HER-story:

With words and images, I am telling my story. Through art, through sculpture, I am remembering HERstory...
CASIMIRA

Thursday, November 30

and then he kissed me


"Well, he walked up to me and he asked me if I wanted to dance.

He looked kinda nice and so I said I might take a chance.

When he danced he held me tight.

And when he walked me home that night, all the stars were shining bright.

And then he kissed me.

Each time I saw him I couldn't wait to see him again.

I wanted to let him know that he was more than a friend.

I didn't know just what to do,
So I whispered I love you.

And he said that he loved me too
And then he kissed me.

He kissed me in a way that I've never been kissed before,
He kissed me in a way that I wanna be kissed forever more.

I knew that he was mine so I gave him all the love that I had.

And one day he took me home to meet his mon and his dad.

Then he asked me to be his bride,
And always be right by his side.

I felt so happy I almost cried
And then he kissed me..."

- Phil Spector, Ellie Greenwich & Jeff Barry

my lips, selfie from today 


Wednesday, November 29

cuando tardas y demoras y hace tiempo que no vuelves y se retarda nuestro encuentro


"El amor es un bolsa de recuerdos
es un grito, una mirada entre los dos
es un abismo sin final
el esfuerzo de tu manos con las mias
la caricia de un buen beso y sin medida

Es sentirse mas que dos cuando caminas
es gastarse en una boca el corazon...

El amor es asertijo, es el pecado santigual
es la locura de los sexos, el sudor de nuestros huesos
y es un punto de partida en nuestra vida
que nos cega la mirada y nos lastima

Es sentirse mas que dos cuando caminas
es gastarse en una boca el corazon...

El amor es mi extructura, es la palabra
las esquinas de tu boca, la verdad
es pilar que me sostiene cuando siento que estoy solo
cuando tardas y demoras en volver

Cuando tardas y demoras
y hace tiempo que no vuelves
y se retarda nuestro encuentro es mi amor el que soporta
y es mi muro elaborado con heridas
el que inyecta su veneno y asi vivo

Es sentirse mas que dos cuando caminas
es gastarse en una boca el corazon...

El amor es complicado acurrucarlo
cuando decide marcharse del lugar donde aparco
el amor es nuestro punto de partida
es sentirse mas que dos cuando caminas
es tu pierna entre cruzada, que me anima la garganta
y te canto esta cancion

El amor es mi estructura, es la palabra
las esquinas de tu boca, la verdad
es pilar que me sostiene cuando siento que estoy solo
cuando tardas y demoras en volver

El amor es no espantarse a las miradas
es querer vivir el tiempo un poco mas
es pilar que me sostiene, cuando siento que estoy solo
cuando tardas y demoras en volver..."

- PERROZOMPOPO


Tuesday, November 28

move on


"Your past is over!

By bonding to your past, you not only ensure that you'll be immobilized today, but you prevent yourself from healing...

In a universe that's an intelligent system with a divine creative force supporting it, there simply can be no accidents.  As tough as it is to acknowledge, you had to go through what you went through in order to get to where you are today, and the evidence is that you did.  Every spiritual advance that you will make in your life will very likely be preceded by some kind of fall or seeming disaster.  Those dark times, accidents, illnesses, abuses, and broken dreams were ALL IN ORDER...

Practice living in the moment, and REFUSE to allow any thoughts based on your past to define you.  Stop and take notice of all that's in your immediate space - the people, creatures, vegetation, cloud formations, building designs, everything.  Stay in the present by meditating and getting closer to the ultimate now...God.

Your past history and all of your hurts are no longer here in your physical reality.  Don't allow them to be here in your mind, muddying your present moments.  Your life is like a play with several acts.  Some of the characters who enter have short roles to play, others, much larger.  Some are villains and others are good guys.  But all of them are NECESSARY, otherwise they wouldn't be in the play.  Embrace them all, and move on to the next act."
- Dr. Wayne Dyer


2013 limited edition mixed media on paper

Monday, November 27

Estrella Maruca


The story-poem is about a little star who dreams of becoming a mother...it was written for my beloved Grandmother, in her honor:

Un día, una estrellita muy bonita fue hablar con el Padre Sol, pidiéndole un gran favor. 

- Padre, yo sueño con ser Madre. Quisiera vivir en la tierra para sentir y amar hasta llorar.

--- Estrellita, hija mía, tu lugar es en el cielo, de donde puedes alumbrar y atravez de esa luz, amar.

- O, Padre Sol, te pido que me dejes caminar el mundo. Prometo llevar conmigo el manto de nuestra Madre María, ya que es por Ella que sueño con ser Madre un día.

excerpt from "Estrella Maruca" © 2005

Sunday, November 26

almost


“You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone forever. 

I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it..."

- Jane Austen (1775 - 1817)


Saturday, November 25

divine prey is always near my dear


"Why abstain from love when like the beautiful snow goose - someday your soul will leave this summer camp?
Why abstain from happiness, when like a skilled lion your heart is nearing and will someday see the divine prey is always near!"
- my beloved HAFIZ

self-portrait from a series

Friday, November 24

something's gotta give

- 2013 mixed media on paper -

When an irresistible force such as you
Meets and old immovable object like me
You can bet as sure as you live
Something's gotta give
Something's gotta give
Something's gotta give
When an irrepressible smile such as yours
Warms an old implacable heart such as mine
Don't say no because I insist
Somewhere, somehow
Someone's gonna be kissed
So En Garde who knows what the fates have in store
From their vast mysterious sky?
I'll try hard ignoring those lips I adore
But how long can anyone try?
Fight, fight, fight, fight, fight it with all of our might
Chances are some heavenly star spangled night
We'll find out as sure as we live
Something's gotta give
Something's gotta give
Something's gotta give
-  original music and lyrics by Johnny Mercer, sung by Ella Fitzgerald





Thursday, November 23

so I danced


Dance, when you're broken open.

Dance, if you've torn the bandage off.

Dance in the middle of the fighting.

Dance in your blood.

Dance, when you're perfectly free.

- RUMI

mixed media on paper from my journals 

Wednesday, November 22

generations


my mother holding my daughter...

I am truly blessed...

happy birthday Mamma, Mimi...



Tuesday, November 21

disassembled


"He sweeps his arm across plates and glasses on a restaurant table so she might look up somewhere else in the city hearing this cause of noise. When he is without her. He, who has never felt alone in the miles of longitude between desert towns...He lies in his room surrounded by the pale maps. He is without her. His hunger wishes to burn down all social rules, all courtesy. Her life with others no longer interests him. He wants only her stalking beauty, her theatre of expressions. He wants the minute and secret reflection between them, the depth of field minimal, their foreignness intimate like two pages of a closed book.  He has been disassembled by her..."

- Michael Ondaatje


Monday, November 20

reality is merely an illusion


"The Australian Aborigines believe that two separate realities exist: that of everyday life, and that of the dreamtime, the timeless realm from which energy beings (the gods) first sung the world into existence. The dreamtime is the domain of song and poetry, of symbols and archetypes; the shamans believe that it's the more important of the two realities, for it births, shapes, and forms the physical world. They'd probably agree with Einstein, who said, 'Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one.'

In our own culture, we've come to value our waking reality so much that we've forgotten our power to conceive from the invisible world of the dreamtime and co-create with the universe."
- Alberto Villoldo

from childhood I learned that I could receive messages through dreams...

ideas for my artwork and poetry often originate in vivid, detailed dreams...

Sunday, November 19

dame de tu boca esa furia loca


"Ay, Rosa, Rosa tan maravillosa 

como blanca diosa, 

como flor hermosa 

tu amor me condena 
a la dulce pena de sufrir... 

Ay, Rosa, Rosa dame de tu boca 

esa furia loca 

que mi amor provoca 

que me causa llanto 
por quererte tanto, 
sólo a ti. 

Ay, Rosa, Rosa eres orgullosa 

y sin contemplarme 

tu fe se destroza 

mientras tanto yo 
agonizo por ti, ay! 

Ay, Rosa dame todos tus sueños 

dueño de tu amor quiero ser 

ay, dame de tu ayer las heridas 

vida, junto a mí has de tener, ay! 


Ay, Rosa, Rosa eres orgullosa 

y sin contemplarme 

tu fe se destroza 

mientras tanto yo 
agonizo por ti, ay! 


Ay, Rosa, Rosa pide lo que quieras 

pero nunca pidas 

que mi amor se muera 

si algo ha de morir, 
moriré yo por ti. 

Ay, Rosa! Ay, Rosa!"

- SANDRO



Saturday, November 18

kissing me



"Nothing can shatter this love. For even if you took another into your arms, the truth is, my sweetheart, you would still be kissing me." - HAFIZ




Friday, November 17

words made flesh


"Children show scars like medals.
Lovers use them as secrets to reveal. 
A scar is what happens when the word is made flesh."
- Leonard Cohen

limited edition prints from original mixed medias on paper




Thursday, November 16

as if you think


"...I know now, that I'm way down on your line, but the waiting feel is fine.  So don't treat me like a puppet on a string, cause I know I have to do my thing.  Don't talk to me as if you think I'm dumb...I don't wanna wait in vain for your love...It's me love that you're running from." 
- Bob Marley (1945-1981)

mixed media on paper


Wednesday, November 15

nothing and everything


"Turning your mind toward the dharma does not bring security or confirmation.  Turning your mind toward the dharma does not bring any ground to stand on.  In fact, when your mind turns toward the dharma, you fearlessly acknowledge impermanence and change and begin to get the knack of hopelessness.

In Tibetan there's an interesting word: ye tang che.  The ye part means "totally, completely," and the rest of it means "exhausted." Altogether, ye tang che means totally tired out.  We might say "totally fed up."  It describes an experience of complete hopelessness, of completely giving up hope.  This is an important point.  This is the beginning of the beginning.  Without giving up hope -- that there's somewhere better to be, that there's someone better to be -- we will never relax with where we are now or who we are.

To think that we can finally get it all together is unrealistic.  To seek for some lasting security is futile. To undo our very ancient and very stuck habitual patterns of mind requires that we begin to turn around some of our most basic assumptions.  Believing in a solid, separate self, continuing to seek pleasure and avoid pain, thinking that someone "out there" is to blame for our pain -- one has to get totally fed up with these ways of thinking.  One has to give up hope that this way of thinking will bring us satisfaction.  Suffering begins to dissolve when we can question the belief or the hope that there's anywhere to hide."

 - Pema Chodron


I bring it all to my meditation mat: the numbness, the emptiness, the anxiety, the loss, the boredom, the grief, the gratitude, the joy, the laughter, the exhaustion...without judgement.  I sit and breathe and simply honor what is going on at the moment.  I am more than feelings and emotions.  I am more than thoughts.  I am more and yet I am nothing and everything. 

from my journals 

snapshot: detail of a tree, inspiration for a series of paintings 


Tuesday, November 14

kick-start


"My hearts been picked up way too many times.

Wrong numbers fill my blood watch the spinning dials.

You can measure my pressure but I'll blow up in a second...

Don't put me on hold please...

Fly here and hold me.

He doesn't call me so put me through operator.

Maybe I'll leave him and fall in love with you operator...

So tell me should I leave him and fall in love with you...

The miles keep adding up voicemails of frustration.  Long-distance takes it's toll...


It's like I've got a broken trust and I need a kick-start...

Broken trust, broken trust..."


- LAPSLEY

a song I heard tonight and can't get out of my mind 

snapshot:  2017 mixed media on canvas 


Monday, November 13

sensual animal


"We have come to be danced
not the pretty dance
not the pretty pretty, pick me, pick me dance

but the claw our way back into the belly

of the sacred, sensual animal dance
the unhinged, unplugged, cat is out of its box dance
the holding the precious moment in the palms
of our hands and feet dance

We have come to be danced
not the jiffy booby, shake your booty for him dance
but the wring the sadness from our skin dance
the blow the chip off our shoulder dance
the slap the apology from our posture dance

We have come to be danced
not the monkey see, monkey do dance
one, two dance like you
one two three, dance like me dance
but the grave robber, tomb stalker
tearing scabs & scars open dance
the rub the rhythm raw against our souls dance

WE have come to be danced
not the nice invisible, self conscious shuffle
but the matted hair flying, voodoo mama
shaman shakin’ ancient bones dance
the strip us from our casings, return our wings
sharpen our claws & tongues dance
the shed dead cells and slip into
the luminous skin of love dance

We have come to be danced
not the hold our breath and wallow in the shallow end of the floor dance
but the meeting of the trinity: the body, breath & beat dance
the shout hallelujah from the top of our thighs dance
the mother may I?
yes you may take 10 giant leaps dance
the Olly Olly Oxen Free Free Free dance
the everyone can come to our heaven dance

We have come to be danced
where the kingdom’s collide
in the cathedral of flesh
to burn back into the light
to unravel, to play, to fly, to pray
to root in skin sanctuary
We have come to be danced
WE HAVE COME" 

- Jewel Mathieson


Sunday, November 12

caught like a fool

"I'm a fool for that shake in your thighs.

I'm a fool for that sound in your sighs.

I'm a fool for your belly.

I'm a fool for your love.

I want to make this plain.

Oh, I know your faded, but stay, don't close your eyes...

Caught in this pool held in your eyes.

Caught like a fool without a line.

We're in a natural spring,

With this gentle sting between us.

Stay, stay open..."

- RHYE


detail from mixed media on canvas,
2017


Saturday, November 11

you whisper more


“I want to see you. 

Know your voice. 

Recognize you when you first come 'round the corner. 

Sense your scent when I come into a room you've just left. 

Know the lift of your heel, the glide of your foot. 

Become familiar with the way you purse your lips then let them part, just the slightest bit, when I lean in to your space and kiss you. 

I want to know the joy of how you whisper "more”... - RUMI

detail from mixed media on canvas, 2017


Friday, November 10

wishing you were here


"Those kisses you sent, I found them wandering around the house. 

They were acting a little lost, not knowing exactly where I was. 

I was busy upstairs. 

But now we are all having tea and talking about you, and wishing you were here. 

And they imparted all you intended. They did well. 

One more thing: I have seen you at your best and at your worst; still you are always welcome near me."

- my beloved HAFIZ 

detail from mixed media on canvas, 2017


Thursday, November 9

abstinence and desire gratified


"Abstinence sows sand all over
The ruddy limbs and flaming hair,
But Desire Gratified
Plants fruits of life and beauty there."

- William Blake (1757-1827)

what do I most desire out of life?

what do I abstain from in life?

detail from mixed media on canvas, 2017

Wednesday, November 8

stolen kisses


"What large, dark hands are those at the window
Lifted, grasping the golden light
Which weaves its way through the creeper leaves
       To my heart's delight?

Ah, only the leaves! But in the west,
In the west I see a redness come
Over the evening's burning breast —
       — 'Tis the wound of love goes home!

The woodbine creeps abroad
Calling low to her lover:
The sun-lit flirt who all the day
Has poised above her lips in play
And stolen kisses, shallow and gay
Of pollen, now has gone away
— She woos the moth with her sweet, low word,
And when above her his broad wings hover
Then her bright breast she will uncover
And yield her honey-drop to her lover.

Into the yellow, evening glow
Saunters a man from the farm below,
Leans, and looks in at the low-built shed
Where hangs the swallow's marriage bed.
The bird lies warm against the wall.
She glances quick her startled eyes
Towards him, then she turns away
Her small head, making warm display
Of red upon the throat. His terrors sway
Her out of the nest's warm, busy ball,
Whose plaintive cry is heard as she flies
In one blue stoop from out the sties
Into the evening's empty hall.

Oh, water-hen, beside the rushes
Hide your quaint, unfading blushes,
Still your quick tail, and lie as dead,
Till the distance folds over his ominous tread.

The rabbit presses back her ears,
Turns back her liquid, anguished eyes
And crouches low: then with wild spring
Spurts from the terror of his oncoming
To be choked back, the wire ring
Her frantic effort throttling:
Piteous brown ball of quivering fears!

Ah soon in his large, hard hands she dies,
And swings all loose to the swing of his walk.
Yet calm and kindly are his eyes
And ready to open in brown surprise
Should I not answer to his talk
Or should he my tears surmise.

I hear his hand on the latch, and rise from my chair
Watching the door open: he flashes bare
His strong teeth in a smile, and flashes his eyes
In a smile like triumph upon me; then careless-wise
He flings the rabbit soft on the table board
And comes towards me: ah, the uplifted sword
Of his hand against my bosom, and oh, the broad
Blade of his hand that raises my face to applaud
His coming: he raises up my face to him
And caresses my mouth with his fingers, which still smell grim
Of the rabbit's fur! God, I am caught in a snare!
I know not what fine wire is round my throat,
I only know I let him finger there
My pulse of life, letting him nose like a stoat
Who sniffs with joy before he drinks the blood:
And down his mouth comes to my mouth, and down
His dark bright eyes descend like a fiery hood
Upon my mind: his mouth meets mine, and a flood
Of sweet fire sweeps across me, so I drown
Within him, die, and find death good."

- D. H. Lawrence 

detail from mixed media on canvas, 2017

Tuesday, November 7

destined for you with implacable sweetness


"Quiero que sepas
una cosa.

Tú sabes cómo es esto:
si miro
la luna de cristal, la rama roja 
del lento otoño en mi ventana, 
si toco
junto al fuego 
la impalpable ceniza
o el arrugado cuerpo de la leña, 
todo me lleva a ti, 
como si todo lo que existe, 
aromas, luz, metales, 
fueran pequeños barcos que navegan 
hacia las islas tuyas que me aguardan.

Ahora bien, 
si poco a poco dejas de quererme
dejaré de quererte poco a poco.

Si de pronto
me olvidas
no me busques,
que ya te habré olvidado.

Si consideras largo y loco 
el viento de banderas 
que pasa por mi vida 
y te decides
a dejarme a la orilla
del corazón en que tengo raíces,
piensa
que en ese día,
a esa hora
levantaré los brazos
y saldrán mis raíces
a buscar otra tierra.

Pero
si cada día, 
cada hora
sientes que a mí estás destinada 
con dulzura implacable.
Si cada día sube 
una flor a tus labios a buscarme, 
ay amor mío, ay mía, 
en mí todo ese fuego se repite, 
en mí nada se apaga ni se olvida, 
mi amor se nutre de tu amor, amada, 
y mientras vivas estará en tus brazos 
sin salir de los míos."

- Pablo Neruda


"I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is: 
if I look 
at the crystal moon, at the red branch 
of the slow autumn at my window, 
if I touch 
near the fire 
the impalpable ash 
or the wrinkled body of the log, 
everything carries me to you, 
as if everything that exists, 
aromas, light, metals, 
were little boats 
that sail 
toward those isles of yours that wait for me. 

Well, now, 
if little by little you stop loving me 
I shall stop loving you little by little. 

If suddenly 
you forget me 
do not look for me, 
for I shall already have forgotten you. 

If you think it long and mad, 
the wind of banners 
that passes through my life, 
and you decide 
to leave me at the shore 
of the heart where I have roots, 
remember 
that on that day, 
at that hour, 
I shall lift my arms 
and my roots will set off 
to seek another land. 

But 
if each day, 
each hour, 
you feel that you are destined for me 
with implacable sweetness, 
if each day a flower 
climbs up to your lips to seek me, 
ah my love, ah my own, 
in me all that fire is repeated, 
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten, 
my love feeds on your love, beloved, 
and as long as you live it will be in your arms 
without leaving mine."

- Pablo Neruda

detail from mixed media on canvas, 2017


Monday, November 6

enthralled


"Teach me to sin - 
In love's forbidden ways,
For you can make all passion pure;
The magic lure of your sweet eyes
Each shape of sin makes virtue praise.

Teach me to sin -
Enslave me to your wanton charms,
Crush me in your velvet arms
And make me, make me love you.
Make me fire your blood with new desire,
And make me kiss you - lip and limb,
Till sense reel and pulses swim.
Aye! even if you hate me,
Teach me to sin."

Alfred Bryan (1871-1958)