The Rites of Spring

  The phrase elicits visions of firelit dance in shadowed groves, or pagan rituals graced with devas and dervishes and garlanded maidens, doesn't it? Not so much in the real world, I suppose, although Kris and I do occasionally light candles upon an impromptu altar amid a celebratory circle of sacred friends. In spring, we "bless the fields" in the old way,  planting red-dyed eggs in the vegetable garden after meditation and song, followed always by a symbolic feast of moon-shaped shortbreads. In a neo-pagan twist on the old "chicken-or-the-egg" question, our celebration inevitably concludes with ritual debate over whether we'll reap chickpeas or eggplant from our vernal observance. To date, however, we've seen neither...

  It's been a busy week for spring rituals of a more mundane sort. The reseeding of grass, planting vegetable gardens, watering, flowers to transplant, weeding, pruning, more watering, long term landscaping projects, and watering again. There've been rituals of "the firsts" this week, too: the first sunburn, the first potato plant, the first bean plant, the first penstemon blooms, the first hummingbird.

  As much as I enjoy them, the rites of spring haven't left much time for studio play. That will change with the summer monsoon rains, when undone yard work and gardening projects are set aside for the rituals of another season.

  I DID manage to finish that book I've been working at in an off-again/on-again way over the last few weeks, binding it with plain watercolor paper and an assortment of colorful beads. Oh - while trying not to bleed on the pages after inevitably poking myself with the needle. Happens every time...

  Earlier this week, I took a wild hair and became intrigued with the idea of interpreting my slot canyon photos in collage. Here's what came of it...                  

It's made from odds and ends of scrapbook papers and matte medium on a base of 140 lb. watercolor paper. Once the glue dried, I gave it some shading and shaping using Ranger Distress Ink dabbed on a Cut 'n' Dry nib tucked into the shaft of an automatic pencil, and then applied another couple layers of gel medium. I'm slowly working up the nerve to wash a little acrylic paint on it here and there. Don't know why I have such apprehension about it. An overcoat of gel medium ensures that the paint doesn't automatically become a permanent layer unless I want it to. Go figure... Oh - as the piece was drying it curled up pretty heavily at the edges. Quick fix: once everything has dried, spritz the back with water and set it under a dictionary for a few hours. Flat again! Woo-hoo! 

  It seems a little cosmic that, once I began playing with collage interpretation of photography, this book turned up. Although I haven't had the time to read it thoroughly, I'm definitely impressed with what I've seen. It's a comprehensive and clear guide to both collage technique and fundamental artistic principles as applied to collage. These are a few chapter headings: "Texture," "Gesso," "Line and Form," "Paper Play," "Imagery," "Unification and Composition." Collage Lab, by Bee Shay. I give it a solid thumbs up! You might also want to take a peek at Bee Shay's blog here.

  Studio play has been pretty limited lately. Early mornings, before I head out to play in the dirt, I've been working up arty envelopes using some of the "metamorphosed" papers Kelly showed us how to make.

  Fun, attractive, and durable, the gel medium surface will grab just about any of the inks we have. Can't wait to use them!  

  One of my favorite "rites of spring" is hiking. Every year, about this time, Kris and I commit to hiking at for least one day every weekend. Some years we do better than others; this year we've managed to keep that promise to ourselves pretty well. Here are some photos of Sunday's hike out to Keyhole Sink, about 25 miles west of Flagstaff.

  Keyhole Sink is a box canyon eroded into an old lava flow. An anomaly in the high desert ponderosa forest, it home to a year-round spring-fed pool, a riparian habitat in the middle of nowhere.

  The path in is only about a mile long over easy terrain, lined with fascinating reminders of ancient inhabitation. This is the remains of an unexcavated pit house near the trail, abandoned about a thousand years ago. A circular depression covered with stones is a dead giveaway. Nature doesn't generally make circular arrangements of stones by herself...

   The area is home to some pretty interesting plant species, too. This one isn't in any of my books! It looks almost exactly like a daisy without a stem. The flowers bloom directly out of a basal rosette! I must remember to take the photo with, next time we're out at Wupatki, to show the volunteer botanist.
   Recent excursions into the wild have always presented us with a lizard photo-op, and Sunday was no different. This fellow performed defensive push-ups on his log for awhile, before settling down for a portrait. Will have to look up his (actually, probably a her) species.

   One of the coolest things about Keyhole Sink is the petroglyphs. There's evidence that people inhabited the area just above the bluffs, herding deer and other wildlife into the box canyon and leaving records on the rocks. No one really knows what any of the petroglyphs symbolize, but this one reminds me of a frog...

  The squiggly arrow is thought to represent a journey (either corporeal or spiritual) or perhaps a stream...

  I am captivated by the rock formations, the erosion patterns, the striations and layers that make up the stone beneath the lava. It's amazing, too, what will take root in the most barren places. Is this a metaphor I see before me? (Apologies for the Shakespearean malaprop...) 

  One of the lesser pertoglyph panels, below, shows what seem to be highly anthropomorphic figures, almost ghostly in appearance, and the suggestion of another squiggly arrow. What can it mean?  
   And the main panel, crowded and layered with symbols and figures...
   Once the light faded, and we'd thouroghly explored the little canyon, Kris and I climbed the bluff to see what could be seen, and discovered brilliant cacti in bloom, three of them, hugging the rim of the canyon. The flower looks like a claret cup, but the structure of the body is very different, multi lobed, and not as squat as the claret cup...          

  As I was shooting the final photo of the evening, a little miracle occurred. At the moment I snapped the shutter, a swift little hummingbird flew into the frame, hoping to feed on the cactus bloom. The camera was set on auto-focus, and he was frightened away by the "whir-beep" sound, but the camera managed to catch him before he flew off. On auto-focus, the shutter speed isn't high enough to freeze his wings, but I'm for sure not complaining...               

  The first hummingbird, among the many rites of spring.

  Thanks for visiting; come again soon.

Comments

[Kris (HTGRS)]

I really like the canyon collage and the cactus flower. A lot.
I, too, sometimes become aprehensive about "adding on" to a piece of art I'm working on. I think it may have something to do with my left brain trying to butt in...

[sharon]

i hear you, kris! the muse is likely saying, go-go-GO! while the left brain hollers but...but...but...