windthread

of all artists,  visionaries,  it's she that I revere.   I looked today and see that she has died.  2019…so in the last months.

i wrote about this before but it's a story to tell again.  When i was part owner of the bookstore,  part of my job was ordering and i would call her,  order prints and cards.  She wasn't one for small talk but she always greeted my call with Hello,  grace of the Ann Arbor.   When i got to New Mex one of the first things i did,  as soon as i could,  was to call her again.  I wanted to meet her.

she said yes.  A visit.  20 minutes.  All she allowed to enter her TIME.  She asked that i be prompt.  I was.  and appeared at her gate in the Bosque of Albuquerque.  She and 3 very large dogs met me,  let me in.  We walked through the trees to her door and in,  through her studio to an outside porch.  She had lemonaide.  glasses.  a small table and two chairs.  We sat and i began telling her how i was unsure of my art,  how i was a student of Nisargadatta,  and she cut me off.  "It won't work" she said.  "You are a woman."   and at that moment,  there was a comotion in her wood stove…she opened the door to it and one of her dogs rushed up and grabbed a bird that had fallen down the chimney,  her calling to the dog to drop it,  the dog running and we chased off after the dog and the dog did drop it but it was dead.  She carried it to one of the outside altars and laid it there.  We walked back and she kept walking,  back through the studio,  the 20 minutes being up,  and she closed the gate behind me,  standing there with her 3 large dogs.

this book has been in storage.

the box of miscellaneous.  My father's jackknife.  My grandfather's spool of fine copper wire.  tools.  fishing line.  My BeautyFULL  box.   my BeLOV~ED box.