Cormorant

It's a natural experience, living at the Oregon Coast, to see birds of all sorts on any given day.

It becomes such a part of the daily routine to share this space with pelicans, gulls, herons, egrets, geese, killdeer, cormorants, mergansers and kingfishers that I imagine at times I am obblivious to them as I go about my day. . . .

But how quick I can be to notice when something si not quite right with one of them. . . .

. Walking the foggy shrouded beach yesterday we were drawn immediately to a lone cormorant in the distanc. grounded at the surf's shifting edge. The distinctive shape unmistakable.

I think I knew instantly that something was not right. There are rarely lone cormorants with no others in sight. They rarely occupy the beach, choosing instead the rocks and old pier poles of the bay where they can dry their wings and rest while watching the water for small fish to pass by.

Approaching this cormorant, it was now a certainty that it was not ok. I won't go into the entire episode of my interaction hut, it was clear after one slow approach that I was not going to get close to it. I left it alone and walked to a driftwood log to sit and watch it awhile. A few minutes later, as two young boys emerged from the fog and ran towards it, it DID manage to fly using both wings. . . . but only a foot or so off the ground and it would just go far enough to get away from the kids, then land and again stay to the surf line on it's feet.  Occasionally it would swim out, dive under the surf and pop up again a few feet out, only to return with the next swell. . .

Now, cormorants are amazing swimmers so this one wasn't likely "land-locked" by the waves. .  and they are even more prolific fishing birds. Around here, the local fisherman got permission to start a program (as it is Coho salmon season) to "scare" the cormorants away from salmon runs. They use fireworks known sometimes as bird-bangers or bird rockets, to frighten them away. . . heaven forbid the birds might get more fish than the "sport fishermen" before the run is cut off.

Eventually, we had to move on and get back to our work day in the studio. . .  the last scene in my mind was looking back at that vast open expanse of foggy beach and there, with no other creatures in sight, was the lone cormorant. Standing at the surfs edge. . . my heart was so torn.

I can only hope that the cormorant was just stunned by something like the bird-scaring fireworks and was able to soon rejoin the routine of it's flock. It is amazing how one lone bird, struggling in any way in it's environment, can touch me so deeply.  The ocean never looked bigger or more daunting than it did in comparison to that one cormorant.

I know we all find aspects of animal behaviour that pull us closer to a certain breed or species. For me, with cormorants, it is the way they dry their wings after swimming. Yes, they actually dry them. Though it is still quite a debate as to why they dry them or exactly what purpose the drying serves. . .

They dive from the surface, though many species make a characteristic half-jump as they dive, presumably to give themselves a more streamlined entry into the water. Under water they propel themselves with their feet. Some cormorant species have been found to dive to depths of as much as 120 feet. After fishing, cormorants go ashore, and are frequently seen holding their wings out in the sun. All cormorants have preen gland secretions that are used ostensibly to keep the feathers waterproof. Some sources state that cormorants have waterproof feathers while others say that they have water permeable feathers. 

If you have never seen this particular behaviour of a cormorant, I've included an image below. . . that posture, often held for a few minutes at a time, is what  am so drawn to with cormorants. It is something my soul recognizes as being truly divine.

In silhouette at a distance, or close up, it is unmistakable. . .  to see a dozen or more of these magnificent birds in a leafless tree with many of them spreading their wings out like that . . . holding them in that pose. . . it is impossible not to be in awe.

I don't know why I wanted to write this today.  Some things just stick with us I suppose.  Its hard to shake the image of that one bird. Alone on that vast shore. Which is, of course, exactly how I see us all in essence.  It's just our nature. . .

Small Town Vignette #1

There are so many things I absolutely love about living, by choice, in a little town of 800.  Some are expected given the size and some are random, it-could-only-happen-here, sort of events.



Across the street from my studio windows is an old fashioned Barber Shop with the old fashioned moving red, white and blue striped barber pole in the window. The woman who owns it is always very busy the five days a week she is open. Almost all old timer's and retirees are her clientele. It's a rarity to see her chair empty though.

Awhile back she was closed for months during a series of chemo treatments for cancer. When she returned the turnout was beautiful. . . all her old clients returned and business is, from where I sit, good.

Just the other day we noticed a new addition beside the barber shop. Built by her husband to look like and old style, blue and white phone booth, it is a little booth with a seat in it and the sign, instead of "Telephone" says, "Cell Phone Booth"

I love this for several reasons.

One, it's just a great way to say, "take your calls outside please!" without it being confrontational or rude. Seriously, I am so grateful to live in a place where the majority of people scrunch up their face and shake their heads when someone is using a cellphone inside a business. Personally, I have, for some time now, had it with the need for people to be "connected" 24-7 in every store and in every place of business. And I applaud any business that will draw that line and say, "Not in here"

But more than that I love the fact that, without a doubt in our town, there was no permit process or debate over whether this little addition was ok or not just off the public sidewalk. No sign zoning or city ordinance to deal with. Though it is quite possible a deal was made for volunteer hours or a donation.

The point is that I love being in a place where people are left to do as they wish (within limits) and that there is still room for a little ingenuity and originality and it doesn't cost you to do it at every turn. Occasionally this means having to deal with the guy who has a fire-pit and a couple of beat up couches on his lawn for his weekend loving, classic rock, beer drinking soirees. Even that becomes endearing in it's own way. . .

This little fishing town is changing as it turns it's collective eye to tourism a bit more but, in the meantime, I will enjoy the small things like that cell phone booth and celebrate the fact that places still exist where nothing much changes but, when it does, it isn't always necessary to fill out an application and apply for permission for it to change.

:)

Silence and Gratitude

I've done it again. . . gone over a month without saying much. . . silence is a dear friend to me but I seem to lose track of time so easily these days.

Some of you may know that I spent part of June and July on jury duty here. First on a trial jury for an eminent domain case and then, as luck would have it, my number was called to fill an absence on our county grand jury for two months immediately following that.

It was, in our small rural county, a breeze and simply a joy to serve on the grand jury. There was only one case where the members of the grand jury had any disagreement at all. And that was simply on a lesser, unimportant charge.

But I have to say that 8 consecutive weeks of listening to the stories of people who just can't get their life together, who seem to have no idea that there is another way to live and who, often, repeat the same mistakes countless times over within the lives they live. . . well, it all starts to wear on a person.

It drove me to a bout of silence and solitude in it's aftermath.

And from that comes a wealth of gratitude.

As one of my great aunts used to say repeatedly, "There, by the grace of God, go I"

I grew up with a brother, much older, who made just about every bad choice you can make when it comes to life. And while some families seem to breed a consistent pattern of such behavior, I am happy to say that he was the exception to the rule in ours. And all that I saw him go through was like a guide book of what not to do. . . how not to live.

But there is one event in my young adult life that I believe was very instrumental to my not turning out like that or ever stepping down those pathways at all.

When I was 19, out of school, a little lost myself. . . a friend of mine at a club (where I was underage) one night asked out of the blue, "Hey, do you want to go to Europe?"

She was trying to get some distance from a suffocating girlfriend/relationship and just wanted to get far away for a few weeks.Europe seemed far enough. . .

I, with little thought, said "Sure, why not."

That trip and all of it's twists and turns was a life changer for me in how I perceived the world around me. Suzy, who I always thought was such a strong person, had trouble with the currencies, the languages, the constant need to be on our guard and make decisions and meet trains, get rooms etc etc. And I, who had no idea I could, stepped up to fill in when she was unable, and vice versa. . .  we were perfect travel companions and I leanred so much about my own abilities and areas that needed improvement.

We spent an all-nighter in Piccadilly Circus in London when we could not get a train out due to not having British pounds after banking hours. We considered, but rejected, an offer from a young couple to stay and work in their pub in the Lake District, and then our proposed "day trip" to Paris that ended up being a 4 day love affair with all things French.

There was the little Riviera village of Menton where I was solicited by a little old grocery store owner as a date for her granddaughter and, again, offered a job. ( I spoke French fairly well then)

The overnight mail train to Scotland and stepping out, pre dawn in Edinburgh, just in time to see the sun arriving over the mythic Arthur's Seat. . .

The list goes on. And while I neglect to mention them there were plenty of moody moments and discouragements too. . .

But the truth is, all these years later, I can look to that journey as the time I came to realize there were no limits to where I could go or what I could do. I returned to the US but could have easily stayed in France, Britain, Scotland, Switzerland, Belgium. . . somehow, just knowing I could, was enough.

And I can say in retrospect that I never looked at life the same again. . . suddenly the world was wide open and while I had little desire to roam the world in a drifting way, I knew that I was not limited to one thing, one place, one situation, for any amount of  time.

I grew to believe that I could create any world I wished as well, no matter where I was.

This is turning out to be true creatively too. I do not feel stuck to any one thing or "life" with my creativity. If I want to try to succeed at something new, I will. And, without a doubt, I have created the ability to make a living by not only doing what I love and being true to who I was in childhood, but by adapting and shifting when necessary to keep things moving forward. 

A little compromise, a little stubbornness, a little solitude . . .  and a lot of faith.

So yes, there is much gratitude for what I avoided by allowing myself to open to possibilities. Years later I learned that this country I live in is big enough to provide a wealth of scenery, lifestyle and opportunity if one is willing to get up and go. . .

In the end, I have chosen simplicity. Small town, rural county, more cows than people. . . the internet makes this possible, opening new opportunities to just about anyone. . .

That'sit really. . . not so much a story as a meandering of thought.

With a healthy does of gratitude for everything in my world.

For any of YOU if you took the time to read this.

Autumn is hanging so close on the horizon.
My season of choice
And as always
I will emerge
Create
And be grateful. . .

~nicolas

Full Circle

I was a small child when the first grand tour of the treasures of Tutankhamen came to America. The madness in the art world that surrounded it filtered down to my childhood world and, through books and magazines, found it's way into my soul. Not long after it was a tour of the permanent exhibit at the Carnegie museum's antiquities section that really stirred my imagination.

For all of the luster and glitz of KingTut, I was even more taken by the simple, everyday possessions of the ancient Egyptian that I saw in that museums cases. It was that first glimpse into the life of, what I imagined to be, a boy just like me, that inspired the life long love I have held for that era and the pantheon of Egyptian deities.

So, now with my adult self creating statues and amulets that are all directly inspired by ancient pieces and primarily those of everyday worship in that ancient Egyptian world, I have received a very meaningful nod to my work that ties hits whole cycle up in one small way.

Yesterday two of my pieces were purchased by a woman who is part of the La Habra Children's Museum in La Habra CA. They are having an installation come October that will be a walk through tour of a scribe's life in ancient Egypt.


The pieces are these below:

 Bes and Taweret

She also sent me this description of how the exhibit will be set up.

***The exhibit is called Egypt: Land of Ancients, and it basically follows the life of a scribe named Peneb. The gallery is rectangular in shape and is about 1000 sqft. Guests will enter through a gateway following the river Nile, which cuts through the room diagonally (blue carpet, with fiberglass rocks, papyrus reeds, a fiberglass crocodile etc). On the East side of the Nile is Peneb's house which will simply show daily life for a scribe's family; a market place with food and livestock, a textile stand and a spice stand; and a temple to Thoth, which is also the scibe school, where touring kids can learn hieroglyph-to-alphabet symbols and spell out their names with wooden blocks, and also a simple number system.

There will also be a small copy of the Rosetta stone and an explanation of it's importance, an alter to Thoth, and an area on papyrus. Across the river to the West will be a wabet, where kids can wrap a mummy, with explanations regarding egyptian beliefs on the afterlife. We then move upriver to the present to an archeological campsite and Paneb's tomb. Inside the tomb will be a wooden coffin and artifacts, plus a DVD on egyptology.***

 Needless to say the best part of this, for me, is that it is for young hearts and minds! I can only hope, looking back over the years and the way those early exposures to ancient cultures helped form the person and maker-of-things I am today, that there will be one or two who come away with the same intrigue and sense of awe. . . as well as the comfort and connection I felt then, the kind that permeates the soul and settles there to reappear at some point in adulthood when it is needed most.

For me, every piece I send into the world is a wonderful affirmation that those ancient spirits never die. . . and these two, going to be part of something that will open new eyes and minds, well, that makes me feel incredibly joyful.  . and I just wanted to share that with you today.

nicolas

You are "Here"

If there was one special superpower I would love to be able to instill in others at will, especially other creatives who want to make their way to making a living from a craft, it would be the ability to step back and distance themselves enough to realize that everything in this life takes time, maybe an entire lifetime in some cases, to unfold and I'd give them the ability to stop thinking in the short term with an immediacy there is almost never a good reason to hold. I'd give the gift that would allow them to just grow into their work one day at a time. Because, the truth is, sometimes we just aren't ready yet. . . 

Is that two superpowers? Maybe. . .

The Gods know I was as guilty as anyone of trying to hit it big with everything I ever did. Always thinking of the best scenarios and the highest accomplishments and, often, that came at the expense of the reality that I hadn't the skill or the know how to get there on a jet rocket trajectory. .   and to be honest, my endless energy and belief in what I was doing took me further than I probably should have gotten with the abilities I had.  Belief does factor in to a degree. . .

I had reasons for pressing on in that way in spite of what I lacked. . . some of the reasons were healthy and many, of course, not so much. In the end my greatest enemy was my inability to see that it takes time to develop and mature into any pursuit.  There is no better or more proven way and often, those who find the rocket trajectory beneath them, come down too fast and too hard on the other side. 

Of course, looking back, I could not have gone about it any other way. I didn't know enough and I, of course, did not have these superpowers either.

I knew I had to press on though.
I knew that you do and will figure it out as you go.

It is hard for me to write or explain the path I took to get "here".  It seems, sometimes, like such a short story having just walked away from owning a coffeehouse two years ago to now creating all of my art and craft that currently supports my life. But in truth, it is a lifelong story that has been  unfolding all these years and it wasn't until I embraced the beginnings, the mistakes and the growing pains I did experience and began to work with what is inherent in me from childhood that the page turned and I started to find my way. . . and, just for the record, I am not "here" yet, nor will I ever likely be. I expect it to be a lifelong pursuit and a lifelong path of creative expression, ups and downs and ultimately as many frustrating days as perfect ones. But that's all fine with me. . .  I no longer feel the need to achieve anything that is big-goal oriented. Just to work hard at my craft every day to bring something beautiful into it each day and to hopefully be fortunate enough to share that with others along the way.

The fact is our life should teach us about repetition and patterns and the way life prepares us over and over for the cycles it moves by. We all went through those wonder-filled childhood years, were subdued in those awkward teenage angst years and dodged the insecurities and the uncertainty of stepping out on our own for the first time. We all had our individual experiences to work with of course,but the point here is they should also teach us that we will repeat them in life within any pursuit we undertake.

The cycles of life repeat always and in all ways.

So, you want to follow a creative dream? Then whether you really begin that path at 15 or 35 or 55 be prepared for the phases of it to mimic your early life. I actually think this is what keeps most people from trying something new with all their heart. The realization hits early on that this is not going to be easy. That you'll have to learn new skills, leave old programming behind and reinvent your life to fit the new "you" that you envision.  You have to walk through it all again. . . the young innocent phase, the awkward teenage phase, the first steps into adulthood phase and hopefully, eventually, the mellowing into it mid-life phase where it all comes together.

The calm in the storm. . .

And, since you went through it over those early years of life, it should not take as long this time around.

Don't hang the entire world on an ideal of quick success and always give yourself a chance, a REAL chance,  to grow into it as you have anything else throughout your life. . .  And then, eventually, one day,

You are "here"

~nicolas

The Mapmaker's War

The Mapmaker's War. . . I am currently submerged in this wonderful book by Ronlyn Dominique

Often it can be the first line or few paragraphs of a book that really draws me in. . . this one went beyond pulling me in with the following early narrative. . .

With meticulous care, you planned your provisions, though not your expeditions. 

Adventure wasn’t in the hunger to come but in the quest of what to follow. You packed your pouch | nuts and fruit, soft bread and hard cheese | along with parchment and ink, cloth scraps and straight edges.

You mapped the hidden worlds when you were still young enough to see them.

Spiderwebs and honeycombs taught the wisdom of symmetry. To you, everything before your eyes was built upon invisible lines and angles. The very spot where you stood only a point among many. A girl is not always in her place, you thought. A girl can be many places at once. And so you were. When you settled upon a space in the forest or meadow, you made a grid on the earth with small steps and tiny flags until there were row upon row of even little squares. You took your seat within the grid. You moved from square to square, noting what stood still and what passed by. All day long you observed and measured, sketched and colored. That which was off the edges appeared on the parchment as well. There were mysterious realms of bees and ants and creatures never seen before, with tiny castles and bright gardens.

 
In my previous post, Paracosm, I spoke about the beginnings of my imaginative childhood worlds and how they have been with me all through my life, even when I tried to put them aside. . .

This book took me immediately back to those days and the themes within it, mostly mythic and universal, truly touched a part of my soul that recognized it instantly as kin.

I feel like this is my charge again, among the worlds that others often neglect and, in some cases, never see. There is work to be done and many uncharted places to visit here. . .

Mapmaking is much more than pen to paper

It is about perspective and acute observation
It's about seeing with something more than our eyes
It's a visual poetry

When we look at early maps, what do you see? Do you see the world as you now know it NOT to be and think, "Oh, they had it so wrong then!" or do you simply surrender to the wonder and beauty of it, of the time and place and the impossible motivation that made people create them?

How we see maps tells a lot about us too. . . 

What a good mapmaker sees, or what a mapmaker reads are more than pinpoints and land plots.
There is nothing finite about a map and the good ones seem to have no beginning and no end.
Like the art of writing kanji, each line begins off the page and then, on the other end, the motion and movement which are always present, carries the brush off the into space. 

It is not a series of points.  . but the motion of a living, breathing entity.

It does not end.

And so, again, I hammer home the point (to myself) that where we come from, the formative parts of our imagination, the maps we made, have no end.

If we try to constrain it to a page
A part of our history
A finite set of coordinates
It is incomplete.

Maps of all kinds change too
Constantly

There is a second story I love and often return to that has this same effect on me. You can, of course, read this one too but you can also HEAR it read on the podcast, Selected Shorts, if you are inspired enough to dig for it online.

It's called "The Mappist" by Barry Lopez

Of course, the pattern here, for my own purposes, is telling.

I am always returning to the mapmaker within
The charts and excursions of my youth.
My landscapes

Nothing stays the same and that is why we should, I believe, revisit and remap those spaces too. . .
it's why I intend to do so for the remainder of my days . . . my motion in a lifetime that also began off the page, appeared, and will one day exit into space again.

And through it all, I will remember this line from "The Mappist", to help keep my sense of placeas I go

“don’t make the mistake of thinking you, or I or anyone, knows how the world is meant to work. The world is a miracle, unfolding in the pitch dark. We’re lighting candles. Those maps- they are my candles. And I can’t extinguish them for anyone.””

Make your maps. dive into YOUR landscapes, and most of all tell and retell your stories as your miracle unfolds.

~nicolas

Paracosm

It has been awhile since my last post and the reason is singular and simple. Writing does take my soul deeper into my own experience and, recently, in writing some unrelated thoughts to answer someone else's questions about my life as a maker-of-things, I came to a deeper revelation about that very part of myself. . . and so I have taken the time to really mull it over internally and explore it fully before writing about it here. And this is what I have discovered. . .

If there is one thing that most artists I know have in common who have been able to create a successful art business, and even most people I know who are TRULY happy with their day to day lives, it is that what they live, what they are creating and what they love in life is a direct link to something from their childhoods and that untainted past. Some part of them that never quite went away and fuels, in some way, their life pursuits today.

On the extreme end of those childhood experiences, there is the idea of the creation of a paracosm which is defined as: a detailed imaginary world or fantasy world, involving humans and/or animals, or perhaps even fantasy or alien creations. Commonly having its own geography, history, and language, it is an experience that is often developed during childhood and continues over a long period of time: months or even years.

I had many such worlds in my childhood.

Nothing I played, drew or created was just a game but had back-story and detail and a running dialogue within.  From my imagining of being alive in ancient Egyptian times or in the Roman Empire, Pompeii, Alexandria, Druid times, Viking times etc and on down to my creation of little towns and worlds each year with the model railroads I built under our holiday tree.

Everything had a place, a story, a reason.

When I sit and create the things you see in my shops, in all three of my shops, they are, in no uncertain terms, a direct link to my childhood experiences and explorations of the world around me.

As I grew into my teens and 20's I, like most, felt a need to become more "grown up" and set off into the "real world" to find my way. . . this was, unarguably, the greatest mistake I ever made. One that I plan to rectify for the rest of my days.

And I truly believe that the "mistake" part of that was the desire to leave that childhood past far behind.  Of course, in my quiet, alone moments, I allowed myself to indulge and revisit it at times but, as my world became cluttered with people and social events and owning businesses and adult life. . . I left more and more of it there.

I will, in the near future, reveal more of my own paracosm and try to show how it formed me and how it has come full circle.  How I believe that life is indeed cyclical and how we often allow the negative aspects, people and events to remain with us along our path while discarding the most integral parts of our soul which are meant to help us as we grow into our later years because they wre there at the foundation of who we are. 

The thing that is often NOT talked about with paracosms is how so many adults are creating them daily in what we like to think of as our adult world. This life is. for lack of a better definition, ALL fantasy. All paracosm.  It is US who creates the place, the story and the reasons for anything in our worlds. And if you can step back and allow that one idea to sink in and become truth, then you may recognize how the choosing of it is always up to you.

Whatever you subscribe to is indeed part of your created paracosm. Career pursuits, ideals of success, ideals of relationship, security and contentment. . . even the dialogues we desire to hear, the way we fantasize about one thing or another. . . we create all of those too. Do they work? I can't speak for anyone but me. Except to say that whatever you believe in is strictly YOUR creation. And often we are so caught up in wanting to "belong" in a union, a community or group, an accepted circle of some sort that we allow too much outside information and influence to shape our world within.

I tried many adult paracosms over the last 20 years that just did not fit because the inherent landscape of my childhood was simply too strong to be changed that much.

So, when I began to return to it and allowed myself to roam within it freely again just a few years ago, I immediately recognized that what I sought, what I desired and what made me happiest had been there all along. . .  I began creating the creatures and worlds that were alive in my thriving childhood imaginings. I allowed them all to come back and through that indulgence I suddenly began connecting with others who found them appealing for whatever reason.

The more I allowed myself to dwell within that paracosm again, the happier I became.

The more of the "adult life" I left behind, selling my business, moving away from the grind of the city, leaving happy hours and social commitments and the larger community behind, the happier I found myself being as well.   

My world of many and much became a world of few and little and allowed me the space to grow into that vast landscape again. It requires a lot of space. . . a lot of solitude. . . and a lot of internal silence.

I do believe paracosms are truly meant to often be singular experiences. But for children, that never seems to present much of a problem does it? For me, as that child, that alone time was so precious and desired over almost any activity involving others. I had friends. More than I can remember but only a few who were able to occupy the landscape I created in my deepest imagination.

It is funny how, as adults, so many take such a strong dislike to being alone. And maybe, just maybe, that is because we are not happy with the paracosm we have created as an adult.  If it requires others for happiness, it is not deep and true enough. There is nothing wrong with wanting to share what is within. . . but that will follow the act of creation. . . not the other way around. Find and know yourself completely first and THEN others can follow safely in your footsteps. YOU are the explorer of the landscape within. The better you know it, the more likely others can traverse it with you in safety and
 the more likely you will attract the right people to be a part of it.

I had that wrong for years too.

And of course, for me, this is all ultimately about creativity. One of my favorite writers once said that "if you want to be a writer you just have to be crazy enough to sit down and let the words bang out."

Often people come to creative pursuits from the perspective of how they can make a living doing the thing they want to pursue. . . but this is really backwards thinking. . . the creator must create first and find it within . . .  it must come from the places deep within that are the storehouses of the inherent.

Those who try to "create to sell" rarely find success and almost never find lasting happiness or fulfillment within that pursuit.I tried that as well and guess what. . . it never worked.

I am glad I found my way back. Reconnected with the child within who had been waiting all this time for me to finally understand that HE is who I am. He was, after all, there first. He was born, not of a plan or a constructed architecture of hope. . . not of a reinvention that I contrived or designed. . . but of something so deep and pure that it simply can not be ignored.

I shall never set him aside for anything again.

So think about the idea of your lifetime thus far and the paracosms you may have once created and continue to create now.

Do you see the paracosms of your yesterdays and today?
Do you find it all to flow in a cyclical way too?
Do you see the pure essence of YOU in the child you were?
Does he/she still have a foothold in your adult world?
Are you kind to him/her when he/she appears?

I hope so.
There will likely never be a truer "you".

-nicolas