Freshwater

I have three Cory catfish and a rabbit snail in a tank.  It took a bit of time this summer into fall to get the water just right and for these creatures and the plants to thrive. 

When it was time to carve a linocut for a holiday card, I thought about my love for the aquarium, the fish and rabbit snail.  It really brings me so much peace.  I love watching the fish swim and explore and the rabbit snail lumbers along like a magical beast.

I decided to print on rice paper this year with water-based ink. I wanted the prints to be fragile just like the creatures.  I forgot how much I used to enjoy printing on rice paper.  I will likely get some more paper to print on in the near future because it was so fun.

I always like the way the blocks look too.

Happy Winter Solstice!  Wishing everyone, everywhere a peaceful season.

 

in other words vol 3: a collaboration

 in other words vol 3 | Colin Seven, Tricia Lane Forster | Colin Seven (bandcamp.com)

Pinellas County
 
Orange juice factories and Spanish moss.
Glass bottom boats and mermaids in tanks.
Mornings spent playing solitaire in the sunroom.
Skee-Ball and shuffleboard.
 
Lessons in how to pass the time.
It seems so endless right now.
 
“The chrysanthemums bloomed.”
A comment made in passing
to distract from the fact,
your heart will break at least a thousand times.
 
Walks in the humid evenings,
watching for frogs with yard long shadows.
Eyeing up underpasses,
searching for post-apocalyptic shelter.
Tiny birds tucked into rows
on the backs of corrugated steel highway signs
like sweet invitations into envelopes.
 
If we’re lucky,
we'll meet again under the pear tree.
I will teach you how to sew buttons
back onto shirts.
How to wash a glass.
How to carry your story
because these hexagons will scatter.
They pull apart
and come together.
They shift,
right now,
under my feet.

For Anna May

The spearmint and dirty buttercream awning,
a little bit dry rotted,
rattled softly in the light rain.
 
I looked out for you,
but all I found was an empty Coke glass
with runny condensation
and two stale ice cubes lounging around,
unwelcome at the bottom.
 
There are no windchimes,
just the tick, tick, tick, tat of the ceiling fan.
No rabbits either,
just old, wise bulbs and seeds
waiting like monks to bloom.
 
First will be the daffodils,
then wild violets,
redbuds, dandelions, buttercups,
forsythias, tulips, azaleas,
wisteria, lilies of the valley, roses,
irises, dogwood,
clover, poppies, daylilies,
and rose of Sharon.
 
Soon, the crickets will be square-dancing
and sleeping in matchboxes under the hostas.
 
We will play checkers again,
won't we?

 

Paintings of Zinnias from My Garden

 

September 25, 1993: Spastic Cracker @ the Loft

September 25, 1993

30 years ago, I was 17, in my first year of college, and the singer in a band called Spastic Cracker. I recently found a VHS tape in a box and I took it to get digitized.

The lady who transferred it to a flash drive had a lot of questions and a lot of apologies. First, she said, “It’s very dark and so loud. I tried to brighten it and I can’t do anything about the sound.”

It was a show at the Loft in Baltimore. As I was standing there, I was thinking to myself, “Sounds about right.”

Then she asked, “Is that you singing?” “Yeah, I was 17.” She then said, “Well, this is nice to have then. Do you stay in touch with your bandmates?” “No, sadly, we’ve lost touch, but I can share it with them on social media I guess.”

One of my favorite songs we wrote, “Thistle,” is at about 10:30, followed by “Level 3” where I scream a ton (a fun song to sing).

Looking back, one of the best things about being in Spastic Cracker was all of the great people I met at the shows we played. It was also really cathartic to be able to create and perform with friends at that time.

You can view the video here:  https://vimeo.com/858998170

In 1994, we released a split 7” with Big Heifer from Chattanooga, Tennessee. (Big Heifer / Spastic Cracker - Big Heifer / Spastic Cracker | Releases | Discogs)

Photo by Brian Storms. *I’m not sure who filmed this, but thank you.

*My friend Mike has written a tremendous amount in incredible ways about this time period.  You can check it out here:  The Retarded Dogs, Spastic Cracker, and the first underground concert in Glen Arm | Towson-Glen Arm Freakouts (wordpress.com)

And here:

Think Baltimore Music Is Weird? In The ’90s, Towson And Glen Arm Music Was Even Weirder. | Bandwidth (wamu.org)

You can hear “Thistle” here: 

https://nunsliketofence.bandcamp.com/track/spastic-cracker-thistle

 

 

When I taught Design in Clay, I made little scenes.

 This summer, I've been cleaning out and organizing.  I've come across quite a few pieces of old art.  When I taught Design in Clay I and II for 7 years at Parkville High School, I made these little scenes.  One was titled "33" from 2008 and the other was titled "34" from 2010.  The numbers represented how old I was when I made them and the scenes were how I was feeling inside.  They are two of my favorite pieces of art I've ever made and they still stir strong feelings of nostalgia when I look at them.  Nostalgia and ennui.

"33"

"34"

Egress

This all started on June 10, 2015 when I took my first photo of a TV antenna.  My parents were both ill and I was driving back and forth between their house and mine a lot and started noticing the TV antennas along the way.  It was an extremely heavy time, but the drives were a pause to reflect and think (if I was alone and my son wasn’t with me asking lots of questions).  I ended up taking 57 photos of TV antennas between June 10, 2015 and April 9, 2022.  (I feel that I probably will still take photos of them, even though this project has ended for now.  It might keep going.) 

Part 1:  The Obsolete:  A crankie in a cigar box with a little security envelope pattern border around the window.  I included 46 of the 57 TV antenna photos in the scroll.  I played static from my dad’s radio and occasionally played single notes on a xylophone (sort of like the tone on tapes or records that accompanied film strips/slideshows to call you to attention to turn to the next image) while scrolling through the photos.  

Part 2:  Intermission:  A zine explaining what led to the TV antenna photos and the security envelope collages.  After the center, it becomes a poem or list of single moments of care given by me to my mom in the days leading up to her death. The last lines: “Ingress/Egress. Static rolling, static.”  An entrance/an exit…..searching for one who left through the static. 

Part 3: Egress:  A large collage (11” x 14”) made from my mom’s mail (security envelopes I’ve saved) and hand stitched (sewing thread inherited from my maternal grandmother and mom) pieces of vinyl with seed beads and a few photos of TV antennas, representing when someone leaves through an exit.  I’m really interested in how the sunlight will interact with the vinyl piece and what the subtly changing shadows throughout each day will add to the piece because it is about change. 

So, in parts 1 and 2, I state “a story of loss and change,” but I do feel that this project is also about the inanimate objects we view and/or things we do or create to keep ourselves intact when everything is disintegrating or changing in uncomfortable ways around us. For me, photographing TV antennas and making collages out of the security envelopes from my mom’s mail (something that caused me a great deal of stress in the weight of the responsibility of handling finances and decisions, etc.) brought me peace and helped me continue through a heavy time.

 

Intermission

https://vimeo.com/795745430