The ubiquitous Steve Jobs tribute

I know this is all over the place right now, but I just listened and it's pretty good. Kind of a little push to me to be less cautious, but of course I'm stealthilly watching it in a cubicle. What a wimp.

My Dad

This is a photo of my dad when he was going to RISD back in the early 50s. He was an illustration major, and it was there that he met my mom, a painting major. They were a handsome couple, smoking their cigarettes and  hanging out in the Bluebird Cafe (now the RISD store). Sixty years and seven children later my dad's life is winding down.

At 81, my dad went into the hospital for the first time in his life with a rapid heartbeat. He was home and recovering when I left for Alaska, but by the time I returned he was noticeably weaker.  Now, surrounded by his college sweetheart and his seven children he seems to be slipping away from us. Impressions of my Alaska residency are tucked in the back of my brain for later, right now it's all about Dad.

While my parents never pushed us to be artists, all of us inherited some artistic talent. When we were little my mother's hands were too full of diapers and dinners to hold the paintbrush, but my dad supplemented his paycheck as a jewelry designer with freelance at home. I loved to sit at his drawing table and abuse his pristine drawing and inking supplies. When I was in my early teens I unearthed their old boxes of oil paints, pried the caps off and did my first painting (which I still have), a jar of marbles on a red velvet background. When I went to RISD in the late 70s it didn't seem nearly as cool as the little black and white photos and yearbooks from the 50s had suggested. And it was no longer affordable for the average joe, so I left before I got too badly into debt. After all, I had learned how to be financially responsible from my dad.

Here's what else I learned:
Be polite. Don't complain. Be patient. Work hard. Don't gossip. Keep your dignity.
I learned how to use tools. And when you need to build something, how to sit down with paper and pencil and sketch it out. How to innovate and be resourceful. And how to just generally figure things out.

I can't say all those lessons have stuck, but I'm a lot like him in many ways. There is only one way in which I resemble him that I wish I didn't. He was a cautious man who never put himself first. But who could blame him? His father had left his family of 3 boys to struggle when he was a teen, now he was responsible for feeding and sheltering 8 dependents. There wasn't a lot of room to take risks in order to realize his own dreams.

I have no such responsibilities but am just as cautious. My father never expresses regret, but I'm afraid I will, if I continue to play it safe.

Photos from my Artist Residency in Alaska

Here are my photos from my Alaska residency, finally!

Hurricanes and other turmoil

 

I've come to the conclusion that the more you have to talk/blog about, the less you can actually do it. I'm dying to process my Alaska trip in photos, journals and most importantly, paint (Oh yes, I remember paint), but it's been a crazy trip since I arrived back at Logan Airport at 10am Sunday morning after a 13 hour overnight flight, with 2 running for the gate plane changes.

Before I left for Alaska my 81 year old dad had spent his first ever few days in the hospital with a rapid heartbeat. He did not take to it well and left with medication to regulate his heart but much weaker than when he went in.  I was ready to cancel my trip, but he seemed to be recovering gradually at home and all seemed under control.

So I went, and it was incredible. I will post about it soon I hope.

I got back on Sunday, tried to catch up on sleep, booted up my computer to check my email. Watched it sputter and die. Then right back to work Monday morning, with a coworker on vacation so an unusually heavy workload. Lunch was at the Apple genius bar sending my laptop in for repair. After work I headed to my folks and found my dad ok, but thinner and weaker than when I left, on Hospice care and determined to refuse any more tests or hospitalizations. And so the week was a blur of working and visiting the folks, helping put my dad to bed, calling siblings and doctors. I barely unpacked, so was looking forward to the weekend which I though would give me time to breath.

Enter Irene.

Say what you will about her, it's nice that she decided to arrive on Sunday, to give me Saturday to batten down the hatches. My husband was working so couldn't help with hurricane prep on Saturday, but I was actually looking forward to puttering around my house for a full day at home, which I haven't had for 3 weeks. But an early morning call Saturday had me ready to grab my keys and head back to my folks. My mom was panicking about my dad and I told her I'd be there and that the hurricane was just going to have to wait. Luckily though, the situation was resolved and thanks to my sister I didn't have to go this time.

Now I have to make the decision whether to leave again in two weeks for my residency in the Petrified National Forest. I guess time will tell.

So the studio has been dark and silent, and now filled with lawn furniture and trash barrels and anything else from the yard that could become a projectile in a hurricane.

Oh, for the days when sleeping on the rainy rocky coast, paddling 5 miles, lugging gear and lifting my kayak to the roof a boat was the hardest thing I had to do. Let's hope Hurricane Irene blows some better winds my way!

Back east, online, and catching up!

Me at the dock in Whittier, AK, waiting to board the Dora Keen and begin my Prince William Sound adventure.

Things have been kind of crazy since I got back from my 13-hour overnight flight from Alaska, but I just picked up my repaired laptop and am in the process of editing my photos and journal. Hopefully if circumstances beyond my control (and there are a few of those in play) cooperate, I'll be posting more soon!

Returning to the White Spot, just for the halibut

Ever since I stumbled onto this place on my entry into Anchorage I've been craving their Halibut sandwich.


I even blogged about it, but blogpress mangled it. Anyway, I'm back, anxiously waiting for a repeat of this.


Now lest you think I came to the Anch just for the coffee shops and greasy spoons, hear's a pic from the Alaska zoo. Remind me to tell you about rescuing my dropped eyeglasses from the grizzly enclosure.


Here's my sandwich -- signing
off!

Location:W 10th Ave,Anchorage,