Ed's Blog

Friday, May 05, 2017

Just checking in

Just logged on for the 1st time in ... hmm, 12 years? I just saw a post from Heather and we'll have to respond. How cool is that?!!!

Friday, October 17, 2014

Mom passed away at 7am on Wednesday, October 15, 2014. She was 92 years old. She lived a very good life.

Monday, December 12, 2005

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."

Friday, December 09, 2005

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.
,

Saturday, December 03, 2005

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

Friday, December 02, 2005

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

Saturday, November 26, 2005

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.