Now you see it…

I had this painting…

I have hung it in a few shows…I have looked at it often…it had it in my calendar from 2010….It has always bothered me.  So I finally reached a conclusion as to why, and I changed it….

And now I am happy….

 

 

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Owed To Mr. Coleman (or the importance of walking…)

 

It is in these little
moments…

The cloud shaped
like a horse running away.

The gray sleet settling
soft
into memory.

Lost clementines against straw grass.

Fall is Winter is Spring is Summer is
Fall into
the big things…
Life is
alive
with you in it.

Microcosm…

that you are…

~Miriam Climenhaga 12/14/2011

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Thursday Night Art

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Life

“Death ends a life. But it does not end a relationship; which struggles on the survivor’s mind, toward some resolution, which it may never find.” ~from “I Never Sang For My Father” by Robert Anderson

I remember this quote from many a boy doing this monologue back when I was in high school.  It was a very popular monologue.  It has wandered around my brain for thirty some odd years and the words have dropped off the end like leaves in the Fall until I can hardly remember what the tree looked like before.  Lately it has tried to surface…kanoodling at my thoughts asking to be let in.

I am sure that it is because my mother is dying.  I have to wonder what that means exactly, considering we are all dying every minute of the day.  At first we are growing, but at some point that growing turns to the slow fade out that we like to call dying.  Almost a month ago now, my mother wouldn’t wake up one morning.  She was sleeping very peacefully…snoring even…but waking up was not something she was interested in doing in the least.  She went to the hospital by ambulance and we were told that she was very sick with pneumonia, in all likely hood would not recover, and that her pneumonia was caused by a tumor growing on one lung right in between the other.  The cancer had spread to her bones.  This is what she woke up to be told 36 hours later.  She has been given six months to live, and has chosen to forgo chemo or any of that other junk as “they” feel that it wouldn’t prolong her life anymore than a couple of months.  She is 75 and is now at home and her two daughters that happen to live in the same town/house as her are now taking care of her.  I would be one of those daughter’s.  This 24 hour care that is now needed for her has turned life upside down for the moment.  I don’t mind caring for her at all.  But I can for see that this will be hard.  This will be a journey.  This will be….  Well, it just will be.

I have to find a place to talk.  For whatever reason, at the moment I don’t feel that I have that place…or person.  Even with the people around me that I feel I should be able to talk with.  I feel isolated.  Cancer is not something that has ever hit my family before.  We have been lucky.  I am realizing how it is all around us.  So many people that have been affected. But, it always means something else when it happens to you.

I know that my life is changing in ways I can see, and in ways I can’t see.  There is so much more that is changing than what I can even begin to describe.  Let this be a moment to say that I was here.

~Miriam

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working on…

More today & tonight. I am not happy with it though. I suppose this is what I get for painting from memory…but it isn’t a specific I am looking for, more it’s a feeling. There are lots of special bits though, which can trip me up when I strive to keep them at the expense of the big picture. I took this photo w/ a flash at night…forgive me. 😉

This is what I worked on yesterday.  The first part of painting is a conundrum for me. This is the second go at this canvas. I liked the first thing very much, but it wasn’t enough paint…or it seemed like I couldn’t just leave it on such a big canvas. I might have liked it, but innately I knew it wasn’t remotely done. So then you have to go at it again, which means you cover up some parts that you liked…but when I think on it long enough I start to see what I can do…how to get more layers on it in different ways. Yesterday it was about changing the colors mostly. The face took more shape. I had an idea. But…well the idea is still floating around in my head waiting for the next day. Tomorrow.

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Kansas


Happy 150th Birthday, Kansas!

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Poem for Bob

His voice is just a
trickle…

I can hear him saying my name.
There is a sparkle in his eye
and that half smile.
Each time.
Always.

He is my old cardigan sweater
that I drape around
my memories
trying to keep warm from this coldness.
The thought of him reminds me
of stars
and longing.

The way life used to be.

As I would pedal my bike over, across the same
old streets of home.
Knowing he would answer the door.

 

~Miriam 10-9-10

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