tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-150081082025-11-25T12:09:49.838-08:00Gulley Jimson and I used to be best friends, even though he is made-up. Wayward human and color appreciator,he is a main character in Joyce Cary's novel trilogy,one of my favorites. Irish Joyce Cary studied to be a painter, served in the British military and civil service in West Africa (where I grew up). William Blake, intoxicating painting, a complete devotion to color and the creative passion, and a disregard for pennies and those without appetites - how could I not acknowledge these roots?M.E.Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01993165348236952072noreply@blogger.comBlogger314125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15008108.post-75020783102606493252015-05-02T09:46:00.000-07:002015-05-02T09:46:39.735-07:00

          Sounds like science fiction, but it isn’t—when we choose to look at our lives as our own creation, chosen as souls and spirits, making matter real, physical, for us to mold, choice by choice, as we become aware – asking other souls and spirits to help us to share experiences; beginning with An Agreement to Conceive, to Cherish Even if

M.E.Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01993165348236952072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15008108.post-45914050610026603322015-01-14T15:04:00.001-08:002015-01-14T15:04:21.923-08:00

http://www.carter-klan.org/HoraceCarter.html Watch it and learn. Watch it and remember. Watch it and appreciate change and growth in its many-splendored expressions of humanity, as those who have the courage to march on and invite the rest of us to catch up, add to, build on.

M.E.Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01993165348236952072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15008108.post-19446447081860504172014-10-15T14:05:00.003-07:002014-10-15T14:05:39.021-07:00

Alex Buisse captures the adventure of climbing and free-flying in ways you will never forget. Take a look at his portfolio. If there is a mountain there is a mountaintop. Unless we know there is a mountain, and we know the plains, we will never know there are peaks and valleys. Without this knowledge the oceans are invisible and beyond the depth of our perception. We can never know there

M.E.Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01993165348236952072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15008108.post-39297416164001905042014-10-04T12:09:00.000-07:002014-10-04T12:09:33.726-07:00

Roots, bones and seeds - What wild seeds are sown In the minds of men, giants of the earth Who don’t know their provenance, their origins  Except that they are created. Much more time and we learned that we began as eggs, as heat-seeking microscopic missiles calling to one other and joining forces. The shadows stretch with them, Reaching long into forests and sometimes deep into Canyons,

M.E.Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01993165348236952072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15008108.post-52005600162532820352014-10-02T12:36:00.000-07:002014-10-02T12:36:11.099-07:00

Scrimshaw by M E Martin | Make Your Own Book

M.E.Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01993165348236952072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15008108.post-9623661602528340682014-09-25T17:57:00.001-07:002014-09-25T17:57:22.170-07:00

I do not mean to be shallowly optimistic or habitually cynical. What I mean to be is informed, committed, intelligent, compassionate, open-minded, engaged, and interested in who I am, what I am doing, where we are as a culture, as a world, as human beings. There is so much happening on large-scale stages in our world today that demands and needs our attention, our understanding, our resolving.

M.E.Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01993165348236952072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15008108.post-44674665258865373222014-09-10T10:04:00.002-07:002014-09-10T10:04:39.555-07:00

 http://www.metmuseum.org/toah/works-of-art/49.55.29 My mind is prone to wander into mazes that may be playful and fun but not as productive perhaps as … so many other things and perhaps another look at habits of mind and remembrance. There isn’t anything so scary there anymore, in that dark path, where twilight once hovered and slipped into a sometimes beautiful blanket of dark and

M.E.Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01993165348236952072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15008108.post-82445215871603611612014-09-09T11:28:00.003-07:002014-09-09T11:28:50.159-07:00

“Instead of being intervals of freedom, they are breeding grounds for advancement.” What are we trying to advance and why? David Brooks writes about William Deresiewicz’s vision of what it means to grow up (I’m paraphrasing – he says “what it takes to move from adolescence to adulthood”).  What it means to be educated in an environment that encourages a mind to discover what it is

M.E.Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01993165348236952072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15008108.post-30583379163338666252014-09-08T12:27:00.000-07:002014-09-08T12:27:27.770-07:00

Another Scrimshaw, Surfer, Art Form Connection I love this! Finding "real-world forms" as we go. Peter Spacek -PS: "I know. It’s weird. As I started to cut up old boards, I began to see real-world shapes. A book in a rail cross-section, a smile in a fin curve, a perfect barrel in a delaminating glass job. The shapes themselves kind of told me what to etch on them. RG: And unlike

M.E.Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01993165348236952072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15008108.post-6090416477152142382014-09-04T12:21:00.001-07:002014-09-04T12:21:05.798-07:00

Rather than suggesting logic while defying sense (as I read in a review of Laurie Anderson's Kronos Quartet collaborative Landfall), I like the suggesting sense while seeming to defy logic. So much of what we sense becomes entangled in a maze of ... something that we try to identify in bits and pieces ... that we forget that we are the creators of our own maze. Hurricane Sandy made landfall and

M.E.Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01993165348236952072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15008108.post-12334842002151551852014-08-22T14:03:00.002-07:002014-08-22T14:03:31.886-07:00

Thomas Willis- Coined the term “neurology”- Worked hard, diligently I presume to solve some riddles Of the relationship of mind (thought) and body (motion, action, leading To behavior). Thomas Willis sometimes beat his patients over the head with Sticks. Talk about finding a Rhythm.

M.E.Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01993165348236952072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15008108.post-11324603812943575192014-08-22T12:24:00.002-07:002014-08-22T12:24:37.896-07:00

"As the inner self expands, the energy frequency expands and man moves forward in his understanding of self and his relationship to the Universe. All things are duplicated within all things. There is nothing new within the Universe. Indeed, the understanding of man is already there, it is only being suppressed by man because he is unaware of its existence. The memory has become overgrown with

M.E.Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01993165348236952072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15008108.post-61701828202299653702014-07-17T09:59:00.000-07:002014-07-17T09:59:46.984-07:00

http://www.nytimes.com/2014/07/15/books/nadine-gordimer-novelist-and-apartheid-foe-dies-at-90.html Nadine Gordimer."It was not her country’s problems that set her to writing, she said. “On the contrary,” she wrote in an essay, “it was learning to write that sent me falling, falling through the surface of the South African way of life.” Falling through the surface of our way of life is a

M.E.Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01993165348236952072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15008108.post-85029436831306356822014-06-19T12:10:00.001-07:002014-06-19T12:10:15.961-07:00

What got me going further is simply the life- the everyday machinations and little miracles of breath and step and word and deed. Touch and Go. As "caregiver" goes - what a word that is, like an Indian word, a naming by deed and so much more- "deer hunter", "tracker," "dog catcher"- a defining of roles. We the people define for ourselves the divine in simple physical terms because

M.E.Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01993165348236952072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15008108.post-46527182708906282572014-04-23T12:34:00.003-07:002014-04-23T12:34:55.246-07:00

I am nearly finished reading Donna Tartt's Pulitzer-winning, fan-loving The Goldfinch. Reading this 700+-page novel along with (in  manuscript) Kathy Oddenino's upcoming novel, also with notes of Hippocrates, MFK Fisher, and various other pieces online - reminds me how much our mind can take in, and how much our mind wants to be fed, especially when we can appreciate a healthy appetite. A

M.E.Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01993165348236952072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15008108.post-42254902735854246442014-04-22T15:41:00.001-07:002014-09-10T09:06:02.150-07:00

                                                  Scrimshaw by M E Martin       |             Scrimshaw by M E Martin       |        

M.E.Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01993165348236952072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15008108.post-31583363684183763612014-03-03T13:52:00.000-08:002014-03-03T13:52:01.468-08:00

Grave             Graven                         Gravura             Gravitas. Graver.            

M.E.Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01993165348236952072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15008108.post-25942504791081673272014-01-22T13:38:00.002-08:002014-01-22T13:38:53.635-08:00

If the energy of our mind as we share our thoughts, ideas, etc., is simply to persuade others to share our view, then we are already seeing ourselves as “different.” We can be set up and set off by the ingrained pattern of “mutual hostility” or competition (hidden or overt belief).  This is a way that our male mind has seen itself throughout time, in many lives, as our ego has formed,

M.E.Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01993165348236952072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15008108.post-20153226816797199882014-01-11T12:02:00.001-08:002014-01-11T12:02:33.508-08:00

University of Denver photograph I just finished John Williams’ 1965 novel, Stoner, a novel John McGahern describes in his introduction as “this classic novel of university life, and the life of the heart and the mind.” It’s a powerhouse of a book – I imagine even for those who have less affection and affinity for “university life” or the pull toward both the flashy polish of Gatsby and the

M.E.Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01993165348236952072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15008108.post-39899743371653890052013-12-28T10:18:00.000-08:002013-12-28T10:18:39.511-08:00

Ah, Christmas. There is no substitute for spending the holidays with family. There is no true substitute for family, however we may define it. In the days before Christmas and through the holiday, I thought a lot about love and what love means. I remembered holidays past, and people I’ve known and love – including, of course, my wonderful parents, givers of life. Flashes of memory ran through my

M.E.Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01993165348236952072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15008108.post-74711235302413826342013-12-09T12:30:00.002-08:002013-12-09T12:30:56.346-08:00

What can she “get away with”? I’ve read this from critics about a virtuoso classics scholar who takes myths and writes new ones based on the structures of the old ones. What’s to get away with, when we are building on structures with meaning? Garnering awards on the one hand and being asked such questions on the other. Artists of all kinds are asked these questions – or the critics, the

M.E.Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01993165348236952072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15008108.post-89019341370081131272013-12-07T08:38:00.000-08:002013-12-07T08:38:35.850-08:00

 J ust start, Maria heard. The temples that were the trees let in harmony as the sun caressed and stressed the importance of its rays with the heat of life. We awoke with the brightness nearly blinding and watched transfixed as the light changed moment by moment as the sun traveled across the sky and the blanket of horizon deepened and moved and opened itself to the dark of

M.E.Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01993165348236952072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15008108.post-22800278006027862462013-12-05T09:58:00.000-08:002013-12-05T09:58:13.142-08:00

After Reading Autobiography of Red, Anne Carson To remember the lavaman and his other skin, the gold burn like enveloping the sun, what bursts he can  hold growing bold and maybe a little afraid- asking for those who may be curious, and bold, a little afraid, to pay cents to touch his golden skin, to know a little of him, this passion for substance and for

M.E.Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01993165348236952072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15008108.post-41507354523772162352013-12-03T10:22:00.002-08:002013-12-03T10:22:33.870-08:00

We create a “rule,” based on a belief – a forecast, prediction, hypothesis, which suits the reality we want to see, to create, to live. The “rules” usually follow the collective consciousness belief, within each individual and the greater group or culture or country or world. The rule becomes law as we make it happen. Those who don’t conform to or believe in the law challenge the law. This

M.E.Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01993165348236952072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15008108.post-4828050456434642192013-10-20T09:32:00.000-07:002013-10-20T09:32:08.940-07:00

Thanks to caring friends excited to be going on vacation to the beach, and who love “family time,” I was able to spend some wonderful days by the ocean in great company.  Via the internet, I just listened to a “flash-mob” small orchestra in a city square, prompted by a little girl dropping a coin into a black-tied, bald bassist’s upturned hat. How we choose to “spend” our coins, our time,

M.E.Martinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01993165348236952072noreply@blogger.com0