhead, 1984
Upending the Classical
He also liked upending the aesthetics of the classical. To do this he literally just did it. He took something classical, a column. And upended it by adding a head on top, on bottom, falling off, etc. Of course the head in all these cases was his own.
Pedestals, 1992, Bronze, UC San FranciscoBig Laughs, CeramicTemple of Fatal Laffs – detail
Egg Heads
Towards the end of his life Arneson started doing a series that seemed more melancholy and universal, the ‘egg head’ series. They are more of a meditation on life and death than anything else, and it makes sense that they would be as Arneson was by this time diagnosed with cancer and was struggling with these monumental issues.
WorthSee No Evil, Hear No Evil (Egghead series), 1989, UC Davis
And More
As with any prolific artist there are a lot more pieces you won’t ever see than that you will see. Here are some others I thought worthy of your attention.
Wolf Head (Jackson Pollack), 1989, Bronze and RedwoodSinking Brick, 1966, terracottaGolden Rod, 1969, Luster Glazed CeramicBenicia Bench, 1991, Bronze
Courage of the Artist
What I appreciated about Arneson more than anything else was his determination from early on to be truly himself. What I mean is he withstood pressure to be a classic ceramic artist, to be serious, to be socially active the way others had been before him. But those things weren’t him and he knew it. He stated in his life and in his work, ‘This is who I am and what I do. These are my creations done as I see fit.’ Which is, after all, the essential job description of an artist.
Writing by Marty Coleman
Artwork by Robert Arneson
Some artwork photographed by Rob Corder.
You can see more ‘artists I love’ using the drop down menu at the top of the page.
