tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63633867836031659722012-01-25T13:37:24.229-06:00A little nook where I share my daily trifles and epiphanies, my work, and my insignificant musings about being alive.izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.comBlogger1901100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-13621562540612302672012-01-18T08:42:00.000-06:002012-01-18T08:42:09.992-06:00

Stolen from The Anchoress, raise your hand if agree, I'm raising mine:

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-68285640951357939482012-01-08T21:49:00.000-06:002012-01-08T21:49:41.299-06:00

My lovely niece Christy, who is studying for her master's degree in Paris, sent this photo she took outside the Notre Dame cathedral on Christmas Eve:

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-39175504520781563232012-01-07T09:26:00.001-06:002012-01-07T09:38:11.722-06:00

What do you do with a twenty-something who speaks, acts, mimics, all that Feminism mummery she has gobbled down from her arty grad school? It is so apparent that the real person is not there under all that parroting. The precious core of untrammeled imagination has been so thoroughly hijacked by an ideology that she speaks, acts, mimics like an Artificial Intelligence. Yet she thinks she is free,

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-40575281408106138502012-01-07T09:11:00.001-06:002012-01-07T09:38:34.071-06:00

Fr. Barron's commentary on Christopher Hitchens and who God is: My two cents on two things: 1. God is not a what, God is a who. God isn't a category, but a person, in the deepest sense of the word. 2. What came to my mind while reading one of Fr. Barron's commenters, who objected Father's characterization of CH's notion of God  as"sky fairy." The commenter emphasizes CH's seriousness in his

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-25787462510294603512012-01-05T19:19:00.000-06:002012-01-05T19:19:27.090-06:00

Toy Monkey, oil on board, 8"x11", 2012

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-55467434448825823382012-01-05T15:12:00.001-06:002012-01-05T15:12:55.472-06:00

Rush Limbaugh on a possible Romney-McCain ticket. brilliant: "A Romney-McCain ticket: The man who could not beat Obama teamed up with the man who could not even beat McCain."

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-49392127245495729562012-01-05T13:02:00.001-06:002012-01-05T21:30:12.696-06:00

Wow, less than a week to back-to-work, to teaching, that is. There are syllabi to revise, to submit to the department secretary; and there are things to think, things I will say, spell out, to a new crop of students. There doomed to be some words like cold water on dreamy expectations.  Has anyone heard of the book called The Gadfly? I'll come back to talk about what I know about it, and what it

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-87105411977279663792012-01-03T20:38:00.000-06:002012-01-03T20:38:19.283-06:00

Toy Tiger: Red, oil on canvas (fresh and very wet!!), 5"x5", 2012 My first painting of the year is this little piece, destined to be my contribution to the upcoming spring fundraiser for the local art center. It was a hoot to paint, of course, such "cute" subject on such mini scale. I used a painting knife for the whole thing. The cloth toy tiger is a souvenir from one of my home-going trips in

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-5890937993264497032012-01-01T16:03:00.000-06:002012-01-01T16:03:17.370-06:00

I posted the work-in-progress of this painting a while back. Well, it's been done and over. Last night I remembered to post the final version, only found out that I had not taken a photo of it. So here it is, on the first day of the year. Some may notice changes between the two versions. But if one appears warmer in tone it was only caused by the lighting at times of photographing. The real

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-2854149612311384412011-12-26T11:17:00.000-06:002011-12-26T11:17:43.283-06:00

Perusing earliest entries of my own blog, I came upon the one about the German film Wings of Desire, and the Song of Childhood in it. A gentle melancholy veils my spirit on this post-Chritmas Day morning, like the overcast day it's turned out to be. And this is beautiful. This kind of beauty used to cause me toothaches and neurosis. In some ways the longing for beauty led me to God, who authors

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-53360901268352148112011-12-23T10:24:00.000-06:002011-12-23T10:24:41.153-06:00

If this doesn't make you doubled-over laughing, head over to Pioneer Woman, read her post on doughnut in the Confession section of her blog: Love to you all!

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-78505062010490538852011-12-18T21:46:00.001-06:002011-12-18T22:25:30.116-06:00

Well, what you know, after I showed the Ruby song by David Rowling and Gillian Welch,  to KDM, and it's connection to Jan, he informed of this other Ruby by Waylon Jennings. So here it is, Jan, double-dip:

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-78515033169546488272011-12-18T21:36:00.001-06:002011-12-18T22:28:25.337-06:00

These are just some of the happenings with me (us), in no particular order: Checked off a few more names on my Christmas shopping list today. Wrapping, is another story. I'm not going there.  I've been officially inducted to the social network used by nearly all of China's internet denizens, called QQ, so that my family can get in touch with me easier - back home they aren't too fond of Skype.

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-26327795761507896432011-12-15T10:30:00.000-06:002011-12-15T10:30:07.861-06:00

Done been to Confession. And feeling light. And feeling avian. And feeling canine. And feeling expansive. And feeling hydrated. And feeling nourished. And feeling shampooed. And feeling coddled. And feeling indulged. And feeling like this man: Love to you all, you know who you are.

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-31260629894278449932011-12-01T20:33:00.000-06:002011-12-01T20:33:05.024-06:00

Just trying to get in "the spirit:"

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-59355745733577239142011-11-29T20:02:00.001-06:002011-11-29T20:03:57.099-06:00

Yesterday, I had an e-mail exchange with someone I've met via the internet, a person of courage and formidable intellect for which I have great admiration and respect. Relating the grave personal trial she found herself in recently, she quoted the artist Edgar Degas: "There is art and there is life; and we have but one heart. We think we have two until it breaks. Then we know there was only one."

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-53382663823234751722011-11-28T17:16:00.000-06:002011-11-28T17:16:06.170-06:00

The painting I'm working on:

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-56094642402563187732011-11-20T09:33:00.000-06:002011-11-20T09:33:23.364-06:00

Beloved, I could write You so much. I have "topics," big, small, cute, full of Izy-profundities. But to do that I would have to dig in a little, to reach in, and, out for words, for flow, for a way for words to hold hands, all the while keeping an eye on grammar, in a language called "second" to me. I'd rather think of You, then, in thoughts wordless. Or, better yet, in fugitive mental pictures

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-61140551846242714442011-11-10T21:27:00.002-06:002011-11-10T21:31:33.642-06:00

My friend Jan has been down on her back, twelve days in all. You gotta pity a woman when her only feasible entertainment consists of taking pictures of her own knees and feet. Might as well. With that much time on one's hand while down on one's back, not to mention whose back we're talking about here, I fear for those who find themselves in close proximity, and pray that peace be with them. May

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-45548951250795885292011-11-05T15:31:00.001-05:002011-11-05T15:31:31.873-05:00

...if you find yourself obsessing on someone, on some physical injury, or on some painful conversation, you risk becoming a bitter person obsessed with revenge, which is the sin of anger. If you let your soul feel total contempt and loathing for someone, and if you're always insulting and censuring them in your mind, you're living with envy. If you give in to a feeling of malaise and exhaustion,

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-71962960610912864542011-10-22T22:04:00.002-05:002011-10-22T22:36:00.302-05:00

It has been almost two months. In these past two months, I find myself gradually adapting into a new routine: two days a week, I spend six some hours among people half my age, talking, instructing, motivating, sometimes scolding. All this is done in a room full of easels, taborets, spot lights, broken chairs and trash cans, smells of oil paint and paint thinner and linseed oil, among youngsters

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-84440028324479624972011-08-29T10:48:00.000-05:002011-08-29T10:48:03.757-05:00

It's been such a while that I nearly forgot the password to sign in to my own blog. I've had thoughts, many thoughts, sometimes even cogent, clear, good thoughts. Ones that happen to me while I'm in Adoration, at Mass, taking a long shower, doing dishes, driving, brushing a shedding dog... Then they would just fade out, as the days worn on. Then new thoughts, broken, not very good ones surge in,

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-34075393021792818942011-08-10T22:08:00.000-05:002011-08-10T22:08:08.239-05:00

The Pioneer Woman posted on her Facebook page "Rain! Glorious rain!" I wanted to say something similar, then realized "glorious" cannot be improved. I have so much on my head that I don't know where to begin to sort them out. The heat has been oppressing me; my mind and mood were tangled and cranky. Besides, school will start in less than two weeks, and I'm about to begin doing something

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-18221019545700905802011-07-23T11:26:00.001-05:002011-07-23T19:48:29.343-05:00

I feel somewhat embarrassed of the early posting. I do not believe any ideology could change the world for the better. I much prefer personal sanctity (another topic altogether). I should have known better that although neither secular nor religious piety makes for personal sanctity, but telling someone, even if it's Thomas Friedman of New York Time, to go f*** himself, is definitely no way to

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-17838468881964785572011-07-23T09:19:00.001-05:002011-07-23T19:47:41.429-05:00

Thomas Friedman, columnist of the New York Times, explaining his "China for a day" dream: After your enlightenment session with Mr. Friedman, watch this next video. Visit Reggie Littlejohn's website if you are so inclined. Then think and decide for yourself the price of "efficiency" which Mr. Friedman so covets and wet-dreams about (by the way, nice chuckle, Brave Dave Gregory). Update: I've

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-22095476481052707372011-07-15T16:05:00.000-05:002011-07-15T16:05:49.317-05:00

I have just (and FINALLY, sigh) finished reading The Picture of Dorian Gray, so I'm on an Oscar Wilde kick; and I've just picked up Orthodoxy by G. K. Chesterton (may I call him My Prince?) to read it for the second time, I am also on a GKC kick. It follows that it was irresistible for me to cut out and paste this quote by My Prince as I came across it: "Oscar Wilde said that sunsets were not

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-40951650486173132792011-07-15T14:23:00.001-05:002011-07-15T14:44:15.687-05:00

I'm posting the lyrics of John Lennon's Nobody Told Me. It has nothing to do whatever with what's on my mind or how I feel today. In fact, contrary to the madness and entropy described in the song, I'm feeling rather lucid and upbeat. The lyrics came up in an early morning conversation with KDM on our way to the chapel, and I simply wanted to share. I find a perverse delight in the contractions

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-73594559825810537612011-06-29T10:17:00.001-05:002011-06-29T22:25:10.141-05:00

This internet shopping thing is a vice. I hate to think what goes through the head of our mailman, who has known and been a friend of KDM's for several decades. You see, we live on the rural route; our mailbox is a quarter of a mile downhill from our house. Whenever something comes in the mail that exceeds the capacity of the standard mailbox, the mailman has to drive to our front door, honk, and

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-56304199243349467432011-06-28T14:17:00.002-05:002011-06-28T14:20:24.570-05:00

Of all the things I listed in my previous posted plan, here is how some turned out: 1. Painting from Best Buy parking lot: Check. I arrived at 7:30 sharp, immediately set up to work. The view is an airport and environ. Despite the haze hanging over the entire field, the several layers of distant mountains were still visible in varied purplish blue. The Best Buy was built on what used to be a

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-62074691236704479872011-06-26T17:26:00.000-05:002011-06-26T17:26:36.638-05:00

Get up early, hit the road with my painting gears to the parking lot of Best Buy in town over looking the airport, do a quick oil sketch or two; quickly pack up and desert the parking lot before the first curious soul approaches me wanting to know what quaint thing I am up to doing. On the way home, stop at Saver's, the big resale store, on the way home, hunt for a used stovetop grill; if Saver's

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-224263948611547462011-06-14T19:57:00.001-05:002011-06-14T19:59:07.303-05:00

For the second summer I've been asked to teach art camp at my parish school. This year's pitch is to make a master piece after a particular master artist's style. Monet, van Gogh, Pollock, Matisse, you get it, all the usual suspects. It's a popular theme with art teachers. I've never done one because I don't like the notion of pinning down a "style." When the principal explained the theme to me,

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-79482993395918163292011-06-14T10:50:00.000-05:002011-06-14T10:50:19.141-05:00

By the way, if you need something of a mood improvement, buy yourself a bottle of French's Dijon Mustard with Chardonnay, put it on any ole hot dog and eat it, preferably without ketchup. You'll surely feel better. I like it so much I have an extra bottle in the pantry. I have what I call "My Dijon Mustard with Chardonnay Insecurity."

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-83609289790767345012011-06-14T10:11:00.002-05:002011-06-14T10:23:11.251-05:00

Not motivated to write much. For brevity's (and lethargy's) sake, let's just say that things have been weird, as regarding my sense of time and mysterious changes of my body. I'm not sure what's going on. My pal/soul-sis Jan posts about her reactions to hormonal changes. I certainly haven't reached that biological landmark, yet I feel that I've somehow stepped in the similar marsh of scrambled

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-88385488707836549172011-06-05T17:52:00.000-05:002011-06-05T17:52:07.948-05:00

Haven't been writing much lately. Well, haven't been doing much anything. Yet, May zoomed by, leaving me baffled as to what happened to it. It could have at least stopped to say "Hi," right? But no, It. Just. Zoomed. On. And. By. Well, I DID go to two wedding parties, and ate my first Vegan meal at one of them. Not bad, but neither was I seduced. You may check out what Vegans do here. Anthony

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-21925454019472902562011-06-04T10:22:00.002-05:002011-06-04T10:39:23.374-05:00

June 4th, an ordinary day for people of this country and around the world, extraordinary yet politically unspeakable in my native country, People's Republic of China. Twenty-two years ago this day, I was attending a friend's brother's wedding in a Northern Chinese city. By the time the ceremony ended, and the wedding caravan entered in the heart of downtown area, the town's traffics came to

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-23372166397669386002011-05-29T12:42:00.000-05:002011-05-29T12:42:45.042-05:00

For my pal Jan: via Studio Matters.

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-55221396505869104392011-05-13T21:30:00.000-05:002011-05-13T21:30:06.006-05:00

Just a quick update on my idea of painting the windows to save the birds: it bombed. I painted some flowers on one and geometric shapes on another. It was only then when I realized how wonderful it was to have large, CLEAR, unobtrusive, completely TRANSPARENT, glass panes on the windows! Both KDM and I decided we couldn't live with the painted eyesores. The end result of my endeavor was that the

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-78322479162257539562011-05-12T11:36:00.000-05:002011-05-13T15:24:12.009-05:00

For the coming two weeks: One First Communion, which I'm hoping and praying won't turn out just a photo-op.  But it really isn't my business to worry. Or, maybe it is. One church carnival, the occasion for justified /compulsive impulsive shopping and eating. We're known suckers here. I had the pleasure to be introduced to funnel cake just a few years ago.  One baby shower slated in a town about

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-23728251419955724152011-05-11T21:52:00.000-05:002011-05-13T15:24:12.593-05:00

This was my day: Got up. Went sit on the porch with KDM. Drink Coffee. Watch birds (did I tell you that for the first time, ever, we saw Baltimore Orioles on our farm?). Shoot the breeze. Dragged the hose, watered flowers, trees, herbs. Dug out the crepe myrtle which was planted too close to another bush. Replant the myrtle after moving it to a spot where KDM will have trouble getting the mower

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-72947668587491132772011-05-08T17:19:00.000-05:002011-05-08T17:19:52.924-05:00

I receive weekly by email the Sunday homily of Father George Rutler, pastor of Church of Our Savior, New York. Below is today's to share: Our nation’s Mother’s Day was the worthy idea of a lady, Anna Jarvis, in West Virginia, but it took the promotion of Philadelphia’s department-store king, John Wanamaker, to persuade Woodrow Wilson to give it official cachet in 1914. Miss Jarvis died in 1948,

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-79550342848756131012011-05-04T22:43:00.001-05:002011-05-04T22:46:07.515-05:00

This hasn't been a smooth day - the iPhoto application on my laptop went berserk. I un-installed and re-installed the operation system, downloaded and reloaded the program itself, each several times in between painting, laundering, and cooking. When I finally got it back to behave and accept photos from the camera, it was almost 10:00PM. I'm not sure how I got it back to work, though. It's a

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-89240637148951670302011-05-03T08:41:00.001-05:002011-05-03T20:27:17.065-05:00

They got Osama bin Laden. Here's what makes me glad: I am glad that our troops once again showed the world what they are made of. They sparkled and shone through years of what began to look like a quagmire. They proved that the American soldiers, when determined, and un-hamstrung, can pull off a spectacular operation as this. It gives me hope amid a global chorus singing the decline and

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-51218791692250577672011-05-01T16:07:00.000-05:002011-05-01T16:07:35.496-05:00

Talk about goose-bumps:

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-87988253913420400082011-04-30T11:31:00.002-05:002011-05-01T14:13:17.456-05:00

Brothers-in-law and nephew departed. What a week! Enjoyed their company though. I appreciate spending time with those born of the same people as was my husband. I like taking notes of similarities as well as individual quirks among them, especially when it's all boys.  Getting ready for an artsy fundraiser/cocktail party/artist-as-monkey-at-circus show tonight, wherein ten of us fellow painters

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-85940437384068417462011-04-22T12:20:00.004-05:002011-04-23T10:01:57.328-05:00

So, it's here, Good Friday, itself a paradox, looking like a contradiction. With all its bloody, thorny, dark, shameful and guilty historical narratives, those we hear each year in congregations, it is called Good. Yesterday we somehow decided against all our ditherings to brave the storm to go to Mass. Once we settled ourselves in the pew, I was glad that we made that decision. One sight of the

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-4334663477991900632011-04-14T16:44:00.001-05:002011-04-14T16:48:32.982-05:00

The summer tanagers are back, about a week earlier than the date I marked on the calendar. I became aware of them back around 2002, and have been tracking their return around April 21 each year. Only a few days ago KDM mentioned that it was time to keep our ears open for their songs. This morning I heard the first unmistakable chirping out of a grove of distant oak trees early this morning, then

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-83301005733621392222011-04-13T13:26:00.000-05:002011-04-13T13:26:11.804-05:00

Oh, by the way, have I mentioned that my three out-of-state brothers-in-law, one nephew, are coming to visit and stay with us for the week after Easter? You are right to notice that it's all boys: it's one of the several annual boys golf meets. So, the dust-raising cleaning I mentioned in previous post serves double purposes. The several bedrooms-turned-storage have to be converted back to their

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-49415442330242707732011-04-13T12:49:00.000-05:002011-04-13T12:49:44.552-05:00

A few nights ago we were under tornado watch till past midnight. Somewhat out-of-character-ly KDM suggested that we cleaned out one of the closets for safety in case the tornado thing got real. When I started taking out clothes and more than a few other items whose reason for being in the closet was obscure to me, I lamented our repeated failure to un-clutter and downsize our living. Why so much

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-57559435415098838822011-04-08T12:37:00.000-05:002011-04-08T12:37:21.345-05:00

This is what our dinning table looks like today. It looked the same way yesterday, and the day before. Hopefully this is the last day it looks like this: A painting is in progress based on this stetup. Since I'm not posting the painting in progress, you may have a peek at the paint. In case you are wondering about the "Jif" lid - it's just a cover for a tuna fish can with paint thinner in it:

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-79687215215290546082011-04-05T10:36:00.000-05:002011-04-05T10:36:57.962-05:00

Why every house doesn't have at least one air purifier but every one has at least one TV? That was my question to KDM when I got up this morning. He replied that perhaps it is looked at as "sissy" to have, not mention to broadcast that you have, an air purifier in your house. It would be like admitting that you can't handle air as it is; owning a TV, on the other hand, is sinful therefore macho

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-83527598399713512252011-04-04T16:54:00.000-05:002011-04-04T16:54:55.031-05:00

Three posts in a row - I said I wasn't doing much. Well, here's some development following my little dizzy spell early today. KDM must have gotten tired of my yearly episodes of ceaseless sneezing, nose-blowing, eye-rubbing, sleep-walking (not literally) and other miseries induced by the dense pollen in the air. This in spite of my tender loving cares of him while he was hit with a nasty cold,

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-66784726520293708322011-04-04T10:56:00.000-05:002011-04-04T10:56:23.656-05:00

Due to the goofy sensations of dizziness, I'm not doing much today. So I let myself do something I've been abstaining from since the beginning of Lent, I opened my Facebook page. There were pictures of a vacationing relative couple taken on their tropical cruise. They cheered me up and reminded me of Duane Hanson's sculptures. The said couple are by no means as plump, but the appearances,

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-79900037798320501622011-04-04T10:37:00.000-05:002011-04-04T10:37:16.710-05:00

Literally woke up with a light-headedness. When I first got up I felt a goofy sensation in my head and feet, an unfamiliar dizziness. I got downstairs and sat down and could feel my ears were doing something funny too: not ringing but  whatever sound came through did as if it reached through waves of wind or water. When I tried to get up from the chair my head felt big and airy and fluffy.  Then

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-70524815418681635482011-03-31T11:33:00.001-05:002011-03-31T11:40:38.782-05:00

I have become pensive, you may say, lately. Painting is taking over my mind. Frankly I am a little surprised by the urgency and encompassing force by which it has gripped me lately. At times I wonder if I'm letting work overshadow more important things. I find myself pausing in midday to catch up on the daily readings. I haven't said a rosary in a long while. In a way, Lent, the season partially

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-72600646281467053392011-03-25T11:00:00.000-05:002011-03-25T11:00:55.568-05:00

Before I even opened today's readings in my Magnificat, I was informed by my friend Jan in her blog post that today is the Feast of Annunciation (that should give away that I open the internet before I do my daily prayers, not to say this is Lent.) Here is a painting of The Annunciation by French painter Maurice Denis (1870-1943), one of the few Modern interpretations which I really like. Enjoy!

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-55511329647591302672011-03-20T13:57:00.002-05:002011-03-20T14:04:41.554-05:00

When I came back from Mass this morning, I found a message my younger sister had left on my Skype page, informing me that our oldest aunt, our Dad's sister, had passed away this morning (their Sunday evening). My Dad has/had three sisters. Dad is the youngest of six. His two older brothers had been deceased, long before my siblings and I had a chance to meet them. My oldest uncle died before the

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-34050945602646941892011-03-18T16:34:00.002-05:002011-03-18T16:34:57.402-05:00

Father Baron on True Grit:

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-73179422071761879922011-03-12T13:08:00.000-06:002011-03-12T13:08:01.200-06:00

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-8882422605525137542011-03-12T07:42:00.001-06:002011-03-12T07:44:00.402-06:00

My heart is with Japan and its people who are going through multiple terrors: earthquakes, tsunami, the threat of aftershocks and more quakes, now the danger of a nuclear meltdown. One feels so helpless facing disasters of such magnitude. Times as such try our faith: just how real is it? Do I still trust the efficacy of my prayers and petitions, which, we profess to believe to be our very own "

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-42842571311116369502011-03-11T22:28:00.001-06:002011-03-11T22:29:12.794-06:00

Excerpts of what I read during my morning "Happy Hour" in front of the Blessed Sacrament today,  from My Way of Life, Pocket Edition of St. Thomas, the Summa Simplified for Everyone (all italics mine): "THE ROAD THAT STRETCHES before the feet of a man is a challenge to his heart long before it test the strength of his legs.  Our destiny is to run to the edge of the world and beyond, off into the

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-7564761063532079782011-03-08T13:55:00.001-06:002011-03-08T13:57:13.479-06:00

Today is International Women's Day. Didn't get a chance to ask my sisters/nieces if they got their 1/2 day off, or a free ticket to a movie. That was what we used to get. Today is also Fat Tuesday. Around here we will be cooking beef stew. Yum x2. That also means tomorrow is Ash Wednesday. I just got done reading in One Hundred Years of Solitude the part when the Buendia boys received ashes which

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-2386025528035309732011-03-07T16:14:00.000-06:002011-03-07T16:14:55.164-06:00

The UPS man has just delivered my newly purchased, pocket-size, Douay-Rheims Bible. Leather cover, gold gilt-edges, lovely on the palm. The thing is, I will need magnifying glass to read it. Even if my eyes will recover at sundown from painting and staring. I also have prescription glasses tucked away somewhere which I've tried not to wear since the day I got them. If I want to keep this Bible,

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-35848246909829793412011-03-07T15:31:00.000-06:002011-03-07T15:31:02.534-06:00

Today is the first Monday since my teaching work ended for the school year, and I have been in the studio painting. Taking a break because my eyes were beginning to see double of everything outside the still life during the intense staring sessions (that's really what it is when you paint from observation, you stare, long and hard, sometimes, you even drool while staring). Having a routine is

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-73101636342076355742011-03-04T21:08:00.002-06:002011-03-04T22:56:47.027-06:00

Our dog Barney prefers a canvas armchair to fluffy doggy beds.  Summer 2010 March, 2011

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-29086589807682119242011-03-02T22:05:00.001-06:002011-03-02T22:07:24.508-06:00

That I am enjoying solitude so much is a little scary to myself. But since Lent is drawing near, I'm making the best of it. I have been weary of excessive navel-gazing, but in context of the kind of dissipated existence I've lead lately, introspection is in order. The coincidence of the need to sit still and the season of Lent is a welcomed one. I'm looking forward to the end of my teaching

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-33059340012878885912011-02-26T17:24:00.000-06:002011-02-26T17:24:09.370-06:00

The first daffodils have been painted:

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-30091105612567476052011-02-19T12:10:00.000-06:002011-02-19T12:10:09.521-06:00

All right, laugh at me: it's either feast or famine on this so-called blog. Just had some thought occurring, in between loads of laundry. I'm putting it down lest I forget it myself: the thought might call for extension in days to come: Love is not merely to be expressed, it is also to be acted upon. Acting is alway harder than expressing. When the stakes in acting become too high, many

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-8312953159585743772011-02-19T11:49:00.000-06:002011-02-19T11:49:22.632-06:00

Later, I will make Chinese dumplings - was informed last night by little sister that eating dumplings on 17th day of New Year helps keep a middle-aged soul from falling apart. One never stops learning. And now it's off to laundry and toilet scrubbing.

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-66014504507639693652011-02-19T11:31:00.003-06:002011-02-19T11:42:50.126-06:00

Well, since I'm still in the vicinity of the keyboard, I might as well add that I've been reading a book on Art of the Middle Ages, which gives me ideas about one day teaching a course of something like History of Art through the Church. To give you a glimpse of treasures in discussion in the said book: the development of cruciform church architecture, and the splendid dome structures of Santa

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-67047149180047245842011-02-19T10:42:00.001-06:002011-02-19T10:43:38.370-06:00

Ash Wednesday is March 8. I'm keeping that in mind because I don't want to be "surprised" by the beginning of the Lenten season, again. Some weeks back I wrote here that I no longer made New Year's Resolution, but was looking for a focus. Since then, one theme has surfaced through the blur and become persistent, even taking on some urgency: the practice of the presence of mind. My mind, that is,

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-61286494033072087272011-02-15T16:37:00.000-06:002011-02-15T16:37:13.791-06:00

I like this guy's self-deprecating humor. This is how the piece begins: With too much pride to quarter myself on friends, I tend to spend Thanksgivings by myself. Normally, this suits me fine. Phoenix shuts up completely, so window-shopping in Old Town Scottsdale becomes a study in perfect solitude. It might sound dull, but a certain eeriness quickens the mood. For a thrill, it's just possible

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-9970994033591377192011-02-12T22:11:00.000-06:002011-02-12T22:11:52.499-06:00

Another new calf arrived today. The mother's name is Red: we named her that because she is the only red cow in the entire herd. I still remember the day she was born, KDM's son Michael found her during a four-wheeler ride. He excitedly drove up and made the announcement: "It's a RED one!" That was, boy, ten years ago?

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-22348400926705135162011-02-12T09:50:00.002-06:002011-02-12T09:51:42.559-06:00

2011:  Make. Fabulous. Paintings.

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-78059504099511878482011-02-10T21:03:00.002-06:002011-02-11T22:11:20.494-06:00

About three this afternoon, when I was in the kitchen painting a still life, KDM called me from his cellphone and said: "We have a new calf." He was out feeding cattle and found our cow Daisy alone under a pine tree between the pond and the fence. Except, she wasn't alone. At her feet was a bundle of "tarpaper," wet and steaming, breathing and watching, on the very sunny spot mom had picked out

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-16186398918237420522011-02-09T18:32:00.001-06:002011-02-10T21:04:57.582-06:00

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-87625637344699830492011-02-09T11:10:00.002-06:002011-02-09T11:41:29.674-06:00

I ran into a fellow painter at an art party two nights ago, and told him about the Anthony Hopkins interview with Charlie Rose. He returned the info with Charlie Rose's interview with Chuck Close, the marvel of a painter. I just finished watching it on Rose's site. The seasoned painter had many wise things to say, of which I could mull over all day, but the most resounding bit was about the

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-48358031598441662252011-02-09T07:30:00.001-06:002011-02-09T07:39:35.414-06:00

Powerful video by Grassroots Films:

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-14589502230330593752011-02-08T10:06:00.001-06:002011-02-08T10:07:24.654-06:00

Mama got a new hat for Spring Festival, photo curtsey of my niece Mimi, delivered by Skype:

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-20373911897969385842011-02-05T13:02:00.003-06:002011-02-05T13:04:57.732-06:00

Sir Anthony Hopkins has made my heart sing, in this interview with Charlie Rose. Indeed my resolve to NOT to see the movie The Rite has been shaken. It's almost painful to watch and listen to Charlie as he muddles around the topic of faith. It's like watching a man determined to measure a globe with a straight edge. I'm still unsure if the concept of "dark night of the soul" really penetrated

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-48455167580307874792011-02-01T22:03:00.002-06:002011-02-01T22:11:47.149-06:00

Snowed in. And, snowed in again, tomorrow. Confirmed. Yesterday I went in the classroom with my new lesson plan. The first installment went over like a charm. We did what I told my second graders "silly drawings." What would you call drawing parallel lines in curves, zigzags, waves, dots, or "puffy triangles," "marsh-mellow squares," "fluffy trapezoids"? Or calling the erasing of temporary

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-70230298561949603512011-01-30T16:09:00.002-06:002011-01-30T16:35:43.577-06:00

In a previous post I told you that given a prolonged shower, I'd find solutions to all the world's problems. Well, all my world's problems, to be precise. Since beginning of last school year, I've been working on an art-literacy program with second graders in the six local elementary schools which I visit.  I had the students paint a landscape picture, usually about a holiday nearing the time of

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-65606522061282980712011-01-29T15:48:00.001-06:002011-01-29T15:50:09.401-06:00

"Then he turned and looked at the man and an unpleasant sensation that he could not place came over him. The person who had picked him up was a pale, lean, old-looking young man with deep hollows under his cheekbones.  He had on a lavender shirt and a thin black suit and a panama hat.  His lips were as white as the cigarette that hung limply from one side of his mouth.  His eyes were the same

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-86989174377824586622011-01-28T16:59:00.002-06:002011-01-28T17:06:38.163-06:00

I am very curious about this new movie The Rite. Both secular critic media and the Catholic bloggers are abuzz about it. Stills and trailers flaunt an enigmatic Sir Anthony Hopkins in Roman collar and flowing cassock, promising dark and high drama. And here is an absolute must-read about The Rite, and other films of its kind (and if you are Catholic, you would laugh out loud at the author's

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-34325551827514891202011-01-25T10:01:00.010-06:002012-01-01T18:53:08.827-06:00

It's not in the book, nor the hanging man up the tree. The only other Coen Brothers movie I've seen is O Brother, Where Art Thou? All the reviews I've read on the brothers seem to confer on their super cool status, in no small part due to their signature touch of nihilism. If pairing bluegrass great Ralph Stanley's "Oh Death" with the hooded Klan's man is jarring in O Brother, having Rooster

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-91079346767727302892011-01-24T19:03:00.002-06:002011-01-24T19:11:19.152-06:00

This has been a blah day, not rotten, just blah. My remedial approach to a rotten day generally consists of wishing the sun goes down quicker quickly wash the dishes and turn out the kitchen light examine consciences in a prolonged shower  the prolonged shower sometimes doubles as launchpad for solutions to all life's problems declare to self that the day is officially over and renewal is at

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-76370240915927574342011-01-23T06:47:00.000-06:002011-01-23T06:47:45.290-06:00

The most beautiful prayer: Let nothing disturb you,Let nothing frighten you,All things pass away:God never changes.Patience obtains all things.He who has GodFinds he lacks nothing;God alone suffices. - St. Teresa of Avila Spotted and lifted from Sally Thomas' Castle in the Sea. Thanks, Sally, for having it where I can see.

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-30780709953441112162011-01-23T06:36:00.001-06:002011-01-23T14:14:29.912-06:00

I've been thinking about my Mama a lot lately. I used to call her on the phone but don't do it anymore. Mama is hard of hearing, and never could get a real good handle on how the telephone worked. As with many new things, it came late in her life and never got old enough for her to be comfortable with. It took her some time and convincing to believe that she didn't have to shout into the receiver

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-56704324080764960502011-01-19T11:15:00.002-06:002011-01-23T20:22:03.626-06:00

We went to see the new True Grit last week, and were not disappointed. Jeff Bridges does a marvelous job in his role as Rooster Cogburn. Even Matt Damon is convincing as Texas Ranger, LaBoeuf. I compare the performances with the older version of the film. I'd always thought the scene in which LaBoeuf spanks the 14-year old Mattie Ross was meant to provoke laughter (even other unsavory

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-89378376620674033782010-12-29T20:05:00.000-06:002010-12-29T20:05:31.993-06:00

Call me Martian, but it's true that I heard the song Little Drummer Boy for the first time right about two weeks ago. The first two times from the lips of little school children, the third time by the Irish group The Priests. I liked it instantly and perceived instinctively that this was no mere children's song, and there was something grave and romantic about it. The melody hauntingly reminds me

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-58775612760381405722010-12-16T16:39:00.002-06:002010-12-16T21:42:00.255-06:00

"Allowing God to be original in His work of converting souls," was the subject of the sermon by our priest a while back. It's one that stuck with me. Whether it's due to eagerness to help, or lack of humility, we all at times want to use our own experience to teach, to show "the way." This, the sermon warned, could put us in danger of interfering with God's unique plan for each individual. To

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-52231752247112036972010-12-14T16:42:00.000-06:002010-12-14T16:42:10.350-06:00

 Just had to put these up. I'm pleased with these two latest efforts, particularly The Puzzle Solver, painted three days ago. Cindy, KDM's daughter-in-law, despite feeling nauseous due to her eleventh-week pregnancy, posed for about an hour. The heater wasn't working properly during the sitting, so you're looking at a cold room when it was 33 degrees outside.  The Puzzle Solver, 10

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-57382110303134349062010-12-14T10:44:00.000-06:002010-12-14T10:44:37.965-06:00

Working on a few paintings. Feeling like in love with painting all over again. I had a running list of things that irritated me on a given day that I'd been wanting to let out. I had a running list of cob-webs and dust bunnies in the dark chambers of my own soul which I couldn't, really, let out anywhere. So I went to Confession, in stead, last Saturday. I'm feeling all better now. In my mid-40s

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-64618404130794290302010-12-09T08:41:00.000-06:002010-12-09T08:41:30.627-06:00

Today's reading from the Book of the Prophet Isaiah: I will make of you a threshing sledge, sharp, new, and double-edged. To thresh the mountains and crush them, to make the hills like chaff. When you winnow them, the wind shall carry them off, and the storm shall scatter them. Wow. And this: I will plant in the desert the cedar, acacia, myrtle, and olive; I will set in the wasteland and the

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-39324761618764089692010-12-08T22:29:00.000-06:002010-12-08T22:29:04.914-06:00

I have been on a roll, painting and collaging, taking advantage of the recent lessons with Mr. Ken Kewley. All small pieces on paper, up to 11x14 inches. I'm working on a collage after a painting by Euan Uglow, which probably will consume another two or three days. Images follow in reversed chronological order. The top three are the latest. Untitled I (some imagined landscape) Untitled II (

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-13316166103896838282010-12-08T22:10:00.000-06:002010-12-08T22:10:00.619-06:00

I simply don't understand why other Christians have problem with our love for Our Lady. What's all this talk about "too much Mary, not enough Jesus"? How does one's love for one's mother diminish his love for God?  On this feast day of Immaculate Conception, Catholics awake with a recognition that there is privilege on this day. With lightened hearts and steps we rise and flock to Church,

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-79568793243511830672010-11-23T12:30:00.000-06:002010-11-23T12:30:35.831-06:00

Here's an example of the outcome of my 3-day apprenticeship to Mr. Ken Kewley, fresh off the scanner. Caution: wet glue.  Seated Model 6" x 8" collage 2010 

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-27531329653900983832010-11-23T11:25:00.003-06:002010-11-23T11:40:49.668-06:00

Ken Kewley, a painter whom I admire, whose work I had regularly followed and studied for two years, came to my town's college as a visiting artist last week. About a month ago, I discovered that on his personal website, Kewley listed reviews of his work, among which several articles by Maureen Mullarkey, a painter, art critic, and contributing writer for First Things. It's a small coincidence

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-88213414400489702682010-09-04T23:12:00.002-05:002010-09-04T23:20:17.515-05:00

one cake fits all, plus lotus candle this morning on the porch at the show's reception with good friends Carnation, made the cut to the show the latest addition to our stray collection, tentatively called Pup

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-15051077259213639552010-08-30T14:13:00.000-05:002010-08-30T14:13:29.263-05:00

The show is opening in just 3 days. Tomorrow we are driving up to F town to hang the paintings. There is just so much going on in my current life, inside and out. I think me and painting have entered into a new and potentially explosive relationship which I find hard to put in words at present. Tomorrow is also KDM's birthday and we're going to have a little party for him on Friday. So right

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6363386783603165972.post-32175818658587931172010-08-27T22:52:00.002-05:002010-08-27T23:04:20.806-05:00

This has got to be my lucky day. Ever been in an emergency, like, you owe someone a recipe but you can't find the one you painstakingly measured and typed out a couple of years ago for a friend but mysteriously disappeared out of your hard drive, and now you don't know what measurements to mete out to satisfy the need of another dear but take-no-prisoner kind of friend...? Well, I tell you,

izyperspectivenoreply@blogger.com1