What happened to these people, the Mimbres, who created such dramatic and elegant pottery? 

Emerging from the Mongollon culture, they were a later version of that group which lived around the Mongollan Mountains in Arizona and New Mexico from about AD 200-1450.  If I am correct, the Mimbres peoples lived toward the end of that period (1050-1200 or so). 

Eventually, it appears that they  abandoned their homes and cultural centers for unknown reasons.  Just walked away, probably dispersing into other groups or other areas of the country. 

Who were they and where did they go--and why?  So far, we have no answers to these questions.  They leave us their inspired, graphic, dramatic pottery, from which this tile is drawn.  Here we have the fish, the deer, the turtle, and the caterpillar, all very precious and symbolic to them.  We have the four directions, a stylized sun, some stylized feathers.  While we can say something about what modern generations of Native/Indigenous Peoples would say about these symbols, we can only guess at the full extent of what they mean to people from this era.  It's a definitely a mystery. 

Only their art speaks to us about who they were.

To a Mimbres Woman
by Marty Eberhardt

I see your thousand-year-old thumb print
On the plain brown potsherd.
My own thumb fits perfectly
In the curve you left.
Other more elegant pottery bits
Lie among rocks and junipers
On this hill of dry grasses.
Red-on-white interwoven geometry, 
A tasseled quail,
Designs fine as any
In the art galleries of the town. 
But it is this plain brown piece that draws me.
My thumb seeks the curved place, again.
I see you forming the pot 
From coils of clay,
You look out over fields of corn and beans 
In the valley below.
Then, as now, a red-tailed hawk dips,
A horned lizard scurries under a stone
That forms the village wall.
Beyond the fields
Green cottonwoods mark the river  
Between jagged hills.
The wind shakes their leaves like a gourd rattle.
In the quiet between gusts,
The river rushes below, monsoon-strong.
It is in these wild places,
Where our thumbs
Feel the curve of another’s hand,
Places free from cement, neon, asphalt, smog,
And deadened water,
Across years, 
Across cultures and countries,
Beyond all reason,
We find each other.

Here is another version of work I did in a class with Shie Naritomi, CZT.  What a wonderful teacher.  See my comments from yesterday on the background of this work.

As one person, I cannot bring peace to Ukraine.  I cannot restore what they have lost:  lives, livelihoods, homes, family, and peace of mind.  No one person can do this alone.

But I can join with others to protest, to support.  And I can take the time to sit quietly and calm myself, so that I make wiser decisions when I protest or when I support. 

Drawing and meditation both do that for me.  So does drawing AS meditation.  The more peace and compassion I can develop within myself, the more peace and compassion I can bring into the world.  Perhaps only in small ways, but if each of us were able to do this, it would be powerful.

So I have taken the time to draw this afternoon, breathing deeply and working line by line, one line at a time.  It is calming.  It gives me courage to watch the news tonight.  Again.  To witness the inhumanity.  Again.  It gives me courage to keep protesting, to keep supporting, to keep loving, despite it all. 

Since I am on another map tangling kick, I am thinking about borders and boundaries and what happens when they are disrespected.  My heart is with all the people of Ukraine, and extends to all the other wars going on all over the planet at this moment.

“I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones.”
― Albert Einstein

Did this today as part of a fundraiser to send aid to Ukraine.  There is so little we can do as individuals, but together we raised a considerable sum to help those under siege.  The phenomenal Jo Quincy from Wales in the UK organized this (Zenjo).  Thanks, Jo.

Yesterday and today I have been experimenting with using a 9-pointed star as a string for tangling.  Below is my first attempt, done with Tomomi Galliano, CZT of the Pebbles and Drops website..  And underneath that is today's try.  I like this 9-pointed mandala a lot.  Nevertheless, first tries are just that:  first tries.  I can only get better with practice, eh? 

I posted my first try at this tile two days ago here.  Today I was wanting to make a card to accompany a gift certificate for a friend and decided to use the same tile design.  I'm pleased with this and hope the recipient likes it.  I made some minor changes in the design.

See an earlier stage of this project below:

Just getting started on the coloring, after creating most but not all of the linework.

"Tenacious practice, practice, practice is crucial for excellence; rote repetition is underrated in America."
(Amy Chua)

That's one reason I don't mind doing the same thing several times over.  I know I learn best that way.

This mandala was easy to draw this morning because one of the talented artists I'd taken a class with some time ago, Annie Taylor of the Arty Zen website, emailed a private video free to all her former students as a thanks.  It was a how-to of this piece, so I gave it a try.  Very fun. 

You can see the progression above, from the linework through the finished piece.  I like this mandala pattern and can see using it for other things.  Will be trying it again.  Thank you, Annie.  It's always wonderful to get a surprise gift.

And as I'm catching up on my back-to-basics 365 Tangle challenge, here are a few more super-basic tangles from early January.  The wind is howling outdoors; how lovely to stay inside and draw.

There are so many surprises in life.  This was certainly one of them. 

Zentangle® can be counted on for providing surprises on a regular basis.  You never know where you're going to end up once you begin.

After yesterday's post I thought I would try another mandala but this time I would attempt to place the more complicated Punzel tangle in the round.

Success!  However, I ended up with something that reminds me of Brutalist-style architecture, my least favorite style of all time. 

You could say this got the job done, but although I technically succeeded I'm not in love.

Which leads me to wonder:  what would this look like if I ran it through an iPhone app?  Let's see:

In part of Mary Oliver's Poem, "The Turtle," she says:

...Crawling up the high hill,
luminous under the sand that has packed against her skin,
she doesn’t dream
she knows
she is a part of the pond she lives in,
the tall trees are her children,
the birds that swim above her
are tied to her by an unbreakable string.


For the entire lovely poem, see New and Selected Poems: Volume One (Beacon Press) or go here.

I think I like the iPhone variations better than the original in this case.

The temperature was zero Farenheit when I woke up and this afternoon has reached a blazing 11° F (that would be MINUS 11.6°Centigrade, correct?).  I've been basking in the warmth by drawing a blue and black zendala that captures the winter colors. 

Wind outside is howling, and howled all through last night. 

Daylight is fading.  Snow is on the way. 

Hot cocoa, anyone?

White-Eyes
By Mary Oliver

In winter
    all the singing is in
         the tops of the trees
             where the wind-bird

with its white eyes
    shoves and pushes
         among the branches.
             Like any of us

he wants to go to sleep,
    but he's restless--
         he has an idea,
             and slowly it unfolds

from under his beating wings
    as long as he stays awake.
         But his big, round music, after all,
             is too breathy to last.

So, it's over.
    In the pine-crown
         he makes his nest,
             he's done all he can.

I don't know the name of this bird,
    I only imagine his glittering beak
         tucked in a white wing
             while the clouds--

which he has summoned
    from the north--
         which he has taught
             to be mild, and silent--

thicken, and begin to fall
    into the world below
         like stars, or the feathers
               of some unimaginable bird

that loves us,
    that is asleep now, and silent--
         that has turned itself
             into snow.

Holy cow, this was a hard photo to take!  Two of the mandalas would look great, the third would almost disappear; I'd try again, another two would look great and the other third would disappear.  I was gnashing my teeth.  This is the best I could do.

This is part of a series of moon phase pieces.  I have moon phases on the brain right now.  I am hooking moons into my latest rug, and also working on these drawings which I began in late 2020.

My heart is like the autumn moon
perfectly bright in the deep green pool
nothing can compare with it
you tell me how it can be explained
--Han-Shan

Got up this morning thinking I'd do something on the back of that bookmark from the last post.  I had dropped some watercolor on the back and was not best pleased when I noticed how the paper crinkled and--even after being flattened under some heavy books--wouldn't straighten out. 

So I set to work this morning intending to practice my Punzel tangle some more.  Only--

I got distracted.

Um, really distracted.

So what you see here isn't even close to Punzel.  Oops.  When I realized how I'd messed it up, I thought about throwing out the entire thing.  But I like the other side, so in the spirit of Zentangle®, ("There are no mistakes"), I kept going.

Result:  Looks like a cobra laying eggs in a flowerpatch, right?  Or might it be peas ripening in some type of excessively weird peapod?

Whatever.  I like it anyway.  (How many times do I find myself writing, "I like it anyway" on here?  But it's always true.

Time to go get this bookmark laminated, now that both sides are done.

I think this is the start of a bookmark.  I'll see where it takes me.

Perhaps it will go no farther.  I'll let it sit a bit.

But then I realized that it's my neighbor's birthday tomorrow, and since she is one of my favorite people in the world, I quickly made her a narrower version of the above bookmark and will bring it over with a card for her.

Continuing with zenAgain21:  Here's a Dali-inspired tile.  Mine looked quite different from those done by others (they were better at listening to the directions).

I know, scary stuff, huh?

"When we are asleep in this world, we are awake in another."  - Dali

He's not one of my favorite artists, but this was a fun idea to experiment with.

This was done with brown and black microns, graphite, watercolor pencils and white chalk pencil with a touch of white gellyroll on a 3.5" white tile.

Somewhere during the four days, we worked on an Opus tile (10 inches square).  I have plans to re-do this one, since I liked the idea but felt a bit too rushed during the execution.  It was fun though.

I have a few other things to finish or re-do, so that's it for now.  What an opportunity.  To be tangling for four days straight was just wonderful.  And exhausting.  As Molly Hollibaugh says, "Drawing is a physical act."  True!

Sometimes tired old things just need to be dressed up a bit to shine. 

Cue the comments on whether that's true for all of us!  I'm talking about things.  Ha.

This morning I found a gray tile that I'd tossed some lavender-ish watercolor on long ago, in an early attempt to map-tangle.  The color had spread out over most of the tile, with absolutely no interesting shape, and was incredibly plain.  BO-ring. 

Out came more watercolors today and I tarted it up, used my heat gun to dry it, and went to town with some of the Inktober tangles.  Better.  Every tangle except one was brand new for me.  Some of them turned out more successfully than others, so I'll re-do the ones that really didn't have enough room to show themselves off.  Perhaps that'll be the task for tomorrow.

I enjoyed every moment of this one.  Enough said.

How many ways can a drawing go wrong?

Just watch.

I haven't laughed this hard in a long time.  Oh gosh, I started off drawing the tangle Dewd, which I have never quite grasped.  (an understatement if there ever was one)

The first thing to go wrong was that I discovered that my beloved Micron 01 was dying.  I searched for a new one, which was when I found out I did not have another 01.  What to do?  I picked up an 05 instead.  Oh dear.

That's one of the things that gives this very funny tile a look of having been drawn by Edvard Munch (the painter who created The Scream).  But wait, there's more!

Dewd is the tangle around the edges of this Zendala.  I kind-of-almost had it at first, and then totally lost it as I moved in toward the center.  At several points I thought, "Oh for Pete's sake--this is rubbish, I can't go on."  But hey, it's Zentangle®.  We always keep going and see what happens.  One line at a time.

So instead I started to laugh and plowed on.  I added another tangle in the center.  Oh my, a nice one but it didn't help.  Edvard Munch lives on.

Well hey, in for a penny in for a pound, right?  Will it help if we tart this up with color?  (no)  Out came the Silver Shadow Gellyroll pens.  These are always tricky to use as you never quite know how they will look when dry.  I followed that up with a liberal application of General's Colored Pencils in two colors.  Thus proving the saying by Oscar Wilde, "Nothing succeeds like excess."

Because despite it all, I kinda like it.  And I laughed my way all the way through, which is always fun.

It felt great today to just sit and tangle awhile.  Quiet and relaxing.  I'm rusty but the annual 'Inktober" Challenge adapted for tanglers got me going and I couldn't be happier, even though we're already nine days into the month.  I plan to do what I can and thoroughly enjoy doing it.  It's good to be back.

A repeat of yesterday's tile.  This is version 2.0 since I gave away the tile I did yesterday as a thank-you gift to a neighbor.  I realized I still wanted a version for myself and redid it, enjoying every line.

In today's version I added substantial green coloring as well as the blue, and experimented a bit with placement of patterns.  This was just as much fun as the first one.

I made hard-boiled eggs last week and after they cooled this is what I saw.   I took a photograph because if ever there was an egg begging for kintsugi, this one was it. 

However, I ate the egg in my dinner salad, so no kintsugi took place. 

Not sure what kintsugi is?  It's the Japanese art of mending broken ceramics using gold in the cracks, resulting in a mended object of striking beauty.   Look HERE. 

The beauty is in the brokenness.

The instant I saw that egg I wanted to paint it, though I've no idea why.  Perhaps I've been thinking about kintsugi recently as I observe so much brokenness surrounding us all. 

Compassion can be one way to join our pieces back together, to form a strong bond, and to heal ourselves.

I contemplate this, and then write:
---------
Pick up your broken pieces. 
Lovingly place them together.
Be gentle. 
Add the gold. 
Allow time for healing.
And then, look. 
So much beauty.
---------

And here is one lovely article I saw on the topic.

It's hot and humid outside, not my preferred weather.  Demotivating. 

However, I see the value of "warming up" in other contexts, like when doing any kind of art.  Warming up = doing anything mental and/or physical to get oneself going.  Even sitting down for only ten minutes when there is supposedly NO TIME.  Here's last night's warm-up below, a quick tangle done just before sleep, inspired by the Sunday night Tangle Time with Amy Kam.

This morning I noticed I didn't want to meditate.  Not. At. All.  So I applied the warm-up idea to meditation, telling myself that I only had to sit for ten minutes.  And reminding myself that I could look right at the resistance the whole time if I wanted to, and that everyone has resistance at times.  I did, and of course discovered that I easily meditated for my entire usual time (way longer than ten minutes) and enjoyed it.

Yep, warming up...I may not like it when the weather does it, but it's pretty darned handy for the arts and for meditation.

After warming up today, I did this:

I'm not sure it's finished yet.  Probably is.

This was my second try at drawing Tisoooh (see my first attempt HERE) and I could not believe how much easier it was.  So much easier!  I want to continue to explore. 

Thanks to my friend Susie Ng in Thailand, who actually tried the same video I described in my previous post about it and then went good-crazy into experimenting with Tisoooh on her own.  You can see her amazing results HERE (scroll down until you find them but prepare for a visual feast along the way).  Susie is a phenomenal artist, as you'll see!

A kind neighbor brought these marigolds in a tiny bottle.  She collects old bottles and also grows flowers.  A wonderful combination.

I could actually have given this post a much longer title.  Something like:  "Kind Neighbors, Marigolds, and Other Favorite Things."  Too long.

Finally, a quick late-night tangle I did last night after watching Amy Kam's weekly Tangle Time.  The tile had been given a watercolor wash years ago.  I added the tangles (Gneiss, Black Pearl, Crescent Moon, Shattuck), along with colored and chalk pencils and graphite.  I threw in some white gellyroll.  And I still couldn't sleep--however I didn't wake up this morning until almost nine.  Oooh, a lovely sleep after all.  Once it actually came.

Here she is, the icon. 
The original. 
The exquisite.





But since nothing is sacred these days...

She apparently was photographed attending a party shortly after posing for Leonardo.

This is her "riotous party smile."

Uh-oh.  I know this is a sacrilege, right? 

But what fun to try.

Romi Marks had a wonderful workshop called "Zenovating the Mona Lisa," and since I'm in full-on learning-and-practice mode I wanted to take it.  My motivation actually was learning to tangle on photographs, especially on photographs with a lot of dark areas in them.  I want to try this out on pictures that I've taken, and I knew there were tips I needed to learn first.  Romi is a marvellous teacher and I learned a lot doing this.  Next I want to try some of my own photos to see what I can do.

So many art opportunities, so little time.

This was my interpretation of a well-done class by Vandana Krishna, CZT in Bengaluru, India, as a part of the Artifex series I mentioned in the last post.  While I'm not sure my version actually looks like a magnifying glass, I really enjoyed the process. 

On a night when--for no obvious reason--I simply could not get to sleep, working on this tangle was relaxing, fun, and absorbing.  I have occasional bouts of sleeplessness, and am so glad to have drawing to occupy me when it strikes.

Here's how it looked when I finished the linework, and then on the right is how it looks after adding some color and shading.  There's currently a big boo-boo in the center of the tangle (I'll probably fix it at some point), which I left in place for now.  You can see it in the large version--a misplaced black line.

I love the life lessons I constantly learn from Zentangle®.  This was another big one.  I set out to draw one thing, ended up getting hopelessly lost, and by the time I finished the preliminary linework last night and forced myself to stop and go to bed, I was looking at a hot mess.  I didn't think it could be salvaged.

But this morning I just had to keep going to see what would happen, and ended up with this--which I quite like.  [Although it does bear a resemblance to "St Patrick's Day on Steroids," don't you think?  But that's ok, I like it anyway.]

                                                                     ********************
Here are the details for you tanglers out there (no need to read this part if you don't tangle--it could be boring for you):  I fell in love with an Emiko Kaneko CZT video (HERE)* and thought I'd give it a try.  But I misunderstood what it was:  She clearly labeled the video "A Tangleation of Tissooh," but all I saw was "Tissoooh," which is a high-focus tangle by Tomas Padros CZT that I've always wanted to attempt.

Emiko made it look so easy that I was sure I could do it and learn. 

Well.  I did indeed learn, but not as she intended! 

Mine has some resemblance to hers, but I ended up with a lot of weird space in the background, and things are not in the same places as on her tile.  So did I learn a lot?  You bet.  But now I need to go back and find a simple stepout for ONLY Tissooh and have a go at that one tangle--this tile combines Tissooh with something like Bales, Tripoli, and Orbs.  However, I do love my outcome.

For years I've heard that it's lways good to learn by copying the masters, and Eri is certainly a master of this art.

For me, the biggest learning is that no matter how bad something looks, it's highly likely that it's worth it to try and save the thing.  Or as the I Ching would say: "Perseverance furthers."

*Thank you to Susie Ngamsuwan for catching the fact that I'd attributed this tile and video to the wrong CZT.  Wow, much appreciated.

                                                                    *******************
Note:  I've been doing a LOT of copying lately, along with watching videos and going along with them.  I always credit people as I'm copying.  I'm on a mission to learn from a wide variety of tanglers whose skills I admire, and if that means I am copying for awhile, that's ok.  It's a powerful way to practice.

Here are three quotes about copying as an effective tool in learning art:

It would have been the equivalent of Jackson Pollock's attempts to copy the Sistine Chapel. (Malcolm Cowley)

But Shakespeare's magic could not copied be;
Within that circle none durst walk but he. (John Dryden)

If my students seem to copy me when they are learning, that is good. It shows they are listening and trying to do what I tell them. They will develop their own style soon enough. (William Draper)

                                                                **********************

Finally, I took these two photos only one minute apart.  The first one, on the left, was taking on a white background in indirect daylight.  The second one--using the same camera with no setting changed--was taken a minute later on the blue background and in direct sunlight.  WOW--look at the difference!  It might as well be two different pieces, but it isn't.  Isn't that incredible!  It never fails to amaze me how light and a different color in the background can make the same thing look totally different.

PS:  The one on the left is the actual coloring of the tile.