FULL MOON FAREWELL

I grew up in Grand Prairie, TX during the 1950s-1970s. My circle of friends grew outward from a love of The Beatles and all things music. One day a cute boy tapped me on the shoulder and asked to borrow paper and pencil, a conversation ensued, friends were introduced and the rest is indeed history. Sounds simple enough, but oh, there was so much more.

My first young love extended to that original boy. In fact, all my girlfriends had a crush or two or three as they made the rounds going steady, breaking and making up with all the guys. Many summer nights as we approached high school were spent sneaking out, walking through the neighborhood and staying out too late smoking cigarettes or watching Ed Sullivan or Hullaballoo. Bands named The Who's Blues, The Mondrians, and Jacunda's Prism were formed, played, broke up, reorganized and performed more becoming the early training ground from which a lifelong musical journey was created. There were pregnancies, abortions, free love, babies, drugs, parties, laughter, tears, shared cars, car wrecks, shared apartments and houses, evictions, arrests, prison sentences, fears, weddings, beaded doorways, incense, graveyards at midnight, kisses on rooftops, job hiring, firing and quitting and all to a backdrop of The Stones, Cream, The Byrds, and Jefferson Airplane. We were all looking for "Somebody to Love" and more often than not we were practicing "Love the One Your With" (Stephen Stills). A bunch of hippies living in the center of the Dallas/Ft.Worth metroplex, we searched out our individual paths and sometimes burned bridges.

Elements of our group literally left, never to return. They were with us through it all until they chose to flee the middle-class hell they thought existed there and never looked back. Others hung there for a decade or so after high school making families and trying to be adult...but cool at it. Then there were the musicians who took off for California or Colorado playing gigs that rubbed elbows with the greats. We all took turns sneaking backstage at concerts and some even worked their way into inner circles of stardom.  But for the most part a core group remained  and made a life for themselves that wove the unifying thread of music into every area of life. Mastering the licks, playing for cheap, hauling equipment the guys formed bands that have stood the test of time. The ones that didn't are still jamming around the coffee table with old friends on weekends and holidays. Along the way we got old.

Okay, not ooooold, just old. In other words, we aged. Now in our 60s we secretly judge each others paunchy middles, greying hair, and wrinkles.  Some who wouldn't be caught dead with a fat girl now have a gut to be reckoned with. It's kind of funny, I guess. But here's what it really great...when I look at them with my eyes those are physical things I see. When I look at them with my heart, we are still 14, 15, 16+. Forever young is a term I've used repeatedly about these friends that I still love because they were the cast of characters that shaped and shared my early and later years. Tenderness overwhelms me as I hug the boy I first loved. Laughter fills me as I watch the swagger like Jagger one has and frustration plagues me when I see one who made multitudes of bad choices. Why some left and some didn't is a mystical thing in my nostalgia-prone mind. But one thing I'll always know. I love those people...always have, always will.

Yesterday we said farewell to one during a full moon. I thought about the irony of a full reflective moon that shines it's cool evening glow over all the darkness of the night and imagine that there's still a little glow left in all of us. One of the most popular and gifted musicians of the group entered The Light and joined a heavenly band that has an eternal gig. It was hard to say good-bye. However, it was even more so for all the guys...his fellow musicians and childhood friends. "My boys" as I like to fondly call them, stepped up to the plate and played in honor and tribute of their passing friend. A favorite song, The Weight, highlighted their harmonies. I Shall Be Released by Bob Dylan talked about the light shining. And they ended with I Saw the Light with a tag at the end of Will the Circle Be Unbroken. There were voices joining in, tears all around, and hearts that ached hard. The circle WILL be broken over and over again as we grow old, get sick, die...it's a guarantee. However, the circle of joined hands will close the gap and although the circle shrinks, it reaches for the hand closest to it to help it along. We're passing the torch on to the next generation. It's a freaky thing to consider that our children and grandchildren may never experience a similar magic like we had during the Hippie Generation. We "are stardust, we are golden" and I don't know if they will ever know what that was like.

My husband, not a part of this original group and more biker than hippie, has made a joke about all of us ending up in the "home for aging rockers and sitting in our rockers". He's probably right. I'll blink a few times and everything will have changed. Looking to my right or left I'll see a nearly unrecognizable face behind the ravages of time, but when I look deep into their eyes...I think I'll know who they are. Peace Baby!

GROUNDED & RESILIENT

Today I'm writing straight to the blog and not pre-writing or pre-thinking it through because I want it to be raw. Here goes.

 

Last night I was bored out of my mind with television and flipped to channels beyond my usual range and found the series North and South about the Civil War starring Patrick Swazey. I only caught the last hour and it sort of looked dated and weakly acted, but the situation captured me. The end showed these two West Point graduates who were best friends who were now realizing they were about to go to war on opposing sides, and yet they embraced and promised to see one another after the war, both knowing it might not happen. Well....I lost it. I cried and boo hooed like a baby. My husband observed all this and with his typical reaction, "What do you want me to do, what can I do to make it better?" I just freaked out and said, "You can't DO anything! There's just too much, my brain, my heart can't take it all in. I'm losing it!"

 

Lest you think I had a breakdown, let me assure you I'm calm this morning having my coffee and now writing. That always helps. But what caused such a severe emotional reaction, you might ask. It certainly was not the stellar performance in that movie. Here's the deal.

 

Event upon event has piled up in front of me for several years now. Some involve me, some don't, but I'm a witness either in real life or through media exposure. I'll fast forward past the three family deaths, Alzheimer's, breast cancer, three surgeries, estate handling, art studio construction, and quitting my job in the past two years and up to the more recent events of the past few months. A young man killing innocents at a school, bombings at the marathon, public trial of a woman who didn't just kill her boyfriend but butchered and shot him, government failings and hearings, my brother breaking his hip and now it's not healing properly, tornadoes wiping out entire towns, fear of losing our home during recent storms and two power outages in a week, and finally to attend a funeral of a lifelong friend who suffered massive strokes. And my husband wonders why I like to watch mindless shows like Jerseylicious or Celebrity Apprentice.

 

The pressures that come from repeated overexposure to stressful and worrisome events cannot be overlooked as anxiety and apprehension become some sort of test of endurance, strength and courage. I think I lost it because at some point, the pressure becomes too great to bear. Like a rubber band that has lost its resilience, I snapped and broke...at least for a while. Not everyone has that ability to regain composure and frankly, I wondered if I'd permanently gone haywire. But "tomorrow is another day" according to Scarlett O'Hara. That tomorrow is today and I'm still here, fairly sane.

 

My faith in the sovereignty of God grounds me. I don't believe he is up there moving us around like pawns in a chess game. I do believe he is aware of what we are going through and is available to assist in helping us in our momentary, or even extensive, doubts. I don't understand what is going on in this crazy world and why things can't lighten up for even a little while...and by that I mean more than the length of time of a sitcom. But this I do know. When I turned out the night light and pulled up the covers last night the last words I said while staring into the dark were something like this. "Thank you, Lord, for this day. Please help me be a good, nice person that helps others and relieves others. Heal my brother and be with all those people in Oklahoma. I love you...Good night." Simple thank you's and reminders that someone Divine watches over me in the night give me the measure of peace I need to sleep and awaken refreshed to face the next day...whatever it brings.

ONLY WHEN IT RAINS

This phrase came up today as my husband told me his truck's fuel injection missing is only noticeable "when it rains". I started thinking about that idea and realized how many things are true with that observation. For instance, my arthritis only bothers me "when it rains". I hurt days prior to rain and all during it, surviving only by the grace of ibuprofen and acetaminophen. I'm a human barometer. The tv satellite and internet connection fail "when it rains" much to our frustration. A nap anytime is a welcome thing whenever I can afford the time, but "when it rains" I somehow make the time because nothing is more deeply satisfying during a rainy day than a long, coma-like nap. My artist friend, Dennis O'Bryant, claims his most creative days are "when it rains" and that makes perfect sense as a mood permeates the day that is virtually indescribable. I also grow more creative choosing mostly to write during those days "when it rains" because the rain sometimes makes my emotions run amok; reflective, depressed, sad, whimsical, childlike, joyful, and full of wonder. It all depends. It's hard to predict. Like today, it is raining and I'm feeling a little down.

 

Back to the reason that started this train of thought..why, you may ask, was my husband telling me about his truck? Well, my brakes needed work and he followed me in to drop off my car. As soon as we were five miles away I realized my phone was still in my car and I was in a panic to return for it. Why, you may ask. Because my whole world is on that phone; calendar, phone numbers, internet, but photos are critical. He wondered why I became almost instantly teary-eyed as I said that we had to turn around and go back. Surely I could make it a few hours without my beloved Android phone. Nope...have to turn around because there was a photo of my mother on it taken three hours before she died (two years ago). He didn't hesitate. We'd only been gone 10 minutes when I walked back into the dealership only to find my car not there. Their explanation was that they had it out on a test drive to determine what was going wrong with my brakes. I waited for ten more minutes until he pulled in. I didn't buy his story as the last time I'd left it there I suspected they used my car for quick errands to pick up lunch due to evidence in my cup holder and a distinct reduction in gas. When I questioned my husband he said they didn't have to drive it to determine the condition of the brakes. Again, I went teary-eyed as the life reality of being taken advantage of because of being a woman washed over me. Yes, it was raining and I was emotional because when it rains...it pours. I really think the rain made me hyper-emotional.

 

But here's the deal. Rainbows only happen "when it rains". A rainbow is a promise of a better tomorrow. It is a sign of hope. It makes you look and smile. Nothing causes so many people to stop and exclaim, "Look! A rainbow!" It is visible color coming from refracted light through the prism of water droplets. That may not be the perfect scientific explanation, but it's the best memory I have. If there was ever a reason to be happy for the rain, I'd say this might just be at the top of the list. We need to know that there will be a lift to the down side, a rise in the occasion, a way up from the tears that fall like rain. The achy joints will get some time off, television will still be there and creativity can continue from other inspirations. Clouds may be gray and heavy, but only "when it rains" will a rainbow remind us that joy will return.

Photo by Claudia Lowery ~ All rights reserved

A year since my last post, I became re-inspired by friend and avid blogger, Dawn-Rene Rice, to get back in the game. Her creative blog, www.livefreebefree.wordpress.com is full of art, poetry, and creativity in general. I have actually been working steadily on my own website www.gingkoart.com to promote my art. Over time I will return to my first experience with blogging and give back to the readers something to be enjoyed, pondered, and anticipated.

3 artists(Claudia Lowery, Karime Lopez, Ron Bigony) on exhibit beginning
March 31, 2012~~~~~"JOURNEYS"~~~~~~ P's Gallery~Longview, TX

"PIECE OF MY HEART"

Music Series

Acrylic

16X20

"LUDWIG"

Private Collection

Series: MUSIC

Acrylic

Claudia Lowery

ARTPORT 2012

"ODD MAN OUT" 2- 15x36inch canvases submitted for the ARTPORT exhibition in Shreveport, Louisiana opening in February 2012 and on display for 5 years.

EVENTS AND EXHIBITIONS

2012

“PAIRED” Exhibition – ARTPORT – Shreveport, Louisiana, February

2011

THIS PRESENT PATH SOLO EXHIBITION – Marshall Visual Art Center, Marshall, Texas, November-December

Michelson Museum of Art – Christmas Story Trees – December

ArtWalk – Leilawoods Flowers – Longview, Texas – December

2010

Michelson Museum of Art – Christmas Artist Trading Cards – December

SLIPPED, SPRIGGED, & LOW-FIRED – Workshop by Lisa Orr, July

GREAT EAST TEXAS ART EXHIBITION – Marshall Visual Art Center – May

EMPTY BOWLS – Weisman Center – February

2009

SMALL TOWN RAKU -  Workshop by Steven Branfman, Marshall, Texas, October

EMPTY BOWLS – Weisman Center, Marshall, Texas, February

2008

EMPTY BOWLS – Marshall Visual Art Center, Marshall, Texas, February

2007

GREAT EAST TEXAS ART EXHIBITION – Marshall Visual Art Center, Marshall, Texas May

ART TEACHER FOR MARSHALL I.S.D.- August 2007-June 2012

USEFUL CONVERSATIONS EXHIBITION OF ERIN LAMBERS (Student’s Portion) – Marshall Visual Art Center, Marshall, Texas, September

ARTIST'S STATEMENT

THIS PRESENT PATH ~ ARTIST’S STATEMENT

My journey in art began as a preschooler in the early 1950s when my Aunt Ruth, a music professor, gave me an I.Q. and aptitude test that revealed I could do well in the arts. This delighted my parents since that seemed to be the bent on both sides of the family. My mother was a recognized artist in the Dallas area winning many shows and consistently selling as well as teaching art from her home studio for decades. A strong memory I have of my mother is one of her sitting at a large easel, her back to the door, painting. After school I’d plop down on the couch and have a snack, while she asked about my day without ever missing a brushstroke. Absorbed in her work she’d often lose track of time and have to scurry to have dinner ready when Dad came home. My mother, Barbara (Casey) Barlow Carpenter, was the artist who taught me to see the world with an artist’s eye. My journey can’t be complete without giving her honor due.

The next part of my journey was sporadic, artistically speaking, with art classes through high school and college and an occasional painting or collage. Distracted by other things the production of art was little or none. However, I loved writing and began producing articles for local newspapers and magazines, again, an aptitude for the arts. Using my degree in education I taught elementary school for ten years and child-level art projects were the extent of my dabbling. After my children were grown I moved to East Texas and volunteered at the Michelson Museum of Art where I began to meet area artists and art enthusiasts. Through a series of fortuitous events that can only be described as kismet I began taking a pottery class, started teaching 5/6 grade art, renewed my interest in photography and also took up painting again. That brings me to this present path.

Some would say viewers of art should stand back taking in the whole picture, the broad view. However, much of my art is intended to draw you close. I produce art on a variety of levels; stand back and take it in, come up close and search, and it is all to find meaning, whether as I intended or “whatever you perceive it to be”. Art should be personal. I bring my life experience, opinion, attitude, and vision to the table and when you look, you should add your own.  Together we create an artistic experience…we share.

Creatively speaking I have bared much of my soul, but not all. It is not easy to expose the rawest version of oneself. I’m still shaking off the shackles of societal restraint when creating. At some point I always ask myself, “Should this be art?” and of course, the answer is YES. Art is expression and if a seed is planted and generates creatively then it becomes art. Life and art are often one and the same. I agree that it is not always pretty or decorative…thank goodness! Sometimes life is dirty, ugly, and unpleasant…even controversial. However, we don’t have to love everything we see. We should, though, love the fact that an artist was willing to put it all on the line in order to create because when fear keeps creativity at bay art will suffer.

My life began with one artist sharing art with me. From the masters to folk artists to the local hobbyist, they have given and I have received something in the form of what we simply call “art”. I pray my journey will continue for many years and that how I live is a spiritual and visual expression of a life artfully lived.

Claudia Lowery

November 2011