Christmas and Holidays Cement important Relationships

(My son and his family at Thanksgiving)

My dad wanted a boy when I was born. It became obvious when for Christmas one year, I opened my Santa present and there was a small green and yellow caterpillar tractor. My dad worked for Caterpillar in those days, and had purchased one of their models. I guess he had no one to give a tractor to except me. I was so disappointed, but tried not to show it. I had abandoned my dolls, and was confused by this “boy toy."

When the gift exchanges were opened, and there were no other presents under the tree, I was listless and forlorn. My mother reached inside the topmost branches of the Christmas tree. “Well, what's this?” she said pulling a small wrapped package from its hiding place. She read the inscription aloud: “Merry Christmas, to Carol from Santa.” My mouth must have dropped open as she handed me this wonderful surprise. 

My fingers flew as I tore the wrapping from the box. Inside was the wrist watch I had wanted. Although this strange Christmas started out badly, it finished on a high note. I had always been told that “good things come in small packages.” Now I believed it.

(A walk in the hills of Georgia)

Memories, whether good or bad, accumulated over time become the foundation that builds character and provides a springboard for who we become. Our preferences and choices come from these early beginnings. Like bits and pieces of energy, they mold and shape our personality; our likes and dislikes.

When people view a painting, they are drawn to a composite of colors and lines that relate to their experience and inner vision. No two people are the same. No two paintings are exactly alike. There are “vibes” that call out to us in a myriad of ways. Some people seek excitement and brashness. Others may be seeking recognition of something familiar. Still others may long for something hidden and long forgotten that reaches out and calls them back home.

(Work in Progress -- Peaches 'n Cream)

Whatever the reasons, pushing a painting on someone else in a triumph of salesmanship rarely brings contentment. Choosing artwork is much like choosing those intimate objects of our lives that are selected because of some secret wish or longing. The feeling is indescribable and personal. Sometimes we can’t  explain the reasons ourselves. We only know that we must have it because it already feels a part of us.

Personal, unforgettable and totally unexplainable. These are the reasons people make the choices they do. Sometimes we do things for the wrong reasons and regret it later. For whatever reasons we may buy, it is not always about the money nor the beauty. The bottom line may be simply filling a void.

As I’ve watched people, including myself, accumulate goods and services, I’ve come to the conclusion that we fill up the emptiness of our lives with things. Not a good reason for purchasing something.

As we approach the holiday season, try accumulating pleasant and joyful experiences that become fond memories. These may well fill up those empty spaces just as well and for less money.

What do you Desire and Why?

"Pumpkin Surprise" an old-fashioned pastel on textured paper

Have you ever looked back at your life and wondered how you ended up in this particular place at this special time on earth? Or are you filled with regrets? Whether for good or for evil, your experiences and mistakes have come from the yearnings and desires of your heart. You may laugh and say “The devil made me do it;” but in reality, you got what you wanted. Perhaps you even wished for something that turned out terribly wrong.

These are the scenarios that end up in books, in paintings, and on stage and screen. The writhing pain and the tears of a broken heart make great viewing. But in reality, they shatter lives and burn relationship bridges. We are moved watching emotion on screen or observing it through visual arts. Seeing angst and frustration or lust and desire moves us because we are all subject to these same feelings and passions.

"Broken Hearted" pastel on textured paper; matted and ready to frame

Failure and sorrow are part of the human condition. When written about or illustrated, we may weep or feel pain vicariously. Our own weaknesses and desires help us to relate to the fallen. The courageous and brave inspire us to overcome and achieve. There is no better way to reach people than through the arts and through spiritual enlightenment.

The Bible, still a best-seller in 2015, is the greatest work of literature and truth of all time. The Book of Proverbs illustrates so clearly the consequences that follow our careless actions. Psalms is full of the sorrow that follows sin and of the hope and forgiveness that exists for those who seek God.

Today fantasy, horror, and evil are the preferred fair by a majority of T.V. viewers and moviegoers. Suspense, espionage, action are all at the top of the list. Artwork has trended toward colorful, fun and humorous or unusual and quirky. Inspired by new technology, the scenes can be edited and enhanced heightening the tension for viewers.

Three-D is even more spectacular than it was back in a long-ago era. Using the latest software and sound, the thrill of actually walking in the footsteps of the characters is now possible. People are becoming satiated and overstimulated to the point of numbness.

Simple pleasures and experiences are no longer a draw. If something doesn’t terrify us or fulfill our lusts we turn to other venues. Is there a point of no return? What happens, God forbid, if some terrorist or enemy triggers gridlock or cyber blackness? What happens when someone clever and evil pulls the plug?

"India Rising -- The Lost" acrylic on canvas

The world is full of what ifs. What if mothers and fathers spent more time with their children? What if children returned home and discovered how much their parents really cared about them?

I raised my children without smart phones. When our television burned out we had nothing else. How did we fill the gap? We read together Jack London’s “Call of the Wild.” We read Treasure Island and The Jungle Book. We put on plays together, the older children reading for the younger. It may sound boring by today’s standards, but a wild imagination is even better than watching made-up stories and manipulated tragedies on screen. 

My boys made their own spook alley in our basement that was not only fun, but super creepy in the dark. They shared the adventure with all of their neighborhood friends who then wanted to make one for themselves or add to the existing one my boys had created.

Some precious "grands" getting ready for Halloween

We had a night in the kitchen called “cooking class.” The kids learned how to make jello and muffins, and to follow a recipe. My 12 year old daughter made homemade bread. Her younger brother became an expert at making cream puffs for his boy scout troop.

Cook up some memories for your family during the next round of holidays before your children are too old to enjoy them or participate in them. Happy Halloween!

My grandsons and a friend carving out pumpkins.

Maya Angelou – Woman if Distinction

There have been many tributes over the past few days, but I can’t let Maya Angelou’s passing go without voicing my own accolades. Even if you didn’t agree with her politics, you have to agree that her spirit and message were magnificent.

As a young woman, I read her prose, books and poems in awe. Their clarity and strength had a great impact on me. She had music in her heart and in her poems. Her words danced across the pages and her ideas echoed in my heart like a song.

Rather than repeating what many of you have read over the past week, I thought I’d share the words that others have said about her. I’m using my local newspaper “The News-Press of Southwest Florida” and reading from the “Views” section, Letters to the Editor. Here are the words of a few locals:

“On May 28, the world lost a poetic legend . . . I remember listening to her read ‘On the Pulse of Morning,’ the poem she read at the Inauguration of Pres. Bill Clinton. This has become one of my favorite poems. Poems like ‘Still I rise’ and ‘Phenomenal Woman’ became an anthem for women all over the world. . .The quote I remember the most which has influenced my life is:

"This is your life, not your grandmother, not your mother, not your grandfather, not your father but your life and you can do whatever you want to do with it." The world has lost a mother, a grandmother, an aunt, a sister, and a poetic legend all in one.” Fred Atkins, (News Press Editorial Board citizen member) Fort Myers

“Her quotes are real, and they can be applied to everyday life. I live by many of her quotes, one being, “If you don’t like something, change it. If you can’t change it, change your attitude. Don’t complain.” Oftentimes we look for a reason why we can’t do something, now I look for the reason why I can.

“Maya Angelou lived her life to inspire others and I am thankful to be one of them. I took from her the quote ‘Courage is the most important of all the virtues because without courage, you can’t practice any other virtue consistently.’ . . . She will be missed; I’m so glad our paths have crossed.” Larry Hart, (Lee County Tax Collector) Fort Myers

“A bird rising and singing after being down is one of Maya’s signature metaphors, prevailing in two of her most famous works, ‘I know Why the Caged Bird sings’ and “Still I Rise.” The metaphor haunted me for two years until one day I wrote:

A Secret Poem in Everyone
"A secret poem in everyone!
Reluctant inner bird
Awaiting clear permission
To let its song be heard --
Or for a moment resonant
With timbre all its own
To open wide the cage inside
And free that special song.

“Thank you, Maya Angelou, for your poetry, presence and inspiration. You shall rise always in our thoughts and memory.” Joe Pacheco, Sanibel

"Broken" 11 x 14 mixed media on canvas

“In addition to Maya’s wide canon of work, she penned several books for children. A classic is ‘Life Doesn’t Frighten Me at All’ (1993). Written in spare poetry, a series of triplets deal with emotions and fanciful imaginings of childhood:

            ‘Shadows on the wall
            Noises down the hall
            Life doesn’t frighten me at all.

“The book is illustrated by Jean-Michel Basquiat, whose impressionistic paintings are held in galleries throughout the world including the Norton Gallery of Art in West Palm Beach.” Lee Bennett Hopkins, (award winning children’s writer) Sanibel

Maya herself once said: “While I know myself as a creation of God, I am also obligated to realize and remember that everyone else and everything else are also God’s creation.”

Maya is now dancing and singing with the angels, praising God as she did throughout her lifetime. Surely her goodness will be rewarded and her gifts to the world will be treasured and remembered forever.

"Reggae Night" acrylic on canvas / framed

Innocence Lost -- a Long Ago Glimpse into the Past

"Day Dreams" 11 x 14 oil on canvas, Prints available

I came from a small town where doors were left unlocked, people waved and chatted over fences, and children were allowed to roam the streets at will. In winter, I walked a few miles across town to ice skate, returning in the dark of night, never worrying about the shadows or the fruits of my overzealous imagination.

My innocence was shattered one evening at the movie theater. The woman who sat next to me called my attention to a stranger’s arm that dangled over the back of his seat.

“You’d better watch him,” she said in a hateful tone. “You never know what they’ll do.” She pulled her purse close to her, keeping it a safe distance from the stranger’s limp hand.

To this day, I don’t remember the movie. I was terrified the whole time, checking the foreigner’s hand, making sure he didn’t touch me. Had he done something to the woman, I wondered?  Was she upset because he was different; an Iranian student, a foreigner to our town?

"Blond Boy" 11 x 14 oil on canvas, prints available

It was dark when I left the theater. I usually skipped home, knowing my mother would have supper waiting. Attending a movie and walking home alone at night had never bothered me before; but that evening, everything changed.

I heard footsteps clicking behind me. When I turned, it was the man in the theater. Fear overtook me, the fear born of one woman’s hatred and my own insecurity. I walked as fast as I could. When I quickened my pace, he quickened his, or so it seemed.

I reached the safety of home several yards ahead of him. He took no notice, but continued his nightly walk, likely returning to his own apartment. But if he had gained on me, what then? Prejudice breeds fear.

So does the influx of strangers and the changing dynamics of a diverse and growing population. That year a baby sitter returning home from a job was murdered on her own front porch and time stopped. Our safe structured world was shattered.  People started locking doors. Parents were more cautious about letting their children go out at night. Our town changed. The whole world changed.

(Illustration of "Cooper" from "Madison Morgan,
when dog's blog")

The culprit was a young man, a troublemaker who had recently come to live with his aunt and uncle.  Bouncing from one home to another, he finally landed in a place that offered hope and love. He hadn’t meant to kill her. 

He only wanted to talk to her, perhaps kiss her, but her frightened screams wouldn’t stop. He covered her mouth a little too long, and then it was too late. He fled in fear. The town not only mourned the girl, but the sad young man who never had a chance.

Foreigners, who first drew suspicion, breathed a sigh of relief and went back to minding their own business. Others covered up their misplaced blame with excuses, and life was never the same.

Perhaps your home town was much like mine. Society has, indeed, changed. Now our children and grandchildren are no longer safe in their front yards. Walking to school is risky. Parents prefer driving their children to school rather than sending them on the bus. The roadways are crowded. The traffic outside the school grounds is backed up for blocks. The innocence of yesteryear is gone forever.

If you are interested in having a portrait done from a photograph, contact the artist for details and an estimate. http://carol-allen-anfinsen.artistwebsites.com

"First Daffodil" 16 x 20 mixed media on canvas

“A Change is as good as a rest,” or so they say

"Arabesque" oil on canvas

Sometimes we don’t realize the traps we set for ourselves on a daily basis. We get caught up in minutiae, and use every excuse in the book to stay put; feet firmly planted in the ruts we’ve dug. Let’s face it; the chores at home never end. Soon they begin to grind and irritate us. Not a good prescription for progress or creativity!

Thanksgiving Day I left the confines of home with my husband heading north toward other family members in the area. As was our tradition, we made Thanksgiving reservations at a restaurant located mid-point between our two separate locations.

A morning chill turned temperate, and the warmth of the sun made our road trip bright and pleasant. Our once Northern blood has thinned from years of living in Southern climes, and we were wrapped in sweaters dressed for any outcome unable to tolerate even the slightest drop in temperature.

"Pelican at Rest" oil on canvas

I realized too late that I’d forgotten the camera. When we drove over our first bridge across the inland portion of the Caloosahatchee River I remembered. There’s nothing like an expanse of tropical blue water against brilliant green trees and variegated grasses to make you regret being unable to capture a photo memory.

When we got closer to our destination, I was even more dismayed. The Gulf waters were blue-green and crystal clear near the shoreline. We crossed two bridges to reach our destination of St. Armand’s Circle on the ocean side of Sarasota. Seagulls fluttered overhead and pelicans dive-bombed for fish. On the underside of the bridges where palm trees, sandy beaches and lounge chairs beckoned, fishermen cast their baited lines into the water.

"Seashells by the Seashore" acrylic on canvas

Our reservation was at the Columbia Restaurant, a famous old chain popular for Cuban food. Our traditional dinner had a distinctive Cuban flair, it was both exotic and delicious. The stuffing was the best I have ever eaten and the gravy was exceptional! Not only were the mashed potatoes fluffy and white, they were tasty. A sweet potato dish was topped with sugary, buttered pecans. I longed for more, but my aching stomach kept me from asking for seconds.

When dinner was over, I had a pumpkin flan instead of the traditional pumpkin pie. The rest of my family had a generous wedge of scrumptious key lime. Unlike its cousins, this key lime was made from scratch using fresh limes. It was heavy, tart, and succulent. “So this is how a key lime pie is supposed to taste?” I thought to myself.

"St. Armand's Beach" taken two years ago

As we moaned and groaned and loosened our belts, I couldn’t help but miss the faces that weren’t there; the ones of my own family members, especially my children who reside in the distant corners of the United States. I hoped they’d had a lovely time with their families. Time and distance has taken a toll on our closeness as has the divorce that first tore us apart. 

I know many of you are in the same boat. We can only make the best of what happens to us and move on. If nothing else, my excursion on the road with its breathtaking views, and photo-ready snapshots gave me a much needed journey out of myself and into this wondrous world we live in!

"Canals at St. Armand's" taken two years ago

Old Photographs – Instant Replay

My grandmother

I did a blog some time ago with this title: "Photographs -- Instant Replay" that included many old photos. To date, it is still my most popular blog, and people continue to find it on search engines. I decided to repeat that blog for those who remember and may enjoy reading it again.

The text was written following a tragic divorce and came to me as I sorted through old photographs. Enjoy!

Surrounded by old photographs, my past envelops me with a sudden rush of remembrance. Here we are family and friends captured in a brief, fleeting moment singled out from the countless hours, days, and weeks that make up our lives.

How happy we look smiling for the camera. How hopeful for the future as we pose here together, frozen for eternity in a fraction of a second and the flash of a camera. One click and an infinitesimal moment is recorded for posterity. Tomorrow’s pain and unfulfilled promises are unforeseen, unanticipated.

Photographs are given far more importance than they deserve. We use them to document our lives; perhaps even to define us. Then when relationships crumble and children move on into adulthood with their own lives and preoccupations, the frozen images smile back mocking the reality of what is now – what is today.

The life we once had -- was it dream or illusion? Who are these people smiling at us now – these people caught in a millisecond of time?

Photographs wear with age, their brightness fades and their corners become tattered and yellowed; but the images continue to smile at us as they did long ago when the shutter closed and captured one shared smile, one shared space, and one microcosmic second in a lifetime.

We have all changed since those first pictures were taken. We are older, and perhaps wiser. Photographs provide proof that we have lived, but they can never tell others who we really are. Photographs are, after all, only superficial shards of the life we leave behind.

Oh, the Artist’s Life is the Life for me!

Moonshines

I’ve been a Popeye fan since childhood. My father, an avid comic book reader, mimicked the “old salt” whenever he could. My mother reminded me to eat my spinich so I’d be strong like Popeye; however, I preferred Olive Oyl’s lanky svelte figure.

Popeye’s favorite song charmed me: “Oh, the sailor’s life is the life for me,” tooted on his pipe which was loaded with spinich. I loved that song and the crazy cartoon characters like Wimpy, Brutus, and Sweet Pea that cavorted over the comic book pages or on the big screen. I started collecting Walter Lanz memorabilia in adulthood.

Why am I going down memory lane as I drive to downtown Fort Myers on an artist’s errand? I found myself singing one of those old dittys, and then replaced the words with: “Oh, an Artist’s Life is the Life for me!” (We artists are a little weird!)

I wasn’t alone, either. Friends from the Pan American Alliance were looking for space where we may exhibit, and we made the rounds of potential locations. We are already “joined at the hip” with the Art Council of Southwest Florida that includes such entities as the Alliance of the Arts, Art League of Fort Myers, and the Naples Art Assoc., but we were looking for space to highlight our group and Pan American artists.

Work-in-progress -- "Hey, Coconut Mon"

This morning we were painting publicly at the Regional County Library to expose the arts to the community, recruit new members, and provide cultural inspiration for the people. Over the next few months, we will be busy with art shows, juried shows, and workshops. I’ll give you the details as they occur.

Today I’m sharing some of my works in progress and a completed painting. Sometimes it seems I take one step forward and two steps back. But progress is being made. Next week I’m participating in a demo sponsored by Golden Paints and all Pan American members will receive a free packet from Golden. These little perks keep me whistling, humming, and singing: “Yes, the Artist’s Life is the Life for me!”

work in progress -- 1st oil application