As the white crow flies

2009-09-03T15:49:00.001-05:00

This is a test to see how mobile posting looks on this blog. This is only a test.

So many networks, sites, etc., so little time

2009-06-30T05:51:00.002-05:00

For most of this trip I have been posting on my FaceBook account. You can find me by my user name, kingjean. All the photos are there.

I'll be updating this blog once I'm back home. Right now I'm at the tail end of my trip. I'm sitting around in un-air conditioned London typing this as I wait to print out my boarding passes for tomorrow's flight back to the states.

All in all it's been a good trip, drank from a water fall, went to a castle or two, toured a fjord, rode the vaporettos around Venezia, and went to art and museum shows everywhere I went. What more could I want except more time and cooler temperatures?

See you all soon back home in Texas.

Day 2: Milan

2009-06-16T15:05:00.006-05:00

First view after exiting the Metro

I took the Metro down to the Duomo this morning.

After looking around the neighborhood of my hotel, which feels a great deal like Houston, flat, hot and humid, it was wonderful to come up from the underground to a setting that could be no place else but Italy.

The morning was cool enough to be enjoyable. I wandered around the area of the Duomo and the Galleria for several hours observing architecture and people.

I have no pictures of the interior of the Duomo. Apparently I am one of the only people taking the signs at the entrance seriously, for inside the Duomo is full of tourists blatantly violating the rules posted at the door. A series of signs using the international "No" sign show what not to do. No cell phones. No cameras. Inside the cool, dim interior is a light show of strobe flashes from the tourists' cameras. Several people walk about, cellphone to ear, seemingly unaware of their surroundings. In the midst of all the intrusions and confusion, over on one side of the church are several confessionals where several priests are listening to the various sins of their congregation. I have to wonder if any of them are confessing to taking photos and talking on their cellphones.

For 8 Euro, I took an elevator ride to the roof of the Duomo

Gargoyle on the roof of the Duomo

Bambini should be held by the hand. Do not dangle them by the feet or hold them by the throat or hair. Oh, yes, and no smoking by you or the kiddos.

Meanwhile, back down on the piazza.

I was wondering whether this boy's older brother was helping him out by turning him into a human bird feeder or if he was hoping the pigeons would either fly away with or devour him.

Bicycle rental on the piazza

In Milan even the fashionistas ride bicycles, in platform shoes yet. I loved this woman's attire and her well-groomed dog.

The Galleria, inspiration for the Galleria in Houston, Texas or so they say.

Inside the Galleria, in the same structure where you find Prada, you can find a lovely McDonalds.

A beggar just inside the Galleria. It was impossible to tell anything about this person. The scarf completely concealed their face and head. They shook and quivered, although I noticed that the hand with the basket for coins seemed steady enough.

I was reminded of Hieronymous Bosch's paintings. There was something incredibly disturbing about this person.

I took this last photo and wandered back outside. When I returned less than five minutes later there was no sign of the beggar anywhere. Your guess is as good as mine.

I wandered on.

I took a break in one of the stores, enjoyed a gelato and headed back to the hotel in time to take a nap before time for dinner.

I hate to make a liar of myself, but . . . .

2009-06-15T03:29:00.005-05:00

I wasn't going to travel, really I wasn't, but here I am in Milan, Italy. Wherever the call to travel rears its lovely head, I must follow. What can I say?

The trip here was relatively uneventful. I flew from Houston to Newark and from Newark to Milan departing on Saturday morning and arriving on Sunday morning. I flew Continental Airlines.

And now for a short rant and vent.

At the airport in Houston, first, the TSA agents took my carry-on bag and checked it carefully. It was taken over to the side, opened, checked thoroughly and returned to me. I assume this was due to all of the electronic equipment, cameras, chargers and various cables, that I was carrying.

Next, they sent my purse back and forth through the x-ray machine. Another TSA agent was called over and they conferred. This time I'm not sure what the issue was, but it could have been that I was using my new, beautiful Pacsafe bag. It has a slashproof layer of "eXomesh", which is a sort of net made of metal cable. Suffice it to say that they searched my purse. I was pulled out of line and got to watch as everything was pulled out. Whatever had caught their attention was apparently difficult to find, as they swabbed my iPod. The TSA agent replaced some things and not others. My bag was returned to me in disarray. I put everything back in its place and headed on to the terminal.

As I walked down to my departure gate I thought maybe it would be better to pack my chargers and cables in my checked luggage. That thought was banished when I arrived at my hotel in Milan to find that my cute little gray Slingsafe bag, also by Pacsafe, was missing from my checked luggage. Other than my clothes, shoes and toiletries, this was the only other item in my luggage. Due to the eXomesh netting it would have shown up in the xrays. So, was it simply removed and left out by accident or was it stolen?

At this point you need to know that when my husband returned from a recent trip to California he was missing his Braun travel clock. He has since replaced it, but he swore that it had gone missing in transit. I was not as sympathetic as I could have been at the time. He was traveling the same airline, but returning to Houston. Coincidence? Hmmmmmm?

On to the next question: So what do you do if some of your belongings go missing between when you check your bags and when you open them again? Apparently this problem occurs often enough that it is addressed on the website. Well, here are the instructions from the Continental website:

"Missing items from baggage should be reported to the airport Baggage Service Office immediately after the arrival of your flight, but must be reported to Continental Airlines in writing no later than 4 hours after discovery. Missing items may be reported to the Continental Airlines Baggage Resolution Center at its 24-hour, seven-day-a-week, toll-free number: 1.800.335.BAGS (1.800.335.2247) prompt 1. If the toll-free number is not available in your area, please call 1.281.821.3526 prompt 1."

You have to understand that you have to have Internet access to find this information, since it is located on the Continental website. You'll find it after you wander through their site. I'll simplify it for you, just in case you happen to have the same experience with them.

1. Go to www.continental.com
2. Click on "Travel Information"
3. Click on "Baggage Information"
4. Click on "Missing Items from Luggage and Claim Form"

Now, if your experience is like mine a number of factors will go wrong. The hotel I am staying at has WiFi and I have my trusty laptop along (otherwise I wouldn't be able to post this blog). Unfortunately, this service is not free and I had to buy a WiFi Card, 24 hours for 15 Euro. This card requires activation. So far, so good, except that the WiFi service provider has to send my password as an SMS to my cellphone. Remember that I arrived on Sunday. The WiFi service provider has no one in their offices on Sunday, so there was no one to contact when my password failed to arrive. The nice folks working at the front desk were unable to help me. They needed to contact the WiFi service provider and get me a password.

Back to the problem of the missing purse, since I had no Internet I was unable to access the Continental Airlines website. I'm now way past "4 hours after discovery". Although I am now online, I have nowhere to print out the required claim form. When I finish this post I am going to call the number provided by Continental Airlines and see if I can get some satisfaction. Wish me luck!

I'd like to tell you that I was staying in the center of the city or that Milan is very beautiful. So far, both would be lies. I haven't really seen Milan yet. I'm staying in a hotel on the edge of town near the Linate Airport. So far, most things here remind me of Houston: traffic, construction, industry, flatness, etc.

I did take a walk down to the Metro station yesterday afternoon. Check out the pictures. It's all about point of view.

This sign was on the concrete wall of the underpass near my hotel.

Allotments near high rise apartment buildings

The scenic part of the walk to the Metro station

An abandoned building on the way to the Metro station

I'll be posting more after I make it in to the center of Milan. The duomo is the heart of Milan. All subways seem to head to there and so that is where I plan to start.

Summer Approaches

2009-05-17T14:43:00.002-05:00

The countdown is on. Only two weeks to go. Only 9 work days to go. Only 7 and a half days with kids to go. Now, subtract the 5th grade field trip on Tuesday and Field Day for the third through fifth grade on Friday, and you have 5 and a half days of teaching. Minus, of course, the class parties and awards ceremonies leaves what?

This summer there is very little travel in my plans. Instead, I will be taking time to do more here at home. There's so much to do and there just may be enough time!

There are two one-day mini conferences scheduled during the first two weeks of the summer by the Museum of Fine Arts and Area VI of the Texas Art Education Association at the museum and the Glassell School. CEDFA has it's usual summer session. A Community Bridge Program course is being held at the Glassell School during the end of the summer. The Holocaust Museum Houston has a Summer Institute.

I'll be setting up my studio which involves rearranging the entire house. I'll be spending some time in the studio for a change. I've been filling up on ideas and images for the past few years. Now to process them.

There's also all this new technology to play with and plans to be made. There are wikis and VoiceThreads, Twitter and FaceBook, not to mention Nings. There are presentations to be planned and lessons to be put together.

I've already started putting together the materials I need for Area VI of TAEA. Lots of new ideas there, too!

Finally, I'm working on a program for teaching knitting with parents and kids. I have a lot of work to do on that end. More about this project, Knit Together, later.

We need to do a lot around the house. Our deck and porch need to be redone. We need to get a new refrigerator and mattress. Lots of fun projects to come! You can follow along if you like.

For those who've gone before

2009-03-28T21:26:00.003-06:00

Once again, I've managed to go months without posting.

Since last I posted I applied for a National Endowment for the Humanities grant to attend a seminar in Assisi and Siena, Italy. I didn't get this one. I don't receive every grant I apply for, I'm simply hard headed enough or possibly determined enough to keep applying. Persistence pays off.

Barb and me

Right now I'm thinking about my friends who are no longer among us. My friend, Barb Jones, passed away of cancer on my sister's birthday back at the beginning of March. Virgil Grotfeldt, who I was acquainted with from my UH days, died on my daughter's birthday in February. No causal relationship between the birthdays and the deaths, just weird coincidence.

Barb's self portrait, painted not long before her death from uterine cancer

Both of them will be sadly missed. Two excellent artists gone. The world is a little less for the loss.

When I travel I carry a small leather photo album. Inside it are photos of friends and family, At the very back are photographs of friends who never got the opportunity to travel to the places that I've gone.

There's Allison Magee. She taught fifth grade at the same school as me here in Houston. She was an awesome teacher, creative, talented and loved by her students. She was talented and creative. She died July 4th, 2001, a month after Tropical Storm Allison hit Houston, another one of those coincidences. I miss her. She was fun to work with and we roomed together a couple of times at conferences. Her death was a tragic case of the state of the medical system here in the US. She was waiting on the insurance company to stop procrastinating and get her in for testing. It was a sad, unnecessary loss.

My friend Malcolm Smith is there, too. He was almost 45 years old when he died on October 27, 1996. He was a good musician and friend. He died in his sleep.

Roger Ruffcorn, Zeke Zuelke, Bruce Henry Davis, Bruce McIlheny, Townes van Zandt and Colleen Cade are all gone, but not forgotten. I still remember holding baby Colleen while her parents, Bill and Lucille Cade, performed at Anderson Fair. The longer I think and remember, the more friends come to mind.

When I travel I remember all of these friends. I carry them with me in my photo album, in my mind and in my heart. They inspire me to keep on going.

Well, gotta go. I'm trying to figure out where to go next. Will it be Yad Vashem in Israel? or a mosque in New Mexico? Who knows, but I'll be taking my friends with me where ever I go.

Time goes by

2008-12-28T22:27:00.003-06:00

I wonder how I let time get away from me. It's been ages, literally, since last I posted.

I've been consumed with school. I changed classrooms over the summer. Due to the broken wrist, I was unable to do my own packing of materials or unpacking for that matter. I went back to work at the start of the school year, but I've had to spend an absolutely incredible amount of time negotiating the miracles of the modern medical jungle: insurance adjusters, doctors, physical therapy, occupational therapy, on and on it goes.

So much to do and so little time.

My photographs of my travels in Japan, London, New Mexico and New Orleans are available at http://gallery.me.com/jeanking9#gallery . This site can give you a better view of what I've been up to.

You can also find me on Facebook, H-town Art Teachers, and several other places around cyberspace.

We'll see if I manage to keep up with this space over time. This tends to be my summer blog, more than anything else. My other blog, News From The Art Room, has also been sadly neglected. So many places, so little time.

I want to go back!

2008-07-01T10:37:00.003-05:00

I've been organizing all the material that I brought back from Japan and, I have to tell you, I am amazed. As I look over all the information and remember the places I've been and the things I've seen I am struck by both the quality and the quantity of experience. Yet, there is so much that I wish I'd done, so many things I wish I'd seen.

i want to go back.

I did not even make a dent in learning about the arts of Japan first hand. I've no idea how much time, money and energy it would take to be able to do this.

Let's see, there's ceramics. I'm putting together a ceramics program at my school this year. One of the other groups got to see the famous kiln in Shimotsuke. I was so jealous when I realized this.

Japanese paper is one of my favorite things, from shoji screens to washi. And then there's origami, the art of paper folding. I do a variety of origami lessons with my students, but I want to learn more. Or how about kirigami, Japanese cut paper. Of course, there is the combination of the two in the form of pop-ups. I don't know the Japanese name for them, but I love them all the same. I ran into kirigami in Katori, but the gallery was closed for the day and it was my last day there.

I would love to be able to check out the woodblock prints. I bought one over in Asakusa, but I would like to see more.

I had hoped to bring back tools, woodworking tools in particular.

I guess I will simply have to save my dimes and nickels until I can go again.

Chiba University

2008-07-01T04:39:00.004-05:00

Our first full day out of Tokyo we went to Chiba University to meet the education faculty. We sat on one side of the room and the University folks sat on the other. We were given a packet of information, a lovely Chiba University bookmark and a red and gold origami bird. Tom gave our opening speech, introductions were made and the question and answer session was underway.

Facts learned from this visit:
Student teachers only practice teach in the classroom for four weeks!
Teacher turn over in Japan is very low.
Teacher salaries in Japan are subsidized by the government. Check this website for more info on teacher salaries worldwide, http://www.educationworld.net/teacher_salaries.html
"Monster Parents" are a problem in Japan. (Think about it and I'm sure you get the idea. Are you having visions of Godzilla at this point?)

I spent time talking with Shingo Jinno, Associate Professor, Theory of Visual Art. With the help of Dr. Mitsue Allen-Tamai, we were able to communicate quite well. I'm hoping to be able to establish a line of communication now that the trip is over.

Scrumptious Japanese sweets!

My flight home

2008-06-29T04:36:00.005-05:00

I know that this blog is not in chronological order, but you'll just have to bare with me.

The Grand Prince Hotel Akasaka staff lined up to wave good bye to us.

Leaving Japan was a breeze, although my big bag was overweight and I had to pay 3000 yen for the privilege of getting it back to the states. Narita Airport was easy to navigate and the employees of United Airlines in Japan were very helpful.

I was able to board my flight early and the flight attendant helped me with maneuvering my bag into the overhead compartment.

I had the middle seat on every flight I was on for the entire journey. On the flight from Japan to San Francisco the gentleman who had the window seat was a body builder and wrestler. I am not kidding or exaggerating. His arms were easily bigger around than my thighs. He was wearing a tank top. He was huge! Now remember that we are flying economy and we will be sandwiched together for ten long hours.

The body builder was on my left, that's the side with the broken arm, and an average, normal size American guy was on my right.

My wrestler friend had two dinners and three breakfasts! Yum, airline food!

When we arrived in San Francisco we had to stay on the plane while a passenger was removed. It seems for the last five hours of the flight this gentleman had become determined to open the door and get off. It took a while before they escorted him off in handcuffs and interviewed the witnesses.

I only had an hour and a half between connecting flights and part of that had been lost due to the delusional passenger. I got my bags and with help maneuvered them onto a cart. I passed through customs with no problem.

At San Francisco security the fun begin in earnest. I did as I had been told to do. I explained that I have recently acquired a metal plate in my arm and that it will set off the metal detectors. I asked to be pulled out for a pat down and to have my arm swabbed to detect any explosives. I was told to wait and go through the metal detector. This slowed everything down. The security folks were slow. It is humiliating enough to go into the little clear acrylic isolation booth, but this is followed by being swept with a metal detector followed by being physically patted down by hand. Finally they take two swabs and go over my hands and splint. Everywhere else I had been asked if I wanted to have this done in a small private booth. Not in San Francisco.

I was watching the clock. My plane would begin boarding in five minutes. One of the security agents asked to look in my bag. I opened it and he took a quick peek. My hand was swollen from the previous flight and I couldn't zip the bag closed again. Time was passing. The security agents watched with interest as I tried to close my bag. I finally asked for help and was soon on my way.

At the terminal one of United Airlines employees refused to let me board early when I told her that I would need assistance boarding. She instead asked me if I would like a wheelchair. Wasn't it United that used to ask you to fly the friendly skies?

We landed in Houston and had to wait for a plane to vacate our gate. I was ready to be home.

Sure enough when I came out of the terminal Joel was there waiting. What a sight for sore eyes! He went with me to baggage claim and helped wrestle my bags onto another cart. In every other airport the carts were free. I was surprised to have to pay three dollars to use a cart in my hometown. Welcome to Houston, ya'll!

I was glad to arrive home to the heat and humidity and my own bed.

Of broken bones and traveling

2008-06-29T03:41:00.005-05:00

If you have a choice of traveling with a broken bone or not, my advice is don't do it. If you are going to do it anyway make sure you take along plenty of ibuprophen.

If I had been able to change the dates of my JFMF trip from the June cycle to the October cycle I would have. As it is, I am a hard head and I just couldn't pass up the opportunity. Everyone I know told me that the JFMF is the trip of a lifetime and they were right. Broken arm or not, I couldn't pass it up.

Variations in temperature and altitude caused me problems. Fast elevator rides hurt. Heat made my hand swell. Several times during the trip I attempted things that I simply could not do and the pain was excruciating. My eyes filled with tears.

Several of my travel companions were quite kind and if it hadn't been for them I could never have made it all the way through. They helped with my bags and included me in their activities. For this I am incredibly grateful.

There were times that I felt sorry for myself. Self-pity is an ugly thing no matter where you are.

At other times I felt angry. One of my fellow travelers had the audacity to ask if I felt my broken arm was effecting my emotional state. I found her question cruel and thoughtless. The answer to her question was not simply yes, but hell yes. My mobility was effected. My balance was thrown off. I couldn't put up my hair or fasten my bra. I could only apply deodorant to one armpit. I had to put a bag on my arm to shower. If I ate too much soy sauce with my sushi my hand would balloon out. I couldn't take part in group activities like bowling. Finally, I could only type with one hand, which left me poking and plodding away at a task I normally fly through.

Since our free day was at the beginning of the trip my arm limited where and what I could do. My desire to go to Kamakura, Kyoto, Hiroshima or Nara was not to be. At that point in the trip I couldn't handle crowded trains or having my arm jostled and bumped. I spent my free day in Tokyo wandering around with some fellow JFMFers.

Towards the end of the trip my arm was doing much better. I no longer needed the sling. I could use my fingers and, if i did it correctly, I could carry light objects.

What the arm looked like under the bandages on the next to last day of the trip.

Just letting it stew

2008-06-25T07:00:00.006-05:00

I have not left Japan yet, but I have started to reflect over my experiences here. Just as a pot of stew will simmer on the stove so my thoughts and memories are simmering in the back of my mind.

I set out on this trip with very high hopes and expectations. I was hoping and believing that I would see extraordinary art education here in the land whose art inspired the likes of Van Gogh and Gauguin among others. I also started out on this trip with a broken arm that was more of a hindrance than I was willing to admit.

I toured the elementary school and found that there was no art specialist on campus and that art was only taught on Monday and then only two of the grade levels took part. I need to note here that the school was very small. There were only 101 students. A budget that supported a separate art teacher was probably not a possibility. The head principal at the school is a master calligrapher. Calligraphy is an art form in its own right and this man is most certainly an artist. In the course of a lesson in the school garden where the students raise vegetables, they came back inside and drew themselves in the garden.

In the Junior High I saw some lovely work. Students worked from photographs. I did see beautiful examples of color exercises and, a couple of days previously, we had run into some of these same students painting along the river in Sawara. The book on the teacher's desk was Johannes Itten's color text. This is one of the books that I use at home in the United States.

When I traveled through Europe I finally understood why the various painters from the Renaissance to the impressionists painted as they did. They were capturing their environment in two dimensions. The quality of light, the land, the plants, the sense of place are there because this is where they worked, this is what they saw.

As I write this I am thinking of Monet and his Japanese bridge, Monet whose work was inspired in part by Japanese woodblock prints. Monet has been big news this week when his painting of waterlilies sold at auction for a record $80 million.

In my mind's eye I see the iris festival that I was privileged to visit twice during this trip.

I let my mind wander to the almost tactile sensation of crossing beneath a Tori gate and entering the quiet beauty of the forest as I approach a Shinto shrine.

The smell of earth and trees warmed by the sun while I walk through cool green shade past pools of koi and turtles. The wisps of incense carried on a breeze.

I long to see more Japanese art created by Japanese art teachers and their students. I know that several of my colleagues said they saw a great deal more than I did. I wish that I could tour Japan looking at the school art rooms across the country.

This trip has taught me a great deal, but it has also highlighted how little I know.

I am waiting to have time to reflect over my experiences here. I hope to correspond with both my Japanese and AmericanI. Maybe in this way I'll find answers to the questions that I have.

Perhaps there is some way to collaborate between our art classrooms using the internet, something more than showing student work in an online gallery, something somehow interactive that allows the students and the art teachers to establish a dialogue across the Pacific.

I need to say thank you to the Japan Fulbright Memorial Fund and the Japanese government for making it possible for me to take this trip. So many people did so much to make this trip a possibility. Thank you all!

Let me now sing the praises of the dogs of Tokyo

2008-06-25T00:57:00.006-05:00

Dogs and small children, both seem to act as magnets.

Wandering around Tokyo I spotted both, but what got my attention the most were the dogs, particularly their clothes. So, for your viewing pleasure, I bring you some of the dogs of Tokyo.

Dogs in shades

Pretty in Pink

Sports fan

Daddy's girl

Beauty in small things - manhole covers

2008-06-24T15:27:00.004-05:00

Attention to detail and aesthetics is everywhere.

It's not a manhole cover, but isn't it lovely!

Tokyo

Chiba City

Kartori (Sawara)

Skipping Around in Japan

2008-06-24T09:35:00.003-05:00

I just sat here in my room on the 28th floor if the Grand Prince Akasaka Hotel in Tokyo and watched a red half moon rise over the Tokyo skyline. I tried to photograph it, but I just couldn't catch it.

A small piece of my view.

Who would ever have thought that I would be here?

Katori and Sawara

2008-06-19T15:48:00.005-05:00

The day started with a trip to Katori City Hall where with met with three parents representing the three levels, elementary, junior high and high school. There was a question and answer session that left me convinced that we are more alike than we think.

We had a box lunch at City Hall and boarded the bus for Sawara.

We visited the Inoh Tadataka Museum. Inoh Tadataka surveyed Japan and made an incredibly accurate map of the entire country.

We shopped and observed students drawing along the river.

Our next stop was the Katori Shrine.

I think I found Totoro's tree!

Our final stop was the botanical gardens to see the irises. Nothing I can say can begin to approach the beauty of this place.

Chiba City and on to Kasimu

2008-06-16T16:53:00.004-05:00

We checked in to the Mitsui Garden Hotel in Chiba without any further excitement. After a short settling in, I set out exploring. I wasn't feeling horribly adventurous at this point, so I started with circling the block and then circling, or maybe that should be spiraling, outward. There is a park across the street from the hotel and a Shinto shrine about two blocks away.

Dinner was on our own and I had missed lunch. I set out in search of food. As i passed a variety of restaurants, I realized I was craving good old American cuisine. Less than a full block from the hotel was an 8 story shopping mall. It was enticing for more reasons than one. It had a sign with a picture of a big, juicy cheese burger on a sign near the door and ,high overhead in huge letters, a sign for Tower Records. Yes, friends and neighbors, the same Tower Records that used to be located less than a half mile from my home in Houston! Now I know where music stores go when they leave Houston!

The food court was on the 8th floor. There I was lured in by the exterior of a small restaurant that looked extremely out of place. A neon Tecate sign glowed by the rough wood entrance and there, next to the entrance, was posted the same picture of a real live, scrumptious cheese burger. Not a McDonald's burger, but the real thing.

I headed back to the hotel with a Japanese DVD of My Neighbor Totoro and two CDs by Ayano Tsuji or is that Tsuji Ayano?

The next morning we went headed to Chiba University where we met the education faculty. I had the good fortune to get to talk with the Associate Professor of Visual Arts, Jinno Shingo.

From there we travelled on to Katori City where we visited a Sake Brewery and then met a papier mache artisan named Miuraya-san. He had created a rabbit that was used as an image on Japanese postage stamps. He demonstrated his technique of created works using a drape mold.

Finally, after a question and answer session we went to our hotel, the Kashima Central Hotel. It's a beautiful hotel with all the amenities.

I went with several other members of my group in search of dinner. We walked an incredible distance before we settled on a restaurant in another hotel. I had eel, which is very tasty.

On the long walk back we stopped at Baskin Robbins for ice cream, then it was back to the hotel for sweet dreams.

Tomorrow would be another day all too soon and it was set to be as full as any of the preceding ones.

Latest excitement

2008-06-15T00:42:00.004-05:00

Our bus was in a wreck on our way to Chiba City.

The woman in the other car was very lucky. Her right arm was injured and bleeding, but she and her passenger were both able to get out of their car on their own. Her car was totalled.

Our bus appeared drivable, but we had to wait and change rides. Wawako-san hit her cheek on the dash of the bus and one of the younger teachers was complaining of neck pain. One of our ranks went to the hospital with lower back pain. We were all wearing seat belts when the wreck occurred.

The rest of us are safely installed in our hotel. We were brought here in a small convoy of black taxis.

Chiba out my window

Now it is time to explore Chiba City and find some lunch.

Later.

Trying to catch you up to date

2008-06-14T18:15:00.012-05:00

So many things have happened, so many places seen, so many speakers heard, how can I even begin to tell you about it all?

We have met politicians

and Hiroshima survivors,

watched Kubuki

and Kyogen,
ridden buses and subways,

toured temples

and the halls of government,

seen a festival at the nearby shrine

and seen a wedding, and walked and walked and walked.

Before we arrived in Tokyo there was a horrible incident in Akihabara Electric Town. A young man went on a rampage, driving a rented truck into a crowd and then jumping out and stabbing people. Similar things have happened in the States and actually still do. Here in Japan seems to be a much rarer event. Yesterday we happened onto the site of the incident. Passersby were stopping to offer flowers. It reminded me of the memorial to Tom Jones in front of the Art Car Museum in Houston.

Memorial in Akihabara Electric Town

Yesterday at 8:43 we felt an earthquake. Here on the 28th floor, I felt the building sway and heard it creak and groan. It felt like being on a boat, but without the boat. The epicenter was north of Tokyo, but we felt it all the same. I don't believe I would want to get any closer to one of these things.

This morning we are off to Chiba Prefecture!

Welcome to Tokyo!

2008-06-12T15:04:00.009-05:00

We arrived in Tokyo on Tuesday, June 10th.

The Fulbright Memorial Fund folks were great. There were signs and greeters all along our path. Good thing. too. as jet lag was definitely taking its toll.

Approximately 160 lagged out teachers dragged wheeled luggage out to our waiting buses. We were met by our guides, all of whom are volunteers. They, in turn directed us to buses by Host City.

Our guide, Keiko-san, in front of our bus

The bus ride into Tokyo passed in a blur. On the bus we were given our meal allowance, signed a receipt for our allowance and handed in a copy of our itinerary.

My arm ached from the flight.

We are staying at the Grand Prince Hotel Akasaka and, yes, it is as luxiourious as it sounds. At the hotel we disembarked and received our room assignments. We each have our own room.

My first view of my room

After a quick clean-up in the our rooms we went to meet some of the Japanese Fulbright Scholars. Each of us was assigned a table with of the Fulbrighters.

I was at Table 8 with three other teachers and Mr. Shigeru Tabe. He was at the University of Michigan in 1967 where he studied linguistics on a Fulbright Scholarship for two years.

After a short talk by David Satterwhite, we walked with Tabe-san to a lovely restaurant called Wa Zatami for dinner. It was awesome! Sashimi to my heart's delight!

Entertainment provided by Yuko Naito on Koto and Koumei Ashigaki on Shakuhachi

Ebi AKA Shrimp

Sashimi AKA Raw Fish, yum!

Edamame AKA Soy Beans

Afterwards Tabe-san left us and we wandered around for awhile.

I had forgotten to take anything for pain and was nearly in tears by the time I made it back to the room. I won't make that mistake again!

More later. I have another full day ahead.

Leaving San Francisco

2008-06-11T14:30:00.003-05:00

I have discovered that traveling with a broken arm can be difficult. Duh!

Going through security at airports with a metal plate in my wrist requires a pat down and having my splint swabbed. Oh, well.

Here you see me and the arm preparing to leave San Francisco.

As usual, everything that could go wrong did.

I was in the first group leaving for Tokyo. There are so many JFMF teachers that they divided us into two groups. I was looking forward to arriving to Tokyo early, but this was not to be.

First, the plane was delayed by one hour, than a small mechanical problem had to be fixed which meant finding and installing a new part, and, finally, someone had to be found to take the entryway (Why do I always want to call it the gang plank?) away from the plane so that we could move to the runway.

Once in the air it is slightly more than ten hours to Tokyo.

I did my best to keep my arm elevated.

Up, up, up, and awaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!

Welcome to San Francisco!

2008-06-09T09:57:00.004-05:00

View from my hotel room

View of San Francisco from the window of the Consul general's residence

The trip began with taking off, flying for about 15 minutes and then returning to Houston. The pilot said there was smoke in the electronics compartment. We returned to the ground in Houston gently enough where there was a panic of passengers trying to reset their flights to make their connections to Beijing and Hong Kong. After a long delay we were told that the smoke detector was defective, so we reboarded the plan.

Several hours later I found myself in San Francisco explaining over and over to my new JFMF peers how I broke my arm.

We turned in our Follow On Plans, picked up our books, and went to orientation. We heard from Christopher Powers, the director of IIE, Robert Radford, the director of Friends of the Memorial Fund, and David Satterwhite, the executive director of the Japan-United States Educational Commission. A panel of former JFMFers told us about their experiences. We met with our city groups and changed clothes to go to a reception at the Official Residence of Japanese Consul General Yasumasa Nagamine.

I started this entry in San Francisco in the lobby of the Sheraton Gateway Hotel, but had to finish it off in Tokyo. I thought I had lost this entry when we were called to the buses. I had to log down as quickly as I could.

Cleared for Take Off!

2008-06-07T00:05:00.003-05:00

We left early for the Physicians' Clinic this morning. I had barely slept last night. It was a night filled with nightmares and waking up only to doze off again and find myself back in some disturbing dream situation.

Arriving at the clinic it looked as though I had walked into one of my nightmares. The waiting room that had been so full last week was empty. The only people there were two receptionists. When we asked at the desk we were told no doctors were in today.

I explained that I had an appointment. The receptionists informed us that they didn't show anything. I pulled papers out of my folder. One of the young women made a call to my doctor's nurse. It turned out she was headed over right then.

Once she arrived she removed my splint and cut away the cotton that was wound around my arm. She gently removed the bandage. I was able to see my arm for the first time in two weeks. There is an approximately four inch wound, very straight and beautifully stitched together.

She put a new bandage on and showed me how to take care of it. The last thing was a splint that supports my wrist.

Finally, she gave me a note stating that I can travel.

I am a very lucky woman. Good doctors, good medical care from the moments after the accident through the present.

I can use my arm and my hand. I can type with two hands. Best of all, I can go to Japan! Yes!

Surgery at last!

2008-06-05T22:49:00.002-05:00

Tuesday at noon we headed over to the Day Surgery. By evening I was headed home with a much smaller splint and a metal plate and several screws in my forearm. It wasn't fun, but my arm is easier to deal with.

I spent Wednesday and Thursday nursing my arm and crossing my fingers. My suitcase is almost completely packed. I still need to finish buying my gifts for my host family.

This evening Joel and I went to a reception at the Japanese Consul General's residence. I seem to be the only area teacher going on the Spring (June) 2008 Cycle. Everyone else at the reception was either a JFMF alumni or a Fall (October) Cycle person.

The reception was great. Carl Rosa of the Japan America Society Houston gave a really informative talk that gave a picture of the size and population of Tokyo. It's mind boggling.

In the morning I go to the Physician's Clinic again for my follow-up. I should have my travel approval tomorrow. Actually I have to have it tomorrow. My flight is Sunday morning at 6:55 A. M.

Cross your fingers for me. Say a prayer. Here we go!

Diaster Strikes , Part VI

2008-06-02T15:31:00.003-05:00

I couldn't get any rest Thursday night. I tossed and turned. I had nightmares when I did doze off. I was up Friday well before dawn, well before the hour that all the people I wanted to reach would even be stirring.

I bagged my arm and took a shower. I mumbled to myself about the indignities of showering with my arm inside a billowing, white, Glad Tall Kitchen Garbage Bag. As my frustration grew so did my volume. I got loud enough that both my husband and my dog were worried.

Once I was dry and dressed for the day, I started making phone calls. It was still too early to reach any one, but I had a plan. In a short amount of time I had created a list of names and numbers complete with office hours and any other information that I could cull from the various office recordings and websites.

At 8:00 sharp I started calling. I called number after number, sometimes making contact, more often leaving messages. By 8:45 I had run through all the numbers I had. I was about as frustrated as I could be. Nearing tears, I called the school nurse again. She very patiently explained that I was unlikely to have much luck before 9:00. She suggested I wait until 9:00 or 9:30.

I went and laid down on my bed and promptly found myself embroiled in a nightmare where i was trying to explain to some towering, huge entity that I was supposed to go to Japan. This being was so tall that I couldn't see its head. I was screaming and trying every way that I knew to be heard, but it was all in vain. I woke up sweating. It was 10:00 AM.

I started all over again. I called all the numbers I had already called and some new ones that I had just thought of. Slowly, I started to get some positive responses. One woman told me there was supposed to be a three day turn around on the paperwork for my surgery, but once I explained what the problem was she said she would see what she could do.

I called the long suffering school nurse back at least twice more. Each time she acted as my cheering section, coming up with suggestions and making a call here and there for me.

By late afternoon everything was coming together. The whole thing had become a comedy of technology. There were new fax machines that didn't fax correctly, faxes that only made it half way through, miscommunication of all sorts and kinds. I encountered many kind, but overworked individuals. One by one, things begin to come together. Phone calls were returned. Faxes flew, fast and furious.

By my last phone call of the afternoon all the faxes had found their proper places and I had received the authorization code for my surgery. Unfortunately it couldn't speed everything up. I would have to wait one more weekend. At least it wasn't another holiday weekend.

Diaster Strikes , Part V

2008-06-02T13:52:00.002-05:00

Thursday was one of the longest days of my life. I spent the whole day waiting for word on when my surgery would be.

Meanwhile, back at my school, it was the last day of the school year for the kids. All my friends and colleagues were packing up and getting ready for the summer break, either that or summer school.

My room was left exactly the way I last saw it on Friday. There was nothing I could do about it. I had spoken to my principal. My medical papers said that I wasn't to lift anything with my left hand. This really wasn't much of an issue, since even attempting to grasp a piece of paper with my left hand was excruciatingly painful.

I waited and I waited and I waited for a phone call that never came. I could feel Japan slipping away.

Thursday night I couldn't sleep. I had to come up with a plan of action.

Joel bore the brunt of my frustration and fear.

Friday would be another day.

Diaster Strikes Part VI

2008-06-02T12:07:00.005-05:00

Wednesday morning we arrived at the orthopedics clinic half an hour early. I filled out paper work while Joel looked at a magazine.

I kept a close eye on the women working the reception area. I kept listening to see if I recognized any of the voices from the previous day's phone calls.

After a very short wait, we were called into another sitting area to await another round of X-rays.

I had taken the precaution of not eating anything since the previous day's dinner in the hope that the doctor would be able to fix me up right away. I could have had a large breakfast and it wouldn't have made any difference.

When we first got to the clinic, the waiting room had been close to full, or so I had thought. When I returned to the waiting room after being X-rayed, I begin to understand what full meant and why I had originally been told June 16th. Every few moments there were new arrivals: people in casts, people on crutches, people in wheelchairs, children with their arms in slings. A man who couldn't have been older than forty arrived in a wheelchair. His left leg had been recently amputated at the knee. A young woman brought in a man in a wheelchair with a broken leg and a broken arm. He seemed to be totally lost someplace between pain and a medicated haze. A woman I took to be his mother joined them slghtly later.

It reached the point that the waiting room was at or beyond capacity. If some of these folks had not come in wheelchairs it would long ago have run out of seats. When the fifth or sixth wheelchair arrived with its human host and their escorts, the center of the room had become a tangle of wheels and walkers, casts and crutches. An old woman arrived on a gurney accompanied by oxygen bottles and EMS workers. Thy didn't try to bring her inside, but instead parked her gurney in the hallway. The hallway begin to fill with more hurt and damaged people.

Early on in this parade of hurt and wounded people I had begun to sink lower in my chair as I realized what a selfish, self-absorbed, snivelling brat I had been. The importance of my broken arm looked like nothing at all next to the injuries of the people around me.

Still, I was determined, if at all possible, to go to Japan.

My name was called and I headed back to an examining room with Joel in tow.

At this point I have to pause for a moment and sing Joel's praises. I am not a very good patient. I am also the queen of understatement, so you know that my husband puts up with a lot of rather irritating behavior on my part. I try to be good, really I do, but when the stakes are a three week trip to Japan, a trip that I have applied for five times over six years and only just now been accepted for, well, I get a little antsy. Thank God for Joel because, besides chauffeuring me around and putting up with me, he actually heard what the doctors and nurses said and remembered it. By this point, I had selective hearing loss.

The doctor took a look at my X-rays and gave me two options. One, have them put a cast on and have them X-ray it weekly , watching to make sure the bones don't move. The odds of the bones moving was pretty darned high and the consequences include operating, re-breaking the bone and using pins to put it back together. Option number two was surgery. They would install a metal plate and matching screws that will hold the bone together.

Personally, I was hoping to go for whatever was behind door number three, but this was apparently not an option.

I took choice number two. The doctor left the room while I tried to call the JFMF people and tell them what was happening. I had called the previous day and let them know about my arm, but I needed to keep them up to date about my status.

A nurse came and talked to me about the surgery. The hopes were that I would go in for surgery last Friday, but, as you'll soon see, this was not to be. She gave me a packet of papers that covered what I would need to do pre-surgery. As we finished up she told me that I would receive a phone call between 1:30 and 6:00 the next day telling me what time my surgery would be.

With that Joel and I were dismissed. He dropped me at the house and headed back to work. I went back to waiting.

Diaster Strikes Part III

2008-06-02T10:53:00.006-05:00

The day after The Great Break I woke to find my fingers swollen and discolored. They felt tingly. I read the hospital instructions. They seemed quite clear. If my fingers were swollen, discolored, as in purplish, and tingly I should return so that they could help me.

Joel drove me back to the ER. After a slight wait I felt rather foolish when all I needed was to have the bandages on the splint loosened.

The holiday weekend passed slowly, painfully, and very stressful.

On Tuesday morning, bright and early, I called the doctors' offices and got a delightful young woman on the phone. I explained to her that my instructions from the hospital said to call and make an appointment for Wednesday. She blithely ignored all I had to say and asked if I was a new patient. When I told her I was she said I could have an appointment on June 16th.

I attempted to explain that I had been told that I might require surgery and my discharge papers from the ER specifically said to make an appointment for Wednesday. She continued to tell me the earliest appointment that I could have was on June 16th. After several more failed attempts at communication, I lost my temper entirely, at which point she enquired quite calmly as to whether I had been to the ER. When I said yes, she informed me that, in that case my arm had been stabilized and I could go as long as four weeks without seeing anyone.

I hung up without thanking her and called the nurse at my school. She listened quietly to my rantings. When I had finally disintegrated into tears and sobs she suggested that I call back and ask for a supervisor.

I called back and got a different voice on the line, but the message remained the same, June 16th. I asked for the voice's supervisor. After several minutes a woman came on the line. This time I read the discharge papers to her and then I tried to explain about the Japan Fulbright Memorial Fund. At the end of the conversation I still didn't have an appointment.

Bordering on hysterics, I called the school nurse back. She took the name and number of the woman I had just spoken to and told me she would call me right back.

Five minutes passed and my phone rang. The school nurse told me that she had spoken with the supervisor and explained, one medical person to the other, why I was so distraught. She suggested that I call her back.

When I called I requested the supervisor by name. she was very kind and gentle with me and by the end of the conversation I had an appointment for 8:15 Wednesday morning.

There was still a possibility that I would be going to Japan!

Diaster Strikes! Part II

2008-05-31T17:33:00.004-05:00

The only things that I was aware of on the ride to the emergency room were the bumps in the road. My universe was now centered around the unending pain in my arm. The only variations in the pain occurred when the car hit one of Houston's apparently endless pot holes. At this point, I felt sure this was the worst it could hurt.

We got to the emergency room about 5:00 on Friday evening at the beginning of the Memorial Day weekend.

We passed the emergency room turn in at Ben Taub. I had spent far too much time in the mighty Taub's ER waiting room with husband number one back during the really bad old days. They do an amazing job of putting people back together, but for tonight I would pass on their hospitality and go next door. For me. Ben Taub is full of memories. That's a long story in and of itself. Maybe I'll tell it someday, but not now.

The next emergency driveway was less than a block away and led to Memorial Hermann Hospital in the Medical Center. My husband, Joel, walked me through the doors and deposited me at the emergency room admissions desk. While the woman at the desk started asking me questions and filling out forms, he left to park the car. Once she finished with me, I took my seat among the other folks waiting their turn.

The waiting room was divided into three seating areas, each with its own TV mounted from the ceiling. The result was a mind numbing cacophony of sports and news. The waiting room was amazingly empty or so it seemed to me.

An old woman in a frumpy brown blouse tried to start a conversation with me. Apparently she had broken her arm some time back. I vaguely understood that she was trying to tell me that her arm had been broken worse than my arm. I nodded and closed my eyes hoping that she would leave me alone.

Joel returned and sat with me. We waited. I rocked in my seat, cradling my arm and wondering if I would still get to go to Japan. Joel says it took about a half hour before they called me to go in, but I had no sense of time left. The universe revolved around my arm.

Everything from here on gets pretty fuzzy for me. Everyone was very kind and gentle with me. There was a constant flow of doctors and nurses. They took my blood pressure and my temperature. They asked, "Can you feel this? and this?" as they checked for nerve damage. I would love to thank them each and every one, but that's not possible here.

Then, they did the best thing of all, they gave me pain medication. They asked if I wanted a shot or tablets. Silly me, I asked for tablets.

Shortly afterward they sent me to get X-rays. Joel had stayed with me the whole way so far, but here they had him stay outside the door.

A very nice young woman asked me to place my hand in various positions. Positions that had previously been everyday, no big deal, a gesture here, a turn of the wrist there, had become excruciating. I was afraid that I was screaming. In my mind I was screaming, but I kept my mouth closed. Joel, waiting outside the door, said that he could hear me and it only sounded like whimpering.

Afterward I was able see my X-rays. My initial self-diagnosis was right. It didn't look at all right. I definitely broke my arm. The paperwork said, "Fracture: distal radius (displaced)."

I was taken in and helped onto a bed. An IV was placed in my right hand. An oxygen mask was placed over my nose and mouth. The last thing I remember was the nurse injecting some liquid into my IV that produced a very unpleasant burning sensation in my right arm and then nothing.

When I awoke, I was lying on the same bed in a different room with my left arm in a splint, elbow to knuckles.

There was more, people checking on me, signing papers, checking out, but it all passed in a haze.

The emergency room was starting to get busy. Folks in much worse shape than me were being rolled in on gurneys.

I don't really remember leaving the emergency room. All I really know is that Joel got me safely home and, for that, I am very grateful.

To be continued . . .

Diaster Strikes!

2008-05-30T11:08:00.002-05:00

I am typing this with one hand.

Why? Because my left arm is in the same temporary splint that they put on it in the emergency room last Friday night.

The following is the long version that will bring you up up date, if you are interested.

Last Friday I loaded my car to leave work. As usual, I put my teaching bags in the back, then I walked to the passenger door, opened it and placed my purse and my new laptop on the seat. I was thinking about which Japanese podcast to listen to on the way home.

I closed the car door and that is when the trouble started. I tripped. I don't know what it was that I tripped on, but I was falling forward and I did the only natural thing. I tried to break my fall.

My right palm slid on the asphalt. My knees slid on the asphalt. My left palm didn't slide.

I knew something was horribly wrong. My left arm, or was it my wrist, didn't look right. It hurt in a strange, distanced sort of way.

I supported my left hand with my right and headed back to the building. I ran into another faculty member and her daughter on their way out of the building. She sent her daughter on ahead of us to look for the nurse while she walked me back inside,

I was lucky. The nurse was still at school. She sat me down and started back together as best she could. She cleaned and bandaged my bloody, scraped up knees and right palm while I kept my left arm flat on her desktop. Then she put a splint on my left arm. By then I knew how bad it hurt.

I was cursing a blue streak that would have made any sailor righteously proud. Gratefully all the students were gone.

My principal stopped by. He's on crutches right now, having recently broken his ankle. Other teachers stopped and looked in, most of them offered words of condolence along with their thoughts about the possibilities of my still going to Japan.

My husband was called to come pick me up and take me to the hospital.

One of my fellow teachers and her husband got my car back to my house.

More later.

Winding Up While Winding Down

2008-05-20T04:50:00.002-05:00

The school year is ending and I'm preparing to go to Japan. Nothing new there, except the Japan Fulbright Memorial Fund Teacher Program listserve. All I can say is "Wow!"

As of this last week, I have been overwhelmed by e-mail. It's wonderful e-mail. It's incredible e-mail. It's an avalanche of e-mail. E-mail from all over the country, from every size and shape and type of educator is barreling into my mail box.

As of right now, looking over my list of people who are going to Japan, I know of ten people who are going to Katori, Chiba, thirteen people who are art teachers, and six people who are Texans. All total, I have counted over 114 people and I know I've missed a few! Some people have just sent one e-mail checking in while others have been e-mailing away at an incredible pace. Good thing it is all coming to my home e-mail address. My school e-mail would never be able to handle this type of volume.

I've been trying to keep up. I have to read it all. I don't want to miss one little thing. At the same time, I have an incredible amount of stuff to get through here at the end of the school year.

Let's see, there are grades and paperwork. There is the annual End-of-Year Check Out List. Oh, but the thing that is wiping me out is that I am changing rooms and I have to pack up everything.

The problem is that I am an art teacher and I have a room full of art materials of all shapes and sizes. Some things will just have to be moved as they are and others have to be brought together in one box with other similar items.

And then, there are the boxes. I have never before in my life had so many boxes. The school, my principal and the office staff have been incredibly helpful. I have so many boxes! But, at this point the school year is still going on and I have a classroom full of kids and boxes.

Top all of it off with trip preparations and I'm feeling a wee bit stressed. It's not all bad, but it does feel overwhelming.

I just bought myself a new laptop to take on the trip. I got a MacBook, my first Apple. This is the little machine that I've wanted for a long time, but now that it is here I don't have time to play with it until school is out. I take that back, I won't have time to play with it until this weekend. I definitely need time to become familiar with it before I head for Japan!

I got a new camera for Mother's Day and I have the same problem there. No time. It's a Sony CyberShot T70, very similar to my previous camera, so I'm a stranger to it. It has a touch screen which is taking a bit of getting used to, but otherwise it's easy to use.

It's time to get going. I have another day of kids and art and crazyness ahead. Wish me luck!

My Host City

2008-05-06T23:25:00.004-05:00

I received the news last week. My host city is official. I'll be going to Katori, Chiba Prefecture.

I've looked it up on the web and I'm really excited. It is not too very far from Tokyo. Tokyo is west of Narita Airport and Katori is north east of Narita Airport as far as I can tell. There is some good information about Katori online at http://www.chiba-tour.jp/eng/airport/katori/top.html

I started receiving responses from some of the former JFMFers that I have contacted. They have offered many helpful hints and shared their experience.

I'm keeping my mind as open as I can to this whole experience. I have no idea what it will be like, although I have had several dreams that involve being in Japan. I'm sure that my dreams are influenced by all of the reading that I'm doing.

I received another e-mail from the JFMF folks. Today there was a new online form to fill out. This time I got to sign up for two different special seminars. I signed up for "Peace Education" on June 13 and "Art Education Workshop" on June 24. Both seminars will take place in Tokyo.

Tokyo, in five weeks I'll be there. How cool is that?

The Spending Begins

2008-05-06T06:16:00.003-05:00

As soon as pay day arrived I went and bought my luggage. I have never owned a suitcase so huge! At the same time, I have never traveled so far.

I got one of those enormous roll-around suitcases. You've seen them in the airport. I know I've seen them in the airport. In the past I always thought, "My god, what are those people packing?" Now, I suppose, I will find out.

I also bought the matching carry-on case. No, I did not get the one with wheels.

My next stop after buying luggage was the print shop. I ordered business cards with my name and info on one side in English and on the other in Japanese. Special thanks to Alex for the translation!

I actually had two sets made, one with my school/work information and one with my Texas Art Education Association Area VI Representative/personal info. They look awesome!

It's early morning here. It's time for me to head off to school. More later!

And the next step is . . .

2008-04-27T21:32:00.002-05:00

The acceptance letter was just the beginning of the process.

Once my head cleared and I could breath again, after I called my husband, I reread the letter.

Along with the acceptance letter came the Statement of Intention. Now I had to indicate my acceptance of their acceptance. Its a good thing that I pay attention to details. This letter had to be first faxed, then the original signed form had to be mailed, to the offices of the Institute of International Education.

No problem. I had the Statement of Intention signed and faxed in no time at all. I made a photocopy for my records and mailed it off promptly.

Then, the next letter came. Now there were eight items to accomplish:
1. Travel Registration Form
2. Terms and Conditions
3. Insurance Beneficiary Form
4. Medical Forms
5. Participant Update Form
6. Digital passport photos
7. Proof of Citizenship
8. Copy of photo page of passport
There were several different due dates. Some things could be done online. Some things had to be done in hardcopy.

I got out my calendar and marked out the dates. I went online. I followed instructions.

As each paper went off, as each e-document was sent out into cyberspace, I moved one small step closer to going to Japan.

I copied instructions from the website and made copies of the materials that I need to read before the trip.

I went to the book store and bought travel guides. I went on iTunes and downloaded Japanese language podcasts.

The Japan Festival was being held at Hermann Park. I went and wandered through marvelling at the thought that soon I would see the real thing, Japan itself. I stopped at the Consulate-General of Japan at Houston's booth. I spoke with the people at the Japan America Society-Houston's booth. I collected several business cards.

Business cards, now there was something that I needed! I talked to a young man about where to go to have business cards printed in Japanese and English. He asked if I needed a translation. It had never occurred to me. Yes, of course, I needed a translation.

When I left the festival I was well-fed and had a bag full of brochures and information about classes in the Japanese language. I didn't buy anything outside of food. All I could think was, if this is the Japan Festival in Houston, imagine what I'll find in Japan!

I got home and sorted through my bag. I reread the required Japan Basics reading material.

When time came to sleep I found I couldn't. My mind was churning.

Now the fun began. I started to think about what kind of luggage I need. New clothes, do I need new clothes? What about electronics? A laptop? A new camera? Finally, I dropped off as visions of Japan spun in my head.

The Journey Continues

2008-04-20T16:42:00.002-05:00

I told myself that I wasn't waiting for it, but over spring break I found myself repeatedly checking to see if the mail had arrived yet each day. When the envelop finally came I was afraid to pick it up.

I could see the corner with the return address peeking out from under the bills and junk mail. I left it on the floor beneath the mail slot while I picked up the other mail, one envelop at a time. It was a slow striptease of lifting each envelop and then the next off of the light blue envelop with the Japanese return address.

Finally, all was revealed. Eying it carefully, I tried to determine at a distance what its contents might be. It was the same color of blue as the envelop I received when I was picked to be an alternate a couple of years back. It was larger than the rejection notices that I had received in the past.

I picked it up cautiously, feeling its weight in my palm, its thickness between my fingers. My heart was pounding as I carried it upstairs and used my letter opener to slowly open it. My hands shook as I read the opening line, "Dear Ms. King: It is a pleasure to inform you . . . . " I could barely breathe as I read the letter.

It was the middle of the day and I was home alone except for the dog, who was gazing at me with concern. "Ubu," I said as calmly as I could, "I'm going to Japan!"

Finishing up on the Follow Up

2007-08-14T21:15:00.000-05:00

I've finished my two page Summary Report, but there are still things to do. I have to copy all of the financial report over and make copies of receipts. This portion of it has been the linear thinking part.

This weekend I get to work on the fun part! The Reflective Report is a sort of open-ended, creative, joyous sort of a thing. It can be a scrapbook or a Power Point or whatever moves me. I'm looking forward to this portion of the Follow Up.

I've been waking up thinking about the Reflective Report and about how to apply what I've learned this summer. I'm very excited about the possibilities. I'll let you know what's up as soon as I can.

Just remember . . .

You can lead a horse to water . . .

But don't act like one of these!

Following through on the follow up

2007-08-06T07:25:00.000-05:00

I woke up before 5:00 a. m. and started sorting through all the papers that I brought home from the trip.

I spent hours yesterday working on the financial paperwork from my grant. It is finally all entered into the computer. All that is left to do is copy it.

The next steps are writing the two page summary report, the reflective report, and, finally, the survey.

Going over the financial paperwork was somewhat frightening. I spent an incredible amount of money. Its a good thing that I received a little extra money in July. I added my money to the grant. This allowed me to stay on the road just that much longer. All told this trip cost me about $3000 more than the grant. Amazing!

Of course, that isn't including the books and gear that I bought before the trip. I'm now the proud owner of a tent and all the gear that I need to take off and go camping. Good thing, too, as this trip has made me remember how much I love being out in nature.

It will be a while before I'm going anywhere. I have a week before school starts back up to sort through all of the papers and materials that I brought back.

My brain is churning away with ideas for how to use my experience in the classroom. It's a marvelous state to be in! Between the workshop, Folk Art Traditions and Beyond facilitated by Nancy Walkup of SchoolArts Magazine and Mayra Walker of the University of North Texas, and all the traveling I've done the options seem endless.

I already have the majority of my professional development hours for this school year and school hasn't even started!

Got to go. It's time to make coffee, have a bite of breakfast and get back to the papers.

Working on lists of resources and thinking about the future

2007-08-04T19:30:00.000-05:00

I've spent hours today working on inputting the information on the books that I actually own and have used for research in the course of my travels. I had no idea that I had so much until I started working on it.

I've also created a list of links to the various places that I went over the month of July. Hopefully this will help anyone who is interested find out more.

There is still a little left to do.

I'm hoping to keep this blog going, although I don't know if that is really feasible. I have another blog up and running now. The name is "News from the Art Room". I'm considering the idea of letting it replace the e-mail newsletter that I was putting out last year. Again, I don't know if that will work. People seem to prefer the passive form rather than the active. A blog actually requires them to go to it, whereas the e-mail lands in their mailboxes like manna from heaven. Well, maybe its not that good, but you know what I mean.

Still settling in

2007-08-04T07:32:00.000-05:00

Chama River Valley

In some ways it feels as if I was never gone.

I'm still sorting things out and putting them away. At the same time I'm trying to catch up with e-mails, particularly the one's from school.

I ordered the Georgia O'Keeffe Museum Collections along with the Georgia O'Keeffe Catalog Raisonne. I found them with Amazon. I got a good price break and I didn't have to haul them across country. That was a good thing, too, since the Catalog Raisonne alone weighs 20 pounds!

Since I've been home I find myself waking up in the middle of the night with ideas for projects, both for myself and for my students. I have to write them down as I get them, otherwise they'll be lost in the flood of beginning-of-the-school-year in-services and professional development opportunities.

Mesa Verde

There are reports to file with Fund for Teachers, paintings to paint, drawings to draw and all matter of other things to do. Where does the time go?

Taos Sunset behind the Sagebrush Inn

Leaving Taos Pueblo

Its time to take a breath and remember sitting outside in the moonlight at Ghost Ranch. The real versus the unreal, all the chaos of functioning in the system versus the hands-on reality of days lived in the air and light. I know why Georgia O'Keeffe chose to lived in Northern New Mexico.

Rainstorm over Cerro Pedernal

Home, Sweet Home

2007-08-01T17:13:00.000-05:00

I'm back home in Texas. I drove like a maniac from Abiquiu down through Santa Fe and Albuquerque and on to Fort Stockton.

It was starting to get dark, so I spent the night at the Best Western in Stockton. Two king size beds, one for me and one for my stuff, a TV and a jacuzzi tub! What more could a poor road weary girl want?

Up at first light, I painted until time for the buffet breakfast. As soon as I finished eating I loaded the Jeep again and hit the road.

Let me tell you, after driving mountain roads and dirt roads, the interstate highway system is a dream of sorts. It does seem to go through the most boring routes, but, boy, can you just drive!

I made it to Austin in time for granddaughter Hazel's fifth birthday party.

The drive yesterday morning from Austin to Houston was a hop, skip and a jump compared to what I've been doing.

I turned in the Jeep this morning. I really hated to see it go. It was fun to drive. I made sure it had a full tank of gas and a nice coat of New Mexico mud and dust.

Right now I'm back home sitting at my own computer adding photos to some of the posts on this lil' ol' blog, bless its heart. You may want to go back through the posts and check the pictures. I think they're pretty good.

After my time in O'Keeffe country and at the Georgia O'Keeffe Museum Research Center and Ghost Ranch, I can tell you that I'm not through yet. I'm on a mission!

On the road

2007-07-28T09:34:00.000-05:00

Leaving Ghost Ranch

I spent the last two nights standing out in the moonlight listening to coyotes howl, watching the cliff faces light up, and wishing on shooting stars. I love it here at night. The only problem is that its hard to paint in the dark. I should know, I've tried.

I got up this morning way before dawn and watched the morning arrive. I painted my goodbye to Cerro Pedernal and Ghost Ranch.

It's time to head home.

Another beautiful day in O'Keeffe Country

2007-07-26T09:59:00.000-05:00

O'Keeffe's Abiquiu House where she spent winters

I took the tour of O'Keeffe's home in the village of Abiquiu for the second time yesterday. This time I could relax and be more observant, since I wasn't so overwhelmed by the experience. It's a lovely old adobe. When O'Keeffe bought it in 1946 from the Catholic church it was little more than a ruin. With the help of Maria Chabot, she restored it. The structure follows the original footprint of the old adobe ruins, but O'Keeffe had windows cut in to allow her better views of the landscape.

The house is maintained, as much as possible as, in the exact state that it was in when O'Keeffe was forced to move to Santa Fe due to her health in the late 1980s. Her rock collections are sit on every available flat surface.

Here at the Ghost Ranch, 12 miles down the road, I am carrying on her practice, picking up stones and branches. I wake up with the sun and watch the light catch on the outline of Pedernal, the mountain that O'Keeffe loved so much. Her home here is not open to the public, but the view is not much different. The cottage she stayed in her first few summers here is still available as a guest house.

This afternoon I'm taking a tour of O'Keeffe Country.

O'Keeffe's Ghost Ranch House, Rancho de los Burros, where she spent her summers

Lavender Hills, Ghost Ranch near O'Keeffe's house

Cliffs beyond Abiquiu - Dry Waterfall, Ghost Ranch

Cedar Tree, Ghost Ranch

I've met a wide range of people who knew O'Keeffe, from a woman who worked as a checker at Kaune's back then, to a receptionist at the O'Keeffe Home and Studio Tour who keeps her parents' wedding photo on her desk. She looks just like her mom and the woman standing with her parents is O'Keeffe. Several of the older folks here at Ghost Ranch remember O'Keeffe.

I'll try to check back tomorrow.

I have two more nights here before I hit the road back to Texas.

A few days and a lot of miles

2007-07-25T13:11:00.000-05:00

I keep getting myself off to places with no internet access and no cell phone signal, but that's OK. Just bear with me.

Since you last heard from me I was in Chaco Canyon, Taos, the Enchanted Circle, Taos again and back to Santa Fe. My traveling companion for the last week, Brandy, left me in Santa Fe to fly back to Houston and I headed out to Abiquiu and, about 12 miles further down the road, Ghost Ranch.

The road into Chaco and one of the goat herding dogs

Chaco Canyon was one of the best stops so far. I headed out down a two lane blacktop that changed to dirt.

We encountered a small herd of goats being moved along by three dogs, no shepherd in sight. The dogs stared as we drove by.

A sign stated the obvious, "Pavement Ends", and then there were no fences in sight and open land for as far as the eye can see. It was beautiful beyond belief.

We came to a wash with a sign that said not to attempt to cross it if there was water in it. While we stopped to ponder the question of whether to attempt it or not, two other vehicles pulled up behind us. We all got out of our vehicles and conferred. None of us had been to Chaco before, so none of us knew what the wash looked like dry, but there appeared to be a goodly current. The water was muddy and we couldn't tell the depth. The driver of a Lexus 4x4 decided to take the lead. I figured that he had OnStar and if he got stuck they would come and rescue him anywhere on the planet, so I moved over and let him through.

He made it and the other vehicle followed. Brandy and I looked at each other, took a deep breath and drove through, no problem. The Lexus had waited on the other side to make sure that we made it. We waved our thanks and we all headed out. We stopped in the visitor's center for a restroom break. I bought books and found I that I got a teacher's discount! That led to buying a few more books.

Me standing in one of the T-shaped doorways of Pueblo Bonito in Chaco Canyon

Many of the ruins at Chaco are easily accessible. We climbed and took photos. It is a sort of eerie place. The sound of the wind through empty windows and doorways, the call of ravens, the color of dwellings against high cliff walls give a strangely spiritual quality to this place. Due to the difficulty of access and the remote location there are few tourists hopping about. Don't tell anyone! Too many people would ruin it.

Near Nageezi and O'Keeffe's "Black Place"

On the way out we stopped to take photos of The Black Place that Georgia O'Keeffe painted so often. In the paintings it looks immense, but it's a distortion created by the artist, just like her huge flower paintings. The Black Place is a small geological formation of hills that appear black to dark gray depending on the time of day.

We drove on from there to Taos and spent one night in the Sagebrush Inn.

The Sagebrush Inn is where O'Keeffe stayed in 1930 as she tried to distance herself from the social scene at Mabel Dodge Luhan's house, Los Gallos. The Sagebrush Inn has the original rooms from 1918 and quite a few newer wings that have the same basic feel. It also has a jacuzzi and a swimming pool and a bar with live music on the weekends. The jacuzzi was the right spot to head for after all the days on the road. After cleaning up we had dinner in the Los Vaqueros dining room followed by a stop in the bar for music by a little group calling themselves South by Southwest.

In the midst of all this we found that we had landed square in the middle of Taos Fiesta weekend when the Queen of the festival and all her court dropped by with a mariachi band. We finally called it a day and headed for some rest in a nice air-conditioned room.

Entrance to one of the Earthships

The next day we went out to see the Earthships. These structures are built out of old tires packed with earth and covered with concrete. Several have walls made of old bottles that glow like stained glass in the desert sun. We heard Val Kilmer has a place out there, but we didn't go looking for him.

Portal of the Mabel Dodge Luhan House

We checked into the Mabel Dodge Luhan house for the next two nights where I had the good fortune to run into Lois Rudnick, a writer who has written a history of the house and a biography of Mabel.

The Mabel Dodge Luhan House is not air-conditioned, but it cools off so well at night that you don't really need it. It's quiet and calm and restful. The property is bounded by the Taos Pueblo lands on two sides. I spent a part of my evening listening to the coyotes howl back and forth.

Doing my usual, I woke up at about 3:30 in the morning and headed outside to write for awhile without disturbing Brandy. It felt quiet, safe and cool.

If you don't stay at the Mabel Dodge Luhan House for any other reason you should go there for the breakfast. It is absolutely incredible and served up in Mabel's dining room. I'm not going to tell you anymore, except maybe homemade from scratch blueberry pancakes and fresh bagels and lox. Yummmmm!

We drove the Enchanted Circle with a short stop at the D. H. Lawrence Ranch again. I was hoping to run into Mary Barrett, but no such luck.

One last night at Ghost Ranch Santa Fe. I love this place, great location, good breakfast, and happy, unpretentious people and a chance to do some laundry. My second appointment with the Georgia O'Keeffe Museum Research Center and a tasty lunch at the O'Keeffe Cafe followed by waiting for the shuttle with Brandy.

Once she was off I hit the road for Ghost Ranch Abiquiu. The name is not quite appropriate, as it is 12 miles past the village of Abiquiu.

I checked in and headed for my room on the top of the mesa. It looks like something out of my old Girl Scout camping days but the view is awesome. I can see Cerro Pedernal from my front door. Another good choice, the price is right and includes three meals a day!

Last night a thunderstorm blew in. Now if you have spent time in the high desert you know what I'm talking about. I could see it coming miles off. The air grew cooler and had a different smell. I raced back to my room, uphill all the way. I made it, out of breath and only slightly damp, before the storm hit. I could see it, hear it, smell it, long before it got to me in full force.

Up on the top of the mesa there is not much between you and the thunder and lightening. I was seeing the flash and hearing the crash simultaneously. It was incredible and awe-inspiring.

Looking down from the mesa, early morning

Morning came with a beautiful coolness. Sunlight on orange and yellow cliffs. Pedernal standing over it all. What more can I ask for?

On the way to Chaco Cultural National Historical Park

2007-07-19T16:38:00.000-05:00

Here I am again, typing away on a hotel computer. I'm at the Comfort Inn in Farmington, New Mexico. Tomorrow morning it will be up early and off to Chaco.

White House Ruin, Canyon de Chelly

Monday night was spent in Chinle, Arizona. In the morning Brandy and I took a tour of Canyon de Chelly. Access to the canyon is only in company of a Navajo guide. We took a half day tour that included portions of both the North and South Canyons. We saw petroglyphs and ruins. Any time the truck we were travelling in went into the shadows of the canyon walls it was at least 10 degrees cooler.

Mesa Verde

Tuesday and Wednesday night were spent in Mesa Verde National Park. There are more ruins and archaeological sites in this one small area than you could possibly believe. There are also some really hair-raising roads in this park.

We stayed at the Farview Lodge. Our room was not air conditioned. It was OK after sundown, but when the sun was streaming down it was unpleasantly hot.

Mesa Verde Sunset

Gorgeous views of sunset. We could see Shiprock from our porch.

Yesterday we went on a self-guided tour. We took the bus tour of the park this morning. Like I said, the park is full of a variety of sites, pit-houses and cliff dwellings, both.

I'm about worn out with being on the road. I'll be glad to head home soon.

Welcome to Arizona

2007-07-17T09:39:00.000-05:00

I only have a moment to post before I head out to tour Canyon de Chelly.

We took off early yesterday from Santa Fe. A short stop at the Hubble Trading Post and on to Chinle. We stayed last night at the Thunderbird Lodge at Canyon de Chelly. After the tour we'll be off to Mesa Verde.

I'll post more from there.

Words are failing me. I have seen so much country that I can't even write it, at least not yet.

Until tomorrow.

About to be moving on . . .

2007-07-15T23:36:00.000-05:00

Today, July 15th, is Joel and my anniversary. It's been 11 years. We spoke on the phone for this evening, same as we've been doing since I started this trip. We've agreed to postpone celebrating until I get home and I still have a ways to go.

We, Brandy and me, went out to the Indian Flea Market. She found the earrings that she wanted. I've been searching for an onyx bracelet with a turquoise inset. Once upon a time, a long time ago in a different life I had one for a short while. I haven't seen anything even vaguely like it since.

Well, today at the Flea Market I found a beautiful bracelet with a turquoise inset, but it was made of spiny oyster, not onyx. I told the vendor I would think about it. I walked around for a moment and couldn't get if off my mind. I returned to the booth just in time to watch another vendor buy it and about four or five other bracelets off him. That'll teach me!

We went on to Bandelier. Incredible drive with a narrow road and immense vistas. We took the easy walk, the Nature Trail, to the cave/cliff dwellings. Took some great photographs before it started to rain.

We raced the rain storm back to Santa Fe and dinner.

Tonight was the last night of the workshop, so my time is once again my own.

My personal shrine box from the workshop, Folk Art Traditions and Beyond

Tomorrow we head out for Canyon de Chelly, Mesa Verde, and Chaco. I don't know if I'll get a chance to check in for the next four or five days.

I'll be in Taos the 22nd and 23rd, then back to Santa Fe for one night and on to Abiquiu. I'll be headed for home on the 29th.

It's been a long haul so far. I miss home and my husband and my dog. I miss my own bed, but right now I have to take as much advantage as I can of the time I've got here.

If you don't see any new posts for a couple of days keep checking back. I'll post again as soon as I can.

'night ya'll!

Playing Catch Up Again

2007-07-14T21:01:00.000-05:00

My days have been so full lately that it has been difficult to get a chance to write. If you catch any errors in grammar or spelling, please ignore them. I am so tired I can barely keep my eyes open.

On Wednesday, July 11th the workshop, Folk Art Traditions and Beyond, started up in earnest.

We began our day with a trip to the Museum of International Folk Art. The group that I was a part of spent most of its time in the Girard Collection. Alexander Girard was an architect and collector of folk art. That last part just might be an understatement.

He also knew Georgia O'Keeffe. She and Juan Hamilton visited Girard and his wife in Morocco.

We were given the grand tour behind the scenes of the Museum of International Folk Art. We watched as pieces from the collection were photographed and labeled. It was a side of the museum that most folks never get to see.

From there we went back to the Ghost Ranch Santa Fe for lunch and a session with a young woman named Nancy Judd.

Nancy Judd makes recycled fashion. She combines unlikely materials (broken glass, junk mail, aluminum cans, plastic detergent bottles) into elegant fashion statements. If you'd like to know more you can check her out on line at www.colores.us/pulpfashion.htm

We began work on personal shrines using cardboard boxes and a variety of materials, both two- and three-dimensional. It is amazing the range of directions folks will go in when given an open-ended project!

Finally, John Reyna from Taos Pueblo came and talked to us from his personal experience as a member of the Pueblo and as an educator.

John Reyna's dad's shop at the entrance to Taos Pueblo

Thursday morning, July 12th, started with a lecture on Outsider Art by Mayra.

House with bottle fence and bottle tree in yard, near Madrid on The Turquoise Trail

This was followed by a visit from the potter and ceramicist, Joe Bova. He was unable to make an evening session with us, but dropped in for a few moments.

Nancy Walkup gave an overview of Georgia O'Keeffe's life with particular focus on her time in New Mexico.

We had a another scrumptious lunch and got aboard the vans for a trip to the village of Abiquiu and the home of Georgia O'Keeffe and the Ghost Ranch Abiquiu. Now, if you are like me, you are probably wondering how to pronounce this place name. Its Ab-e-q. Now that's phonetic, so don't fault my spelling.

Brandy and me at the Ghost Ranch Gate. The Ghost Ranch logo was designed by O'Keeffe.

O'Keeffe's home in Abiquiu is beautiful and the views are spectacular, but you're not allowed to take photographs or sketch or anything else while you are there. Still, it's definitely worth the trip.

The landscape around Abiquiu is dramatic. As you go further north it just gets better. From the Ghost Ranch Abiquiu, which is actually north of Abiquiu the village, you have a view of Pedernal, the mountain that O'Keeffe painted so often. She actually said that God told her if she painted it often enough, He would give it to her.

There is no open access to the O'Keeffe house at Ghost Ranch. The house itself was originally named Rancho de Los Burros. Arthur Pack owned Ghost Ranch when O'Keeffe first arrived in this part of the country. She eventually bought her house at Ghost Ranch and a few acres from him. She had hoped to buy the entire ranch, but Arthur sold it to the Presbyterians before she had the chance to make an offer. The word is that it infuriated her, but she got over it.

On our trip back from Abiquiu we stopped off in Espanola to check out the Sikh Gurdwara. That's a temple to the rest of us. The American Sikhs, followers of Yogi Bhajan, have a center on the edge of Espanola.

This part of the world seems to be a center for spirituality. There are a variety of religious retreats, monasteries, temples and mosques up here.

Friday, July 13th, we had a short day of workshops with free time in the afternoon and evening.

In the morning Nancy gave a talk on Dia de Los Muertos or Day of the Dead, followed by a hands-on session making papel picado, the tissue paper banners that you may have seen in restaurants or other establishments.

El Santuario de Chimayo

After lunch my friend, Brandy, and I headed for Chimayo. We wandered around the area of the Santuario de Chimayo taking pictures, then we hit the High Road to Taos.

We drove out to the Rio Grande Gorge Bridge so that I could watch the effects of the view on someone (Brandy) who was, as yet a virgin to this experience. It was worth every second. The river was running yellow from rains up north of us.

The Rio Grande Gorge

We went by the Taos Pueblo Pow Wow. It hadn't started yet, but we went by anyway and visited the venders. The sky was overcast and we decided to get back to Santa Fe before the rains caught us.

Since we had come in on the High Road, we decided to take the Low Road or River Road back. We laughed ourselves silly driving along. We watched the mountains disappear and reappear as the rains moved along on either side of us.

Once back at the Ghost Ranch Santa Fe we found out that those "Watch for Falling Rock" signs are not a joke. Another group of folks from the workshop had also headed up to Taos, but they got caught in the rain. They came down the River Road not too long after us. They didn't find it quite so funny. The rain had loosened rocks and gravel and their car was pelted as they drove. Not a relaxing experience for any of them, but they did arrive alive back here at the Ghost Ranch.

Today, Saturday July 14th, was the big day, the first day of the International Folk Art Festival. We took a shuttle over to Museum Hill and it was a good thing. The place was packed.

There were 118 booths with folk art from around the world. Venders and artisans were dressed in the costumes of their various countries. Many of the artisans demonstrated their skills. There were weavers at their looms, basket weavers, doll makers. It was a feast for the eyes. Color, texture, pattern beyond belief.

I took photos until I ran out of space on one card, switched cards and took photos until I ran out of charge on my battery. I switched cameras (Yes, I carried two cameras.) and kept on shooting. When that camera lost its charge I switched batteries in the other and continued on through the crowd. It was great.

Artists

And craftspeople from around the world

From Mexico

From Peru

Happy folk art creators and consumers!

We had to wait in an incredibly long line for a shuttle back to the truck, but it wasn't too bad.

The only money I spent was on a nice cold gelato, yummmmm, hazelnut and chocolate chip.

Once back at the Ghost Ranch Santa Fe, I unloaded pictures into my printer. Afterward Brandy and I headed over to the O'Keeffe Museum and lunch at the O'Keeffe Cafe.

Back to Ghost Ranch and a well deserved nap.

We had a good meatloaf dinner with ice cream for dessert.

The final event of the day was another hands-on session on
milagros. Milagros are the small metal charms or amulets that you see sometimes in churches. They represent requests or prayers. I bought several at Chimayo. We made them from sheet copper and used counter-repousse, pushing into the metal with whatever tools we had at hand. They were lovely, each one unique.

Once that session ended I started my laundry and headed in here to write to you. It's been a long day and I think I'll go get some rest so I can do it all over again!

'night ya'll!

Of Research Centers and Live Music

2007-07-13T11:02:00.000-05:00

"Life is uncertain, eat dessert first."
A quote read in Tinkertown Museum

Morning, Tuesday, July 10th, I got myself together, checked my bags and went to the Georgia O'Keeffe Museum Research Center.

The Georgia O'Keeffe Museum Research Center

The Georgia O'Keeffe Museum Research Center with a view of the Juan Hamilton sculpture on the side lawn.

Now I have to admit this place intimidated me. They had rules: no pens, no Post-It notes, no photographs, no photo copies. In other words, lots of stuff you can't do. They also had what I want, information and lots of it.

If you don't know me then you have no idea how much I love books and papers. I buy books everywhere I go. When I become interested in a subject I want every piece of information I can find about that subject close at hand and in my personal possession. I have a huge library at home because of this drive to know. The Georgia O'Keeffe Museum Research Center and Yale's Beinecke Library are my Mecca.

I got to the Research Center early by about fifteen minutes. I sat and meditated while I waited. Seriously, I followed my breath. It worked to keep me calm and I didn't pace or fidget.

The Research Center is located on Grant Street just about three blocks from where I am staying.

After I had signed in the guard called the librarian and let her know that I was there. I sat still and as calm as I could be at the moment and waited.

The door opened and the librarian, a delightfully patient woman named Eumie, led me into the inner sanctum.

Books, shelves and shelves of books, a wall of file cabinets and another of flat storage drawers, library tables with lamps and two vitrines were all contained in a light, airy room. The building the Research Center is in is a work of art in itself.

Someone else came up to ask Eumie a question and I got to examine the contents of the vitrine. The first vitrine contained O'Keeffe's tackle box with oil paints and palette knives in one half. The other half was occupied by boxes of her charcoal and various supplies drawing supplies. The second vitrine contained O'Keeffe's pastels. My hands ached to hold them and feel the friction of crayon on paper.

In the meanwhile, Eumie had finished and was ready to help me out. She suggested a couple of books to answer my questions about O'Keeffe's support of other artists, but I already have them. I am a little obsessive when it comes to research and at last count my library of books having do with O'Keeffe, New Mexico and related people and things has reached over one hundred items.

After a short talk, Eumie provided me with several binders that I could go through and search for material that I would like to have pulled to look over. And that, my friends, is how I spent two hours.

I made an appointment to return to the Research Center later in the month when I come back through Santa Fe. Eumie said that she would have my materials ready for me.

I walked back to the Ghost Ranch Santa Fe with my feet barely touching the sidewalk and my head spinning with ideas.

I fixed myself a sandwich for lunch and returned to my room to print out my pictures from the past couple of days. My friend, Brandy, called to let me know that she was on her way from Houston.

I kept busy until time for her to arrive. Once we had her bags in the room, we ran out to the Plaza for a quick walk around before dinner. After we had dinner and attended the orientation for the Folk Art Traditions and Beyond, the workshop we are attending, we headed back to the Plaza for a free concert.

An unfortunately blurry picture of Robert Mirabal performing on the Plaza in Santa Fe

We almost ran to the Plaza. Robert Mirabal was playing a free concert on the Plaza and promoting his new CD, In the Blood. We arrived just in time to catch the last song. Robert Mirabal is from the Taos Pueblo. I've enjoyed his music and was glad to be able to buy the new CD and get it signed to boot.

After that we headed back to Ghost Ranch and a good night's rest before the first full day of the workshop.

Art and Hummingbirds

2007-07-12T23:41:00.000-05:00

Oh, the things I've seen and the places I've been!

The last time I really did an entry was on Sunday, July 8th and then the day was only just beginning.

Sunday started with breakfast with Nancy and Mayra, the two women leading the workshop that I am attending from Tuesday, July 10th through Monday, July 16th.

I made a quick call to my friend, Vince Bell, and his wife, Sarah, and set a lunch date for Monday. Vince is a friend from the bad old days. He's a singer/songwriter. He and his wife moved here from Texas about four years ago. Texas' loss and New Mexico's gain, if you ask me.

Then I headed out for my day. I went to the local Museum of Fine Arts, the Institute of American Indian Arts Museum and the Wheelwright Museum of the American Indian.

At the Museum of Fine Arts I saw the current show, How The West Was One, and then viewed the O'Keeffes they had on view. They have a couple of paintings by O'Keeffe that I hadn't seen even in reproduction.

The Institute of American Indian Arts Museum had a show of Norval Morrisseau up. He is an artist and shaman. The paintings are big and bold. They merit just sitting with them for a long time, so I did. They had an excellent video with footage of a young Norval showing. He is a fascinating man and an incredible artist.

Finally, I headed over to Museum Hill. By now it was nearing the end of the day. I could see the beginnings of the preparations being made for the huge Folk Art Fest.

I headed on over to the Wheelwright Museum of the American Indian. Mary Cabot Wheelwright, the museum's founder with Hastiin Klah, holds a special place in my heart. When I was working at the Jung Center library in Houston I spent some time reading a book she had put out on the Navajo. In addition, she knew O'Keeffe. It's a small museum with some lovely pieces of Navajo artwork on display. In the basement of the building they have built a reproduction of a trading post to serve as their gift shop. This particular building opened in the late 1930s making it one of the first museums, if not the first, on Museum Hill.

I came back to the Ghost Ranch Santa Fe tired and ready for a good night's rest.

The sun came up Monday morning and I headed in for breakfast, where I ran into Nancy Walkup again.

I spent the early morning printing out photos with my cool little HP photo printer.

Lunch time rolled around and Sarah and Vince pulled up at the Ghost Ranch door. We headed over to La Choza for lunch away from the crowds. After good food and good conversation they dropped me off at the door of Ghost Ranch once more.

I gathered my map and a bottle of water and hit the road headed for the Tinkertown Museum.

Now the Tinkertown Museum must be seen to be believed.

Georgia O'Keeffe meets PeeWee Herman at Tinkertown.

Ross J. Ward was a man with a vision. He built his museum on New Mexico Highway 536. This is the road that goes up to Sandia Crest. His museum is truly a work of love. There is a sign on the way in that says, "We built all this while you were watching TV." Ross painted signs, carved wood, built walls out of bottles, and inlaid concrete floors with horseshoes. He was diagnosed with Alzheimer's and died at the age of 57. Ross J. Ward's final resting place.

His ashes reside in the place he loved, Tinkertown. Over to the side of his memorial is a sign that says, "I love ya, honey, but the season's over." I bought up postcards, took a lot of pictures and headed up to the Sandia Crest.

The road to the top of the Sandia Crest winds back and forth in some short hairpin curves that don't allow the time to oooooh and aaaaah over the scenery. The elevation at the top is 10,678 feet. Once at the top I found an honor system box for visitors to pay for the day. It only cost three dollars. I paid up and then walked up to the crest. It seemed I could see forever in all directions. There was layer after layer of mountains fading off into the distance.

I walked back down into the souvenir shop which had a lot of the same stuff that I had seen in all the other souvenir shops that I have wondered into lately. I wandered out on to a small deck with a spectacular view of mountains and sky. There were three hummingbird feeders and more hummingbirds than I had ever seen. There must have been hundreds.

A young man who was out on the deck with his children said, "You can pet them." He then walked over one of the feeders and did just that. I was incredulous. I petted a hummingbird, too. It didn't seem to give any notice to my attention. It didn't act bothered at all. I held my hand out with my finger on top of one of the perches and, lo and behold, a hummingbird landed on my finger. He didn't seem to mind me at all.

I took a picture of a ruby-throated hummingbird. I tried to catch a shot of one of the hummingbird fights that broke out occasionally, but was unsuccessful.

I took a picture of a hummingbird perched on my finger and, after a few more magical moments, I headed back to the truck.

On the road again I pulled over at every available chance to take pictures of the view. I followed the Turquoise Trail back to Santa Fe. Once fed and washed I took myself to bed and a well deserved night's sleep.

It's late now, and I need some rest. I'll catch you up to date sometime tomorrow. We'll take back up with the events of Tuesday, July 10th and my appointment at the Geogia O'Keeffe Museum Research Center.

Still here.

2007-07-11T23:11:00.000-05:00

Good evening, folks.

The workshop that I am attending started yesterday evening and I simply overwhelmed right now.

I promise that I'll write more tomorrow if at all possible. Gotta go catch some Zzzzzzzzzzzzzs.

'Night ya'll!

Finally, really, truly up to date!

2007-07-08T10:23:00.000-05:00

New Mexico storm clouds

I watched the Fourth of July fireworks from the Sagebrush Inn. The clouds had finally gathered that day on the Taos side of the mountain. There had been some rain and some hail earlier, but by nightfall the sky was clear and the wind had died down.

The next morning, July 5th, I loaded up and headed for Santa Fe. I took a couple of wrong turns, but the nice thing about not having a rigid schedule is that wrong turns become adventurous detours. I ended up in the mountain forest at Sipapu. I stopped for a look at the map and took a walk along the river.

Another wrong turn and I ended up in Cordova, New Mexico. Its a tiny village just off the main road. I stopped at the Castillo Gallery and enjoyed the wood carvings, both traditional and contemporary, of Terry Ensenat Mulert and the metal sculpture and paintings of Paula Castillo. After a short map reading break in the truck I headed back out on the highway.

My final stop before Santa Fe was intentional. I went to Chimayo. It has changed since they last time I was there. Things are more built up and there are signs posted at shops like Ortega's Weaving Shop telling you to lock up your car and keep your valuables with you. The church looks the same, but the area around it has changed some. More paving, more people. I went inside and got some of the miraculous dirt from the shrine to take back to friends in Houston.

I arrived in Santa Fe in no time at all. I checked into the Ghost Ranch Santa Fe and settled in for the night.

The next morning I walked over to locate the Georgia O'Keeffe Research Center. It's only about a three block walk from where I am staying. It is not open to the general public. Access is available by appointment only.

Since I had yet to make an appointment with the research center, I walked on over to the O'Keeffe Museum. I waited outside for the museum to open. The mornings in Santa Fe are cool, particularly if you have a place to stand out of the sun. It was a pleasant enough wait. I wasn't the only person waiting to get in. By the time the doors opened there were close to twenty people milling about.

The Georgia O'Keeffe Museum in Santa Fe

The current show at the O'Keeffe Museum is "Georgia O'Keeffe: Circling Around Abstraction" and "Georgia O'Keeffe, Illuminated: Photographs by Tony Vaccaro". It is up through September 9th.

After a few moments consideration I went ahead and bought a membership to the museum. The membership gave me a 20% discount in the bookstore for that day only, admission to the museum and the audio tour, a poster of O'Keeffe riding on the back of a motorcycle, and a 10% discount to the O'Keeffe Cafe next door. By the time I finished that day the membership had paid for itself.

The O'Keeffe Cafe, next door to the museum

I spent literally hours in the museum that day. The paintings are indescribable. The photographs by Vaccaro show O'Keeffe relatively relaxed and unposed.

I had a wonderful lunch at the O'Keeffe Cafe and called the Research Center. I made an appointment to go to there on Tuesday from 10:00 until 12:00. We'll see what happens from there.

I headed back over to the Ghost Ranch facility to rest up for the next day.

Yesterday, in the morning, I got up and drove around Santa Fe. I also went looking for Sol y Sombra, O'Keeffe's last residence, the house that Juan Hamilton had bought on the South side of Santa Fe. I had the address, but was unable to locate it. The homes in that area are set far back from the road. I couldn't see them. They are very private. From my prior research I knew that the house was no longer owned by either Juan Hamilton or the Georgia O'Keeffe Foundation. There was no chance that I would be able to go to it, but I had hoped to catch a glimpse of it.

I drove past St. Vincent's Hospital where O'Keeffe died. No need to stop there.

I drove back to Ghost Ranch Santa Fe, parked the Jeep, and headed over to the Plaza for an O'K day. The Georgia O'Keeffe Museum is celebrating its tenth year anniversary and I was fortunate to be here for the celebration.

Seen on an "O'K Day" in the Santa Fe Plaza

The Plaza was full of people. There was live music, free cookies, cake, and bottled water, art activities for the kids and free admission to the museum. I hung around taking pictures and watching people for parts of the day and occasionally wandered off to to look at the center of old Santa Fe.

I went back and viewed the show at the O'Keeffe Museum again. The place was packed.

I took another drive around Santa Fe in the early evening.

I had breakfast this morning with Nancy Walkup and Myra, the two women who are facilitating the workshop that I'm attending this next week.

Today is another day. Who knows what I may do?

The Fourth of July at Taos Pueblo

2007-07-08T09:40:00.000-05:00

Finally, I'm up to July 4th!

I spent the Fourth of July at the Taos Pueblo north of town. O'Keeffe drew and painted here in 1929 when she stayed at Mabel Dodge Luhan's house.

Doorway at Taos Pueblo, Fourth of July, 2007

A quote from their Tribal Manifesto says: "We have lived upon this land since days beyond history's record, far past any living memory, deep into the time of legend. The story of my people and the story of this place are one single story. No man can think of us without thinking of this place. We are always joined together."

The pueblo is divided in two by Red Willow Creek, the same creek that is known as the Rio Pueblo de Taos. I didn't know this the day before when I was at the Hacienda Martinez and collected water from the river. This river is used as the source of drinking water for the pueblo. Outsiders are told not to wade in the river or drink from it. The river flows down from Blue Lake which is sacred to the people of Taos Pueblo. There are benches at various spots along the river bank where I sat and enjoyed the sound of the water rushing past.

One of the first structures that I came to is the St. Jerome Church. It was built in 1850. It is a lovely adobe building and is a a registered National Historic Landmark.

Alone and over to the side, the original St. Jerome Church is a much sadder place. It was originally built in 1619. It was destroyed in the Pueblo Revolt of 1680 when the indigenous people threw the Spanish out of New Mexico. Unfortunately for people of Taos Pueblo, the Spanish returned in 1692, reconquered the area and rebuilt the church.

It stood until 1847 when the U. S. Army attacked Taos Pueblo. They believed that the Taos Indians had taken part in the murder of Taos Governor Charles Bent. Although the people of the Pueblo had nothing to do with it they came under attack. They sought sanctuary inside the church. The church, along with the people, inside were destroyed. Today the bell tower from the original church is still standing, slowly deteriorating, as a reminder. The courtyard surrounding the original church is now a burial ground. Here again the people of Taos do not allow outsiders to cross over the walls into the church grounds.
The pueblo, as I said before, is divided into two parts, the North House and the South House, by Red Willow Creek. The North House, Hlaumma, is five stories tall at its tallest. The South House, Hlaukwima, is four stories tall at its tallest. Both structures are still inhabited. Homes are passed down through families and each family is responsible for maintaining its own home which includes plastering with adobe, repairing the roof and maintaining the woodwork.

The entire pueblo is the home of the pueblo people. It should be treated with the same respect that anyone would want their own home treated. Some homes were open with signs indicating that they were shops.

I stopped at one home where a woman and her fifteen year old daughter were selling hotdogs and sodas as a means to raise money for the girl's tuition to the Chamisa School in Taos. It was an incredibly windy day and it felt great to find shelter from the blowing dust. They invited me to sit down and eat inside out of the wind. I was glad for the invitation. While we were talking the girl went outside several times to check when tourists started climbing up to the families second story appointment.

We spoke for awhile about schools and teaching. The Taos Pueblo Day School is for native students from Headstart through eighth grade.

The Taos people speak an unwritten Tiwa language. We discussed the merits of written language versus an oral tradition. In some ways it seems that the oral tradition holds the community together in a way that a written language doesn't. A written language allows anyone willing to learn it to know, or at least think they know, the culture that the language comes from.

I came away with the image of the people of Taos Pueblo as open and friendly, and at the same time righteously wary. With the story of the St. Jerome Church as a reminder and the droves of tourists who would cheerfully climb all over everything in sight like some sort of two-legged locusts, I'm surprised they allow outsiders in at all.

Playing Catch Up

2007-07-07T20:12:00.000-05:00

I'm going to try to catch this blog up to today. We'll see how much stamina and endurance I have at the keyboard.

Tuesday, July 3 I spent the entire day going to museums.

Not quite true. I started off the day at the church of San Francisco de Asis. This is the church that O'Keeffe painted. It is also the church that everybody and his dog has either photographed or painted. I'm sure that you'll recognize it. It has beautiful, almost organic adobe architecture. At some point soon I'll manage to post some pictures on here and you'll be able to see what I'm talking about.

The church was built at some time around 1815. No one is sure of the exact date of construction, but it is magnificent. The interior is gorgeous with a high ceiling supported by dark wooden vigas or beams, but the truly special thing about this church is the exterior. It is re-adobed, if that is the right word, every couple of years. This adds to the softness of the shape, I think.

From there I went to the Hacienda Martinez. La Hacienda de los Martinez was built somewhere around 1804. It consists of two placitas or courtyards connected by a breezeway. Each of the rooms open on to a courtyard. Due to the climate of this part of New Mexico people lived much of their lives outside. The rooms are set up much as they would have appeared when the hacienda was in use. Up until the 1930s it was still occupied by descendants of the original Martinez family.

One of the amazing things about adobe is how it insulates. The temperature in Taos was in the high 80s but inside the adobe rooms it felt so cool you would think it was air conditioned.

While I was wandering around the hacienda I ran into a woman who was cleaning. Her name was Aurora. She walked with me through several of the rooms, in particular the sewing room. We talked about life then and now, here and there. She told me some herbs that she swears will take care of just about anything. This herb, a root called Osha, can only be dug up in September. She promised it would take care of hot flashes! After getting directions from her to the local herb store I headed on my way again.

The herb store was easy to locate using Aurora's directions and the thought crossed my mind that, since the next door was the Fourth of July, I should probably stock up on sandwich fixings and ice at the grocery store down the way.

My barrel water cooler does an excellent job. It says that ice will last five days in it, but its lasted a couple of days more than that. I bought my provisions and loaded my cooler to the top. I had it on the back seat, same as it had been the whole trip so far.

Now, maybe you can tell where this is leading, but I'll tell you anyway. When a backwoods New Mexico road shows a sign with an arrow that says 15 mph they mean it. I came around a gentle curve in the road. I saw the sign and I swear I slowed down to 15 mph. I had one of those moments when you can see what is about to happen and there is nothing you can do but say, "No, no, no . . . . " The turn in the road was to the right. The cooler had been seated behind me. As five gallons of water and ice cascaded onto the floor of the truck all I could do was watch. I pulled over as soon as I possibly could and began bailing all that water and ice out on the New Mexico dust.

All I could do was laugh. I seem to be getting pretty good at laughing at myself.

I took my cooler that now contained a couple of inches of water and a touch of ice and I strapped that thing down. I had tie-downs in the truck and a couple of good places to hook it to. I wish I had thought of that before, but it didn't topple over for the first six days. Oh well, . . . . .

Next stop the Harwood Museum of Art. Their current exhibit is Richard Diebenkorn in New Mexico. Diebenkorn earned his Master's Degree from the University of New Mexico and the Harwood Museum is run by the university. I like his work, but I really came to see the permanent exhibit of Agnes Martin's work. Agnes Martin lived in New Mexico and I have read that she knew O'Keeffe. Her paintings are exhibited in a round room with the paintings mounted around it. It is like a sun-drenched Rothko Chapel in a way. It's not the dimensions, but rather the art contained within. Both spaces are lit with natural light, but the Rothko Chapel's light is diffuse and the Agnes Martin room is lit by a skylight which floods the room with New Mexico sun, not directly, but it is well lit. There are four cube seats by Donald Judd in the center of the room. The paintings are a series. If you know Agnes Martin's work I won't have to say any more. If you don't know her work, the paintings are large and consist of wide light grayish-bluish strips on a whitish ground or maybe its whitish strips . . . . . Oh, you know what I mean. I spent quite a while in there listening to the comments of the other museum patrons. I'll leave it at that.

The museum also has works by other New Mexican artists. I'm on a hunt for Georgia O'Keeffe's friends and peers, Dorothy Brett and Rebecca Salisbury (Strand) James. I was delighted to find both here.

I continued on to the Blumenschein Home and Museum. I am amazed at how many working women artists there have been here in the Southwest. Ernest Blumenschein, one of the founders of the Taos artists colony, was married to a woman named Mary Shepherd Greene. She had lived in France and was a recognized artist in her own right long before meeting "Blumy". She won medals in the Paris Salon d'Automne in 1900 and 1902. You may recognize the name of the first American and woman to receive this honor. Her name was Mary Cassatt. Mary Shepherd Greene (soon to be Blumenschein) was the second. Personally, I think she was a better painter than her husband.

The Blumenschein home is well worth seeing. The building itself is lovely and has an interesting history. It is furnished with the Blumenschein's original belongings and their daughter, Helen, arranged everything as much as possible like it was when the family lived here.

Onward from there to the Millicent Rogers Museum. If you love Southwest arts and crafts, especially jewelry, you need to go here. Millicent Rogers died at the age of 50 on January 1, 1953, but in those fifty years she amassed an amazing collection of pottery (San Ildefonso Pueblo potter Maria Martinez and Julian Martinez in particular), jewelry, rugs, and religious items. She designed jewelry. One of the rooms is taken up with her illustrations of the story of the Little Mermaid. It is a truly wonderful place. The building is awesome and the location is incredible, if a touch out of the way. Why did I never hear of this woman before?

Finally, before I wore out completely I went to the Taos Art Museum. Now if architecture and woodwork are your thing you have to see this place. The Taos Art Museum is housed in the Fechin House. Built by Nicolai Fechin from 1927 - 1933, this place is unbelievable! Nicolai Fechin bought seven acres of land in Taos which included a small studio, an outbuilding and a two-story house. He renovated the studio and enlarged the house by three times its original size.

Fechin was nothing short of miraculous. He spent his days in the studio painting and then worked on the house. All of the woodwork, and I do mean all of the woodwork, in the house and studio is handcarved by Nicolai Fechin. His father was a guilder and carver of iconostatis, the eastern Orthodox Church high screens decorated with icons so he had lived with this type of handwork all his life. He carved all the woodwork with hand tools. The furniture in the house was made by him. He designed the metal work in the house, the light fixtures, door hardware, etc., and forged locally. In addition to the house he did the same with the studio out behind the house.

And now for the really sad part. He never finished the furniture for the upstairs. Once he finished the house his marriage broke up. He and his daughter left Taos. His wife got the house. She didn't live in it. She lived in the studio out back.

The current exhibition of the Taos Art Museum and Fechin House is Nicolai Fechin: A Taos Homecoming. It is a delightful show. His paintings are on the walls throughout the house. His portraits are lively and impressionistic. I particularly liked his portraits of his daughter.

After I finished touring the Fechin House I headed back to the Sagebrush Inn for a shower and a well-deserved dinner in the Los Vaqueros, the hotel's restaurant.

Then back to the room so that I could get up and go for it again!

Well, friends and neighbors, I have only made it one day further in my saga. I do believe that I'll take a break since I've been at this keyboard for a long while.

More tomorrow. I promise I'm almost up to date and I've slowed down a bit, too.

A trip out to the D. H. Lawrence Ranch

2007-07-06T16:17:00.000-05:00

Monday July 2nd was my first full day in Taos. I stopped by the Visitor Center on Paseo del Pueblo Sur and picked up a map to the D. H. Lawrence, formerly known as Kiowa Ranch. The drive up into the mountains northwest of Taos was beautiful. I turned left onto a dirt road that was well marked as the route to the ranch.

At the end of the road was the ranch manager's house. I parked the Jeep in the shade and looked around at the view. I didn't see anyone so I walked on back, still following the signs, towards the Homesteader's Cabin. This is the cabin that D. H. Lawrence and Frieda lived in for several months during the mid 1920s.

Dorothy Brett's cabin

Before I got to the Homesteader's Cabin I came to Brett's Cabin. The Brett in question was Dorothy Brett, Lady Dorothy Brett. She was a follower of D. H. Lawrence and typed his manuscripts for him.

The window where Dorothy Brett sat and typed Lawrence's manuscripts.
The typewriter is still on the table inside.

She was also an artist and painter. Her cabin was tiny. Half of the cabin was taken up with a single bed, the other half allowed enough room for the door to open with space for a woodburning stove and a tiny table and chair.

Interior of Dorothy Brett's cabin

The more I know about Dorothy Brett the more I like her. I saw several of her paintings in my travels around Taos. She was apparently quite a character. She was deaf and used a hearing trumpet that she called "Toby". A woman with a hearing trumpet is a woman after my own heart! (An aside here, read "The Hearing Trumpet", by Leonora Carrington if you get the chance)

The Homesteader's Cabin, also known as the D. H. Lawrence cabin

The Homesteader's Cabin was locked up, but I peered in the window's. It's much larger than the Brett Cabin - three original rooms with a fourth added on later.

Reproduction of O'Keeffe's Lawrence Tree

My apologies to any D. H. Lawrence fans, but what I came to see was in front of the cabin, a huge pine tree that Georgia O'Keeffe painted and named "The Lawrence Tree". She and Rebecca Strand (if you are looking for her now you'll have to look for Rebecca Salisbury James) had come up to visit with Dorothy Brett while they were in Taos in 1929. O'Keeffe wrote that she would lie under the tree and look up at the sky through its branches.

The tree is an awesome pine standing on a mountainside full of awesome trees. It's immortalization came about because of its location and both Lawrence and O'Keeffe's encounters with it.

Lawrence wrote: "The big pine tree in front of the house, standing still and unconcerned and alive . . . the overshadowing tree whose green top one never looks at . . . One goes out of the door and the tree trunk is there, like a guardian angel. The tree trunk, the long work table and the fence!" Lawrence spent his mornings out writing at the work table under this tree.

The actual tree itself

The smell of the air up high in the mountains and the sound of the wind whispering through the pine's needles took me back to memories of lying on my back under the pine trees in my backyard in East Texas when I was about eight or nine. I loved the sound and scent of them. I was entranced by the way that they could sway with the wind. I could imagine how this tree would look against the night sky, thanks to O'Keeffe's painting. I determined that The Lawrence Tree didn't need to be drawn again, so I decided to sketch the cabin.

I had left my sketchbook and camp stool in the truck so I headed back down the hill.

I love my little stool. It collapses and fits into a tiny bag and weighs next to nothing. Once back in front of the cabin I set it up and went to sit down. Unfortunately, I didn't check to make sure it was assembled properly and the stool did what it was designed to do. It collapsed. Lucky for me it is only about a foot tall at best, so it was a short drop to the dirt.

I immediately looked around to see if anyone had seen this demonstration of grace. I found my own reaction hysterically funny. I'm alone out on the side of a mountain on my butt in the dirt and my first concern is to check and see if anyone witnessed my graceless fall.

At this point I decided to sit where the universe and my stool had placed me. I used my little stool as an arm and bookrest until it could regain my trust.

On my way to the front of the cabin I had passed a place where some sort of repair work was being done. It seemed to require a certain degree of excavation under the fourth room of the Homesteader's Cabin. A man showed up and started to work. He didn't seem at all taken aback at finding a middle-aged woman sitting on her duff in the dirt drawing in a little black book. I had to contain my laughter to keep from appearing any loonier than I already did. I said, "Hi!" and he said, "Hi!" and we both went on about our business.

A woman came and unlocked the cabin for a couple and their seven year old son. None of them appeared to consider finding a woman sitting in the dust drawing the least bit odd. I was grateful for that. She asked if I would like to see the interior of the Homesteader's Cabin. It seemed like the thing to do and the five of us went inside.

It doesn't take long to tour a three room cabin. We sat for a few moments inside as the woman told us all about D. H. Lawrence, Frieda, Dorothy Brett, and The Lawrence Tree.

The D. H. Lawrence Memorial

Inside the D. H. Lawrence Memorial

D. H. Lawrence's wife, Frieda, is buried in front of the Memorial

The couple headed up the hill to the Lawrence Memorial. Since I was finished with my preliminary sketch of the cabin I went and sat in the shade with my hostess. Her name, it turned out, is Mary Barrett and she knows a wealth of information about D. H. Lawrence, the location and the area.

View from the garden gate, D. H. Lawrence Ranch

We sat and talked for quite awhile. The couple came back down and stopped for a moment to say their goodbyes.

I stayed on and talked with Mary. She reminded me of a good woman friend of mine named Joyce. I thoroughly enjoyed her company and I hope that she enjoyed mine.

All in all it was an enjoyable and productive day. As I drove back down the dusty dirt road to the main highway I couldn't help but smile at the fact that the Jeep was beginning to look like it belonged in these parts.

I drove back down to Taos as the clouds caught and gathered over the tops of the mountains.

From Santa Fe to Taos and back again

2007-07-05T21:33:00.000-05:00

This may be a rather long post, but here it goes. I may have to stop before I catch you completely up to date, but so be it.

On Sunday, July 1st, I drove the low road also known as the river road to Taos. For along part of the trip it follows the Rio Grande.

I find the river road an awe-inspiring drive, mountain on my righthand and river on my left. The road rises and falls with the mountain.

My Houston brain was already challenged by the altitude. Throw in the ups and downs of the land here and I tend to be just a touch off balance. I've been told it takes about a week to adjust to the altitude.

The other physical difference, environmental difference if you will, is the sunlight. The air is thin and the sunlight seems much stronger. I've used sunblock every day since I started out and I have still turned pink. Not really a sunburn, but I can't imagine what I would look like if not for sunblock. The image of a well-boiled lobster comes to mind.

I got in early so I had to wait for my room to be ready. So, after all that river road drive, I decided to drive around and see the town.

My room at the Sagebrush Inn

I was completely unaware that it was the Solar Fest, a sort of party celebrating music and environmental awareness at the same time. Taos was packed. The drive down the main North/South drag, the Paseo del Pueblo, was impossible, nonstop bumper to bumper. The most amazing part was no honking, cussing, raised fingers or drivers forcing their way in.

My nearest neighbors at the Sagebrush Inn

Aha! My first clue to the Taos state of mind. This place is much more laid back than Houston or even Austin or Santa Fe.

Gates of Mabel Dodge Luhan House

I made a pass by the Mabel Dodge Luhan House where I'll be staying in a couple of weeks, then drove around in a sort of long, lazy, laidback circle and headed back to the hotel.

My room was ready so I unloaded the truck. Once I was set up in my hotel room I got back in the truck and headed for the Rio Grande Gorge Bridge.

This was an encounter with the sublime. I'll try to explain.

As I drove along it appeared I was driving on a more or less level plane. I could tell the steepness of the road grade by how hard the engine had to work to maintain speed. (Hurray for cruise control!) The Sangre de Christo Mountains rose off to my right, miles of sagebrush and distant mountains off to my left.

Approaching the gorge bridge I could see people parked on both sides of the road. On the right side of the road were several venders set up under tarps and umbrellas. This was the only shade in sight. I pulled in on the left side of the highway. I had no idea what to expect.

Walking out onto the bridge the first awareness of where I was came from the vibration of the bridge with each passing car. That was OK with me at first, but the further out I went on the bridge, the further the ground dropped away, the more unnerving it became. About halfway to the middle of the bridge I began to hear rushing water.

Looking around at my fellow travelers I became aware of other people's response to this place. Hands tightened on cameras. I saw more than one person carefully put their keys in their pockets. People approached the rail with hesitation and caution. I didn't see anyone rushing up to peer down. I watched as hands touched the rail tentatively as though it might give way at any moment.

At midbridge there is a sort of viewing platform. A group of people walked back and forth across the bridge. The men were dressed in white, the women in white saris with bright colored scarves.

I eavesdropped for a few moments to the women's lilting voices over the roar of the river far below.

I approached the railing with great trepidation. I am not one of those folks who enjoy heights.

This place had a quality that I have only encountered in nightmares. Maybe you know the nightmare I'm talking about, the one where there is a sound that gets louder and louder. You are certain it can't get any louder, but it does.

This chasm is the visual equivalent of that sound. As I walked out onto the bridge the abyss seemed to just keep going and going. I felt as though it would end at the center of the earth.

This, my friends, is the sublime! Awe inspiring, overwhelming, sublime!

I peered into the gorge with awe and fear and joy all in one. The thought that ran over and over in my mind was I have held the element that carved this rift through solid stone in the palm of my hand.

Rio Grande Gorge taken from the bridge

I'll leave you with that thought for the time being and continue tomorrow.

High altitude

2007-07-01T10:33:00.000-05:00

I'm taking it easy right now.

I've driven over a thousand miles alone over the past few days and I'm ready to settle in one place for a couple of days. The last couple of hundred miles were spent on a highway full of semis. It was just a touch nerve wracking, although I trust them more than the crazy tourist types who want to drive 85 to 90 miles an hour no matter what.

Cadillac Ranch, Amarillo Texas

I stopped at Stanley Marsh III's Cadillac Ranch outside of Amarillo for a quick Kodak moment. Where else in the world will you see a lot of very straight, upstanding Americans out tagging for all they are worth? Folks bring their own cans of spray paint. I got a great shot of two kids, a brother and sister by the way they were treating each other, making their mark. The little girl wouldn't relinquish the can to her brother. The whole while mom was telling her they had to go. She finally agreed to go but she wanted to take the spray paint with her. She was a girl on a mission. And another graffiti artist is born!

Young taggers in the making!

This posting is coming to you from Ghost Ranch Santa Fe. I spent last night here and I've just checked out. Next stop the Sagebrush Inn in Taos, New Mexico.

The altitude here is getting to me a bit, occasional mild dizziness and feeling a bit winded.

I walked over to the plaza yesterday evening. After the drive here I didn't want to get back behind the wheel or try to read a map, at least not for a few hours. The walk helped to stretch my legs back out.

The most amusing thing I saw was a street guy whose gimmick was he had trained his dog, his cat and his pet rat to get along. He had the dog lying on the sidewalk with the cat on top of the dog and the rat on top of the cat. Wierd! He had a goodly sized audience and his tip jar was far from empty. Who knows, it could be a good way to make a living.

I didn't even bother to go out to eat. I had myself another one of those dry bologna sandwiches and water. What a diet! I promise I'm not living off bologna, bread and water.

The breakfast at Hudspeth House was great, french toast, sausage, orange juice and coffee. It was served up on the good china. I really think everyone should stay there at least once. It was really wonderful.

Breakfast here at Ghost Ranch Santa Fe is not shabby either. They have a breakfast buffet that definitely hits the spot. I had english muffins, yogurt and orange juice. A couple of cups of coffee and a quick pit stop and I'm good to go.

OK, friends and neighbors, it's time to sign off and hit the road again.
Next stop, Taos.

Respect Your Mother Earth

2007-06-30T18:26:00.000-05:00

The irresistible keyhole cave in Palo Duro Canyon.

I took a little open air tour of Santa Fe to get my bearings. It was a good way to see the sights, even if I do look like a tourist riding on this vehicle that looks like it used to shuttle people back and forth from the parking lot to the Astrodome and back again. Truth is I am a tourist and so are most of the folks staring and trying to act cool. All I've got to say to them is, "Get over it!"

So, back to my story.

Meanwhile back at Palo Duro Canyon and the keyhole cave . . . .

I heard sirens and stopped to check it out. Someone had gone up into the cave and slipped. I parked the truck in one of the areas for pulling over and taking in the scenic views. Two ambulances and at least four patrol cars later the work of getting this guy down out of the cave began. He had to be gurneyed out. It didn't look like fun. When they brought him down he was strapped in and had a neck brace on. He wasn't doing much talking.

I'll tell you it made me think twice about taking off all by my lonely. This guy had been lucky in a way. There were folks with him and they were able to signal for help, otherwise he would have been S. O. L.

It is not a bad thing to know your limits. I talked to some of the EMS guys. They said that they have to go get people out of places like this cave on a pretty regular basis. I don't plan on being one of those folks. They said one of the worst spots in the park for accidents is called The Devil's Slide. Now that ought to give you a clue, huh?

It's good to respect your Mother Earth.

Hudspeth House and the search for Georgia O'Keeffe

2007-06-30T16:22:00.001-05:00

I'm writing this in Santa Fe at the Ghost Ranch facility. Please pardon me if I seem a bit frazzled, but it was one long drive from Canyon.

Hudspeth House

My room at the tip-top of Hudspeth House.

I moved over to Hudspeth House yesterday morning. It is truly beautiful and Connie and John Okill, the owners, were wonderful and incredibly helpful in my O'Keeffe mission. They directed me to the house that O'Keeffe roomed in when she taught here in Canyon.

The D. A. Shirley house in Canyon where O'Keeffe was a boarder.

John also gave me a print of the O'Keeffe letter that was found there. Now keep in mind that O'Keeffe lived in Canyon from 1916 through spring of 1918. The letter is dated 1955 and O'Keeffe was writing to Ms Shirley, the owner of the house, about picking up two barrels of belongings she left there back in 1918! I love it!

I went to the Panhandle Plains Historical Museum and looked at the art exhibit that they had up.

I stopped into the Buffalo Bookstore and found more friendly helpful folks. I desperately needed to replace my road atlas. They sent me over to Hastings Entertainment where I found everything that I needed and a cup of coffee.

I made two trips to Palo Duro Canyon, one in the morning and one in the afternoon.

The morning trip was a hiking test. I wanted to try the Lighthouse Trail, but wasn't sure that I was up to it. Sure enough I was right. I took off on the newest and one of the easiest trails in the park. It starts up by the Visitor Orientation Center. At the outset, up at the rim of the canyon, it seemed almost cool with a strong breeze. I had my hat and new hiking shoes on and was carrying my walking stick and two bottles of water. I had a lovely hike, but I'm not 20 years old any more and I weigh a few extra pounds, too. I headed back to the truck after about an hour hike, so two hours total. I got a bit of sun, but the real problem seems to do with lung capacity and stamina. I had pneumonia five years ago and things have never been quite the same.

I owe my dad a big debt for the enjoyment that I got out of that hike. He used to take me along fishing and on walks in the woods when I was a kid. I learned to be quiet and still. It was a good lesson. I listened to bird calls, cicadas, and the sound of the wind. I could smell cedar trees. I sat and watched two road runners not more than fifteen feet from me. I saw lizards, butterflies, caterpillars and more. The real high point, and you may not believe this, but it's true, was watching a bunch of dung beetles do their job. Amazing! I took a picture of them at work. I'll share it with you later. A job for everyone and for everyone a job!

My afternoon hike taught me even more. I learned about respecting your limits and your environment by watching someone else. I was taking Alternate Park Road 5 when I heard sirens. You can't even imagine how out of place that is in the canyon.

There is a cave within view of the road. It is really a tempting place. It's an easy hike. The mouth of it is about, rough guess here, 40 feet high and it looks like a big key hole. I had noticed it the day before and watched a couple of guys scramble around it. I climbed up relatively close to the mouth. It had been eroded and had an opening at the far end, so I suppose it was more of a tunnel. I decided not to make a go of it. I had on the wrong shoes and it just didn't seem like the best idea.

Whoops! I'll continue later. My ride is here!

Palo Duro Canyon or Bust!

2007-06-29T09:32:00.000-05:00

What a day yesterday was!

It started in Austin under gray skies. I drove down 71 just west of Marble Falls. Now if you are not in Texas you may not know that Marble Falls got 19 inches of rain on Wednesday. You also may not know that Marble Falls is the wrong place for this much water to come down from the heavens. When I passed through there appeared to be no end to the rain in sight. It was amazing to see the Hill Country this way.

There was one frightening moment. The rain was really coming down hard and I didn't see the water covering the road until I hit it. Couple of heart stopping moments and I drove on.

I've never seen the Hill Country so green! Before I left Houston a friend, learning of my route, said, "Oh, you're going to see a lot of brown." I wish that had been true.

Somewhere between there and Abilene the rain began to become sporadic. Every time that I thought it had stopped it started right back up, but the drops became smaller and the cloudbursts became shorter. Finally I could see occasional flecks of blue sky among the clouds.

I don't think I've ever been happier to get through anything.

Somewhere north of Abilene the sky started really clearing.

I passed an oilfield. The landscape was speckled with rocker arms rising and falling like wierd insects sucking up the earth's life force.

I passed a wind farm. Here giant propellers were set on top of a mesa like a giant's playground. It looked totally surreal. Salvador Dali would have loved it. It reminded me of the Pinwheels for Peace project. (If you haven't heard of it give it a google and check it out.)

I drove all day, literally, and ended up at Palo Duro Canyon. Talk about amazing! One minute I was driving along across flat prairie land, the next the canyon suddenly appeared to the right of me.

I drove around the Palo Duro Canyon State Park and even stopped and walked a bit. I wasn't really ready to hike around or take pictures. At the least I needed a change of shoes to be ready to go rockhopping. I didn't think I would be here so soon.

I headed into Canyon, Texas about 12 miles away and drove up and down one of the two main drags trying to decide where to stay the night. I was feeling a bit grungy and stiff.

Remembering my purpose I looked around for some of my landmarks. Hudspeth House Inn is located on the 4th Avenue along with a Holiday Inn, Best Western and West Texas A & M University. Elizabeth Hudspeth was one of Georgia O'Keeffe's fellow teachers at West Texas Normal College, now West Texas A & M. I thought about stopping there, but I wasn't sure that I was up to it yet.

So, I filled up the topped up the gas tank for the third time that day and went eeny-meeny-miny-mo between Best Western and the Holiday Inn which were conveniently located side by side across the street from the gas station. Best Western won out.

I thought about going out to eat. I thought about going back down to the truck and driving around. I thought about a lot of things. My final decision was a long hot bath and bed.

Best Western is not a bad little place to stay. The room was immaculately clean. There was a small fridge, a microwave, DVD player and all the basic necessities, too. I went to the truck and got a yogurt and some granola to have for breakfast. I forgot my mayonnaise at home, so I had my second dry bologna sandwich of the day washed down with a Coke from the vending machine for dinner.

Got up this morning and took a long shower. A quick call to Hudspeth House over my yogurt and granola breakfast and I'm good to go.

I'll stay at Hudspeth House tonight. I'll tell you about it later. Right now I've got to get back to the canyon.

2007-06-28T08:35:00.001-05:00

A very rainy morning in Austin. Thankfully the storms stayed just to the east of me on the way up.

I'm heading out shortly. Spent the night at Jesse and Sinda's (my stepson and his wife) on the edge of Austin. Thai food for dinner. Read books to the granddaughters, Hannah and Hazel. In bed by 10:00.

I woke up this morning with a start and the realization that my guidebooks and maps are safely at home in my dining room. Oh, well. No need for vicarious experience here. It's time for the real thing. Time to get my nose out of the books and keep my eyes on the road. Time to drive. Time to write and draw and paint.

I have my AAA printouts and a borrowed, tattered map of Texas. The map reminds me of Mission Impossible. "Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to drive as far as you can towards Palo Duro Canyon. This map will self-destruct by the time you get to Santa Fe."

'Nough said and written. Time to drive. Wild women start your engines!

Ooops!

2007-06-27T13:01:00.000-05:00

What's smaller than a Jeep Cherokee? A Jeep Liberty!

Just a minor update

2007-06-27T11:16:00.000-05:00

It's not a Ford Escape. It's a cute little baby, a blue Jeep Cherokee with four wheel drive. Maybe this one will get a chance to do what it's made to do, heh-heh!

Departure in about an hour. Next stop Austin and a chance to test the tent and other gear.

Today is The Day

2007-06-27T07:07:00.000-05:00

I’m waiting for time to pick up the rental vehicle. I’ve rented a “mid-sized SUV”. If it’s what the rental place promised, a Ford Escape, it has basically the same frame as my little Ranger pick-up truck. I’ve driven my truck for twelve years now, so I’m comfortable with it. It has enough clearance to take wherever I want to go. It has enough height so that I can see the highway ahead. Gas mileage with the current prices is worrisome, but I’ll just have to live with it.

Excited, fearful, circling around with the last minute jitters. Have I forgotten anything? Probably. Am I packing too much stuff? Probably.

My husband, Joel, has been watching me do this for days now.

I pack. I unpack. I pack again. Too much or too little?

Joel keeps reminding me that I am not going to another planet. He’s pretty sure that I’ll be able to get whatever I need along the way. I do believe he might be right.

Ah, Stuff, you are my defense against anxiety. Feel anxious? Surround yourself with more stuff. I wish it worked as something beyond distraction. Too soon the love affair is over and all my beautiful stuff just turns to crappy clutter.

I find myself wondering, when Georgia O'Keeffe drove from New York to New Mexico, how much stuff do you think she carried? I know from reading her letters to Maria Chabot that she shipped things to New Mexico, but she was going for three to six months at a time. I try to imagine what she would have done back in the 1920s and 30s if she had all our modern conveniences. My excuse for carrying all this gear is that I used to be a Girl Scout and I'm just trying to “Be Prepared”. It sounds good in theory, but right now it is wearing a bit thin.

It’s OK. I’ll cull things as I pack the truck. Barring that, I’m a very spatial/visual thinker. In other words, I’ll make it all fit.

Things that I need to do, could do, should do, all these things circle around inside my head.

I meant to clean out the refrigerator. I can get rid of some of this anxious energy doing that while I wait for it to be time to pick up the rental vehicle.

I didn’t pick up rawhide chews for Ubu, the amazing Australian cattle dog. Joel will have to take care of that. He’s listened patiently while I’ve told him over and over how to get Ubu to take his medicine. I’m leaving them to console each other in my absence.

The ominous “I’ve-missed-something” feeling is going like a hyperactive hamster sprinting on a really squeaky exercise wheel. The squeaky wheel gets the grease, right? But what to do when it’s between your ears? Slow down. Take a breath.

I check my lists of things to do. I’ve e-mailed friends and family. I’ve confirmed the car reservation. I took bags of newspapers and broken down cardboard boxes to the paper recycling bin. I typed up my itinerary complete with phone numbers and addresses for Joel. While I was packing I discovered clothes that didn't fit, so I took them all to the donation bin of the nearest thrift shop.

I check my lists of things to pack. (Please notice, I said lists plural.) I think I’ve got it all from art supplies to underwear.

There is nothing to do right now except the little stuff: eat breakfast, wash the dishes, wipe down the counter. If I finish everything I can always sit and watch the minute hand move on the kitchen clock and listen to its ticking. It’ll be time soon enough.

This is what summer is for or why I don't teach summer school

2007-06-22T09:26:00.000-05:00

Summer is the time that I recharge. For ten months out of the year, I teach art in an elementary school. I teach pre-kindergarten through fifth grade. I’ve been in the same school now for nine years.

My first six years in public schools I spent in a middle school. My students ranged from sixth through eighth grade, that’s about 11 to almost 16 years old depending on their history with the education system.

Before I began teaching in public school I taught as a visual artist/instructor for a wide range of organizations, museums, arts organizations, after-school programs. I worked on individual contracts with each job different from the rest. My schedule was loosely two months on and one month off. This meant that just about the time that I had begun to relax and get back to making art it was time to start over again. Back then I taught every summer.

I have two grown children. During the summer when they were small they went with me wherever I went. This meant that they got exposed to a lot of really wonderful stuff: art, dance, music, acting and voice lessons. They also got to share their mom with other children. They took it pretty well, but by the end of a long day of working with small children I didn’t want to hear anyone calling my name or have anyone tug at my sleeve. My kids turned out well, all considered, which is to say that I am very proud of both of them.

In addition to teaching art I would go with the children and chaperone them at their afternoon activity, which was normally swimming. This entailed a great deal of time in the changing rooms helping tiny little girls into even tinier swimsuits. Once in the pool I would be encircled by little people who wanted to be in the water, but hadn’t yet learned to swim. I stayed in the shallow end of the pool with them, making sure that I could count all of their heads at any given moment. I never lost one.

Nowadays I take the summers off. I have ever since I started teaching in public school. I also try to keep my holidays free during the school year.

There is a popular misconception that teachers “get the summer off”, that this is vacation time for us. I suppose you could call it that. Teachers like me are on a contract that pays us for ten months of the year. Although I work ten months a year my pay is spread over the full twelve months. This allows me a certain amount of freedom over the summer. It also brings up some entertaining questions about money and why teachers don’t receive interest payments for letting the school districts hold on to the money that we’ve already earned, but not received. Anyway, that is a whole different matter and I’ll save it for a later date and a more appropriate place.

I use my summers to regroup and catch up on all the things that I fall behind on during the school year. My house is normally a shambles by the time that summer rolls around. I sort through piles of accumulated papers. I read books pertaining to my teaching field, which is art. I go to museums and galleries although here in Houston we have a definite summer lull as far as art openings and events go. I work in my studio. If I can afford it, I travel. I attend professional development workshops and classes. At some point in all of this I start to think about the coming school year and plan for what will be.

By mid-August I’ll be ready to go back into my classroom. My enthusiasm will be restored. I’ll return refreshed and relaxed, ready to face all the eager young folks that enter my room.

The times in which we live

2007-06-13T15:13:00.000-05:00

Each of us is a product of the times in which we live. As I do the research for this trip to Northern New Mexico I become more and more aware of this.

I was born into a world just beginning to fill with technological wonders. My family’s mobility was made possible by the automobile. The television brought information directly and rapidly into our home, whether we lived in a trailer or a house. Friends and relatives were just a phone call away.

In reality, I never felt true need. There has always been enough, enough food, shelter and clothing. If there wasn’t enough it could easily be found, either through the state, the church, charities, or family and friends. The few times I have gone hungry it has been by choice and pride, not by necessity.

As I read about O’Keeffe I realize the differences in our worlds. She was born in Sun Prairie, Wisconsin in 1887. Her family moved first to Williamsburg and then to Charlottesville, but I have to remember that these moves took place before the interstate highway system latticed this country coast to coast.

The differences are certainly not just material or physical. In 1918, when Georgia O’Keeffe was teaching in Canyon, Texas, women did not have the right to vote. Don’t even ask about birth control or whether she was pro-choice or anti-abortion. These weren’t matters to be mentioned in polite society. Women’s rights were a controversial issue that landed more than a few suffragettes in jail.

Pause for a moment and imagine no telephones interrupting or intruding, not at home, not during dinner, not in a theatre. No cell phones ringing in purses and pockets. No folks walking around looking like escapees from some rubber room as they gesture and talk animatedly into the cyborg earpiece only barely visible except for the occasional blink of blue light through their hair.

Imagine writing letters that would take days, even weeks to reach their destination, rather than calling or firing off an e-mail or a text message. Imagine communicating with well chosen words painstakingly committed to paper by hand. If “absence makes the heart grow fonder” and “familiarity breeds contempt”, how would your relationships be altered if you could only be with your friends and loved ones when you were present in the same physical space?

Imagine no monkey chatter from the television, radio or whatever other device you use to keep you company and run distraction. Imagine being able to be truly alone without having to go somewhere far away.

Imagine music without amplification. No leakage from the earbuds of some person nearby who is working on their future deafness. Imagine only being able to hear music performed by real live people on acoustic instruments. You might even imagine making music yourself, maybe with your friends.

Imagine quiet. Remember after 9/11 when the sky was still and silent rather than full of metal birds full of people. Expand that quiet. Expand it into silence, no freeway roar, no car alarms, no booming bass beat rattling the windows, no air conditioner hum.

Once several years back I was privileged to go to a retreat center out in the hill country of central Texas. It took over twenty-four hours for me to realize that the sound that I was hearing was the absence of all the constant droning of city life. I was able to hear silence. I had a similar experience on my first Fund for Teachers Fellowship when I was in Venice. Something felt lacking and I only finally realized what it was after walking the streets and alleys for several hours – there were no automobiles, no trucks, no motorcycles. I sat on a bench near my hotel in the evening and listened to the sounds of Venice. It was wonderful.

I could go on and on. I passed the half century mark a couple of years back so all I have to do is remember. Maybe you can join me in remembering.

Remember small neighborhood stores before the day of shopping malls and big box stores? Remember slowing down in the summer? Remember open windows and shades closed against noon day heat? Remember the coolness of air blown over a shallow tray of water by an oscillating fan, the fan that your mother swore would chop off your fingers? Remember singing into that same fan, amusing yourself on a summer’s afternoon with the way it chopped up the sound of your voice? Remember letting the seasons touch you, really feeling the changes in the air?

Remember eating foods in their seasons? Oranges were special in the winter because they really were special. Remember when going out and having a burger at the local burger joint was a real treat that happened once in a blue moon rather than some way to shut the kids up on the way home? Remember when having a soda was a luxury? Do you remember back before we super-sized everything?

I’m not a Luddite. I own all the modern conveniences that I can possibly afford. I drool over the latest technology, but I have to tell you that I am looking forward to this summer. I’m looking forward to trying to experience as much as I can the way that Georgia O’Keeffe experienced it in 1929, but the highways I drive will be different from the dirt roads that she took and I think I’ll enjoy the road music I’ve been loading into my iPod.

And the planning goes on and on

2007-06-11T09:34:00.000-05:00

Please excuse the long gaps between posts. I don't want to bore you and sometimes it seems that what I have to say is just the same old thing over and over again, at least until the rubber hits the highway. Updates are only merited when I have something new to say or tell.

Planning is ongoing. This last week I made various reservations, some more exciting than others. The updated plan is going something like this:

Wednesday 27 June, pick up the rental vehicle. I've reserved a midsize SUV. It may eat up alot of gas, but it has a higher clearance and more room for art and art supplies. I'll pack up and head towards Austin and San Antonio. I plan to spend the night in Austin and catch up with friends.

Thursday 28 June, driving, driving, driving until I get to Abilene where I'll stay for the night in what my one of my friends refers to as an "HBO Pool". He swears they are his favorite hotel/motel chain. I'll take anything that doesn't start with "Bates". I'll need a good night's rest to prepare for the next day.

Friday 29 June, more driving, driving, driving to Canyon, Texas and the Elizabeth Hudspeth House, now called the Hudspeth Inn. O'Keeffe used to take meals here during the 'teens when she was teaching at West Texas Normal College, now West Texas A & M. I have O'Keeffe's various addresses around Canyon and Amarillo in addition to Palo Duro Canyon to make the rounds of.

Saturday 30 June, more of the same driving, driving, driving. Plenty of coffee and I should make it to Santa Fe where I'll stay in the Ghost Ranch facility in the center of town. This is not
the same as staying at the original Ghost Ranch in Abiquiu although both are run by the same people, the Presbyterians, these days. I've been reading up on the original ranch in a book entitled "Ghost Ranch" by Lesley Poling-Kempes. I'll save all that info for later.

Sunday 1 July through Wednesday 4 July, Taos, New Mexico and the Sagebrush Inn. Time to rest up from the road and adjust to being in New Mexico. The Sagebrush Inn is another O'Keeffe site. She stayed here for the first time in the 1930 after tiring of the bustle at Los Gallos, Mabel Dodge Luhan's house. Here she found the ambiance that she needed to work. According to the website she used Room 301 as a studio in subsequent stays. This place comes highly recommended by friends of mine who have spent time painting in the area. I got a room on the courtyard in the original building. I'm hoping to get some drawing and painting in. There are so many places that I want to go in the surrounding area, too many to mention. I'll just have to see how it goes.

Thursday 5 July through Tuesday 10 July, heck if I know. I haven't made any reservations. At this point I'm planning on going back in to Santa Fe. Hopefully I will be able to use the Georgia O'Keeffe Museum's library and research center. All of my reading has brought up a lot of questions and I am hoping to use primary sources to find my answers.

Tuesday 10 July to Monday 16 July, I'll be staying at the Ghost Ranch facility in Santa Fe and attending "Santa Fe - Folk Art Traditions and Beyond".

Monday 16 July through Friday 20 July it's off to Canyon de Chelly, Mesa Verde and Chaco Canyon to look at the Anasazi ruins. An art teacher friend from Houston will be joining me for the next week. There are plenty of interesting places to check out along the way. The Black Place, a location that O'Keeffe traveled to and painted numerous times is near Chaco Canyon.

Saturday 21 July and Sunday 22 July will find me staying at the Mabel Dodge Luhan House in Taos. I've reserved the Georgia O'Keeffe room. This is the actual room that Georgia O'Keeffe stayed in on her first extended trip to New Mexico in 1929.

Monday 23 July and Tuesday 24 July are two more no reservations days. All I know is I have to drop my friend off in Santa Fe so that she can make it back to Houston.

Tuesday 24 July through Friday 27 July, I'm staying at the Ghost Ranch in Abiquiu. I've scheduled a tour of the O'Keeffe home and studio in Abiquiu on Wednesday 25 July. I'm staying up on the mesa.

Saturday 28 July through Tuesday July 31, I head back for Texas. My plan is to drive in through West Texas. If at all possible I'll make it back through Big Bend and the Davis Mountains. You'll just have to stay tuned for this last leg. I'm hoping my husband will meet me in Austin and we can drive back to Houston together.

Wednesday August 1 I turn the rental back in and pay up.

Home, where I can begin to put together a scrapbook of sorts as a report on the whole journey. I'm hoping to post entries in 1001 Journals along the way, but that will depend on availability of a scanner and such. We'll see.

So, here's the plan . . . .

2007-05-28T20:08:00.000-05:00

I’ve received a Fund for Teachers’ Fellowship. This is my second Fund for Teachers’ Fellowship. On the first one I traveled through Europe on my own. It was quite an adventure, but I’ll save the long version of that story for some later date. One of the things that trip made me aware of was how little I know my own country. I’ve touched ground in almost all of the 48 contiguous states, but I don’t really know this country.

So this time I decided to stay closer to home. My original proposal was to follow in Georgia O’Keeffe’s footsteps across the Southwest and, in addition, to study pictographs and petroglyphs along the way. That’s my proposal and I’m sticking to it.

I’ve been researching Georgia O’Keeffe for quite some time. I suppose that one of the things that appeals to me about her is that, early in her life, she taught art. Not only did she teach art, she taught art right here in Texas.

My hope is eventually to follow her path through out the United States, from her birth place in Wisconsin to Chicago and New York City. I had originally intended to document where she had lived in New York City, but I wasn’t able to make it up there this spring. A little matter of some very pricey oral surgery kept me from making it to the National Art Education Association Convention in New York City at spring break.

It remains to be seen if I’ll make it to New York City before or after the road trip. It is certain to be one or the other I'm just not sure which one. I’ve gone to great lengths to find the addresses there where Georgia O’Keeffe lived. My plan is to go and document these various sites. If the buildings are still standing I’ll photograph them, if not I’ll photograph whatever has taken their place.

Now, back to my upcoming road trip, I don’t intend on moving too far too fast. I like to believe that I’m still twenty years old and up for anything, but it just ain’t true. I’ve hit the half century mark and I’m proud of making it this far, although I do get the occasional jolt when I look in the mirror and wonder who is that woman with the graying hair.

My itinerary goes something like this. On or about June 26th I’ll pick up a rent vehicle. With the current price of gas going through the roof I may have to reconsider renting a small SUV. I don’t know. I’ll wait to decide on that one.

Once the vehicle is packed and ready to go I’ll drive up to the hill country. Georgia O’Keeffe spent a short period of time recovering from the flu in San Antonio and nearby Waring, Texas during 1918 just prior to her move to New York City. I don't have any address in San Antonio, but I know that she and Paul Strand walked down along the river

Since my plan is to follow her movements through the Southwest I’ll head on from there to Canyon and Amarillo, Texas. I’ll be stopping off at Palo Duro Canyon, one of the sites/sights that inspired O’Keeffe.

I am considering staying at Hudspeth House in Canyon, Texas. Their website says:
“Georgia O'keefe, America's most honored Artist once took her meals here at the Hudspeth House Bed and Breakfast in Canyon, Texas (1917-1919) with Mary E. Hudspeth as they were both Teachers at West Texas Normal College (West Texas A&M University).
She used to share her latest art projects with the dinner party that met quite often. We would love to take you back to the era in which Georgia O'Keefe lived and have you experience the home in which she enjoyed so many good times.”
I’ll make a decision on that sometime in the next week or two.

From Canyon, Texas I’ll drive through Amarillo, another Texas town where O’Keeffe lived and taught, and then on to Santa Fe, New Mexico.

O’Keeffe first saw Santa Fe in 1917 while on vacation with her sister. They passed through on their way back from the Rockies. Years later she said, “I loved it immediately. From then on I was always on my way back.”

Her way back took a little longer than expected. O’Keeffe returned to New Mexico again in the summer of 1929, twelve years after her first encounter with Santa Fe. Mabel Dodge Luhan invited O’Keeffe and Stieglitz to stay at her home, Los Gallos. O’Keeffe accepted and traveled with her friend, Beck Strand, for her first summer in New Mexico.

She returned to New Mexico every summer except for 1932, 1933 and 1939 until she moved there in 1949. In 1940 O’Keeffe bought Rancho de los Burros from Arthur Pack, the owner of Ghost Ranch, and in 1945 she bought the house in Abiquiu.

My plan includes making it to several of the sites that O’Keeffe painted over and over again including the Black Place and the White Place. More about that later.

I plan to make Santa Fe the hub of my stay in New Mexico. I’ll be attending a workshop called “Folk Art Traditions and Beyond” there from July 10th through the 16th. This workshop coincides with the Folk Art Festival at the Museum of International Folk Art and the Santa Fe International Folk Art Market.

I want to see the night sky at Chaco Canyon, and visit Canyon de Chelly and Mesa Verde. These are all places that O’Keeffe went long before there were good roads and interstate highways.

I’ve reserved the Georgia O’Keeffe room at Mabel Dodge Luhan House in Taos. Yes, it is the same room that O’Keefe stayed in 78 years ago on her first summer in New Mexico. There’s no need to ask if I’m excited.

There are a lot of little side trips and jaunts besides, but for now this is enough.

I’ll be spending these next few weeks making plans and reservations. I’ll let you know more as things start to firm up.

At last the end is near, make that here, . . .

2007-05-25T19:02:00.000-05:00

The school year is over, at least for me. I have spent all of my time and energy for the last two weeks preparing for this moment. Now that its here I just may know what the rabbit caught in the headlights was feeling. Fortunately for me the outcome is not near as dramatic.

I’ve been afraid to really work on my road trip plans, hence the long delay between postings. I was afraid that if I started to focus on my summer plans I would never be ready for the end of school. The end of school is the same every year with kids and teachers equally wound up. Everything that can go weird does. There are class parties, awards and rewards. Schedules change by the moment. Nothing is set in stone and adaptability is the order of the day.

As it was, I was able to get my classes taught, my paperwork done, my classroom packed up and cleared away, but best of all, I did it all today. I’ll have to go back and collect artwork from the administration building and put up a bulletin board at school, but other than that I am finished until the start of school in August.

Three More Weeks of School to Go

2007-05-07T05:39:00.000-05:00

This last week was a wee bit stressful.

There was a fire drill on Tuesday during my favorite Pre-K class.

We had Family Picnic for Pre-K through second grade on Wednesday. I was off campus for the morning taking a chosen few fourth graders to the Orange Show on an Art-A-Peel field trip. The kids had a wonderful time learning about mosaics. Urban Harvest provided help and herbs and the kids made small planters that will look great for Mother's Day. I came back in time for lunch and then spent the afternoon supervising third and fourth graders in the cafeteria.

Thursday was supposed to be Family Picnic for the third through fifth grades, but it was postponed due to bad weather. The park next door to the school was full of standing water and appeared to be somewhat between a bog and a pond. The date was changed until this Tuesday, May 8.

Thursday was also the day to turn in artwork for the Spring Art Exhibition. I managed to have everything matted and ready to go, complete with release f0rms from parents among other paperwork. I raced over and dropped the art off after school.

A quick stop by the house and I headed over to the Museum of Fine Arts for the Houston Art Educators' Town Art Meeting. This just happened to be the last week of the Metropolitan Museum of Art show and the Chronicle had run an article about the show that morning. Thursdays the museum is open late and admission to the permanent collection is free, so you can guess what a madhouse that was. Traffic was bumper to bumper with folks trying to get to the museum in addition to the usual rush hour chaos. The parking lot across the street was full and marked off due to a church event. The parking garage was full. I headed over to park about two blocks away near the Holocaust Museum. Rain, slick Houston clay on the sidewalks and puddles not to mention the bumper to bumper traffic made my walk the museum seem longer than it actually was. The meeting was worth the trip. Twenty-eight art teachers, including yours truly, unwound by creating collages in altered books.

Thursday and Friday one of the other specialist teachers (I prefer specialist to ancillary) was out. Substitutes are as rare as hen's teeth in my school district, so the rest of us got extra classes both days.

Friday was Cinco de Mayo at school.

For the good news, one of my students won a scholarship to the Glassell Junior School of the Museum of Fine Arts. I sent word out and his parents took him to the sketching competition at the sculpture garden. His mom came by on Thursday morning and thanked me. That's a pretty rare event and it certainly made my week. This kid really deserved the scholarship. He is incredible.

I brought home paperwork and had the best of intentions to get some of it done over the weekend, but I rested instead.

All I can do right now is place one foot ahead of the other and keep on trudging. One day at a time this last three weeks will end before I have the chance to really take it all in.

This morning I got news via e-mail that there is another opportunity to display student artwork next week, a last minute moment to show off what my kids can do.

This week should be fun. Tuesday is Family Picnic and Saturday is the Austin High School Feeder Pattern Fine Arts Festival. The Vanguard Program is at the end of this week, so I never know who is actually coming to art and who is off rehearsing. I can definitely use the time to put some order to the chaos of finishing off the year, but it is stressful not knowing what is up from moment to moment.

To top it all off, I'm thinking about riding on a friend's art car in the Art Car Parade on Saturday. Hurray for Art Cars!

And so the end is near . . . .

2007-04-28T13:15:00.000-05:00

Soon the school year will be over. It’s cranking up for the wind down. There are only four weeks left. Out of that there are only eighteen and a half days with students.

If you have never taught school you can’t have any idea what the end of school is like for a teacher. Everyone on campus seems distracted and flustered. These coming weeks are full of activities before, during, and after school: the Spring Art Show, the Fine Arts Festival, the Art Educator Town Meeting at the Museum of Fine Arts, Family Picnic (a two day event, one for the lower grades, one for the upper grades), and Awards Ceremonies. In addition to this we have to clean up our rooms, box up all our stuff and prepare so that the custodians can clean them over the summer.

Having just gotten over the joys of standardized testing several of my colleagues have to be ready for the Vanguard Program. This entails daily rehearsals and constant work on costumes and sets. Every now and then someone approaches me for materials. I’ve been able to share the joy of beads and glitter.

The fourth grade is preparing for their annual field trip to San Antonio. This time it will be a multiple day trip to both San Antonio and Austin. They are fundraising right up until the end.

At the moment it feels overwhelming, but all I have to remember is that this too will pass. After fifteen years of teaching in public school I know that this crescendo of activity will climax on the teacher prep day when the entire faculty will be frantically trying to get sign-out sheets filled out so that summer can start. Suddenly all this frenzied motion will be followed by the unnerving inertia of summer.

I have to be careful and not let my dreams of summer and my planning for the trip take over all my time. There are still the day-to-day activities of teaching to be done in addition to the closing out of the school year. Lesson plans, grading, taking roll and overseeing groups of anxious students who are perched on the verge of summer.

The kids know that the year is at its end. The weather is warm and soon the city will be cleaning the pool in the park next to the school. The odor of chlorine will be added to the scent of magnolias, honeysuckle and all the other blossoms. The pool will be glistening brilliant turquoise in anticipation of the coming summer.

Fear and Excitement

2007-04-27T22:39:00.000-05:00

Isn’t it strange how we label feelings? I’m thinking about fear and excitement. They can be incredibly similar, even interchangeable.

I remember going to an amusement park and getting in line to ride the roller coaster, watching the cars twist, turn and swoop down the rails. The riders screamed and grimaced, holding tight for dear life. There I stood, waiting to buy my ticket to ride. Since I was going to pay for the experience of being scared out of my skin I called what I was feeling excitement. Every second that I stood in line was another moment that I could change my mind, turn and walk away. There was a certain joy to the excruciating anticipation. Palms already sweaty and heart rate increasing without even being strapped into the seat, I waited impatiently to get to the front of the line.

I think I may have figured out the difference between the two, fear and excitement. When I am in control, or at least think I’m in control, the feeling is excitement. Fear sets in when the choices are no longer in my hands. Standing in line for the roller coaster I am in control. I can watch from the sidelines or be an active participant. I can step out of line whenever I choose. The choice is mine right up to the final moment when I’m belted in and the attendant lowers the metal bar. Even then I call what I feel excitement because I know that the ride will run its course and come to its inevitable end. For a few short moments there is nothing to do about it except hold onto the bar, close my eyes and scream out all the joy and fear of the incredible rush of the ride.

My feelings about my upcoming trip are similar to my feelings about the roller coaster, but there is a subtle difference. I don’t know the track ahead of time and I’m not quite sure how this ride will work.

Now this is where my obsessive nature kicks in. I start to plan. I have hit the bookstores and the internet. I am now the proud owner of the following books: a guide to New Mexico, two guides to Santa Fe, Taos, and Albuquerque, a guide to the Four Corners Region, a guide to Santa Fe, a guide to the hot springs of New Mexico, a guide to the gem trails of New Mexico, a guide to “O’Keeffe Country”, and about three different guides to rock art, ruins, and odd sites throughout the Southwest.

I’ve been making notes and surfing the internet. I have a collaged notebook of information. This is my book of hours, my vade mecum. Every time I stumble on to another interesting site or subject I poke it into my book. The spine is broken and scraps of paper are sticking out in all directions.

In addition to this I have downloaded my notes from the computer onto a 2 gig flash drive so I can carry it all around with me like some modern day amulet, a cyber rosary. I suspend it around my neck and fondle it through out the day, reassuring myself that all my research, all my work is safely here with me. It serves as a reminder that all of this is real. I really am a Fund for Teachers’ fellow. I really am going on a journey this summer. Soon enough I will be on the road.

So, what is it this time?

2007-04-22T13:35:00.000-05:00

The baby in this photo is me!

I was born in Hazen, North Dakota. I would have been born in Beulah, but there wasn’t a hospital there, so my folks opted for Hazen. My dad worked the seismic crew and we lived in a trailer. My dad was a doodlebugger. I don’t know what they call them now, or if that lifestyle still exists. We lived all over the central USA, North Dakota, South Dakota, Wyoming, Montana, Nebraska, Kansas and Oklahoma, before my dad moved us back home to East Texas.

By this point I had a baby sister and another on the way. I don’t think my mom was up for another winter up on the Canadian border away from family. She may have been daunted at the idea of living in a trailer full of tiny people. At five years old I didn’t know that people lived in houses that didn’t move. I thought that everyone lived like we did. My parents sold the trailer. I was disappointed when I found out that we were going to be more or less stationary from then on.

I have vague memories of landscapes that look nothing like the rolling hills of East Texas or the flat Gulf Coast. Barren, lunar landscapes in shades of ochre, rust, chalk white and sepia rushing past the window of the old black Studebaker that had started to have that oxidized iridescent blue to it. I know that we went to Yellowstone National Park. I’ve seen the black and white photographs where my parents are a happy young couple with a towheaded toddler between them.

Christmas break of 1994 I took a road trip with a friend. We set out from Houston and spent the first night just outside Del Rio near Lake Amistad. From there, we drove on to Big Bend. The next night found us in El Paso and the following day we drove on by way of Albuquerque to Santa Fe. We spent a couple of nights in Santa Fe and then took off early one morning for Page, Arizona. It was an incredibly long drive. Christmas Eve found us standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon in a snowstorm. It was a mad dash back to Houston with a stop in Marathon at the Gage Hotel.

In the summer of 1995 my soon-to-be husband the geologist and I went to Seminole Canyon, Big Bend and Hueco Tanks. He looked at the geology of Texas and I hunted for petroglyphs and pictographs to photograph.

What I learned along the way was how little I know about my own country and how much I have yet to learn.

Somewhere between the trailer and high school I encountered the artwork of Georgia O’Keeffe. In a world full of white male artists out leapt Georgia, with her paintings of flowers and bones and the desolate landscapes reminiscent of my childhood, all set to be a model for what a young woman could do.

I read all I could about her. Perhaps you can understand my joy when I found out that she, too, had taught school. Best of all, she had taught school in Texas.
I continued to collect books about her, view her work whenever possible, even as I started to collect a bouquet of other inspiring women artists over time: Frida Kahlo, Emily Carr, Leonora Carrington, Remedios Varo, Leonor Fini, Eva Hesse, Ana Mendieta, Louise Bourgeous, Louise Nevelson, Clyde Connell, among other strong women of vision.

When I returned from my first Fund for Teachers Fellowship in Europe I begin to plan for the next opportunity. I started rereading my books on O’Keeffe and picking up new ones as fast as I could. By the time I applied for my current fellowship I was the proud owner of thirty books and a video on O’Keeffe. I went through all of them looking for locations and when possible actual addresses. I begin to envision a trip from O’Keeffe’s birthplace in Sun Prairie, Wisconsin to Virginia, Chicago, New York City, Amarillo and Canyon, Texas and finally to Abiquiu and Santa Fe, New Mexico. The O’Keeffe Museum in Santa Fe opened after my visit there, so it would be a required stop.

In the meantime, a friend of mine from Italy taught me to knit and I begin to be fascinated with fiber arts, not that they hadn’t interested me before, but now I was on a mission. Many of the books I read on knitting mentioned places and people in the Albuquerque/Santa Fe/Taos area. The more I thought about it the more I wanted to go and see and meet them for myself.

I have always been fascinated by archeology, ruins and rock art. On my road trip to Lake Powell and the Grand Canyon I hadn’t gotten to stop at Chaco Canyon, Mesa Verde, or Canyon de Chelly. I’ve collected books and information on Southwest rock art, but seeing a friend’s photos of Chaco Canyon made me want to see for myself.

The more I thought about it the more I realized that I could plan a road trip that would include all of my interests and then some. The final inspiration to the trip was when I read an announcement of a six day summer workshop for art teachers with the delightful name of “Folk Art Traditions and Beyond” to be held in Santa Fe and coinciding with the International Folk Art Festival there. It was as though every time I turned around some other new person or place or thing was luring me along the path that would lead to this trip.

So there you have it. I wasn’t able to figure a way to make the entire circuit of Georgia’s life from Wisconsin to Illinois to Virginia, but I came up with a plan to hit on two of the three places that seem to have played the largest part in her adult life. At some point in the future I hope to make it up to Lake George in New York State, but that will have to wait for now. Before the road trip I am going to New York City to document the places that Georgia O’Keeffe lived and worked. If they are still standing I plan to photograph the actual places and, if not, I will document what has replaced them. This summer I will be driving to Northern New Mexico and the Four Corners Region. I have planned stops in Amarillo, Canyon and Palo Duro Canyon in Texas. I am signed up for the workshop in Santa Fe. I have Ghost Ranch and Abiquiu to explore. I am sure to make it to Chaco Canyon and I hope to make it on to Canyon de Chelly and Mesa Verde.

I have plenty of paper and paints, pencils and charcoal, my camera, my sketchbook and journal, and this, my trusty blog to document the journey.

Wish me luck as I start to finalize my plans! There are only five more weeks of school. After that I have a couple of weeks to set my home life in order and spend some time with my husband. Then, it’s on the road again!

My First Rodeo

2007-04-18T18:18:00.000-05:00

In the late fall of 2001, my school principal sent out an e-mail to the faculty telling us about a grant called the “Fund for Teachers” grant. How could I resist anything with that name?

You can find out all about them at http://www.fundforteachers.org/ .

I was amazed at what I read. This appeared to be a dream grant for teachers. I read everything that I could find about it. Once I finished checking it out, pinched myself a couple of times for good measure, and made sure that it wasn’t just a dream, I begin to think of what I would like to do.

At the point that I first applied for a Fund for Teachers grant I had ten years public school classroom experience as an art teacher and I was forty-seven years old.

I need to give you some background here. The first “art class” I taught was at a Baptist Vacation Bible School when I was about fifteen. I sold my first painting the same year. A classmate of mine’s mom bought it for twenty-five dollars. I think it matched her couch.

Before I began working in public school, I had been a visual artist/instructor for about fifteen years. I taught workshops to kids and adults, toddlers and senior citizens. I hustled like crazy to get enough teaching jobs to take care of me and my two kids. Art, teaching it and making it, were the two main things, otherwise I did what ever was necessary to support my art habit. I have been an artist model, a waitress, a real estate agent, a real estate appraiser, driven a delivery truck, worked as a librarian and worked retail sales. Of all the things that I did, only teaching art and making art were fulfilling.

At the age of thirty-two, I went back to school for five long years. When I finished at university, I had graduated cum laude and had an all-level, lifetime art teaching certificate.

For the first six years after receiving my degree I taught art in a middle school. I changed school districts and took a position teaching “multicultural art” to gifted and talented students in an elementary school. And that is where we find me when the Fund for Teachers grant first became available in my school district.

Back to the grant, my very first thought was that I wanted to take the Orient Express. This had more to do with reading and watching movies than anything else. A few moments on the computer let me know that this was way out of my financial reach, even if I got a grant.

Then, reality kicked in. I had been teaching art for ages and I had never gotten to see the things I taught about. I wanted to go to Europe and see the artworks that I had seen in reproduction in books or projected on lecture hall screens. I wanted to see the real thing! I might not be able to take the Orient Express, but I could get a Eurailpass!

And with that a plan was born. I went to the bookstore and got a Rick Steve’s Guide to Europe. I pulled out my old college art books. I begin to make a plan based on museums. It took quite a bit of time, but finally I had a proposal. My first grant asked for $5000 so that I could fly to Europe and tour museums. Continental Airlines had just started a non-stop flight from Houston to Amsterdam and they were running a special low fare to publicize it.

It was a huge grand plan. My mother always told me that my eyes were bigger than my stomach and my dad used to say I always bit off more than I could chew. You know, they might have been right! I planned to start in Amsterdam and then museum hop my way around Europe: London, Paris, Madrid, Barcelona, Nice, Rome, Venice, Florence, Prague, Vienna, Berlin, and then, back to Amsterdam.

It was fun to plan and dream, but I never believed that anyone would really say yes. Imagine my shock when the phone rang and a voice told me that I had received the grant.

And so I had. I went to Europe in the summer of 2002 alone. I speak a bit of Spanish, a smidgen of high school German, and before I went to the UK I thought I spoke English. It was awesome! I didn’t make it to Florence, Rome, Prague, Vienna or Berlin that trip. It was just too much, but I did make the trip.

Until I got the Fund for Teachers grant I never believed that I could go to Europe. I was given the opportunity of a lifetime: thirty glorious days, five countries, museums, churches and galleries all in an intoxicating whirlwind of languages and cultures.

Not long after I got back I begin to plan for the next grant. You can only receive the Fund for Teachers Grant every five years.

In the meantime, I’ve been back to Italy once and the United Kingdom twice. The Fund for Teachers Grant allowed my life to open up and blossom. My students have received the benefit of having an art teacher who can share her personal experience of works of art. My experiences as a stranger in a strange land have made it easier for me to relate to those of my students who are new to the USA and who are just learning English.

So what could I do for an encore?

The journey has begun

2007-04-14T17:08:00.000-05:00

It was an unseasonably cool day here. I awoke early to go and receive the check that will make this sojourn possible.

I walked under gray skies in the company of women who could only be teachers who were grant recipients like myself. Who else would be walking down the sidewalk dressed in "business casual" on such a bleak Saturday morning before 10:00 AM?

Once inside the Alumni Building we gathered in the Great Hall. Now there were men and women gathered, each with a red canvas backpack labeled "Fund for Teachers", a black folder containing a certificate and a white folder containing our instructions. The room buzzed as everyone asked what everyone else's grant was for.

There were sausage biscuits, muffins, coffee and orange juice. Occasionally the sun peeked in through the large glass windows as we awaited our orientation. Jenny greeted us and praised our initiative. For a moment I felt worried. The last time I had heard the words "best and brightest" was before the Great Performance Pay Fiasco. We were instructed in the fine art of fulfilling the requirements of our grants by Stephanie. Afterward we turned in our media releases and forms, all dutifully signed and witnessed. Upon receipt of our forms we were given the envelopes containing our grant checks. I think everyone opened their envelopes as soon as they were back at their seats. Just for a moment there was some hesitation. Could this really be true and real? Were we really going to go on these amazing adventures? Ladies and gentlemen, the envelop, please. And the answer is, yes! You could feel the tension dissolve and the entire room seemed to breath a sign of relief.

We were called in for our group photos. First there was the full group photo op, followed by the school district photos. Fortunately the photographer was able to shoot us from the balcony above the foyer. Good thing since I don't think we were capable in our excitement of getting into any semblance of order, heightwise or other.

For a few moments more we were gathered together as a group united by the opportunity afforded us by the Fund for Teachers and the donors who believed in us enough to back the program financially. The three of us who had been fortunate enough to receive a grant five years ago gave advice to those who sought us out. Stephanie told us we were free to go and we wandered out into the gray day, envelopes clutched in hands and minds full of dreams.

I headed for home in my bumpersticker encrusted pick-up truck. My first stop was at my house. I had to scan the check so that I will be able to collage it into my journal. Once that was done I headed straight for the bank. I needed to get there before the drive-through tellers closed.

As the check, now endorsed, the deposit slip and my driver's license nestled in the plastic cylinder and were sucked away by the pneumatic tube my mind turned to thoughts of what to do next.

A moment later my reverie was interrupted by the young man in the teller booth's voice. "Ma'am, there will be a two day hold on this check."

"That's OK. Not a problem." I replied and with that there was a swoosh and the cylinder settled back in its nest. I gently removed it, extracted my receipt and license. Just for a moment I paused to look at the amount in my account. Just for a moment it didn't seem quite real. Just for a moment, and then I headed home to set up this blog.