Abashed.

The blog has slid out of my ritual and habits.
It is the probably the most common ailment of these thousands and thousands of bloggers. And, well, I caught it.
Part of it is the return to school, part of it is the fact that I’ve kept working in the studio and am exploring new things, part of it is reading through the articles I’m evaluating for DWAA* awards, and part is just ailment.

Just to catch up then.

Maudie and I are now working twice a month at 2 different locations. One in our neighborhood and one a little outside of it.
The second is the library where we started and even though the time is a little inconvenient: Tues pm after a full day of teaching, I can’t give it up. Too many possibilities. There are the 4th grade girls who Maudie adores, most of whom read as well as my college students, and some who need more practice. She really enjoys them. Our last reader, when she was done, sat on the floor with Maudie’s head in her lap while her mom rubbed her tummy. She looked up at me with a “this really IS the life” look.

The Maudie fan club grows wherever she goes. It is clear to see why.
a. she’s arrestingly beautiful
b. she’s personable
c. she’s gentle
When she meets people, she sits square in front of them, looks them right in the face with soft eyes and offers a paw. Her posture is one of humility and delight: her ears are back. Yet she retains her queenliness: she is sitting straight up when she offers her “hand.”

The kids love it when she lies down next to them with that big “ooof” which I have told them is her sound of contentment. And it is.
She sounds like a lion when she slides to the floor and groans. It is a happy song.

I am very very proud of her. When she is working and her eyes turn to mine to check in, I am filled with honor to be her partner.


* Dog Writers Assoc. of America

where i've been

When someone says they don’t have time for something, I think often it means exactly that…but in my case lately it’s not so much literal as it is a matter of focus.

In any given day there are many hours, you’d think an hour could be set aside, in fragments if need be, to write a blog entry…

unless, like me, you are shaping your days to circumvent a tendency towards ADD and channel it instead into the studio. I have a show in August and the pieces are due at the gallery tomorrow.

This means that for the last 2 months I have been writing statements, taking hundreds of digital photos, hunting down obscure and tiny objects of exactly the right size, and tools that will do exactly what I need them to do. (I discovered “Mod Podge” which is like an acrylic medium married to Elmer’s glue, for instance, and I’m in love with it…. )

I have 3 years worth of work that I need to finish and resolve and shape into a coherent whole; it’s kind of like directing a play. And this takes a lot of unfocused focus.

During “normal life” I work slowly but almost constantly and 80% of the time on a subconscious level. When it comes time to make mind into matter, I need to show up in a very specific way. So either I’m in the studio or I’m riding my bike, (talking about or thinking about bikes) or I’m with the animals.

We have been doing our Library work, and going to class and to the park. And some of the work, the signature piece of the show, is about Maudie’s pedigree. It’s on the card. Here:



SO that’s why this room, The 4th Dog, room has been so dark. Thanks for staying tuned.

If you’re in Portland, the show opens on August 5.

PDX Contemporary Art
925 NW Flanders Street
Portland, OR 97209
503 222 0063
www.pdxcontemporaryart.com

Amber Alerts for Pets

http://www.findtoto.com/
I saw this on another blog I read and wanted to post it here. I can not imagine how devestated I'd be if I lost one of my little tribe....
It is good for both lost and found pets...check it out....pass it on....

What a Brute is Spring

Spring is well into its adolescence here in the Pacific Northwest. She's trying on Summer's clothes and pouring 90 degree heat down over us. The azaleas have unclenched their tiny fists of color in the lace of new leavesand wilt a little; the clematis snakes its fingers out to feel the wall and the tulips hold their cups up for water. The earth that was black with rain dries and cracks; a tornado of scent swirls in the dust. The evening bruises with color. Branches of the butterfly bush shoot out in chaos. The night aches with growing.

In the morning I watch my little dogs flash -- white and red and black-- and strike poses in the green green grass. I notice that Gus’s chest has filled out; his ruff carves an elegant “S” starting just under his jaw. Flynn’s soundness echoes in the air, all legs firm beneath her.

As she marches away from me in the grass grown too high, I can see the curve of her hip and thigh under the wide flow of her satiny culottes. She is eight this month, and I feel time moving away from me, as surely as this new season crashes in from above and below. Everything new is coming into form; everything is already aging and moving away. In the stalk of the daffodil is its wilting…in the fullness of my dog’s age is her leaving.

The strangest thing is going on....It's a gloomy damp Saturday here in the Willamette Valley and I can hear what sounds like THOUSANDS of angry crows very close by...An actual riot of crows...
I feel like I'm in The Birds 2.

They've been rioting for over 5 minutes now...and the jays are starting to squawk as well. One lawn mower is buzzing obliviously.

It's kind of scary....the dogs are snoring through it.

Sonny Has a Bath

but he hates to have his ears blown dry....so we let them air dry, and he is grateful.

Maudie Visits the Chiropractor

My dogs have a chiropractor. He is a strange and gifted soul.

Flynn first went to him after the 3rd time I found her under the table
shaking so hard I thought her muscles would spring. The vet’s diagnosis was constipation and she spent the day in hospital with a subQ line and periodic emptying….and the 3rd time we went to our favorite vet who looked t the X rays of her bowels and said it was probably her back that was behind all the trouble. So up the I-5 we trundled to see the guy all the dogs see. She has been seeing him once a month or so for a year and is doing fine.

I love the relationship they have. He says “Hello Beautiful” and looks into her eyes, and she looks back with her dark dark liquid eyes full of feeling. I love watching him work, one hand moving in little circles on the bottom of his clipboard, the other searching out the places where the road has buckled. All the while Flynnie is still looking at his face, trying to read his roadmap.

Last time we went I mentioned Maudie’s seizure and told him about my suspicions regarding the Interceptor. His response was too complicated for me to quite follow (darn it), but I kept hearing the right words, like blood brain barrier, cerebellum, liver…and so I brought her in the next week.

She was nervous being in the little room at first, certain she was at the vet’s and certain she didn’t want to be there, but he worked his charm on her. He spent long minutes adjusting her atlas, slowly slowly, and at one point she stopped fidgeting, sighed and held very still. Bingo. She practically fell asleep. Below the sound outside of chainsaws and lawn mowers we listened to her breathe.

On our way out she actually leaped up as I got her in the wagon and I think her energy has been brighter. Today we went for our second visit. She was panting and pacing at first, but by the time we left, she was all melted and calm and sad to see him go.

I have no doubt that he is helping both my girls. It’s not just about moving pieces of bone back into place, it’s about lining up the planets of the body so that energy moves freely; on ball bearings rolling…up and down from head to tail, out their eyes and back again.