The Experiment, I think, is over
Well, I've tried this blog for a little while now. It's kind of a cool idea. Blogs have a lot of possibility. The initial idea was to keep in touch with friends and family, especially those out of town.
I think I'll end it with a nice little print/lino-cut from Mom. It's a bit of an exaggeration to say that my Mom was deaf or close to deaf. But, her hearing was sooo bad, she wore hearing aids for decades and had to learn to read lips. (She would have been very valuable at parties, like Jerry Seinfeld's girlfriend from one episode).
I used to joke that I grew up in the "Shout Family." (I imagined many a Saturday night skit based on my family). Given the volume of conversations in our house, there weren't many secrets. I knew long before other kids: (1) what I was getting for Christmas, (2) where it was hidden, and (3) that Santa Claus was not a real character.
After the last of Mom's ear surgeries, I recall Mom asking - "What's that noise?!" Me - "What?" Mom - "What's that sound from outside?" Me - "Oh, it's just raining. It's rain hitting the roof." A few days later Mom produced the above linocut - "How beautiful to hear the rain."
The Commercial
I have an exercise room with an elliptical machine, a recumbant bike and a treadmill. I love to get exercise, reduce stress, and watch the golf channel to learn a few new techniques or see the guys playing golf in the sunny dessert while the snow falls outside. As I'm pedaling away the other day a commercial comes on TV. It's two good-looking people, the female is gorgeous, somewhere between extremely sexy and girl-next-door, and they're conversing around a kitchen table. Actually they're agitated, he finally says "I'm sorry," the camera zooms in on the sensual female, she says very angrily "you better be." I think a fight is going to break out. She grabs him and hurls him onto the kitchen table, knocking all the dishes and glasses onto the floor, glass breaking, food flying to the ground- then in a cavewoman, animalistic way she dives on top of him and the camera pans away slowly, .... I nearly fall off the bike, as my head, my head and eyes struggle and strain to see what happens next ....
Next - the two are sipping coffee, wearing jeans and cool white t-shirts, staring off at something interesting off in front, ... the guy suddenly takes his coffee and hurls it forward in the direction of their gaze - then the camera pans to the right and you're allowed to view an abstract, and partially coffee colored painting. Wow.
I'm shocked. It is erotic, yet, they show nothing really. I completely identify with them and want to have coffee with them both ... and ... I've stopped pedaling altogether, I'm out of breath but it's not from the exercise ... and this is the 4th time I've seen the commercial.
What's the product? It's for a Panasonic cordless razor. My Braun is pretty good, but I'm seriously thinking of a Panasonic now.
(I've only seen the commercial on the Golf Channel. Hope it comes out in more spots.)
High School Disappointment
When I was a kid in grade school I recall having to do some home-work projects for classes. One that stood out especially was my 3rd grade project - I made up a model/prototype of the Everson Museum of Art (Syracuse). I don't recall the exact requirements of the project, but I do remember the proud feeling I had when I brought my model into class. Other kids had rather sloppy, sketchy prototypes, loosly hung together with glue or tape, looking a bit in dis-repair and - some of them were even a little tough to figure out exactly what they were.
I remember strolling in with my model and seeing all the heads turn. The teacher exclaimed - "Wow! Did you do that all yourself?!!" After a slight pause, I had to admit, "Well, my Mom helped me a little." That was one of the perks of having a creative artist for your Mom.
Although I never realized it until much later, I even had a little bit of "indirect, local fame" from my genetic linkage. From time to time, in the course of my adolecent travels, adults would occassionally ask - "Garrity? Is your Dad the Garrity of Garrity Lumber Co?" I would have to admit we weren't the rich Garrity's. But I would also get asked - "Garrity? Are you related to Gloria Garrity?" - "That's my Mom!"
It's 1974 and I enroll in my first art class in high school. The art teacher is thrilled as I respond positively to the question. That's great! You can help us in the county HS art competition! I become a little quieter and less enthusiastic. (My sister, 7 years senior, had won a prize at the HS art competition years before).
Man, was my teacher disappointed!
Several weeks go by of expert instruction, drawing principles are explained, and practice and more practice as the class meets every day.
Perplexed, disappointed, ... it appears as though I inhereted my Dad's artisitc ability (my Dad, the terrific guy that he is, is the opposite of Mom - he's color blind and artistically impaired).
... Meanwhile, above is a painting that Mom showed at the Cooperstown National Art Exhibit, 1967. It won the Frederick A. Godley Memorial Prize.
,
More snow, more poetry
More snow ... actually in Buffalo and the northern parts where I live, there isn't much snow right now. This is the time of year where I spend more time inside (no kidding) and read more, work out at the health club - running, work on the computer and future teaching, maybe write some papers, catch up on movies, go out to dinner, go to holiday parties, hit golf balls at the dome, ... and practice a lifestyle so that I will be completely comfortable when and if I need to move to an intergalactic space station.
They are making snow today
up in the sky,
intricate design
of Queen Anne's lace
that touches me softly
as it falls on my face.
I hesitate to walk
the virgin white ground
for fear of brutalizing
angel's art, all around.
- Rose Woloszyn
Mom's Creations
One cool thing about Mom's work (and art in general) is that it is freely given to others; you make it, give it away, share it, but it isn't forced on anyone. You're free to take it, if you want it. It's scattered about, and like a book, it's a gift you can view again and again. With some, there's a big impact - emotional, symbolic, enduring. With others, it's ignored. No harm, no foul.
Mom's work is scattered all about ... from art shows, competitions, art festivals, ... folks on vacation stop by a show and find something that uniquely speaks to them - they purchase it, smile and it's gone ... off with them to some distant land.
I can't post too many of Mom's paintings since a number of them are out there in the ... ether, ... scattered about the solar system, ... but I can post a few more. The larger collection or body of Mom's works falls under the category of lino-cuts, or graphic art.
This painting, I don't recall it's title, is of a church which is an amalgam of many churches, but it bears a strong resemblance of a church in a small NYS town where Mom won an art prize for a painting.
The Hand of Who?
The hand of he who holds the brush,
The hand of she who would not crush
The hand who works the day all long,
The hand whose heart see's the song
The hand whose head know's the way,
The hand that feels and does not stray
The hand whose eyes do more than look,
The hand whose eyes could write a book
The hand who sees, what you will later,
The hand that makes, the hand of the creator.
January, 1979
From Thanksgiving to Snow and Cold
Growing up in Syracuse, NY, I've seen my share of snow. I came to Buffalo in 1980, so I missed the famous blizzard of 1977, but when I was a kid, I recall the blizzard of 1966 in Syracuse. The snow was so deep, it covered our house. I mean you could not look out of a window in our house. That's saying something - our picture windows must be somewhere between 8 - 10 feet off the ground level, and the snow simply drifted over our house ... creating an igloo effect. To get into our house there was a virtual snow tunnel
to the front door since the snow drifts merged with the snow on the roof.
It was fun playing in that weather ... and I remember that days later, after the eventual meltdown, I discoverd that I had been having snow ball fights and digging snow caves ... somewhere above a number of parked cars. The cars were so far below snow that we never realize they were there.
This is a very old watercolor of a very old house, along a ... you guessed it, a very old road connecting Camillus with Marcellus, outside of Syracuse. It's a beautiful stretch of country road that twists and turns with steep hills rising up on either side, ... you're sort of hidden from the rest of the world. Along side of you, a gurgling stream (0r if it's springtime, a raging one) keeps pace with your car. It was along here that I'd hear Mom talk about tales of Ireland and of distant relatives. Supposedly, Mom had a distant cousin or two that farmed along the beautiful rolling hills in Marcellus - Jr. Shay. This is a sort of enchanting drive for me, I know all of the backroads around here - rolling hills, hidden or dissappearing lakes, and numerous streams. As a kid, we'd go looking for rocks here, or along connected roads between here, Skaneateles Lake, and elsewhere. Very New York ... very, very, .... memorable. This painting, althouth an early work and not nearly of the quality of her other paintings, hangs above my bed.
Painting No 411 - Still Life and Thanksgiving
My Mom was always very close to her older brother Marty. I recall the many times when Mom would be on the phone with Uncle Marty laughing and laughing - he had quite a sense of humor and was very outgoing. Uncle Marty was also very creative and artistic but since he had a job that was demanding (manager of a grocery store) he didn't have as much free time to create like my Mom did. On the other hand, he really enjoyed working on his house, landscaping, collecting antiques, and working on various projects (e.g., building a bar in his basement).
I recall many get-togethers with my Uncle Marty, Aunt Martha and my cousins over the years. I am so thankful that Aunt Martha stayed with my Dad while my Mom was recovering from her heart problem. I am especially grateful that my Aunt Martha helped arrange a family reunion this last spring. It gave me a chance to see my cousins again and meet Devon and Justine, Jonah, David, Kelly and Brooke. Thank you Aunt Martha!
This painting - and I don't recall its title, so I'm just calling it No. 411, this painting was based on my Uncle Marty's antiques, so I thought it was fitting to post it along with this write-up.
Frenzy
The previous post was the watercolor - Gentle Eyes of Wisdom, by Gloria Garrity. I posted that one first because it was my earliest recollection of Mom painting ... it was finished in 1963, but I remember sitting there watching her work. I remember being proud of Mom at a very early age, I'll never forget Mom and Dad's friends coming over and seeing this (and Aunt Martha and Uncle Marty and family) ... this wall mount - about 5 feet in height, 4 feet wide, ... it was a ceramic firing of St. Francis of Assisi holding a bird, the ceramic was mounted to a deep brown wood frame and it nearly covered half the wall.
The previous watercolor, Gentle Eyes, somewhat resembles the ceramic firing, the face, holding the bird. Nature, religion or deep held beliefs are often at the center of Mom's work.
This one - Frenzy, was made during the 1970's, Mom and I would sit and discuss environmental degradation ... we didn't live far from a factory, Solvay Process, a part of Allied Chemical Corp. and seeing those smoke stacks as a kid left a deep impression on me (hopefully not in my lungs too). Anyway, Frenzy is a lino-cut, the artist uses a cutting tool to dig deeply into a linoleum block (much easier than when Mom first started carving into actual wood blocks). Ink is then applied to the block. Rice paper is carefully placed over the inked block, and what comes back is a negative image. This one depicts environmental pollution, it's round like a globe and the swirling images are of ... birds and fish? ... fighting, struggling in a swirling frenzy ....
