Thursday, February 28, 2013

Draw A Picture - Avoid Paying the Check

A card sent by Pablo Picasso as a New Year's greeting in 1919 included good wishes and a hand-drawn sketch of a holiday table. It was signed "Olga and Pablo" (Olga was Picasso's wife). Swann Galleries sold it on Nov. 29, 2012, for $27,600. It's a record price for any signed Picasso postcard sold at auction. 

Of course. There's a story told that Picasso always drew a sketch on the back of every check he sent to pay a bill. He knew that almost everyone would save the check without cashing it--because the picture made the check worth more than its face value.

Monday, February 25, 2013

Searching For Sugarman

Searching for Sugar Man is a Swedish/British documentary detailing the efforts of two Cape Town fans, Stephen 'Sugar' Segerman and Craig Bartholomew Strydom, to find out if the rumored death of American musician Rodriguez is true. Rodriguez's music, which never took off in the US had become wildly popular in South Africa but little was known about him there. In February, 2013 this won the Academy Award for Best Documentary Feature.

Thursday, February 21, 2013

Bittersweet Easter Anniversary

I just finished this cross that took HOURS to paint & is mixed with a few tears. I'm feeling the blues, purples & reds of passion & sorrow as my dad's face fades.... I cannot believe it's been almost a year (!) since his passing. I understand that 'sweet' sorrow saying more now; all the feelings that get so mixed up into the jumbled mourning bag of memories.

He would have liked this I think. He used to call me his 'mourning' child when my teen angst wardrobe existed largely of black, black & black accessories. Many more of the bright colors of this cross have been added over the years.

It's been a complicated year & has turned our family's focus to my mom who is fading in her own way now. Part of the angst is FEAR I'm sure; WHO IS this man or woman-child when the generation before us has gone? I've heard the term 'orphan' bantered around a lot this past year as friends parents continue to exit. We feel so much of the promise of life as our babies strain down the canal into the light! Later it calls up the promise of death as we barrel ever faster in our own arching towards the light beyond. It seems to me that terror of how rapidly TIME seems to SPEED UP is really the slippery slope towards our acceptance of our own mortality.

The night before my dad died we spoke on the phone & when I asked him how he was doing he asked me, 'Why is this taking so long?!' I could hear his exhaustion & found myself apologizing for the length of time it was taking for him to go. Everyone had said their goodbyes, including him & this last conversation seemed futile somehow. I remember sitting there listening to his shallow breath before I hung up.

The next morning I awoke from a really deep sleep; two hours after he passed, the phone ringing again. I went in to the bathroom later & from the next room I felt & heard the only comforting sign of his passing then or since. His now calm, strong & steady breathing, before it slowly faded away....