Today I drove the back roads back to the hospital after visiting one of my patients in Pima.
I often enjoy doing that because it helps me scout out new locations for my cowboy and indian icon art pieces. Since I happened to be nearby, I went on a brief exploration of the Pima Cemetery which was established in 1879.
The most interesting grave site I came across was that of Sandoval family. Not only was a an image of a John Deere tractor engraved on the headstone, there were at least a hundred toy pick-up trucks, tractors, cars and trailers lined up in neat rows next to a dozen vases of silk flowers. Most of the toys emulated the John Deere name brand.
Since I am working with toys in this art project and a few others, of course the grave site beckoned me to leave one of my cowboy and indian icon art pieces there. I placed, photographed and documented #72 between the last row of silk flowers and the first row of farm toys. It appeared to be at home next to the rows of other toys.
Then I wondered, are the toys a part of a collection of the deceased or had other folks placed them there in homage to the deceased? I envisioned my future grave site. A pair of old cowboy boots filled with flowers and HUNDREDS of plastic cowboy, cowgirl and indian figures - new and vintage, large and small - all over and around my grave site. Pounds and pounds of colorful plastic molded into action figures of the Old West. At least it wouldn’t be difficult to find. The plastic images would exist longer in the universe than my flesh and bones ever would. Long live, art. Long live, art.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Willcox Livestock Auction Willcox, AZ November 18, 2010
It was Thursday. This is the one day of the week when ranchers from several counties in Arizona and New Mexico bring trailers full of cattle to sell to wholesale buyers from the city. If I’m nearby, because I had to visit a patient or two, I’ll stop by the auction to visit my friend Terry Burgess who works in the sales office.
Terry is a widow and semi-retired rancher who lives about 10 miles down the road from me on a 40 acre spread. She grew up on a ranch that was very remote. During the school year, Terry stayed with someone in town and only traveled back to the family’s ranch on the weekends. The list of the cattle and horse organizations which is active in is
endless.
Terry’s father, Claude McNair was inducted into the Willcox Cowboy Hall of Fame in 1972. This year, Terry was inducted into the Willcox Cowboy Hall of Fame. The only father and daughter to hold those honors in the Hall of Fame’s history. Terry has been only the 5th woman to ever been inducted.
I placed, photographed and documented #67 in a corner of one of the back corrals. One that had very few cattle in it. Unknown to Terry, I dedicated the placement of #67 to
her.
When I have those days when life is so overwhelming that I don’t even feel like getting out of bed, I think of women like Terry. Another one of my heroines will always be Dale Evans. She once said, "Cowgirl is an attitude, really. A pioneer spirit, a special American brand of courage. The cowgirl faces life head on, lives by her own lights, and makes no excuses. Cowgirls take stands, they speak up. They defend things they hold dear." That’s Terry. That’s my girl!
Terry is a widow and semi-retired rancher who lives about 10 miles down the road from me on a 40 acre spread. She grew up on a ranch that was very remote. During the school year, Terry stayed with someone in town and only traveled back to the family’s ranch on the weekends. The list of the cattle and horse organizations which is active in is
endless.
Terry’s father, Claude McNair was inducted into the Willcox Cowboy Hall of Fame in 1972. This year, Terry was inducted into the Willcox Cowboy Hall of Fame. The only father and daughter to hold those honors in the Hall of Fame’s history. Terry has been only the 5th woman to ever been inducted.
I placed, photographed and documented #67 in a corner of one of the back corrals. One that had very few cattle in it. Unknown to Terry, I dedicated the placement of #67 to
her.
When I have those days when life is so overwhelming that I don’t even feel like getting out of bed, I think of women like Terry. Another one of my heroines will always be Dale Evans. She once said, "Cowgirl is an attitude, really. A pioneer spirit, a special American brand of courage. The cowgirl faces life head on, lives by her own lights, and makes no excuses. Cowgirls take stands, they speak up. They defend things they hold dear." That’s Terry. That’s my girl!
Stewart Family & Community Education Center Willcox, AZ November 18, 2010
One of the reasons I’m attracted to placing my cowboy and indian icon art pieces in old abandoned homes is because of stories I’ve heard from my patients. Most of the patients I have in home health and hospice are elderly. When they are reminiscing, while I visit by their bedside, childhood homes are a frequent topic. Some of the tales of the past will include their experience of returning to the rural home they grew up in. The majority of these folks will share how sad they felt when they visited an abandoned rural home of their childhood. The placement of my art pieces (made from children’s toys) in abandoned houses gives new life, hopefully, to childhood abodes that are no longer useful to anyone else.
The Stewart Family & Community Education building on Ft. Grant road came to mind.
When I walked through the tall grasses around the building, I came across a fallen, wooden sign with peeling paint which read, "4 H." The back door was wide open. Once inside, I noticed the front room - of the two room abode - had books laying on the floor.
The books were filthy so I decided not to examine any of them. It was obvious that this building once served to educate the local, young whipper- snappers.
All that was left in the back room was a large, old, white kitchen sink which had two sets of drawers underneath it. Standing next to it, was a small, unpainted, wooden table. Upon opening one of the drawers under the sink, I found nothing.
I placed, photographed and documented #69 on the level portion of the sink which appeared to be for food preparation. I exited out the back door and slowly walked to my car. I hoped to find other refuse amongst the tall grasses which might give me a clue or identification of the folks who once came here outside of the Stewarts. I arrived to my car and had found nothing else.
While I sat in the car and started up my engine, a feeling of peace came over me. Then came the satisfaction of knowing that I got to pay tribute to an old, wooden building which was once the center of learning and companionship to rural children who were now grown-up and reminiscing back to a time when they gathered there for companionship and to hone their agricultural skills. A time when someone prepared snacks for them on that kitchen sink. A time when they looked ahead to a life of discovery and adventure. Now those memories are faint and illness may be dominating their lives. The memories of the past now soothes the hints of pain associated with movements of their aging bodies.
Thank goodness for the blessing of our memories - we are forever young.
The Stewart Family & Community Education building on Ft. Grant road came to mind.
When I walked through the tall grasses around the building, I came across a fallen, wooden sign with peeling paint which read, "4 H." The back door was wide open. Once inside, I noticed the front room - of the two room abode - had books laying on the floor.
The books were filthy so I decided not to examine any of them. It was obvious that this building once served to educate the local, young whipper- snappers.
All that was left in the back room was a large, old, white kitchen sink which had two sets of drawers underneath it. Standing next to it, was a small, unpainted, wooden table. Upon opening one of the drawers under the sink, I found nothing.
I placed, photographed and documented #69 on the level portion of the sink which appeared to be for food preparation. I exited out the back door and slowly walked to my car. I hoped to find other refuse amongst the tall grasses which might give me a clue or identification of the folks who once came here outside of the Stewarts. I arrived to my car and had found nothing else.
While I sat in the car and started up my engine, a feeling of peace came over me. Then came the satisfaction of knowing that I got to pay tribute to an old, wooden building which was once the center of learning and companionship to rural children who were now grown-up and reminiscing back to a time when they gathered there for companionship and to hone their agricultural skills. A time when someone prepared snacks for them on that kitchen sink. A time when they looked ahead to a life of discovery and adventure. Now those memories are faint and illness may be dominating their lives. The memories of the past now soothes the hints of pain associated with movements of their aging bodies.
Thank goodness for the blessing of our memories - we are forever young.
Helicopter - Hwy. 70 Eden, AZ 11/16/10
Not too far from the Glenbar Cotton Gin and the Taylor Freeze (Home of the big "T" burger) is a helicopter sitting in solitude next to the railroad tracks. On my travels to and from Globe, Phoenix and numerous patients’ homes, I noticed that the flying machine has never been moved for at least 3 years. I stopped and parked my car near the railroad tracks. It didn’t have any sort of doors and the weather had taken its toll on the helicopter’s interior. After I wallowed through tall weeds, I placed, photographed and documented #68 what one could call the chopper’s dashboard.
Old West art and aviation - an interesting mix. As I drove away, something inside (growling stomach) harkened me to the Taylor Freeze. Well, one couldn’t drive back to Safford without a Big T burger. Can one?
Old West art and aviation - an interesting mix. As I drove away, something inside (growling stomach) harkened me to the Taylor Freeze. Well, one couldn’t drive back to Safford without a Big T burger. Can one?
Corner of McDowell Road & Ward Canyon Road - Clifton, AZ November 10, 2010
It was very windy but the sun shown as bright as a new copper penny. I placed, photographed and documented #62 right below a YIELD sign at the corner of 2 crossroads. The patient I was visiting was in a elevated "subdivision" in Greenlee county- very scenic and desolete. From where could stood, I could see the mauve shadings in the rock at the cooper mine. The muted colors of stone were the contoured plateaus left after all the copper and minerals were removed, processed and shipped all over the world. Thus leaving a huge man-made sculpture which will never host any living flora or fauna again.
One person, driving by in early model Ford van, saw that I was out of my vehicle exploring the area dressed in a skirt, blouse, cowboy boots and my white lab coat. He automatically assumed that my transportation was completely incapacitated. I reassured him otherwise. Just grateful that he was a friendly type and not some loner living alone in the hills because he has strong disdain for other human beings and harbors dreadful, harmful thoughts towards all others - especially conceptual artists who also happen to work in the medical field. What I won’t risk for my patients ---- and art!
One person, driving by in early model Ford van, saw that I was out of my vehicle exploring the area dressed in a skirt, blouse, cowboy boots and my white lab coat. He automatically assumed that my transportation was completely incapacitated. I reassured him otherwise. Just grateful that he was a friendly type and not some loner living alone in the hills because he has strong disdain for other human beings and harbors dreadful, harmful thoughts towards all others - especially conceptual artists who also happen to work in the medical field. What I won’t risk for my patients ---- and art!
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Historical Marker - Highway 70 October 26, 2010
This is the time of the year that huge rolling tumble weeds become road kill. My car hurls towards the tan skeletons of the plants crossing the road and BAM. Shreds of their existence fly into the wind. I’ve heard this is the time of year that some people collect, spray paint and shape them into festive trees for the upcoming December holidays. Save a pine tree, harvest a tumble weed.
Placed, documented and photographed #63 on a historical marker which sign read, "In 1846, General Kearney’s ARMY OF THE WEST guided by Kit Carson followed the Gila River from New Mexico to the occupation of California in the Mexican War. Thus opening the southern snowfree route to the Pacific Coast."
Placed, documented and photographed #63 on a historical marker which sign read, "In 1846, General Kearney’s ARMY OF THE WEST guided by Kit Carson followed the Gila River from New Mexico to the occupation of California in the Mexican War. Thus opening the southern snowfree route to the Pacific Coast."
Sunday, November 14, 2010
City of Safford/Graham County Library - October 26, 2010
One of the nice features around this type of year is that some of the leaves that fall from my eucalyptus tree - get crunchy. When one picks up a dried eucalyptus and crunches it up between their fingers - a wonderful pungent smell is emitted. The gift of cooler days and nights in the desert.
It’s been awhile since I’ve done anything with the Cowboy and Indian Found Art Project. On October 1, 2010, my first horse, Princess Lulu, had to be put down due to her cancerous tumor in her eye. Then the other horse, who shared the corral with Lulu and was her adopted mother, Lady Latte called out for companion all that weekend - day and night. Since that day, I feel as if a train as run right through my heart. My healing process has been impacted by my hospice work. Loss, death, grief, are all around me, each and every day.
Princess Lulu may have been the first horse I’ve owned, however, she wasn’t my favorite.
She stealthily taught my other horses how to get into the dog and chicken feed. When it came to administering minor first aid, applying on bug repellent or giving her apple flavored worm paste - she would run circles around the corral. That horse would do anything and everything to avoid me. My impressionable young filly, Lady Latte, started to imitate Princess Lulu’s behavior. I hired a professional horse trainer to "undo" all Lady’s unwanted behavior. Going solo on the trail, quail - a bird she was quite familiar with in the corral or on the property - freaked her out. She acted as if they were flying Pterodactyl dinosaurs coming just for her.
However, her strongest asset shined around other horses and riders. Princess Lulu, wearing no horse shoes, was fearless and sure-footed. I felt completely safe when I rode her up Mt. Graham on the tiniest, rocky trail. That horse was fearless.
Another feature of this time of year is when the ofrendas (altars) are put up and decorated in the City of Safford/Graham County Library in tribute of the Hispanic holiday, Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead). It’s during this time period that people from our community put photos of their deceased loved ones, calaveras (colorfully decorated iced sugar skulls), Pan de Muerto (specially baked bread), flowers and candles on the altars.
Papel Picado (colorful Mexican paper cuttings) hang in swags above the altars.
Along with the photos of my grandmothers, grandpa and uncle was a photo of Lulu and I.
It was a photo that was taken when she and I delivered some baked goods to one of our hospice patients. This man’s last request was to spend some time with a horse before he died. We obliged. The man died later on that day. He got his wish.
I decided to put place, photograph and document art piece #64 on one of the altars. After the altars come down, I’ll discreetly place #64 outside of the library. Yeah, the cowboys and indians of long ago are dead and so is Princess Lulu. Just pleasant memories just like the smell of eucalyptus leaves on my skin.
It’s been awhile since I’ve done anything with the Cowboy and Indian Found Art Project. On October 1, 2010, my first horse, Princess Lulu, had to be put down due to her cancerous tumor in her eye. Then the other horse, who shared the corral with Lulu and was her adopted mother, Lady Latte called out for companion all that weekend - day and night. Since that day, I feel as if a train as run right through my heart. My healing process has been impacted by my hospice work. Loss, death, grief, are all around me, each and every day.
Princess Lulu may have been the first horse I’ve owned, however, she wasn’t my favorite.
She stealthily taught my other horses how to get into the dog and chicken feed. When it came to administering minor first aid, applying on bug repellent or giving her apple flavored worm paste - she would run circles around the corral. That horse would do anything and everything to avoid me. My impressionable young filly, Lady Latte, started to imitate Princess Lulu’s behavior. I hired a professional horse trainer to "undo" all Lady’s unwanted behavior. Going solo on the trail, quail - a bird she was quite familiar with in the corral or on the property - freaked her out. She acted as if they were flying Pterodactyl dinosaurs coming just for her.
However, her strongest asset shined around other horses and riders. Princess Lulu, wearing no horse shoes, was fearless and sure-footed. I felt completely safe when I rode her up Mt. Graham on the tiniest, rocky trail. That horse was fearless.
Another feature of this time of year is when the ofrendas (altars) are put up and decorated in the City of Safford/Graham County Library in tribute of the Hispanic holiday, Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead). It’s during this time period that people from our community put photos of their deceased loved ones, calaveras (colorfully decorated iced sugar skulls), Pan de Muerto (specially baked bread), flowers and candles on the altars.
Papel Picado (colorful Mexican paper cuttings) hang in swags above the altars.
Along with the photos of my grandmothers, grandpa and uncle was a photo of Lulu and I.
It was a photo that was taken when she and I delivered some baked goods to one of our hospice patients. This man’s last request was to spend some time with a horse before he died. We obliged. The man died later on that day. He got his wish.
I decided to put place, photograph and document art piece #64 on one of the altars. After the altars come down, I’ll discreetly place #64 outside of the library. Yeah, the cowboys and indians of long ago are dead and so is Princess Lulu. Just pleasant memories just like the smell of eucalyptus leaves on my skin.
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