Under the heading titled “Field Trip”, follows “Red, Blue, Yellow”, musings by David Kortava. As the story goes there are two groups of MOMA curators on a pilgrimage. Divided into two taxis they are en route to visit the grave of the Dutch-born abstract painter Piet Mondrian. The occasion is the seventy-fifth anniversary of the painter’s death.
 
MOMA, the Museum of Modern Art, and Piet Mondrian are two of my great loves discovered in Manhattan and still longed for often. Pieter Cornelis Mondriann, painter and theoretician, was born in Amersfoort, Netherlands in 1872. He became Piet Mondrian after 1906. As a 1940 refugee, Piet Mondrian fled Europe for New York where he lived courtesy of friend in a small mid-town apartment until his death from pneumonia three and a half years later at age seventy-one.
 
Mondrian is now regarded as one of the significant pioneers of abstract art and one of the greatest artists of the 20th century. From a beginning of figurative painting he changed his artistic direction to an increasingly abstract style until his artistic vocabulary was reduced to simple geometric elements making his best works a perfect fit for MOMA.
 
MOMA is considered by many to have the world’s most outstanding collection of modern western masterpieces offering an overview of modern and contemporary architecture and design, sculpture, drawing, painting, photography and prints, as well as illustrated and artists' books, film and electronic media. The library includes approximately 300,000 books and exhibition catalogs. I spent many, many hours there on my days off from my day job where I managed the Greenwich Village boutique of a small fashion house.
 
At MOMA the stripped-down graphic qualities of Mondrian’s later works caught my attention. His affection for jazz spurred my imagination. I was particularly reminded of his oil painting, “Broadway Boogie Woogie” (1942-1943) sometimes when I found myself peering out from windows rising high above the patterns of the city’s colorful straight streets with their interlocking intersections and seemingly static movement.
 
The curatorial Mondrian aficionados traveled Mondrian’s streets. Leaving MOMA at 53rd Street on the east side of midtown Manhattan, they went over the East River and across Brooklyn. They arrived at the two-hundred-and-twenty acre burial ground, Cypress Hills Cemetery, which straddles the boundary between the boroughs of Brooklyn and Queens.
 
When the GPS of one cab announced their arrival, the passengers stepped out into a sea of grave stones crusted with winter’s white. Shivering they waited for their colleagues in the second cab. No cab arrived. Instead a phone message was received from the chief curator of painting and sculptures who was texting from the front entrance and inquiring the location of the other pilgrims. They replied they are somewhere in the middle of the cemetery’s expansive maze and had no idea of the true location of Mondrian’s grave. Like displaced souls lost in a snowy limbo they huddled confused!

Finally united at the cemetery office, together they selected a token for their tribute—a bouquet from those on display for purchase—choosing the colors that would please the painter, rejecting blossoms and stems of unacceptable colors.

Mondrian was a man of specific tastes. Just as he would not have appreciated the cemetery’s curvy layout (he much preferred the organized straight lines of Manhattan’s street grid), he would have disdained any of the colors outside the range of his chosen palette. In his mature years his pigment choices included only primary colors, never using the green that dominated the landscapes of his emerald green Dutch homeland.
 
With the help of a groundskeeper leading them in a pickup truck, the curators finally found Mondrian’s grave near a sign reading “Crescent Knoll”.  Gathered around the headstone they placed their flowers. As the group looked out to the Manhattan skyline a curator played “Boogie Woogie Stomp” on a cell phone to honor Mondrian’s love of jazz.
 
With happy anticipation David and I, too, are eager to make our journey east and together look out over the Manhattan skyline. Though we will not take time to make a pilgrimage to the Cypress Hills Cemetery, we will most certainly seek out Mondrian’s paintings at MOMA. With a soundtrack of jazz delivered through our smart phones we will admire the colors and grids of the Manhattan that inspired some of Mondrian’s best late paintings, including “Broadway Boogie Woogie."

For a week everywhere I went around town someone reminded me of the time change—that we should make our clocks spring forward. “Don’t forget!” they kept saying. Every year no matter how many kindly encouragements I hear, I get to twirling, and I almost always forget to make the change.

This year I put a reminder prompt on my cell phone. Voilà! Daylight Saving Time began last Sunday, and David and I remembered to set ahead every clock in our house. Thank goodness our digital devices take care of themselves, even my Fitbit.

I recall the wisdom of the comic genius, the sometimes “Captain Marvel”, Stan Lee: “You know, my motto is 'Excelsior',” he said. “That's an old word that means 'upward and onward to greater glory.' It's on the seal of the State of New York. Keep moving forward….”

Thinking of the State of New York and moving forward, we’ll soon be heading east to meet our granddaughter Sophie’s new little sister Alexandra. We’ll have four glorious days with the girls and their parents and their Dobie, Trooper, in their new home beside an expansive old horse farm. We’ll get to play, play, play indoors and out and visit their favorite go-to places (playgrounds and pastry shops!). The day Sophie goes back to school we’ll take the train into the city.

One glorious day we’ll have to adventure in this fabulous metropolis I used to call home. Of course there’s the temptation to spend our precious time with my walking David up and down my memory lanes through my old haunts and neighborhoods in Manhattan’s Chelsea and Greenwich Village and in Brooklyn’s Carroll Gardens. Instead we’re planning our “art and parks” agenda to look something like this:

We’ll start early and be waiting when the doors swing open beneath the grand arched and columned entrance of the Met (Metropolitan Museum of Art). Packed with 5,000 years of human history told in art, this place can be overwhelming, so we’ll have to pick and choose. I’ll want to visit one of my favorites—the tinted bronze and tutu-ed (2018 refreshed) fourteen-year-old Little Dancer exquisitely rendered by Edgar Degas. Maybe we’ll take in a major current exhibition or just wander through until we find ourselves in the rooftop sculpture gardens overlooking Central Park with stunning views of the city’s impressive skyline.

In Central Park we’ll weave among the bikers and runners and skaters and puppy walkers. There are plenty of canines to see. The statue of the famed sled dog, Balto, has been a treasure for almost a century. Just one of the park’s touching memorials.
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Making our way past the old Dairy and the Carousel to The Pond and the Arcade and the female artist designed Bethesda Fountain, we’ll cross over the Bow Bridge with boaters paddling beneath us. We’ll go past the Sheep Meadow, where I used to play Frisbee, turn cartwheels and practice the Lindy with my kids on our picnic brunch Sundays. This day David and I will stand quietly at New York City’s living memorial to former Beatles member, songwriter, musician, artist and peace activist John Lennon.

Fashioned similarly to the original flowing design of the park, the area is lined with tall elm trees, shrubs, flowers and rocks. This teardrop shaped region was a park favorite of Lennon and his wife Yoko Ono. They lived in the Dakota Apartments adjacently located to this space. Looking up at the Dakota towers we’ll feel again the sorrow of hearing on December 8, 1980, that John Lennon had been shot dead when walking into his home.

To commemorate his life and talents, on March 26, 1981, City Council Member Henry J. Stern designated this area as Strawberry Fields after the title of the Beatles' song "Strawberry Fields Forever." The iconic black and white “Imagine” mandala mosaic was designed by a team of artists from the Italian city of Naples. Named after another famous song by John Lennon, "Imagine" evokes a vision and hope for a world without strife, war and conflict. A bronze plaque lists the more than 120 countries that planted flowers and donated money for the maintenance of the area; they have also endorsed Strawberry Fields as a Garden of Peace.

While there we’ll surely think of our Carthage friend, Sandy Higgins—lover of art and artists, founder and first director of artCentral, peacenik and admirer of John Lennon and all the goodness for which he stood.

Carrying the peace of this place, we’ll move beyond the park to meander through the energized city streets and grab a quick bite of lunch off a vendor's cart and find a bistro for a sidewalk cappuccino. We’ll spend an art afternoon at MOMA followed by a long trek down The High Line before we return home to our sweet New Jersey family and our plane ride back to our furries and feathers in Carthage where spring will surely be moving forward all around us.

Just imagine!

Just before I moved to Carthage, I was poised to jump the pond to Paris—to spend some years living and painting in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower. Voilà! Life has presented me with a marvelous surprise—a detour to Middle America and this sweet Camelot we call Carthage. Though I may not stand beneath the Eiffel Tower for now, every day I get to look up and see the enchanting turrets of our beautiful Courthouse artfully hand-crafted decades ago from native Carthage stone.

My unexpected adventure among you is no shabby consolation to my anticipated dreamtime abroad. Day by day I'm falling more and more deeply in love with the art and aesthetics that are at the heart of Carthage. What a privilege for me to serve you and our neighbors as together we strive to enhance the quality of our shared life in southwest Missouri. I love the work I do at artCentral.

What a pleasure to curate an exhibition as fine as “Arti Gras” now showing in the galleries of artCentral. Featuring three dozen members of the Joplin Regional Artists Coalition, the closing weekend is fast approaching. Come visit on Friday and Saturday, from noon to 5:00 p.m., March 15 and 16, 2019. On Sunday many of the works will be packed to move out to artCentral satellite galleries while patrons appear and carry away the art they’ve purchased.

Membership is the bedrock of artCentral’s success and vitality. Membership matters! Please renew or become a first time annual member and enjoy your many membership benefits including visits with real artists; use of the lending library and pottery studio; walks on our lovely campus and along the murals on the Great Wall; classes and workshops; plus quarterly newsletters and invitations to receptions, exhibitions and events.

Call me at (417) 358-4404 or email artcentral@artcentralcarthage.org or go online to www.artcentralcarthage.org and click on JOIN. Select the membership category that suits you best from an annual Student Membership at $20.00 to an Artist or Individual Membership at $25.00 to a Family Membership at $40.00 to a Patron or a Benefactor or a Sustainer or a member of the Director-Curator’s Guild.

​​Memberships are also available for businesses, professionals and organizations. Every membership dollar you invest in artCentral makes a difference! With your help, we’re able to increase our outreach as we sustain and grow our work for the greater good. Art matters! 
 
Art tells the story of our human experience. Art speaks where words are unable to explain. Art connects us to our past and brings truth and beauty to our present. Art prepares us and leads us toward our future.  Art is an essential component in any healthy, vibrant community, especially Carthage. You can't spell Carthage without "art"! 

Carthage has a history grown on a strong foundation of art. The elegant, native stone homes and public buildings we enjoy today were conceived and built decades ago by visionary artists and artisans. Set in nature’s splendidly colorful changing seasons and a friendly, welcoming community, these works of art are the lasting assets that make Carthage such a magical, appealing place to live and work and raise a family. The presence of artCentral makes Carthage ever better.

At summer artCamp for kids we cultivate young minds to explore, while we encourage young talents to grow; we give meaningful summer employment to artists and art teachers; and we train interns to take first steps toward careers in art education and leadership.
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Through our free-to-the-public opening receptions and rotating exhibitions we provide abundant, local gallery opportunities for artists to exhibit and to be recognized and celebrated for their successes that inspire us all to lives of heightened awareness and satisfaction.

In the park we always admire one of Carthage’s most famous citizens, Marlin Perkins—Director of the New York Zoological Gardens in Buffalo, chief zoologist for Edmund Hillary's 1960 expedition to Mt. Everest and a pioneering television personality with his wildlife documentaries. Artists Bob Tommey and Bill Snow have honored Marlin Perkins in a monumentally sculpted bronze crouching above the park’s spreading, lush lawn. 

More alluring lawns and other easy, art-inspiring walks are to be found just outside Carthage. Enjoying the misty sprays rising high above the embankments, sometimes we take a turn around Kellogg Lake or beside the Spring River meandering past. Here we find ducks and geese flying in and hanging out, fisher people wetting their hooks from boats and banks, picnickers gathered at old cement tables and energetic Frisbee golfers playing the course.
 
Further west in Joplin when we chose a Sunday walk following a stretch along Shoal Creek running through Wildcat Glades, we shared the path with two friendly riders on very big mules. A few weeks later we hiked the gently hilly terrain of the Frisco Trail following Baker’s Branch where we saw well-gnawed, beautifully textured tree trunks—the workmanship of beavers diligently trimming their teeth high above the bluff-lined creekside. By the time of our return a Sunday later the crafty wood-workers had completed the felling of the tree we saw standing just the week before.

Near Diamond, Missouri, is our favorite of all our Sunday walks—discovered when our friends B and K, dedicated outdoor adventurers, responded to our question, “Do you know of nearby pretty walks with water and interesting sights where we can take our puppies?” “Oh, yes!” was their enthusiastic response, George Washington Carver Monument Park. You’ll find everything you’re looking for there!” We have!
 
As we wind our way out of Joplin over Reinmiller or Kodiak roads “ou-ing” and “ah-ing” at all the pastoral pleasures we survey, our excitement grows before we ever enter the wood-gated grounds. The level of exuberant barking indicates the puppies, Chiquita and Lasyrenn, think the pasture full of long horns and the garden full of goats are the best sights seen before we stop, disembark and begin to follow the paved park trail along stacked stone walls leading down into the woods.
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​We’ve learned in the introduction to the park’s website (https://www.nps.gov/gwca/index.html), George Washington Carver was “Not Just The Peanut Man. The young child known as the ‘Plant Doctor' tended his secret garden while observing the day-to-day operations of a 19th century farm. Nature and nurture ultimately influenced George on his quest for education to becoming a renowned agricultural scientist, educator, and humanitarian.” He was also a gifted artist. In his own words Carver wrote of his art as a way to lift “souls beyond the sordid things of life, and give them a glimpse of the creator who shapes and fashions all our destinations”. Our souls are lifted each time we visit George Washington Carver Monument Park!

The son of two slaves, George Washington Carver was born on the Moses and Susan Carver farm outside Diamond Grove (now known as Diamond), Missouri, near the close of the Civil War. George and his mother Mary were kidnapped and carried south to Arkansas. Though the whereabouts and fate of his mother were never discovered, George was found and brought back to the Carver home where the Carvers raised and cared for George and his brother James. George, a frail child, did not have the strength or stamina for field work and instead helped his “Aunt Susan” around the family cabin while she taught him the basics of reading and writing.

As a very young boy George knew he wanted to be an artist. A lover of the natural world, he’d often wander in woods surrounding the Carver cabin. While tending his little garden hidden in the underbrush, he found and cultivated plants to make his own paints and dyes. Observing the trees and flowers he loved, he taught himself to paint. He practiced his passion and developed his artistic skills and painted throughout his lifetime. Famously best known today for his accomplishments in education and science, George Washington Carver was a true renaissance man. In 1941 “Time” magazine named George Washington Carver a “Black Leonardo.”

George Washington Carver wrote, “As a child I had an inordinate desire for knowledge.” In time he was permitted to walk the eight miles to the Neosho Colored School in Neosho, Missouri. From there he made his way to Fort Scott, Kansas, where he cooked for a wealthy family to pay for his board, clothes and school privileges. He eventually finished high school in Minneapolis, Kansas, then entered a business college in Kansas City. Still thirsting for greater knowledge George Washington Carver sought admission to Highland College in Highland, Kansas. Refused because of his color, he traveled to western Kansas where he saw the subject of his famous “Yucca and Cactus” painting that went to the 1893 World’s Fair in Chicago.

​Drifting to Winterset, Iowa, as head cook in a large hotel George Washington Carver met patrons who insisted he attend an art school. He enrolled in Simpson College in Indianola, Iowa, where he did laundry for others, crocheted all his own hose, mittens et cetera and in his words “lived on prayer, beef suet and corn meal, and quite often being without the suet and meal.” At Simpson his art teacher recognized Carver's talent for painting flowers and plants. She encouraged him to study botany at Iowa State Agricultural College (now Iowa State University) in Ames.

In 1891 Carver was the first black student at Iowa State. His work at the experimental station in plant pathology and mycology first gained him national recognition and respect as a botanist. George Washington Carver received a Bachelor of Agriculture in 1894 and his Master of Agriculture degree in 1896. While in graduate school he taught as the first black faculty member at Iowa State.

At Tuskegee Institute (now Tuskegee University) from 1896 for forty-seven years George Washington Carver taught methods of crop rotation, introduced several alternative cash crops for farmers that would also improve the soil of areas heavily cultivated in cotton, initiated research into crop products (chemurgy) and taught generations of black students farming techniques for self-sufficiency. George Washington Carver was also a leader in promoting environmentalism.

From 1915 to 1923, George Washington Carver concentrated on researching and experimenting with new uses for peanuts, sweet potatoes, soybeans, pecans and other crops. This work and especially his speaking to a national conference of the Peanut Growers Association in 1920 and in testimony before Congress in 1921 brought him increasing renown. In these years, he became one of the most well-known African Americans of his era, though he always knew himself to be “an orphan child of a race that’s considered inferior”.

Rising from enslavement, George Washington Carver was confronted with segregation and racial prejudice throughout his life, yet time and again his resilience triumphed over adversity. His inquisitive mind, love of nature, simplistic life style, love of God and “I can” attitude left a legacy at which we still marvel. George Washington Carver’s birthplace, set in the natural world that inspired his artistry, is a sacred treasure quietly waiting to be discovered and enjoyed. Visit soon, especially on the day of “Art in the Park”, April 20, 2019.
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Shared with appreciation for information found at www.nps.gov\gwca and online.

We send out an appreciative “Thank You!” to Juror Judith Fowler, Professor Emeritus, Missouri State University, for spending an afternoon doing the tough work of selecting the award recipients in this extraordinary exhibition. She brought admirable credentials and qualitifications to her job at artCentral.

Judith taught in higher education for more than forty years, retiring from teaching and beginning full time studio work in 2014. She formerly was Art Education Coordinator and Studio Professor at Missouri State University in Springfield, where she taught Drawing, Art Education, and Watercolor. For 20 years (1970-1990) while raising four children, Judith taught Printmaking and Drawing at MSSU in Joplin. When they began higher education studies at various locations, Judith began teaching in Springfield at DRURY and MSU.

Judith and her husband Jon Fowler operate a Barn Studio and Cottage in Carthage called Rocky Hill, where they have two horses and an odd assortment of barn cats. They also maintain a large pottery studio and painting workshop at their family home in Joplin. Judith recently published a hardbound illustrated journal and is working on a second book featuring twenty egg tempera paintings.

As a professor in art education at MSU, Judith traveled all over the country giving presentations for NAEA (National Art Education Association), including overseas presentations for InSEA (International Society for Education in Art) in Australia and other countries. Judith has worked at the Santa Raparata printmaking workshop in Florence, Italy; has traveled to Paris and England several times; and has visited the Scandinavian countries with her husband Jon. During her long studio art and teaching career, Judith has juried many professional and amateur art competitions throughout the Midwest Region. What a privilege to have Judith Fowler add naming “Arti Gras” winners to her curriculum vitae.

JRAC artists and their works chosen to receive recognition included:

Honorable Mentions:

Jim Bray – “Bourbon Street”, a jazzy 2D large, painterly mixed media collage including portraits in miniature.
Diana Bray – “Arty Gras”, a 2D bluesy mixed media collage with vivid splashes of complementary colors.
Steve Head – “Calico & Concrete”, a 2D photograph with a plethora of textures and a sleek black cat.
Jane McCaulley – “Tree of Life”, a 3D standing glass work enriched with brilliant green.
Connie Miller – “Fiesta Siesta”, a 2D acrylic painting boasting a potted plant and a potted cat in eye-popping
colors.
Michael Steddum – “Old Fence Row”, an intimate 2D oil with a dog on the hunt, a pheasant on the rise and grass you can almost hear whispering in a breeze.

Third Place recognitions went to:

Steve Doerr – “Shield of Faith”, a 3D turned wood and inlaid wall mount inspired by the scripture of
Ephesians 6:16.
Margie Moss – “Redbud”, a 2D oil in vibrant, expressionistic pinks dancing over a vivid blue sky on a square canvas.

Second Place selections included:

David Greenwood-Mathé – “Later”, a 3D installation comprised of a ukulele adorned washboard and a side
chair, both colorfully painted, with a pair of two-tone alligator shoes placed beneath.
Jodie Sutton – “Broken Halos”, a quiet 2D cloudscape rendered in layers of encaustic adeptly applied.

First Place awards with ribbons and cash envelopes went to:
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Melody Knowles – “Road Warrior” – a 3D male and female figure of clay and found wood and metals with a headdress of juju including slender, spiraled wires and tiny light bulbs.
Andrew Batcheller – “The Tender Raven that Toils in Her Heart” – a large (50”x”38”) 2D oil on linen exquisitely painted with the artist’s meticulous attention to detail and surprise.

Best of Show was recognized with an award of a ribbon and a cash envelope presented to:

April Davis-Brunner – “Krazy Koi”, inspired by the artist’s visits to the waters of the Congregation of the Mother of the Redeemer, her joyful, larger-than-life 2D oil painting is brimful with brightly shimmering, undulating koi fishes appearing to swim right off the picture’s plane.

Oh, what a splendid “Arti Gras” opening night! What perfectly placed awards for grand art in our small town!

Come see for yourself through March 17, 2019 during weekend gallery hours: Fridays and Saturdays, noon to 5:00 p.m., and Sundays, 1:00-5:00 p.m.

You’ll be inspired! You’ll be pleased! Your heart and your life will be more joy filled!

gets the slice of cake with the baked-in solo baby (understood to symbolize luck and prosperity) is supposed to announce, “I got the baby!” With so many babies on so many pretend king cakes at artCentral’s “Arti Gras” party, the jubilant refrain could be heard again and again around the galleries—“I got the baby!” “I got the baby!” “I got the baby!” “I got the baby!”—for there were enough babies for everyone to get at least one!

Mardi Gras—the inspiration for JRAC’s “Arti Gras”—is supposed to represent a farewell to the fat living and indulging preceding Lent. While nowadays the king cake is the most widely recognized symbol of pre-Lenten feasting, concealing a tiny treasure in a celebratory cake has long been a European pre-Lenten tradition.

​Legend has it that the first cakes were made in the shape of a ring and colorfully decorated to resemble a bejeweled crown. Today’s king cakes baked and sold at French bakeries in New Orleans originated in France and are believed to have been brought to NOLA from France in 1870.

Originally a bean or a trinket was used instead of a baby. The bean’s discovery commemorated the discovery of Jesus’ divinity by the Magi at the Epiphany (from the Greek word that means “to show”), when Jesus first showed himself to the three Wise Men and to the world. The finder of the bean or trinket was duly anointed king or queen to preside over the festivities, often with a consort of his or her choosing.

Harking to the practice of elevating faux festival royalty, on the "Arti Gras" reception table a regally cloaked fiber-made frog king (a birthday gift from my dear husband, David) was perched high up above all the babies seated on their mini cakes among the lavish spread of savories and sweets offered for feasting for the artists and patrons and guests filling Hyde House.

Like a magi-wanna-be reigning over artCentral’s evening arty party, the frog king sat splendidly outfitted with a gold crown, a gold-trimmed cloak and a sparkling gold scepter. In the frog king’s presence exciting news was announced including juror Judith Fowler’s selections of the artists and the art she found to be of exceptional merit and deserving of special recognition and cash awards. (Be sure to return to Art Notes next week when I’ll be name-dropping each talented award winner and each of their eye-popping award selections!)

In the mind of this curator, every multi-media “Arti Gras” art work on exhibit now through March 17, 2019, is a show-stopper deserving of recognition. Thanks to members of JRAC, Hyde House is simply bursting with talent turned out in delightful diversity—watercolor and oil; acrylic and encaustic; porcelain, clay and fiber; photography and pastel; and wood and fused glass! No wonder artCentral claims to offer “grand art in a small town”! Come see! Come see and prepared to be pleased and inspired and reminded that art and culture are alive and well in Carthage and Joplin and in the towns of all our art-rich neighbors.

I’ve been talking a lot lately with a group of visionary Carthaginians about the legacy of art we’ve been given. As we plan for the first ever Art.A.Fair Carthage to be held April 13, 2019, around the historic downtown square, we’re remembering that the very first origins of Carthage were built on art. When our native Carthage limestone, familiarly known as Carthage marble, was hewn from the earth, local and regional artists and craftsmen artfully, architecturally transformed the strength and beauty of nature as they created “the first grand art in our small town” seen today in the fine artistic homes and civic structures in which we live and work and play. As so poignantly stated by artCentral and JRAC artist, April Davis-Brunner, “You can’t spell Carthage (C“art”hage) without art!”

​Come see for yourself! Visit artCentral in elegant, historic Hyde House proudly standing for more than one hundred and thirty years on a foundation of enduring Carthage marble and creating a lovely space for celebrations that attract patrons from near and far—even a king and babies, too. For exhibition information visit www.artcarthage.com/events.

In our own big, old house David and I have two offices. Mine shares space with my studio, since choreographing artCentral and making my art are virtually inseparable. David’s office at the end of the hall currently sports a “do-not-enter” note hanging on the gate. He tells me all my birthday presents are in there, and I “better not look!”

I most certainly won’t look! No way am I going to spoil any of the surprises my dear husband puts together. The anticipation is just so much fun. Oh, how I do love my birthday and cards and packages and presents and all the falderal that comes with celebrating another year on planet earth.
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Lucky me! The unwrapping has already begun with a beautiful pair of colorful plaid gloves from Repurpose Boutique, because our Aussie puppy ate my old glove! Actually Lasyrenn only consumed the end of one thumb. She was hanging out with me in my studio/office while I was concentrating at my computer screen. Though my space looks like a toddler’s play room with puppy toys everywhere, Lasyrenn got bored with her usual favorites and went shopping. She happened to look in my open shoulder bag and scored big. She found my kibble-scented old gloves. (We use kibble as rewards when we’re gloved and hatted for outdoor morning puppy training in the cold).

At seventeen months old Lasyrenn’s still indulging her love for chewing on any and everything. If she’s alone and on her own too long, she’s sure to look for entertainment. Chewing is her favorite soothing pleasure.

We have a sweet heirloom chest that was decorated decades ago by David and his mom and sisters. Today this treasured cabinet has three intact legs. Lasyrenn’s been whittling down the fourth as though to become a chopstick variation. What’s a puppy lover to do? David’s sister suggested using Bitter Apple—the spray guaranteed to discourage unwanted munching—but Lasyrenn seems to think this stuff only adds seasoning to whatever she has between her teeth.

“What about chewing?” is a question to put on our list to ask Jessica when we meet for our puppy behavior consultation—part of our “welcome to the family package” at Central Pet Care. We need to finish filling out the questionnaire the clinic sent us to prepare for our session. For days the paper’s been waiting for our attention while sitting on David’s and my shared table between our two reading chairs.

These well-worn reading chairs are our nests, our sanctuaries, our happy places. We never seem to spend enough time serenely ensconced in them with a book or a New Yorker opened wide. You see, we’re both a bit old-fashioned. We both LOVE to read and we love hard copy texts to hold in our hands. We essentially don’t watch television. Having a large screen hidden in the music room armoire, we occasionally check in with PBS, but we’d almost always rather read.

With our day jobs taking up so many hours, sometimes our beloved evening reading times are given over to those domestic tasks that always need doing. Though we both share mending chores, the stitching together of the thumb on my glove fell to me while David plugged the draft around the front door then untangled the bamboo chimes that greet us entering the back door. They were a mess. He considered throwing them away, but I couldn’t bear to lose them, so there he sat in his reading chair string by string, knot by knot freeing up the chimes to swish and sing again in the wind. They’re restored and hanging back in place to greet our homecomings. Success!
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Success is mine, too, the evening reading times I’ve given to prep and send out artCentral’s “thank-you’s” to our new and renewing members. Are you a member? If not, treat yourself! Visit www.artcentralcarthage and click on JOIN or pick up a membership envelope in the information box by artCentral’s front steps and in businesses all around town. I’ll be sure to send you an appreciative “thank-you”, our quarterly newsletters and printed invitations to artCentral’s future, fabulous Artist Receptions.

I asked Andy to be artCentral’s evening presenter for the “Artist of the Year” award, because Andy has very, very special connections with our award recipient. I knew Andy’s comments would be perfect and poignant. I knew the award recipient’s response would be equally so, even if a little shocking. Placing my iPhone on the podium, I opened my voice memos app and word for word recorded their tearful and touching onstage conversation. With great pleasure I share their heartfelt moments with you.

Andy: “Tonight’s recipient has done a lot more for Carthage than I have. I’m going to tell a quick story. Back in 1975 I desperately needed a job and I wanted to pursue a job in art. Nobody believed I would find a job in the art world. I didn’t even think I would, but I was going to give it a try.

I was told to go visit with this man and I spent three hours with him. 1975! In an old farmhouse—cold and drafty. He was so enthusiastic, when I left that farmhouse two people in Jasper County believed I could be an artist.

He’s done so much for Carthage! His work has depicted farm life in America. Thousands and thousands of people from across America have come to Carthage to visit him. They still visit him. You can’t go out and visit without being interrupted by someone who wants to meet him. He is in my eyes the greatest artist I have ever known. He’s one of the greatest people I’ve ever known, and I’ve known some great people.

And so I’ve done a special piece of artwork (that I hope you get a chance to come over and look at) to commemorate the great, the great!—Lowell Davis.”
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With four hundred people rising to their feet and clapping with waves of enthusiasm, Lowell Davis slowly stood from his seat beside his wife, the beautiful and wise Rose. Leaning lightly on his cane, accompanied by my husband, artCentral’s Prepitor, David Greenwood-Mathé, Lowell made his way down front, up the steps and onto the stage. Beckoned by Andy’s firmly insisting “You have to come up Lowell,” he stopped some distance back from the podium. With my hand placed in the center of his back and giving him a very gentle nudge forward, Lowell just stood planted there as tears coursed down his weathered cheeks and Academy Award winner’s music blared over the loud speakers. Competing applause continued until a surreal hush of expectant silence fell as though waiting and listening for words from this great Carthage treasure.

​Lowell: “Let me tell you a little story. When I got out of the Air Force I went to the Dallas-Fort worth area as an art director for a big ad agency.” His voice breaking with more tears, “Excuse me…for a big ad agency and after fifteen years I couldn’t stand the big city anymore,” more tears, “so I moved back to Carthage and Andy would come out and see me. And he’d ask me questions about art, and I’d try to answer them. But if I’d known then that he would turn out to be…” more tears coming, voice breaking, “a much better artist than me…” sobbing, “I would have broke his fingers!”

​Andy: “That is Lowell!” The crowd roars with laughter and rises again clapping madly as these two great men leave the stage together with Andy’s amazing painting between them.

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For more art world excitement come to Hyde House Friday, February 1, 2019, 6:00-8:00 p.m. for the free-to-the-public Opening Reception for “Arti Gras”, a blockbuster mixed media extravaganza presented by the talented artists of the Joplin Regional Artists Coalition. Call (417) 358-4404 for more information.
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focused effort—effort that’s supported by new rituals of repetition.

​Knowing that our thoughts spring forth from the seeds of our feelings and emotions, Margaret Thatcher’s wisdom rings true: “Watch your thoughts for they become words. Watch your words for they become actions. Watch your actions for they become…habits. Watch your habits, for they become your character.”

Old, obsolete thoughts and patterns, habits and practices, like roadblocks, can hang up our efforts to move forward. Their familiarity can be seductive, alluring and intoxicating. They create distractions and diversions and detours. They build resistance. They cause us to lose our focus and wander off course and even turn backwards. So how do we stay the course to newness? We practice.

In the midst of his family, business and travel commitments, my son works with a personal trainer. Choosing this relationship keeps him accountable to show up, do the work, rest and repeat. The trainer says his January schedule is always tightly packed, because lots of folks sign up with new year’s resolutions and good intentions. Then comes February and one by one new clients start to fall away. Excuses are made. Diversions and distractions creep in. Old, lethargic patterns return.

Newness isn’t always easy. Newness requires transformation. Transformation comes and is sustained with time and ritual practice.

I’ve just finished reading a book that’s all about the practice of ritual, transformation, the invocation of inspiration and the beauty that rituals create. Daniel James Brown, the author of his exquisitely written “Boys in the Boat” has certainly practiced, and practiced well, his own rituals of researching, showing up at his desk and putting in hundreds of long hours crafting a complicated true tale into an inspiring adventure story—a textbook of hard work, tenacity and creative accomplishment.

In “The Boys in the Boat” Brown seamlessly interweaves the waft of personal challenges and the warp of the hard historical times stretching from the days of the Great Depression and the Dust Bowl leading to the Berlin Olympics of 1936. Skillfully he tells the saga of nine young men—eight oarsmen and their coxswain—the sons of farmers and dock workers and lumberjacks, who overcome all manner of obstacles to attend the University of Washington, to train in Seattle’s sometimes harsh weather and waters and to develop into an American gold medal-winning long boat crew. Theirs is an intriguing tale of focus, tenacity and ritualistic practice raised to the level of an art form.

Among those influential in their success was the British shell building artisan George Yeoman Pocock who sagely counseled “rowing a race is an art, not a frantic scramble. Your thoughts must be directed to you and your own boat, always positive, never negative.” “It’s not hard work when the rhythm comes—that ‘swing’.” The young men listened. The young men practiced. The young men learned to swing, and they brought home the gold.

Pocock also said, “Just as a skilled rider is said to become part of his horse, the skilled oarsman must become part of his boat.” I remembered this when my husband David and I were recently out seeking beauty in the ordinary and enjoying our ritualistic Sunday walk with our puppies. Since our usual go-to destination, George Washington Carver Monument Park, is temporarily closed, we were following the Nature Conservancy trail along Shoal Creek in Joplin. This early January day was exceptionally mild. We encountered joggers and dog walkers and courting couples and families pushing strollers.

Then to our great surprise we saw approaching two men riding large, saddled mounts we took to be horses. They were not horses. They were two huge mules! Out loud we wondered, “How can this be? Mules are supposed to be stubborn and less than ideal rides.” These long-legged, long-eared elegant mules, one a lovely chestnut the other a blazoned-face paint, moved with grace and a steady gate. Their skilled riders were definitely parts of their ordinary creatures. Together they were travelling with the beauty and “swing” of oarsmen on their way to Olympic gold. They’d done their practice. They were starting this brand new year with big hooves clicking a swingingly beautiful mantra as they began to climb a high bluff to the panoramic vista waiting above.