THE SECRET GARDEN

I had never read "The Secret Garden" and so for a little light reading, this summer I decided I would.  It might be a children's book, but I really enjoyed it.  I'm sure most people know it's about three children who find a walled in garden that has been locked up for 10 years.  It brings them great delight to bring the garden back to life.  It's a joyous book filled with beautiful descriptions and endearing children. Mary and Colin start out being frail and sickly but running in the wind and breathing the fresh air gives them health, appetite and strength.
The book, though, is really about the power of our thoughts.  As we believe so we are.  Colin believed he was a sickly child who would die at any time, but when he changed his thoughts, surrounding himself with beautiful growing things, he changed too and became well. He believed magic was in the garden and in him and so he got healthy and full of life.

I believe in magic.  As I sit here writing, a thunderstorm is shaking my windows, and my dog, Yukon, is worried and whining. Who wouldn't believe in magical forces when nature rumbles and lights up the sky? The sounds are frightening and awesome at the same time. Apparently, when lightening strikes it heats up the air to 48,000 degrees fahrenheit.  That causes the air to rapidly expand and as it does, it makes the loud sound that is thunder. And yet, I prefer to think of it as magic.
I think everyone needs a secret garden, if only an imaginary one.  A place where one can go to be alone and clear out the rubble of thoughts that accumulate all day. Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote, "There are voices which we hear in solitude, but they grow faint and inaudible as we enter into the world."  Magic is there all the time but we need a sanctuary of solitude to let the magic blossom.  But then maybe magic happens all the time and we're just too busy to notice.  I could be doing housework right now, and ignore this light show of nature, but instead, I've chosen to sit at my desk to watch the storm play outside my window and give Yukon a reassuring pat now and then.

Which brings me to Yeats. He is a poet. Yeats sits inside his own walled sanctuary quietly observing what nature has put on display for him.   He sees the the dragonflies and ants, the birds and feathers, the daffodils and the dewdrops on the leaves. He watches the ivy grow and the clouds change shapes overhead. Here, he can observe, and think and write. He allows the magic to flow through his pen, creating beautiful poetry.
You can enter the Secret Garden, too, but there is a price of admittance.  You have to pay attention.

HAIDA ART

I am descended from a North Coast tribe of Native Americans called Haida.  My People come from the Canadian islands of Queen Charlotte and Prince of Wales, and my great + Grandfather was named Chief Sonnihat. I have always embraced this heritage and grew up imagining that I was an Indian Princess.  (Well, he was a chief.)  I love the art of the Haidas' and I am not the only one.  It is on display in great museums around the world including the Smithsonian. The ancient people were known for their beautiful totem poles, long houses, carved boxes, masks, silver work and basketry. Thankfully their unique kind of artwork has not died out and is being taught and produced today.
When I decided to study the design elements of Haida art, I was overwhelmed by the beauty and cunning of it. I have a reverence for its simplicity and its complexity. I have done some designs for a school and my children but when my son asked me to do a painting on a piece of wood that he could hang in his home, I admit I was daunted.  This was a couple of years ago and I am ashamed and proud to announce that I have completed it.  Happy Birthday, Adam!

Because Haida art is so complex it has taken me quite awhile to design  something I thought worthy of my culture. I thought I might walk you through the process it took me to produce this piece.
Each person in the Haida tribe has an animal spirit.  My 1st instinct was that Adam's was the Raven, a cunning trickster who stole the sun and brought fire to man. Then I argued with myself for awhile assigning him other animal spirits. Yet I always came back to Raven.

I couldn't actually do the full design until I had the piece of wood that it was going to be painted on, but I played with ideas for heads and wings and feathers and feet. Oh there were many, many, many drawings.

Finally I bought the wooden plank from a man on the island who builds beautiful natural furniture.  The piece spoke to me about a bird.  I have lived with that piece of wood for about 2 years and finally I was ready to paint it.





I started with my pencil sketches, then traced the shape of wood onto a large piece of paper accounting, I thought, for the knots. I did several rough sketches and then a formal one which I traced onto the wood. I had to redesign because I wanted the wood's beautiful skin to show.

The natural knot between his beak is the sun he is stealing.

Then I started painting.  I completed the1st layer in black, but needed to give the paint a 2nd coat. Then I did 

the red layer. 

This is the completed piece.  I hope you will notice that the positive spaces are a design as well as the negative spaces.  I like to believe that I did justice to the beautiful organic form of the wood and let it tell the story of Raven stealing the sun.