a new golden age?

the late 1920s to the late 1940s marks a golden age for film, cartoon, and comic art that has yet to be repeated in my non-expert mind. i wonder if there will ever be another golden age. with so much in the film/animation/comic art world going digital, i'm not sure it will. (not to demean the skill and artistry that goes into digital art, but i'll admit, i'm totally and maybe irrationally biased against it.) i wonder what it was about a post/pre-war/depression culture that infused the arts with so much vigor and vitality. all i know is that when i am anxious, overly stressed, or depressed, working with my hands and creating is nearly always an activity that brings relief. perhaps that has something to do with it.

germination anxiety

i can't plant my seeds in this blasted weather!!!

a house of order......almost

so here's my house.

and here's who i have to thank:

green curtains: john and mary
tv stand and tv: dad and mom
orange chair: bec and bryce

floor lamp: angie from taiwan

blue sofa bed: angie from taiwan
pillows: mom and dad

dresser: mom and dad

(these are my seeds getting their morning sun bath. in the afternoon i move them to the west window for a second soaking of sun)

ottoman: a nice couple in provo
turtle on the fridge: blair and dottie

pot hanger: dad for hanging it!
kitchen cart thing: dave and karin
microwave: angie from taiwan

weirdest oven in all the world. the dials for the burners were blank, so after turning them on to experiment with which direction was "HIGH" and which was "LOW," i wrote in the rest of the temperature labels.

the Victory Sponge (my apron, for those who don't know) looks at home hung up on my circuit breaker switches, don't you think?

the other half of my bedroom (see below for the half with my table). it was like christmas de-boxing all my books that i hadn't seen in years and years. next to the bookcase are two more little IKEA tables with some scrap board resting on them to form a low table for my indoor seed plantings. they get loads of afternoon sun from my bedroom window. last week i put in eggplant, leeks, and some basil. this weekend it'll be peppers, more peppers, some other herbs, and nasturtiums.

bed of loveliness: mom and dad

lamp: mary and john

the bathroom. now mold free!

from the cinema: slumdog and oil

Slumdog Millionaire is the kind of movie that is a whole, complete work of art. it has mastered storytelling in every way available to the medium--thru photography, music, story, acting, editing, and design. i left that movie affected, yes, by the extremely harsh realities of the boys' lives but even moreso by the artistry, sincerity, and morality of it--the freshness, resilience and real lifeness.

i felt similarly when i watched There Will Be Blood. it's a similarly harsh movie in many aspects, but to me, more dominated again by impeccable storytelling and remarkable, sometimes breathtaking artistry.

these movies' natural style underscores everyday beauty and brings it into high relief as it is set against cruelties, disappointments, and injustices. like real life.

these belong to the category of movies that leave me inspired to create.....to keep creating with meaning and energy and complete artistry. to think things through and leave nothing done halfway. to find inspiration in everything around me and to use art to recast life.

from the bindery: bench in my bedroom!

still in progress.

but at last.

work.

may.

come.

to pass.

from the bindery: !

people have been using link stitch to sew books for almost 2,000 years

from springs long past: windy words

so i'm stalling. i have somewhat to say concerning bookbinding and the unknowns in life. but i'd like to write it up properly and really think it through even more carefully.....which means i haven't been thinking much on it at all.

so in its stead, i dug this out of the closet of diaryland. another poem-like tangle of words assembled about 2 and a half years ago. it is really meant for march and april, but since we are all dreaming of spring anyway, why not now?

it doesn't have a name, hasn't got much form or polish. i'd still consider it a work in progress. i might do some more tweaking. although, like nearly everything i write, it was snatched out of a moment and meant for nothing else but that moment and a burst of creative notions.

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This wind. It blows. everything. Blows the broom over. Blows dust round and round and round in a swirl. Blows old dead leaves. Blows me. me. meeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!

Up in a gust.

Round in a spiral.

Lifting me higher.

Up, up, and over, beyond the tallest limbs of the tallest tree.

I look out over the world. From the wind’s eye view, I see the world curve. I curve with it! I AM the world’s curve!! I look out over the world as I curve. I see where I have gone. I see where I could go.

I rush into empty pockets, vast voids, new spaces. equalizing. Balancing.

I throw my arms around the wind, exclaiming, “You are mine! I am yours! I will soar along your current that is also mine!” I also push over brooms, sweep streets into the air, fling dust and dead leaves. I reorder the air, replacing heat molecules with cool. I breathe the cool breath of the breeze.

I will cool you.

Cool your mind, your spirit, your skin, your heart.

I will steady you, little molecules, I will slow your agitated dance.

Steady your mind. Steady your spirit. Steady your skin. Steady your heart.

We curve in coolness.

10:33 p.m. - 06.06.06