access

February 21, 2014 § Leave a comment

 the problem with beginnings
is finding them…defining them unfolding them to ferret out tease out expose the story line buried under the haystack of one’s living; like the surfing story starts with a brain tumor or with Shaka-Ron or with the buick or maybe with my hard head or maybe with my grandmother who had the first acoustic neuroma or with my father who killed himself telling me pirate stories in the rowboat on Lac Marier or maybe it just starts at the waterline;50 year old woman, oldest beginning surfer in sonoma county…but what fun is that

speakeasy: a diverse reading

February 14, 2014 § Leave a comment

dscn8386“A reminder that this coming Sunday, as part of the month long exhibit at RiskPress Gallery in Sebastopol, Iota is presenting a diverse reading by people involved in printing their work at the Iota shop. The reading will run from 2:00 to 4:00, and takes place in the gallery surrounded by the books and broadsides on display for the show. There will also be a special appearance of the Iota Handset Quire, whose groundbroken work is unbeknownst to all.”

The readers will be: Judi Goldberg, Megan Arnold , Cheryl Itamura, Lyn Dillin, Clara Rosemarda, John Johnson, Maia Kobabe, Eric Johnson, Serena Coltrane-Briscoe, Birgit Nielsen, Katie Nealon, and Luci Edwards Friesen

The choir includes: Maia Kobabe, Judi Goldberg, Tiana Krahn, Luci Edwards Freisen, Birgit Nielsen, Ash Weiss, Megan Arnold, Serena Coltrane-Briscoe, Katie Nealon, Cheryl Itamura, Brooke Holve, Eric Johnson, and Lyn Dillin

trickle down

February 9, 2014 § 4 Comments

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Power is a relative thing, I mean it comes up in relation to, but the point is, no matter what you are allotted, you (only)(can) have what you are willing or able to take responsibility for, and no matter a group’s (nurses let’s say) apparent powerlessness, an individual within that group can have, does have as much power as she, or he, is willing to take responsibility for.
It never dawned on me (as a nurse) to be powerless. Never was.

I suppose, like home, or love, power is one of those words we, without thinking, think we know the meaning of, until someone walks up and asks what you mean by that. I mean, effective; which means having choices & resource, and of course information and curiosity, and gumption, and a certain skill with risk. I mean opinion, and voice. And I suppose I also mean, visibility.
And it certainly means not starting every damn sentence, or presentation, with an apology.

Sitting in the gallery, at the end of the other day, a gallery which is host, among many others, to some of my work, I pulled out my banjo to keep me company. It was wet blustery and dark, and people were homeward bound with little mind for dillydally. Or art. A man under a huge umbrella with a huge smile peeked in the huge window as he walked by. Turned around to peek in again. And then actually came in.

He was, as it turned out, a musician. And before I could help myself I said I wasn’t. And he, pointing to my handcrafted just for me banjo, said, if you play that, you are.

Which brings me back around to that whole power thing, and how maybe most importantly it is simply about a working, as in effective, sense of self which supports, and allows for, the journey.

hands

February 8, 2014 § 3 Comments

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hands
we depend on them
for everything, like
words

artist statement 2.1.14.

February 1, 2014 § Leave a comment

how
words meet
the paper and dress
the page—how you lay them down
& tell the story—changes it,

creating con-
text. bias.

giving instruction

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