Hours in my glass

And the painting...

2006-10-17T15:03:00.000-05:00

Like the poem, this is called Siren's Dream. It is acrylic, ink and charcoal on paper.

Siren's Dream

2006-10-16T16:54:00.000-05:00

I wish you were this moment
to fill the chasm in my arms
dive the dark it takes to reach me
and hold the moonlight with your breath
stir me with your rope coarse fingers
kiss incantations from my lips.

Your pirate’s chest I cannot touch it
still I feel ocean in your heart
when I close my eyes to see you
transcendent treasure all around.

Harvest

2006-09-23T11:23:00.000-05:00

Here are some things I made this summer. They are all made of sterling silver and they are called: Apple Tree (jade), Eden (turquoise), Gypsy Queen (agate), Life on Mars (jasper), Lily (carnelian), Night Vine (onyx), On the Square (agate and jade), Winter Bloom (chalcedony).

Hanging around

2006-07-12T14:04:00.000-05:00

After a nice and quiet sail up from Tampa, we managed to make it through the ripping current in the channel leading to Apalachicola without running aground. Our good luck became clear to us when the next sailboat to navigate the tricky entrance ran aground just minutes after we had gone through. A local shrimp boat quickly came to their rescue.

I love hanging around this town. It's quiet, friendly and laid back, and the surroundings are beautiful backwaters filled with dolphins, gators, and manatees. The oysters (which seem to be this area's main source of income) are freshly caught and amazing. Jim and I especially like a place called The Wheelhouse for good and affordable seafood. All in all, this is a place where you just want to stick around - it would be so easy to fall into a routine and never leave. Too bad we have other plans...

And this is what I made

2006-06-25T09:47:00.000-05:00

These are the fruits of my labor in Portland. One sterling silver ring with garnet and amethyst, and one sterling silver bracelet with sponge coral toggle bar.

Education and a chocolate moose

2006-06-24T16:54:00.000-05:00

Mandi and I took a jewelry making and metalsmithing course at the Maine College of Art in Portland. (Below is a photo of the class admiring our collective product for the week.) For a good place to stay, the college referred me to a woman with a duplex about a block and a half away from the school. She has 14 cats and volunteers for the local Friends of Feral Felines organization. We shared the apartment with two young women from Vermont, one of them a talented photographer who will be attending the Salt Institute for Documentary Studies this fall.

The whole experience was far beyond my expectations, and Portland proved to be a very good setting for our adventure. Besides learning an amazing variety of metalworking techniques, we got to sample some tasty microbrewed beers, enjoy great food and meet refreshingly friendly people. Our landlady even gave us a walking tour of Portland, and after Mandi had to leave for Miami, a driving tour which took me to eat fried lobster tail on a stick, then along the beautiful coastline past the old captain's houses to the Shipyard brewery, a quick visit to Angela Adams' store, and topped all that off with an eye to eye meeting with Lenny the chocolate moose. Who could ask for more?

Jazz

2006-06-15T07:01:00.000-05:00

I made these a while ago, but never got around to putting them online. They're sterling silver with garnets (necklace and earrings), and they're called Jazz.

A drowning

2006-05-28T08:12:00.000-05:00

This afternoon, as I was climbing onto a finger pier at Dinner Key Marina, my phone tragically slipped through the failing velcro security restraints of her (formerly very handy) designated purse pouch to land about 3 feet to the right of said pier. Dave, who happened to be swimming around the boat next door with mask and fins, heroically dove to the bottom and managed to pull her out of the water. But it was too late. She had heated up and her insides were bleeding. She could not be saved.

My phone did not have an easy life. Weeks of neglect during my foreign travels were alternated with myriad endless, pointless conversations whenever I got home, putting unnecessary strain on her system and near inhumane demands on her battery. It really was no wonder she was unable to hold on when her time of need arose. She was too weak.

But she was a good phone - a very hard worker, never too tired to give a cheerful ring, and until her replacement arrives by overnight mail, I will miss her dearly. May she rest in peace.

Passage

2006-05-22T16:22:00.000-05:00

We are leaving
these turquoise crystal waters
fulfilled of brittle coral and yellow bumble free
zebra striped fish.
These moon kissed rocks where
a woman’s love envelops absolute,
a mother’s word the land’s
sole unbroken law.

We are sailing from
these tin roofed houses
wearing layered coats of watermelon mango
banana peeling paint.
This sun worn dock where the old pair rests
caned limbs against the crumbling seawall
arguing, laughing, silent, but every day
huddled there together since the place began -
since their spines began, in unison,
in anticipation, curving back down to meet
the dusted earth.

We are cutting through
these emerald sparkling waves
slicing into pools of whirling forever
unknowable sapphire depths.
Embattled sea where the forbidden island lurks
veiled in looming thunderheads as we
pass her, marooned beauty - perishing but for
one man’s death.

We will keep watch until
that gray rushed current
sweeps us full of obligations
to cold familiar ways
because we are going home
where fathers’ words are bent to suit agendas
and the zebra striped pavement
tells us where to walk.

Bygone

2006-05-09T21:13:00.000-05:00

The ocean looks like satin sheets at dusk,
slip covering all sight of land beneath
burnt ocher, umber, sienna stirred blue.
My vessel, dipped waist deep in
reflecting sun’s last smoldering array,
leagues removed of asphalt and tangled feathers -
sedately gliding to better destinations.

Never mind the rust mulled barge a long way back,
trailing behind as dead weight towed -
blemish on this smooth expanse.

I would turn around, hail, bid him find another course
for this journey is my own -
but my sails are set, the radio scrambled,
and if I tried to swim the length
I fear the gleaming sea would engulf this body
in her calculated fake silk evening dress,
silently claiming me.

Is this legal?

2006-05-01T17:25:00.000-05:00

So we're driving along a typical wealthy Miami neighborhood street when we come up behind this work truck with one of those official road signals mounted on the back. You know, the ones that point a lighted orange arrow either left or right to direct traffic around it. Except there was no way anyone could possibly get around this truck, given the layout of the street. As in most cases when a truck such as this one is encountered, it didn't make a whole lot of headway and caused a nice little traffic roundup. Our tax dollars at work, I thought, and I must be more patient about these things, I thought. Until I noticed what the truck was doing. This particular vehicle was carrying water, and if you look closely at the photo, you can see a high pressure stream of water extending out from the truck all the way across the left lane. So apparently they've found a very lazy way to water trees in private residential yards in Miami. I wonder if that is legal, to stop traffic for a minute about every 30 yards, and to spray all that water in front of the oncoming traffic in the left lane. The truck wasn't marked with a company name, but that may be because there is a slight possibility that people could get a little ticked off when they get stuck behind this ingenious operation...

You had to have been there

2006-04-28T06:15:00.000-05:00

Last night, during a stop on our way to Fort Lauderdale, we happened on the Conch Republic Days World's Longest Parade. One of the less publicized events in Key West, it included a fire truck, a pirate rock band, rollerblading chickens (in protest of the planned removal of the Key West free-roaming chickens), baby-kissing superheroes, bead tossing, sword fighting, a guy doing donuts on his scooter, and a variety of strangely adorned vehicles and classic cars. Apparently the Parade happens on the night before the Great Battle for the Conch Republic, which is when the citizens of the Conch Republic fight the US Coast Guard at sea with water cannons, Cuban bread and tomatoes. Unfortunately we were on a schedule, so we had to forego the battle. The two photos below are the only ones I managed to take that actually show anything. Guess you had to have been there...

Moving on

2006-04-21T09:09:00.000-05:00

When you go
wrap me in paper
thin sliced memories
and light it up
from your point of view,
slurring lines between
your duly noted
and hopelessly unrecognized -
your will, my love,
our fire but consumed.

After that, the taste of ashes on your tongue
dark and bitter, like the toast
I just scorched in the cast iron skillet
while this contemplation fruitlessly
expended the minutes it was written on.

And so the new day’s balance is back at zero -
unheard words exchanged for
wasted bread.

Cenote Azul

2006-04-20T15:43:00.000-05:00

Here is what happens when you bypass the big tourist billboards in favor of small handpainted signs: you find quiet places where only locals go. A cenote is a sinkhole filled with ground water - sometimes encompassed by a cavern, and sometimes (as in this one) the cavern around it has collapsed. Cenotes are widely scattered throughout this area, and were held sacred by the ancient Mayans. Some were even used for human sacrifices. Cenote Azul is on the road from Playa del Carmen to Tulum, and although there are plenty of far more spectacular cenotes, we shared this beautiful site with only a couple of local families and were able to claim the peaceful atmosphere of one of the pools all to ourselves. And, as you can tell by the look on my face, the water was extremely refreshing!

Birthday calendar 4

2006-04-07T18:19:00.001-05:00

Here's the April page - acrylic and charcoal on paper.

Cuban craft

2006-03-24T09:32:00.000-05:00

Yes, this is a boat made out of an old fuel tank. It consists only of the bare essentials --hull, engine, rudder, mast, ladder-- and shows the lengths people will go to find a better life. I don't know what happens to the passengers when they are found, but boats like this (and worse) regularly show up at the Isla Mujeres port captain's dock. This boat was aptly named El Nazareno - I suppose you rely on faith alone when you try to cross the Gulf Stream in a vessel like this.

Flying by

2006-03-22T01:10:00.000-05:00

I read somewhere that the earth rotates at a speed of 1000 miles per hour. The way we physically (don't) perceive this can be compared to being a passenger sitting still inside a moving car, while the landscape that seems to fly by us consists of the alternating sun, moon and stars. We feel like we're stationary rather than moving at the speed of the vehicle, only our ride on vehicle earth is much smoother than your average trip inside a noisy, bumpy car. When I think of the earthquakes, tidal waves, storms and other natural phenomena that occur under and over our proverbial hood, I'm not so sure about that, but this is what I read...

I started this journal a year ago today.

Yesterday the stretch of daytime landscape we collectively travelled was once again equal in length to our nighttime passage. The spring equinox has come and gone for the 35th time since I first caught my ride on this planet, and the speed of time is dawning on me a little more with each rotation around the sun. Though I've had quite the stormy year, I feel like I wrote that first journal entry just yesterday. Man, are we ever going fast.

Birthday calendar 3

2006-02-26T17:04:00.000-05:00

I haven't gotten to see much of this year's Olympics, but in spite of all the political hoopla that gets attached to them, I am in love with the fundamental spirit of the games. They're all about unity, which I think we as a planet are greatly lacking. While it is easy to recognize yourself in the other (the good traits only, of course!), it is often difficult to see the other in yourself - to try to not set yourself apart, to not deem yourself to be somehow on a different level than your neighbor, but to know that at the very core of things we are all the same. This is the March page of my birthday calendar. It is acrylic, tempera, and charcoal on paper.

Quiero sonrisas!

2006-02-25T17:51:00.000-05:00

I want smiles! shouted the overly wound up director of the ladies' dance group that pulled up in the middle of the street alongside a pickup truck outfitted with a whomping sound system and a cooler full of refrescos. She appeared to be the only one in the bunch who was taking things very seriously. The casually chatting ladies were getting ready to perform for us, unsuspecting guests at a small dive that serves only roasted chicken, beans and rice or spaghetti noodles for lunch. Until that moment, carnaval in Isla had seemed very elusive to me. I had heard through the grapevine of a parade, which turned out to consist of one float with loudly playing music followed by a series of golf carts carrying quietly seated dancers. The whole thing passed me by before I could say That's it?, and a walk downtown revealed nothing but a town square full of empty chairs and tables gathered round an empty stage. But the smiling women in their elaborate flamingo-peacock hats and lovingly sewn bright ruffled dresses showed up right in front of my face when I least expected it. They had good fun dancing to three musical numbers and then moved on, out of our street. When we emerged from lunch, the whole town was covered in randomly scattered groups like these, with celebrating dancers in all shapes and sizes. It was a sight to see, and tonight the stage in the town square is going to be used for more fun. I can't wait!

Shiny things

2006-02-12T16:00:00.000-05:00

Here are a few more of the shiny things I've been making recently. The first three pieces are called Splash, Scratch, Swirl. They are sterling silver with clear quartz, sponge coral, labradorite. The fourth piece is called Caterpillar, and it is sterling silver with amber, peridot, green garnet, and jade.

The cutest monsters

2006-02-09T20:11:00.000-05:00

The beautiful miss Sarah Coleman is showing her cuter than life tiny plush dolls as part of a group show for Plush Week at Gallery 1988 in Los Angeles. So how about one of these little monsters for a valentine? They are so very infinitely more adorable than the doily-hearted drugstore i love you now hug me before we both gag bears and bunnies! Better hurry if you want to see them - the show ends on valentine's day!!!

(Photo shamelessly pilfered from Olga at Fabulist.)

Introduction

2006-02-02T16:43:00.000-05:00

Like the fish?

Usually this question is accompanied by a wide grin. Disbelief. What kind of parents would name their daughter after the catch of the day at every single seafood restaurant in the United States?

Yes, I nod and smile back.

This gives pause. Then the grin gets even wider.

Like Mahi Mahi?

Mischief has joined disbelief and the mood now borders on playground taunting. You poor traumatized child, is really the main thought. At least I like to think it is. Still, there appears to be a measure of satisfaction in doubling the awkwardness by saying it twice. The fish fully named, first and last.

Yes, like Mahi Mahi, I say.

I smile again.

It's my nickname, I add, almost apologetically.

This sets the mind on an entirely different track. When I agreed to be called by this name I had never been in the States and thought Mahi Mahi was a dolphin in the Flipper family. I never dreamed Mahi Mahi was a kind of dolphin fish that people eat. But it feels silly to bring that up. Besides, the wheels have already rattled into place, and if the association hadn't been made from the very beginning, this does the trick. (Nickname? Oh my God, why?) Discomfort shows its face briefly, but the Freudian slurs are usually kept in check. More movement of thinking wheels, followed by sudden, elated incandescence. (The accent. Her features. No wonder I couldn't place them!)

You must be Hawaiian!!!

This obvious solution brings merciful release from further cerebral wanderings through muck. Mahi is a Hawaiian word. It must be a perfectly common name there. And if you squinted until you could see your eyelashes and avoided looking directly at me, well I suppose anyone could think I'm from Hawaii.

No, I'm Dutch.

I smile once more. Puzzlement. This option had been far beyond the perimeters of consideration.

You're from Denmark?

Keep smiling.

No, I'm from Holland.

I've given up referring to my native country by its official name, the Netherlands, because this often evokes questions like Is that in Amsterdam? (No, it’s the other way around.) or So you speak Danish? (No, I speak Dutch.) (But that’s German.) (Dutch is a Germanic language, but it’s not German. The German word for the German language is "Deutsch". The Dutch word for the Dutch language is "Nederlands" - note the similarity to Netherlands. Unfortunately, when you add the English language into the mix, everything gets jumbled - Holland, Netherlands, Dutch, Deutsch. Not to mention the damn Danes. Those would be the people from Denmark, who also happen to live in the general northern European vicinity and who speak Danish. Trust me, I completely understand the confusion, and I‘ll spare you my soliloquy on the Dutch word for the German language and the Dutch national anthem.) I don’t blame anyone for this. I have lived in the United States for 15 years, and I still can't name the capital of Rhode Island, which I've been told is a state comparable in size to the Netherlands. Who has time to remember these things? Holland pins down the customary geographic imagery for most people. Windmills. Tulips. Wooden shoes. And it leads to more puzzlement.

But you don't look Dutch!

This is a fact. Typical Dutch women are amazons. Tall, blond, steely-light-eyed, fair-skinned, well-endowed amazons. I am none of those things because my father is Indonesian and my mother is a Dutch woman of the shorter, darker-haired variety. Which I explain. Then I try to quell the increasing bewilderment as best I can.

Mahi is my nickname because it sounds like my real name, which is Margriet.

Frowns at the guttural snake that just slithered out of my mouth. Meet my mother tongue.

Mahreet?

You are so wonderful for trying. Really, I mean that.

Ma-r-g-r-iet, I repeat slowly.

To tell you the truth I have a hard time saying my own name. The human mouth was simply not designed to produce such underhanded acrimony.

Just act like you have to spit!

I joke. But you do.

Macchhhreet!!!

This is as close as you will ever get, and I'll take it.

That's pretty good, I say, gently trying not to be too encouraging.

You’ll keep trying if I am. No need for this mutual torture. I know you agree.

I think I’ll stick with "Mahi"!

You laugh, relieved you now have a legitimate excuse to call me that. Like the fish.

Birthday calendar part 2

2006-01-26T12:59:00.000-05:00

I have not lived in snowy weather for 15 years, but I still can't get the idea that February is winter -by the northern half of this planet- and winter means snow -by the northern parts of the northern half of the planet- and snow means a reason to celebrate -by the kids living in temperate north sea climates in the northern parts of the northern half of the planet- out of my head. Though I was certainly not made for cold climates, I still miss the seasonal changes of my native land. So this is the February page of my birthday calendar. I made it with acrylic, tempera, and charcoal on paper.

Birthday calendar

2006-01-23T10:00:00.000-05:00

Us odd Dutch people have been known to hang birthday calendars in our bathrooms or other practical places where we are forced to look at them regularly. However, this under no circumstances guarantees we will actually remember any particular birthday on or before the day in question or anytime thereafter. Anyway, I still felt I needed one, so here is the January page for my new birthday calendar. It is done in acrylic and charcoal on paper.

New work. Sort of.

2006-01-12T17:29:00.000-05:00

Here's another painting that took forever to be finished. I started it somewhere around exactly a year ago, but never put the finishing touches on it until today. It's acrylic on paper, and it's called Winter Walks The Mountainside.