Seeking a path. When setting a goal is more than you can do.

In two weeks, on Thursday, November 12, 2015, an exhibit of my fiber art quilts will open at the Clare Gallery, 285 Church St., Hartford.

http://spsact.org/clare2/exhibitions/upcoming-exhibition-2/

This show is inspired by a benediction delivered at the end of Sunday services by the Reverend Jon Luopa, formerly of the Unitarian Society of Hartford, my faith community.

If you see God, may God be with you.

If you embrace life, may life return your affection.

If you seek a path, may a way be found, and the courage to take it, step by step.

This benediction won my heart because of its affirmation that, at times when the best a person can do is look for a way out of a challenging situation, much less set a goal, then, may that person find a path.  If God has stepped behind a cloud, clarity is lacking, and all a person can do is grope for a way, even then, may the way be found...and especially, the courage to take it. 

This became my mantra, conscious and unconscious, in all the years I heard it spoken in my faith community, and beyond.  And it made me think how our eye loves to travel visual pathways:

                            

Why do our eyes like to follow visual paths like this?  You can tell me what you think, but I think it’s because those paths give our eyes, and thus our minds and spirits, the illusion of getting away, of going on.  And that seems to offer a sense of relief, if not of hope.

                           

I maintain that there’s even something appealing in the natural kind of pathway created by the effect of tide on sand:

                                  

 

                        

 Besides offering an appealing visual image, there’s another benefit, for me, to thinking about pathways. The act of using fiber, paint and imagination to create an art quilt is itself a pathway out of a less-than-ideal situation:  the long Connecticut winter.  When I’m using a photo of a beloved pathway, especially one created by the low tide on Cape Cod Bay, I transcend winter. Snow may be deep, but here, inside inside me, the sun is warm and the sand ripples are soft under my feet.  I’m seeking a path, and this is one that works.

Come see my work, and hear other thoughts on pathways, at an artist’s talk on Thursday, November 12, 2015, at 7 pm at the Clare Gallery, Franciscan Center for Urban Ministry, 295 Church St., Hartford, CT 06105.  Admission is free, there is free parking right across the street, and refreshments will be offered.

Bonus: On Saturday, November 14, from 10 am to 11:30 am, the Clare Gallery will be hosting a path-making workshop, facilitated by my good friend Robin McCahill, in which participants will use soft wool, soft fleece, and special barbed needles to create a 12 x 12 finger labyrinth: an effective meditation tool, not only in the using, but in the making, as your finger follows the soft path you’ve created.  No experience necessary!  There will be a modest materials fee.

High Tide Report

Today was a rainy, windy one, courtesy of Hurricane Joaquin.

 http://www.wunderground.com/blog/wundergroundlive/comment.html?entrynum=16

At mid-day, I braved the elements for some fresh air, visiting my favorite beach, where the high tide had turned all the sandy paths into rivers.

Down at the beach, there was precious little beach to be found.

The lovely tidal meadow in the field behind my van is now a tidal...well, inlet.

Still, the vegetation, whatever wasn't underwater, was luscious. Here, Rosa Rugosa cozies up to artemisia campestris.

And how about the elegant hieroglyphic of this beach pea?

Notes from the Fog

Today the rain flew across the landscape in sheets, and my dear friends Don and Marie, who have been visiting me here in this Cape Cod cottage, had to drive home in it.  

After they left in a splash of puddles, I took advantage of the rainy afternoon to work on an art quilt. I decided I'd keep an eye on the weather and try my luck at around 5 p.m., when the tide would be going out and there would still be enough light to see it.  Instead, I saw my chance at 4:30, when the rain stopped briefly but the sky still glowered.  I put on a raincoat and drove through the fog to my favorite beach, First Encounter. I couldn't get in.

Plan B: Boat Meadow beach, a mile or so down the road. Boat Meadow is similar to First Encounter in that both beaches feature running water flowing into Cape Cod Bay. That confluence makes for a constantly changing landscape.

I would love to show you a map that shows both beaches and the streams that feed them, but I lack the technical skills.  Instead I'll provide this link to Google Maps and hope it works.

https://www.google.com/maps/@41.826718,-69.9989884,13z

If you can open this link, look at the left, or west, side of the Cape, on the Bay, and see the two little creeks that empty into it.  First Encounter Beach, fed by Herring Brook, is on the north, and Boat Meadow is the one to the south.

At Boat Meadow, the beach encompasses the mouth of this creek where it joins the Bay.

It's supposedly a public, town-administered beach, complete with a public boat launch, but it didn't look very public to me, tucked away on a road that advertised that it had no outlet.  And how about this little home? 

And this little place below?

 Still, what a view down there.  What a lovely spot.

As I walked down the beach, I noticed dozens of small twittering black and white birds swirling around in the sky.  Here's a video, and if I've failed to download it properly I apologize:

And what should you expect to see in a place called Boat Meadow other than boats?

And how about this boat, below?  I don't know what kind of a boat it is, but it sure looks utilitarian.  It's a man's man's boat, and the man's man who pilots it has an unfiltered cigarette between his teeth and grease on his pants.

And how about these berries and this foliage, which I noticed growing along a low fence?  The leaves remind me of those of Virginia creeper (parthenocissus quinquefolia).  I believe that's what it is, but who can tell me for sure?  And how about those colors?

I love the color contrast of the two below.  I can identify one of them, beach pea, by the blue green color of its compound leaves.  The other plant is a toughie that creates these spiny pods about an inch long.  Who knows what that is?

 
And how about the colors of these plants, below?  I believe they're glasswort (salcornia).  I'm charmed that they turn red in the fall.

See this guy? He had the thickest Boston accent in the universe.  He said he'd just come out because the rain had let up for a few minutes.

He said he had to get out. Otherwise he'd go crazy.

Going Outside my Comfort Zone: Not so Bad if Ice Cream is Involved.

I did something new and different today.  I drove to Wellfleet and hoofed it around town on footmobile, approaching galleries to see whether they were interested in my work.   This activity took me well outside my comfort zone.

I'll tell you what happened, but first I have to build up to it.

To fortify my courage, I started out at First Encounter Beach, a place that never fails to inspire and soothe me.  This morning, the tide was high and one swimmer braved the water in a wetsuit.  She told me that she was swimming in honor of her birthday and that the water temperature was in the sixties.  She pronounced it refreshing.

When the tide is that high, the waters of Herring River and Cape Cod Bay met with exuberant clash, waves sparkling and ripples rippling.

My Wellfleet adventure still awaited, but meanwhile, as long as the tide was high, I decided to see some of the marshes in their glory.

Boat Meadow Marsh

Herring River marsh

After fortifying myself with these soothing and inspiring sights, I drove to Wellfleet Center, parked the car, and visited five galleries, showing them samples of my work on the quilt gallery section of this blog.

Here's a photo of one of the galleries I visited today.  My reception in the galleries ranged from noncommittal to polite to interested.  One owner was intrigued by my alternative media:  felting and art quilting.  To arouse intrigue in a gallery owner, I think, is a good sign.

I gathered cards and took notes.  My next steps will be to follow up.

To reward myself for stepping so far out of my comfort zone, I promised myself an ice cream bar from the Wellfleet Market.

Unfortunately, individual ice cream bars did not seem to be available there this afternoon, so I went to Ben and Jerry's in North Eastham.

And then, having treated myself, I went--where else?--back to First Encounter, where the tide was now mostly low.

More than anything, I noticed patterns this time. 

In this one, the ripples seem to be negative and positive images of one another.

This one, and the one below, remind me of the designs on classic pillars.

This one reminds me of stadium seating in miniature.

This one and the one below:  Could be anything.  Fabulous color and texture.

As I slogged through the sand, which was so full of water that in places it buried my feet to the top of my insteps, I heard bells ringing from the tower in the photo below.  The time was about 6 p.m., half an hour, give or take, before sunset.  It was a moment of solemnity and quiet grandeur.

The tower belongs to the Community of Jesus, an ecumenical Christian community, based in Orleans, that lives according to the Benedictine rule.

http://www.communityofjesus.org/ 

As I traveled toward the main beach, I saw that folks had gathered to watch the sun set.  For the most part, they were a quiet bunch.

These folks had a pretty sweet setup.

And the scenery was sublime.

I think everyone agreed on that.