Allen Ward in 1977
Thursday, March 31, 2005
On The Farm
Jaime with a Chicken.
Masha tells me that this was taken on Doc McCann's farm in Ozark, Missouri.
They chicken may have become dinner.
A Life Worth Blogging
My uncle Jaime has a weblog now, titled "A Life Worth Living." He's been taking pictures with an old camera these days so I can see why he would want a place to put them. It's really a lot easier to share them that way. invite people to come and see instead of cluttering emails with more files that need to be saved. Actually Gmail Has so much space theres little need to worry at the moment. Let them fill it up.
Sunday, March 27, 2005
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
Botch Venus
This image represents lost potential due to shyness. Venus framed is not fully naked and does not share the truth of her love. Aware of loves disruptive potential she hesitates to enter the world, and we carefully frame this birth to protect our own sensibilities.
Sunday, March 13, 2005
Friday, March 11, 2005
Good By Again
I was nearly a year before I learned that my father had died.
The last time I had heard from him was in early 2000.
I wrote a letter telling him I was well and alive and sent it to an address at the University of Tennessee where he retired. His reply was some what cold as he expressed his concern over hearing from me and stated that he did not wish to hear any further.
He did give a false address and phone number for my sister in Eugene Oregon. He also included a small wallet sized portrait of hiself.
In my letter, I asked about family photographs. Since he had always been an amateur photographer documenting every striking event, I infered that he might be able to share some of the archives of our joint family history.
One head shot was all I got.
He also criticized my writing as Victorian and demanded information about my college education which he had left up to me, ignoring the wishes of my uncle Horace Cecil Fisher who entrusted him with funds to see me through undergraduate school.
I did not take his inquiriy seriously since he had already stated that I should not attempt to contact him or my mother directly and the 'Victorian remark probably had to do with somthing I said in ninteen eighty four (1984.) just before I was married. I was attepting to help my ex (and only) girlfriend with her unplanned pregnancy.
The marriage did not last long.
Afterwards he 'took care,' of my wife. she was a welcome guest at their home and i was not.
We stopped speaking by phone in '87 or '88.
My sister would call sometimes and extract information from me. When I told her that i was uncomfortable talking to her when i knew that she would tell our parents, she announced that she was abused as a child and that i would pay for it eventually.
So when George Wheeler passed away in 2002, she never told me about it. she also put out obituaries that ommited my name.
I called in 2003 when I found out. and I sent a sympathy card to Margaret Wheeler. I don't know that she recieved it. eventually I talked to Alice. she seemed to feel that it was wrong of me to talk to my mother. She promised to send me photographs and a geneology that my father had been compiling. None of it ever materialized. Alice did send an old folder of school reports around Christmas time along with an old record of mine and abook that my father had given me. "Dreams in the Mirror," by Richard Kennedy with a dedication by the author "to a Physicist who reads." Alice later told me that she thought that I would like something of "Dad's" and she probably did not realize that he had given me the same book years before.
I'm still trying to find a fitting memorial for my father and also for myself, for the fantasy that I had where in we wold be reunited and be happy again, for just one holiday. It is about time that i buried that wish and moved on with my life.
The last time I had heard from him was in early 2000.
I wrote a letter telling him I was well and alive and sent it to an address at the University of Tennessee where he retired. His reply was some what cold as he expressed his concern over hearing from me and stated that he did not wish to hear any further.
He did give a false address and phone number for my sister in Eugene Oregon. He also included a small wallet sized portrait of hiself.
In my letter, I asked about family photographs. Since he had always been an amateur photographer documenting every striking event, I infered that he might be able to share some of the archives of our joint family history.
One head shot was all I got.
He also criticized my writing as Victorian and demanded information about my college education which he had left up to me, ignoring the wishes of my uncle Horace Cecil Fisher who entrusted him with funds to see me through undergraduate school.
I did not take his inquiriy seriously since he had already stated that I should not attempt to contact him or my mother directly and the 'Victorian remark probably had to do with somthing I said in ninteen eighty four (1984.) just before I was married. I was attepting to help my ex (and only) girlfriend with her unplanned pregnancy.
The marriage did not last long.
Afterwards he 'took care,' of my wife. she was a welcome guest at their home and i was not.
We stopped speaking by phone in '87 or '88.
My sister would call sometimes and extract information from me. When I told her that i was uncomfortable talking to her when i knew that she would tell our parents, she announced that she was abused as a child and that i would pay for it eventually.
So when George Wheeler passed away in 2002, she never told me about it. she also put out obituaries that ommited my name.
I called in 2003 when I found out. and I sent a sympathy card to Margaret Wheeler. I don't know that she recieved it. eventually I talked to Alice. she seemed to feel that it was wrong of me to talk to my mother. She promised to send me photographs and a geneology that my father had been compiling. None of it ever materialized. Alice did send an old folder of school reports around Christmas time along with an old record of mine and abook that my father had given me. "Dreams in the Mirror," by Richard Kennedy with a dedication by the author "to a Physicist who reads." Alice later told me that she thought that I would like something of "Dad's" and she probably did not realize that he had given me the same book years before.
I'm still trying to find a fitting memorial for my father and also for myself, for the fantasy that I had where in we wold be reunited and be happy again, for just one holiday. It is about time that i buried that wish and moved on with my life.
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
Monday, March 07, 2005
Who is Negroponte?
From 1981 to 1985, Negroponte was the US ambassador to Honduras, a country that was being used as a training and staging ground for the CIA-created and -backed Contra armies, who relied on a terrorist strategy of targeting civilians.
(more...)
(more...)
Recurrent History
It started when the government, in the midst of an economic crisis, received reports of an imminent terrorist attack. A foreign ideologue had launched feeble attacks on a few famous buildings, but the media largely ignored his relatively small efforts. The intelligence services knew, however, that the odds were he would eventually succeed. (Historians are still arguing whether or not rogue elements in the intelligence service helped the terrorist. (continue...)
via man over board
terrorist attack
Friday, March 04, 2005
Central Casting
Thursday, March 03, 2005
It has been a month or so since I went in to Central Casting at The Art Center.
'W.' called and told Masha that he was looking forward to seeing us there and that he could get us a ride and that our lab fees were paid for.
Of course I haven't been there because my car stalls and doesn't run and because I've had some lingering Flu-like thing invading my bodily processes for the past month. And It's been Rainy Florida winter with moderate temperatures and gloomy skies.
A few days have been that perfect weather that inspires folks to move here. But there is a lot of rain and that is a good thin despite being miserable. At least it's not a hurricane, nor the devastating heat of June, July and August.
With no Air Conditioning in the car, I dread the summer.
But at least moving fast ameliorates the condition where the air temperature is higher than the average 98.* degrees that human blood generally boils.Fortunately casting is a nocturnal adventure. we try to run the workshop from three until nine in the evening, although we often start late and end late.the problem is that we need at least three hours to burn out a flask. when there are several, it can take longer and it is hard to get them to burn out if they are wet and freshly invested and the kiln is full. they need to be stable at around 1200 degrees for an hour and then cooled to 800 degrees to ensure consistency. getting four people to be that consistent is difficult. especially if they all are artists. On the other hand ceramics people seem to work it out quite well.
The problem is that G. is depressed and I am having trouble making enough wax models to bring in. W. on the other hand is staying very busy and he has every intention of making enough money to survive. G is not. she has the opportunity and the talent but it looks like old habits are getting the better of her.
It has been a month or so since I went in to Central Casting at The Art Center.
'W.' called and told Masha that he was looking forward to seeing us there and that he could get us a ride and that our lab fees were paid for.
Of course I haven't been there because my car stalls and doesn't run and because I've had some lingering Flu-like thing invading my bodily processes for the past month. And It's been Rainy Florida winter with moderate temperatures and gloomy skies.
A few days have been that perfect weather that inspires folks to move here. But there is a lot of rain and that is a good thin despite being miserable. At least it's not a hurricane, nor the devastating heat of June, July and August.
With no Air Conditioning in the car, I dread the summer.
But at least moving fast ameliorates the condition where the air temperature is higher than the average 98.* degrees that human blood generally boils.Fortunately casting is a nocturnal adventure. we try to run the workshop from three until nine in the evening, although we often start late and end late.the problem is that we need at least three hours to burn out a flask. when there are several, it can take longer and it is hard to get them to burn out if they are wet and freshly invested and the kiln is full. they need to be stable at around 1200 degrees for an hour and then cooled to 800 degrees to ensure consistency. getting four people to be that consistent is difficult. especially if they all are artists. On the other hand ceramics people seem to work it out quite well.
The problem is that G. is depressed and I am having trouble making enough wax models to bring in. W. on the other hand is staying very busy and he has every intention of making enough money to survive. G is not. she has the opportunity and the talent but it looks like old habits are getting the better of her.
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