New Website

It's been a long time since I've added a new post. It's been a time of changes, good and bad, but not a time of great productive creativity for me. The hope always is that there is more going on under the surface of things. Filling the well... Sowing the seeds...

One actual step forward has been creating my own website, which includes a blog page where I will now continue to write this blog.
Please visit me at
LauraBlakeKeyser.com

Love and Letting Go

Having had a truly empty nest for a year and a half you would think I've fully let go.  But with the holidays came a feeling of being in a "time warp". Everything seemed as it always was, yet the delight of all being together as a family was tempered with the wistfulness of letting go- yet again.

Over the years, there have been many goodbyes. Off to camp. Off to college. The Peace Corps. Graduate School. And now a long Naval deployment is on the horizon. It's not as if this was not expected- and even desired- but how did it all happen so fast?

It is all as it should be. Our greatest wish for our children is that they become independent and build lives for themselves. That they become -to paraphrase Kahlil Gibran- 'the living arrows that fly swift and far'. Sometimes they fly a little farther than you had expected.

But they know the way home.

All Souls Day

Hallowe'en marks the end of the Bright Half of the year and the beginning of the Dark Half. At this time of the year when the natural world is preparing for winter's rest our thoughts turn to those we have loved who have left us. Where do we go when we die? We know our bodies return to the earth, but our souls...that which has loved and lived and observed and felt the holy connection to all creation... is that gone forever? The veil that divides the living and the dead is said to be thinnest now. Is it possible to communicate with those that have passed into the next world? Some feel it is. Through prayer or meditation many feel connected still with loved ones and feel that they intercede on their behalf. Today is All Souls' Day in the Christian world. Although it is traditionally a day to pray for souls lost in purgatory, which is not my personal belief, I feel it is appropriate today to think about the lives of the ones who went before us into the Unknown.
From the Celts, throughout the Middle East and into India and Asia people have viewed birds as a symbol of the soul- of immortality.


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Balance

 This week marked the Autumnal Equinox- when day and night are in perfect balance. I've been thinking about balance a lot this week. In a year of physical and emotional challenges, much of the time I've felt somewhat off balance. But now I am at last regaining my footing.

 The world seems very off balance at the moment. The news is full of war, suffering and unspeakable terror. We ingest this news obsessively, feeling that to turn away from it is to dismiss it. But remember that our minds and bodies are sensitive things and we become what we think about. To become discerning of what we allow into our psyche, I believe, is the key to remaining in balance. This is certainly not to say that we should turn a blind eye to the horrors of the world, but that we make a concerted effort to balance our protests, our righteous anger and our pain with something beautiful.

Today, take a walk in the glorious autumn sunshine- read something beautiful- listen to gentle music- make art- make love. The world needs more Loveliness now than ever. Because as Phil Ochs wrote at the height of the Vietnam War: "In such an ugly time, the true protest is Beauty".

Today Is The Tomorrow....

"Today is the tomorrow you worried about yesterday" reads the embroidery sampler my mother started over thirty years ago. It was to be a present for my brother Ray. When she died in 1986 and we were cleaning out the old family home, I came across this and intended to finish it for her and present it to Ray one day. However, the lack of time along with my lack of skill (and patience) in the needle arts have prevented my progress.

 My mother was a master craftswoman and the back side of her needlepoint, embroidery or crewelwork canvasses were as flawless as the front. She could knit, crochet, sew, and even make lace. The dresses she made for me in grade school were legendary- teachers and moms would stop me and turn the hems of my dress to admire her finishing work. No loose threads or dropped stitches ever.

 Clearly, I am not the heir to her perfectionism, nor is my frankly hyperactive personality conducive to sitting for long stretches of time in order to create the kind of art my mother created. I like to stand when drawing or painting and never spend all that much time on any piece of work, I'm certainly not a master of anything-which is probably why only 3 people will ever read this blog...

 Anyway- I'm on the eve of surgery to correct the progress of arthritis in my foot. The recovery is supposedly pretty long and for sure I'll be off my feet for a few weeks, and yes, I'm worried about tomorrow. My foot doesn't work like it used to- at first I couldn't run- now I can't walk and it's always painful. I am anxious for a full recovery so I can get back to my hyperactive lifestyle.

Or am I?

The embroidery hoop is still in place where Mother last worked on it and I am wondering if, in that space of stillness, I can magically absorb some of her patience. The pace will be maddeningly slow but as each tiny stitch comes together to form the whole I might learn that something beautiful can be made out of time and effort.

Frühlingsglaube (Faith In Spring)

This is an English translation of my favorite Springtime poem, by Ludwig Uhland:

 

SWEET BREEZES have awoken

Day and night they stir and whisper

Everywhere they are at work

Oh fresh perfume, oh new music!

Now, poor heart, fear no longer

Now, all things must change.

 

The world grows more beautiful each day

and what may yet happen, no one can tell.

The flowering will not end, and

even the deepest, most distant valley is blooming

Now, my poor heart, forget your pain.

Now, all things must change.

Homage to Hector, Breaker of Horses

The Illiad is not an easy read, but I was encouraged by my son Joshua to tackle it a few years ago. Once you become accustomed to the unfamiliar turns of phrase and steel yourself against the brutality (This is after all a tale of war) you realize why we are still reading a story that was first told over 3,000 years ago. It's about Love, Pride, The Gods, Country, War, Fate and Death.
 This piece is painted on wood with images reminiscent of Greek vase painting, I have attached a rusted horse-bit to my composition.

Hope in the Wintertime

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,
Emily Dickenson

In winters past, my Hope was for a speedy return to gardening and Hope that the furnace would last just a few more months. This year instead of just thinking of winter as something to endure ( or escape) until Spring begins, I am embracing the season. I am taking 10 degree walks in the forest preserve in my giant down coat, making soup and stoking the fireplace. I no longer want to waste my present moments in regret for the past or fear of the future. I feel full of hope and gratitude for so many things. Howard Zinn expresses these thoughts beautifully:

“TO BE HOPEFUL in bad times is not just foolishly romantic. It is based on the fact that human history is a history not only of cruelty, but also of compassion, sacrifice, courage, kindness.
What we choose to emphasize in this complex history will determine our lives. If we see only the worst, it destroys our capacity to do something. If we remember those times and places—and there are so many—where people have behaved magnificently, this gives us the energy to act, and at least the possibility of sending this spinning top of a world in a different direction.
And if we do act, in however small a way, we don’t have to wait for some grand utopian future. The future is an infinite succession of presents, and to live now as we think human beings should live, in defiance of all that is bad around us, is itself a marvelous victory.” 

St. George and the Dragon

 

 

Here is my interpretation of a classic icon subject, St. George and the Dragon.  I've been intrigued by this story all my life. I understood the story first as a thrilling fairy tale, then as a metaphor for conquering personal fears. Lately though, I've been thinking about the dragon as representing what Jung called "The Shadow"-- that part of our personal psyche that we disown, the dark side of the personality which is not available to our consciousness. Jung said that when the Shadow becomes available to us, we begin the process of individuation-- of becoming a wholly integrated personality. The confrontation of our own darkness is frightening, humbling and ultimately cathartic.

 

I visited Kiev last year and was dazzled by the glory of the cathedrals of the Eastern Orthodoxy. In each sanctuary there is a wall-- an Iconostasis-- covered with incredibly beautiful icons. These are painted with regard to their purpose as devotional objects in a strictly symbolic manner. Every aspect of the compositon-- color, facial expression, subject-- is regulated by tradition. The artist takes no license in asserting his own style to the work and in doing so becomes one with his God. Art becomes a form of meditation, devotion and praise which is shared by the observer of the piece.

 

I approach the making of this piece with trepidation. Not being an iconographer, not belonging to the Eastern rite, I feel humble in my attempt to share this experience. I can only offer my respect and wonder for these beautiful traditions.

Turn and Face the Strange

 As the leaves display a final blaze of glory before their return to the Earth- many societies celebrate the beginning of a New Year. How appropriate to celebrate that in every ending there is a new beginning.
Why then- when we know this are we all so afraid of endings and more specifically of change? Here once again, I return to the myth of Daphne and the Laurel Tree- which always reminds me to encounter rather than resist the challenges that life presents.

Decimation

 
 The Roman Army was of course, the reason the Republic was able to conquer half the world. It was the order, precision and teamwork that we still see today in drill competitions that gave the Legionnaires control over their Barbarian opponents. The men were cogs in a great military machine, and when one part was not in alignment, it was eliminated. When an entire Unit was at fault, the men were divided into groups of ten with lots being drawn to choose the one for execution- which would be administered by the remaining nine.
 
 In this piece, squares represent the ideal form of Man Made Order; squares are a human invention and don't exist in nature. As each tenth square is rent from the others, the order eventually slips away.
 
 Everything in Life is yearning to find the Center. The opposite of the pathological urge towards military control is Anarchy. When either extreme is on the ascendant, "things fall apart-the center cannot hold".

SPQR

SPQR: Senatus Populus que Romanus- "The Senate and the People of Rome" was emblazoned on every Roman coin- every soldiers helmet and shield. It was to be seen everywhere on the streets of Rome. It conveyed the notion that the vast Roman Empire was a utopia of freedom, civility and honor which was of the people, by the people and for the people. Before the birth of Christ, Romans had hot running water!

I've been thinking about Ancient Rome a lot lately. And about how civilizations rise...and fall.
There are various theories as to why such an advanced society could be reduced to the point at which the aqueducts ran dry and sheep grazed in vacant temples. I often wonder what will become of our own advanced civilization...

 Everything eventually is reclaimed by the Earth and yet sometimes we are given glimpses of what once was. In this piece I thought of what it would be like to sift through generations of neglect to find a token of the order and splendor that was the Roman Republic. 

42nd Annual Pilsen East Artist's Open House

42nd Annual Pilsen East Artists Open House Friday, October 5th, 6-10pm
Saturday, October 6th, 12-7pm
Please note- no Sunday date this year!


Come explore the galleries and artist's studios of beautiful Pilsen. So much to see and do!  I'll be at 1915 South Halsted Street

Hope to see you there...

Earth Day 2012

When I was a young teenager I saw a short film called "Powers of Ten" that for the first time opened my consciousness to the immense size of our Universe. The film begins at a picnic on the Chicago lakeshore and the camera zooms out in exponents of ten, farther and farther until the Earth is just a dust mote in our galaxy and farther still until our galaxy is just another star among millions. You can see the film here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0fKBhvDjuy0
I remember seeing the film and realizing that we on Earth couldn't possibly be alone in the vastness of the Universe. Who knows what is contained in those millions of stars beyond? What kind of Life and what Spirit?
On this Earth Day, we don't need to be told anymore that our Earth is in trouble. We know that it is. And just by driving a hybrid car and eating locally grown food- etc, etc, is not going to solve the multitude of abuses of our natural resources. That doesn't mean we shouldn't try, and it doesn't mean we should make plans to populate Mars. But we do need to bring more Love and conscious thinking to everything we do and to all our fellow Earthlings.

The Deer's Cry

Today is the 65th birthday of my brother in law, John.
Except for the fact that he took my beloved sister away from me when I was just nine years old- I love him wholeheartedly. And I forgive him!
And respect him. More than anyone else I've ever known.
He is a Vietnam Veteran. Fully absorb all the implications of that, of what that must have been like to live through. Try though we might, we can never know.
But I do know that for all the horror of that past, he has grown into a Sage, a Wiseman, or most appropriately as my daughter calls him- a Wizard. He is a true son of the Celts, he loves his family, the land and every living thing. He plants a beautiful garden every year. Last year he was telling me about the deer that came out from the woods behind their home to feast upon his garden, especially the apple tree. I asked him what he was doing to keep them out, and he just shrugged his shoulders and said "Well, they have to eat too". This is John. I bless him for taking care of my wonderful sister, for raising four amazing children and three exceptional grandchildren. And for being a second Father who has taught me what Life is really about.

There is a famous poem attributed to St. Patrick called "The Breastplate of St. Patrick" or alternately "The Deer's Cry" here is an excerpt:
I arise to-day
Through the strength of heaven:
Light of sun,
Radiance of moon,
Splendor of fire,
Speed of lightning,
Swiftness of wind,
Depth of sea,
Stability of earth,
Firmness of rock.
I arise to-day
Through God’s strength to pilot me:
God’s might to uphold me,
God’s wisdom to guide me,
God’s eye to look before me,
God’s ear to hear me,
God’s word to speak for me,
God’s hand to guard me,
God’s way to lie before me,
God’s shield to protect me,
God’s host to save me
From snares of devils,
From temptations of vices,
From every one who shall wish me ill,
Afar and anear, Alone and in a multitude.

The Time Machine

In my next life I am determined to come back as a physicist. Or at least as someone who understands physics. I want so much to fully understand Einstein's theory of relativity- which overturned centuries of the Newtonian concept of time being linear and is separate from space. Einstein's theory posits that velocity must be taken into account in understanding the nature and flexibility of Time. This concept suggests, among other things, that time travel is possible.
So until my next gloriously intelligent life, I dream and paint and create bizarre assemblages such as this Time Machine- a winged clockwork stands upon a clock with no hands- locked away behind a pearly gate.

The Flower Lady

An encaustic (wax painting) in acrylic and pressed flowers

Welcome to The Age of Aquarius

An Astrological Age lasts for about 2100 years and it's name has to do with which constellation the Sun is in at the time of the Vernal Equinox. For complicated reasons, it is difficult to ascertain the exact year- even decade- we enter a new Age. We know that since the time of Jesus' birth we have lived in the Piscean Age- an age of the rise of religion and wars to defend and promote these religions. Hippies, Mystics and Optimists look to the New Age of Aquarius as one of "harmony and understanding, sympathy and trust abounding" as the song goes. An Age where the Aquarian principles of mass communication, technology and philanthropy unite mankind.

Apparently, the ancient Mayan civilization also recognized that great epochs of history come into being, take on a distinct character and then pass away into the next. There seems to be quite a controversy over the end of our current Age. Some fear that by the end of 2012 all life as we know it will end. We've heard this before-yes?

To those of you fearing the doom of the Mayan Prophesies of global destruction, take heart. Maybe those old prophets simply saw one way of life yielding to one in which all people on Earth are more connected, more equal and more willing to share our precious resources. In America, where we have so much it will be harder for us to make that sacrifice, but as the doors of our perception are cleansed, we will surely rise to the needs of our global neighbors. I believe it will happen in our lifetime- for all the war, hatred and strife that surround us, things are getting better as our consciousness grows.

As Martin Luther King said “I do not pretend to understand the moral universe; the arc is a long one, my eyes reach but little ways; I cannot calculate the curve and complete the figure by the experience of sight; I can divine it by conscience. And from what I see I am sure it bends towards justice.”

The Arts and Crafts Movement Revisited

In the early 1860's William Morris and other influential artists who called themselves The Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood established a decorative arts firm which came to be known as Morris and Company. They sought to bring a return to a romanticised medieval ideal of the simple pleasures of home and hearth, pride in workmanship and lack of pretense to a world blighted by the Industrial Age. They created tapestries, stained glass, painted furniture, cloth and wallpaper- all by hand using skilled artisans. For the first time in history the craftsman's status was raised to that of an Artist.

I've spent many years in the decorative art world, and there were times when I felt that I wasn't a "real" artist. But now I realize that all art has a purpose and value. Our homes are sacred, and the objects we choose to surround ourselves with become part of us. When my art is invited to be a part of someone's sacred space I feel very humble. In this age of cheap, disposable objects those who feel the need to have original art are rare indeed.

This piece is for my own home. The painting is adapted from designs for tiles painted by Edward Burne-Jones for the Morris Company.

Transform

In Metamorphoses, Ovid weaves together tales of gods, goddesses and mortals through the theme of change- of transformations. My little artwork here was inspired by his story of Apollo and Daphne: Apollo had insulted Cupid and as punishment, was shot by an arrow which caused him to fall hopelessly in love with Daphne. Daphne in turn had been shot with a leaden arrow, which caused her to refuse Apollo's love. In his burning passion, Apollo pursued her, literally chased her, until she begged her father, the river god Peneus to change her form so as to save her from his, and perhaps her own, carnal desires. Peneus changed her form to that of a Laurel tree (from whence comes the name of this blog!) Apollo lovingly tends this tree throughout eternity- her leaves are imbued with his own immortality and are ever green and become his symbol as well as the crown of leaders, scholars and poets.

Although this is obviously a tragic tale of unrequited love and repressed sexuality, this story also speaks to larger issues of living an authentic, and human life. Daphne refused a form of transformation- that of child to woman- and in her refusal was thus changed anyway. I spoke to my daughter Ashley about this recently who reminded me that Joseph Campbell writes in "The Power of Myth" that again and again in countless traditions the hero who refuses the call to the Quest is often turned into a non-human form. By rejecting Life's imperative to live fully and to our true nature we are utterly lost.