Nature, nature Pensive stature Reds, yellows, and oranges Blues, greens, and violets. We marvel at thy breadth Mountain heights and ocean's depths Morning dew on summer leaves Icicles on winter trees. Nature, nature Golden stature Dirt...hydrogen...oxygen...burns Air...water...fire...and earth... We marvel at thy breadth Glorious heights and cosmos' stars Moonlight shades of autumn wind Early buds of April spring.
With all the madness going on in the world, it's good to sit back once in a while and hang with real musicians, such as these folks who entertained onlookers at Washington Square Park in the summer of 2007; where was I in the subsequent summers of 2008 and 2009?—I wonder. Too bad I didn't come up to find out the group's name then. Hopefully, they'll be out there again this summer. The prospect of great music at the park for free is too good to miss, even if later you should feel like dropping a bill or two in their container. It's still a breath of fresh air from all the mess around us.
Zipping through life leaves me befuddled, aside from breathless. So, for my sake, as this blog is practically my journal—I record more of the thoughts my reeling mind churns out here and also on pieces of paper and napkins than in my actual, old-fashioned, hard bound journals—I need to log a few things that happened this summer, and maybe even events that took place in recent years, that they don’t just become random fragments floating in my already cluttered head and promoting further congestion. I need to unload them here.
First, The Hudson County Waterfront Clean-up. It was such a hot day in June at the park by the bay. But it was also such a pleasant thing to help clean a small part of Newark Bay with other responsible, earth-conscious individuals. My family's looking forward to participating again next year to help reduce the garbage defacing our earth, right here in our small part of the world, because every little effort, every little hand, and every little heart counts.
Next is Liberty State Park's 34th Annual Cultural Arts Festival, which The Hudson Artists of New Jerseyparticipated in. Here’s the always delightful chairperson, Marge Colavito, who is a truly remarkable artist and also the association's chairperson. She holds painting classes for anyone interested at The Upstairs Art Gallery, where she also offers services such as framing and art concession.And here’s a glimpse of my hand-painted shirts for a sample sale. Of course, the event showcased many impressive works by other artists, one of who had his paintings printed on shirts,and I, being an artist who likes to support other artist/artisans who passionately put their hearts and souls into their handmade products, just had to buy a couple of those creative shirts, one for my husband and the other for my brother.
Speaking of my brother, he is also an artist, and is quite exceptional as well, especially for someone who just recently graduated with a Fine Arts degree and hasn’t had any professional experience. Here’s a glimpse of his work in sculpture and the eagle in the Senior Art Exhibit 2008 poster pictured below. He had already bequeathed three of his original pieces to me—the eagle done in graphite (shown in the picture), a pelican in pastel, and another bird in acrylic are all perched in my hallway. They look so realistic that I could almost hear the birds sing. Well…
Anyway, here's a video of him painting with his class at the University of Guam. (I envy their al fresco ambiance; which painter wouldn't be inspired to paint the colors of nature? Surely, the bright and boundless nature can always spark something magical to transpire. You just have to keep your eyes open...and you'll see the guy, with a white shirt and a full head—thick hair—standing while he paints; that's my brother :)
Finally, Fourth of July was nice and relaxing this year, just like last year, and unlike in 2005, when we camped at Liberty State Park and trekked back to the light rail station when the fireworks were over, which was quite grueling with all our packs burdening our backs as we guided our son through the exodus in the dark. There was one consolation. Yoda communed with us...
This time, we just sat by our town’s Waterfront Park while the fireworks fascinated us. See…
On my next posting: trip to Salem last year, coffee shops, Strands Bookstore, Gray’s Papaya Hotdogs, summer at the Washington Square Park in the village and Ocean Grove beach, this year’s Halloween, and a few other happenings yet to be mentioned...I hope...
One day, it suddenly hit me that all the late writers, artists, and other historical figures I’ve ever been curious to read about lived to an average of seventy to eighty-five years. But of course, that’s the standard life span. It’s true for even my few departed kin and acquaintances; my grandfather, whom I adored, died when he was 84 years old, while my grandma is still running at 84, in which case I hope she’d continue to beat the odds. Using the same general principle on mortality, and unless I suddenly get stricken by lightning or suffer some other awful accident, I realized that I probably won’t get to live past the 2050s. And this stunned me to the point of near paralysis, though very briefly, like for twenty-four seconds. No matter what people say, especially talks about faith and heaven or some other mystical utopia, it’s simply terrifying to have to acknowledge the sheer bleakness of life, which is ironically called death. It’s funny that phrases like “the average life span...” or “he or she lived to be...” normally grace our conversations, literary publications, and entertainment media, as just another day's minutiae and probably flit through our consciousness much less than going for oil change. But while it may very well be just an everyday trifle, it can be quite disturbing when you come face to face with this undeniably dire subject of mortality.
A basic antidote to such forbidding pictures like the one painted above: Nature. Below are twenty-four and 12 second bits at Ocean Grove beach. Brilliant Beach and Blue Skies.
It was such a 
