Didn’t I just turn 50? (No, lad, it was over twelve years ago.)
When we celebrated Terie’s milestone birthday today in downtown Stanford, she seemed more happy than I can remember. When I took her picture at the restored train depot, I realized how lovely she looks this summer. Happy Happy to ya, Toots!
from Pop’s Haus of Cards!
“We need a little confusion.”
— Neil Gaiman
The Great American Brass Band Festival’s milestone 25th event is now in the archives. The finale was one of the most satisfying concerts in the history of the Kentucky festival. My appreciation goes to those who made it all happen one more time! I am pleased to have played a small part.
When I was first approached about lending my creative experience to the effort, I pitched the idea of a traditional collage to mark the 25th, using scraps from memorabilia of the last quarter century. A decision was made to go a different direction, but I could not put the idea aside. The result is “Brass 25,” a tribute to my community’s exceptional contribution to the American musical and cultural scene.
Is “commemorative collage” art? Perhaps not. Some might make the case that no example of the medium has approached “high art.” In my opinion, such a viewpoint fails to consider the 100-year impact that the medium has had on our visual landscape and the evolution of our aesthetic perceptions. It neglects the seminal role of Schwitters, Höch, Cornell, Kolář, and others. For me, the core relationship between mundane material and the art of collage transmits a unifying principle. When the remnants of ordinary life are physically re-purposed to resolve a unique compositional harmony, the culminating artifact can achieve a transcendent tone and offer a shared experience with each participating observer. If that is not art, stripped of elitist notions, then what is?
Brass 25
commemorative collage by J A Dixon
17.5 x 23.5 inches
available for purchase
Breaking Bad is, without a doubt, one of the great creative achievements in the history of television, but, for us, there came a point when we had to put ourselves out of our sweet misery and just get it over with.
For some reason, I have always thought of Mickey Rooney as a contemporary of my mother, perhaps due to his association with Judy Garland. When he died on April 6th, my sadness was out of proportion to how much I admired him as an entertainer, because I thought that he had been the last living cast member from It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World. I was wrong. Carl Reiner (Tower Controller), Marvin Kaplan (Irwin), and Barrie Chase (Sylvester’s Girlfriend) are still with us. Although Rooney reportedly changed his view later in life, he was known to have disliked the movie. Like Gleason, he was under-appreciated as a dramatic actor, and recognition for his talent could never fully rise above the criticism directed at this private life. I felt more genuine sorrow when other favored participants passed away in recent years — Peter Falk (Third Cab Driver), Sid Caesar (Melville Crump), and, of course, Jonathan Winters (Lennie Pike), the character that cracks me up the most.
Why is this motion picture my favorite comedy from childhood? Well, I can watch it anytime, anywhere, never tire of its pure humor, and know that particular scenes will always make me laugh, no matter how many times I have seen them. I viewed excerpts again today, because it is my birthday, and I realized that it has been 50 years since “Memoms,” my grandmother Dixon, took me to the Dabel Theater to enjoy the curved, widescreen version during its initial release to Cinerama venues. (actually it was shot in single-film 70mm Ultra Panavision). It was a transporting experience for a twelve-year-old boy (the ideal target viewer for the Stanley Kramer slapstick classic). Because I must have been sitting on or near the optical “sweet spot,” it was my first full-immersion sensory experience in life. Those Rooney-Hackett airplane sequences were a helluva ride, but I guess “you had to be there.”
Some people have their comfort foods. I have my comfort film. If I ever have to take the Norman Cousins prescription, “It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World” surely will be my laughter therapy of choice.
With Mombo at the Blue Bank Hall, and the day has moved with swift disregard for the modest checklist I brought along. No concern for that. Focus on your first priority (Acuff’s Third Secret?). I have had a vague sense of impatience today, and I keep attributing it to detoxification, but it is more likely to be a lack of full awareness on what I am doing. If you keep thinking about being at the museum, you might miss the painting in front of you.
It is Tuesday, and yesterday’s early-morning miniature, “Proscenium,” completed for TCM, was posted with Friday’s date. I am trying to catch up with my daily sequence by finishing multiples from an array of partially completed collage artworks. It has scrambled my brain unnecessarily, and causes me to question the entire process, which now seems a bit fraudulent. The goal of 31 miniatures in 31 days is still intact, but it plays with my head to scramble like this. Being out of the studio for most of the weekend did not help matters. Relax. Am I forgetting Acuff’s second rule of getting it all done?
After a night’s rest, I found an image of two beach shells to refine my unfinished collage miniature, and (presto!) it was done. More often than not, it is necessary for me to continue layering before declaring victory. Today is St. Patrick’s Day, the flimsiest excuse to get drunk that ever was invented. The alcohol ban inherent in the CLEAN regimen takes that potential out of commission for me. We are over halfway done with the program. I missed Juliana’s birthday. The push for larger artworks has decimated my card-making practice, even for family. The end of an era is at hand (or probably already over, and I am just getting around to admitting it).
Indeed, there was no tomorrow. Cold weather blew in again, and it was a treacherous mess by the end of the day. In spite of it, we made it to Berea and back for the opening reception of “Repurposed & Recycled: Works by Kentucky Artisans.” As usual, I was too self-conscious, and, although I met some new people, did not spread myself more evenly around the gallery to take full advantage of the networking opportunity. After the event, Dana, Joan, and I took our chances and went north to Richmond for a late Japanese lunch — a wonderful meal with my palzees. We managed to stay within the confines of our cleansing program. Joan was wise in immediately heading home after we got back to Danville. Finished “Proscenium,” or at least I thought I did, but pulled it from the scanner at the last moment, unsatisfied with the upper corners. I shall find a way to refine it in the morning.
It was a glorious day, and I spent it out of doors at K Ridge with my palzee sis. She loaded and dumped multiple Joben beds as I attacked pear, apple, and cherry trees like there was no tomorrow.
Long day. Warmed up enough outside, during my Thursday of Mombo care, for me to get another good pruning session in the books. I am hoping that one more time should do it, except for the peach tree, which needs to be delayed. It is so obvious to me that Mombo is making a true effort to resist giving up. God help her, so she does not. God help her, if she does.
I can’t believe that I forgot our “First Date” anniversary today, until Dana mentioned it. (It’s a good thing that I was already being sweet.) Thirty-six years since that memorable night in Dayton, and I still have not gotten my fill of this unique lady.
I should really tackle the hedge along the driveway or get out on my bicycle for the first time this year. It is so mild out there. On the other hand, I am behind schedule with my collage miniatures checklist. Admit that you can’t possibly get it all done. There are times for balance and there are times for concentration; the latter wins today.
Jon Acuff’s Five-Step Secret to Getting it All Done:
1. Admit that you can’t possibly get it all done.
2. Give yourself the grace to accept that as reality, not failure.
3. Do the things you can do with your full attention.
4. Celebrate what happens during Step 3 instead of obsessing over
the things you didn’t get to.
5. Repeat as necessary.
Hmmm . . . sounds a bit like the March Exercise, but does it sound like what I actually have been doing for the past week? It is all about the “full attention” part, is it not?
I flew solo for the first time with AM duties for Mombo. I think I finally know the ropes. Although the progression continues (at a snail’s pace, thank heaven), each time with her is more satisfying than the last. As important as social interaction is for her, sometimes it is good just to be together, comfortable in our mutual silence. She will break it with a recollection (how they forced me to eat peas, or how I almost walked off a cliff in the fog on the heights of Capri), or I will ask her, “What are you thinking about?” Dementia does not mean that the mind is not active. Jerome arrived with Juliana, who was very sweet today and made drawings for me, and then they left with Mombo and her gear. She was apprehensive about being around their dogs, based on the recent mishap. The nurse took the bandage off yesterday and the wound is almost healed. I could tell that Mombo did not want to leave, but I told her to be a trooper, which she was already. Perhaps she put it all into the context of Lent. The spring-like weather was a perfect opportunity to work outside. An opossum was scavenging in the compost pit when I went over to empty the kitchen container, so I put it out of business, permanently. No, not as Jim Phelps would have contrived, but with a pitchfork — Grandybo style! When I was up in the orchard pruning the apple trees, I saw my first crocus blooms in front of his grave. He loved this time of year, and so do I. March on.
This is Ash Wednesday. Perhaps it is good each year to remind oneself that none of us escapes ending up as a cigarette butt in the tray of life. No reason not to postpone it as long as possible and to maintain the optimum quality of existence, until we find out what is on the other side. Dana, Joan, and I start the Dr. Junger CLEAN program today (the same 21-day regimen we did together in October). Dana will be out of the studio, driving Terie to see Dr. Jerome in Campbellsville. START by Jon Acuff is the book that I have assigned myself this month (in addition to three others I am reading). It seems that my current pattern is to have a morning book, a bedtime book, and a travel book. In some ways, this is better than getting involved in an all-consuming read that pulls at my shirt sleeve all day. That could all change quickly, if I found another Paul Watkins or James Clavell. Day (charming wife of Lee’s cousin, John, the composer and educator) recommended that I should take on the Aubrey–Maturin series by Patrick O’Brian. When the timing is right, I really should try the first one.
Thinking about the fact that this is my ninth March-Ex (annual experiment/exercise), the close of a significant cycle to one who studies numerology. Will I find the culminating integration worthy of the milestone? Be alert to various ways to stay attuned to that idea.
Before settling in with Dana for yet another disappointing Oscars telecast, I finished my first concepts for the Ian/Robin duogram and sent it off by email. A severe winter storm is on the way, but I cannot help but think that it may be over-hyped for our area. Nevertheless, somebody out there is going to get smacked upside the head. My daily posting of collage is under way, but I still have not given enough attention to the overall checklist. Must not think, being this accustomed to the March ritual, that I can just “wing it.”
Taking down “Ingredients Reclaimed” was not a happy task. The Mahan Gallery was a perfect setting for my artwork, and I wish the exhibit could have hung longer. Only sold one piece. Dana’s consolation: “It’s Danville.” I should dwell instead on all the good aspects of organizing this show and how positive the response has been, but it’s no fun to dismantle these things. That is just the way it is. Because the day was mild (the proverbial lamb?), I decided to prune the big bush by the northwest corner of the front porch. It gives me pleasure, but aggravates my sore right wrist. In the middle of completing my first new miniature of the month, as I write this entry, and I feel rusty for some reason. Evidently I have lost touch with my art, to a degree, after lots of computer work over the past weeks, even though I also have spent time studying my items on display at the Library. Sometimes I look at a collage that I have done and possess no clear recollection of making it. I need to use this month to connect with the process on a more profound level. For some reason, I get the notion that achieving this has much to do with the ingredients, and my approach to their selection. Keep thinking about that.
Although I have ambitious plans for the annual exercise, most of my activity will focus on daily milestones for The Collage Miniaturist. Nevertheless, this space has been an important part of the ritual from the beginning, and I intend to use it for notes and random thoughts as I move through the month. Admittedly, that is a much different format than the formalized records of previous years, when the idea made its transition from Experiment to Exercise. Those introspective passages and “sight bites” are kind of cool to revisit, but I have it out of my system now, and the energy will be put to best use in creating actual artwork.