drawing lines in the sand

 January 22, 2012

January 22, 2013

Happy Birthday to my better half

It was probably about seven years ago that my wife decided to leave her previous lines of work and follow her passion of caring for animals.  In the years since she has become an amazing veterinary technician, caring for hundreds if not thousands of patients between New York City and the eastern end of Long Island.  She comes home telling me unbelievable stories of the situations she has dealt with and the obstacles overcome to get these creatures back on track, most of the time successful but unfortunately sometimes not.  I know she works her tail off, the pun slightly intentional, and gives it her all every day, whether a cat or dog or even injured wildlife, and every day I am so proud of her for following her passion and her dream and being so selfless and so strong even though so many of her clients have no clue what her job really entails.  I'll say it again, because it only really scratches the surface.  I am so proud of my love.

Freewrite Friday (not really)

It isn't that I haven't been writing a lot recently, because I have, but yet the freewrites inevitably involve names and places and people and you can't be so casual in this little town with stuff like that.  It frustrates me that I can't share all the stuff I am sorting through in my own mind in terms of life and work and making this new year even better than the last.  But what it really comes down to is that none of this is for the world to read.  I'm on a personal mission.  

Another Friday.  The second Friday of the year.

I stare out of the front door window a lot.  Or rather, I have been trying to stare out the front door window more often.

Back in mid December there was a great article in the New York Times that my mother tore out for me to read.  It was called "The Power of Concentration" and sure enough she was right, as I felt like it was almost written for me to read.  It spoke of the value of single-tasking in this crazy multi-tasking world that we have gotten ourselves so caught up in.  I won't do it justice so I won't try, I'll just post the link and hope that you read it.  ...because it is a very interesting read.

For months I had been saying to myself and others that I needed to write.  It was my way of saying that after all that happened in 2012 I needed time to reflect.  It wasn't that the year was bad, in sharp contrast it was probably one of the best years of my life, but there was no down time.  All of a sudden I was feeling spread so thin that I felt like everything was starting to suffer.  Or maybe a better way of putting it is to say that I was feeling that the quality of my work and the quality of life was lessening.  That scared me.  That scared me a lot, because this whole move was about making our quality of life better, not worse. 

I have to remember to get out of my own head sometimes, as I think we all do.  I need to stop and focus, even if it means focusing on nothing for a few minutes.  It is time to get re-centered.  Even on days like today when things don't go as well as I would have liked I have to remember to go for that run or surf, take advantage of the awesome gift of yoga my wife gifted me with, or in this case, write.  Every day we can learn and grow and move forward, that is if we are smart and conscientious enough to let ourselves. 

Oh yeah, that article:
http://www.nytimes.com/2012/12/16/opinion/sunday/the-power-of-concentration.html?pagewanted=all&_r=0

three beaches, one love

It was a long, hot day.  We had sweated through another workday in the new life and were tired.  A friend said he was going surfing so we rallied, packed the boards in the car, and drove east.  I realized that we hadn't been to the beach enough recently even though I had been assuring people I had.  Lying to yourself is the worst kind of lying.

Our surf adventures in Montauk are our natural therapy.  It's like hitting the "reset" button.  The water rushes over you.  You rush over the water.  The day washes away.  You want to capture the moment.

A couple days later it was even hotter.  August has shown up, with it's heat and humidity and crowds of people behaving badly.  You curse the disrespectful and thank the real folk and go about your business.  Time to hit the reset button again so we bounced south to our home break.  It was swim o'clock.

My wife said as long as the weather is like this we should swim in the ocean every night after work.  We quickly realized the condition of the weather was of little concern, it was about getting to the beach as much as we can in August.  A noble challenge to go with our new life.

The next night we swam again, but the phone stayed in the car.

Today we heard there was clean surf so after the necessary day off errands we hit one of the hot spots.  We wanted so badly to surf but the current was still strong and our boards weren't right for how the waves were pitching and dumping on the shallow water.  We were frustrated at first but got over it.  It was another day, and we were taking another swim, so far conquering our August challenge in style.  We body surfed and got ounces of sand in our hair but the smiles only grew, the sighs only deepened.  Back on land all we had to do was see each others face and that said it all so we just basked in the sun and watched the sea before retreating home.

We worked hard to get here.  And are working hard to be here and figure it out.  But this is the life.

home again

Planted the biggest trees of my life, surfed while the sun set, and came home to a porch, all our own, and we sat and sighed and realized we did it.  Operation: Escape NYC, etched in the sand four months ago. Complete.

months and months of photos and adventure coming your way soon.  We've moved.  Life has changed. All for the better. Talk about adventure.

Best,
arborboy

Ulmus americana

Entering the park for my last day of work. That's a huge Ulmus americana, one of the last great American elms found in the north end of Central Park. This tree is one of the most beautiful specimens of American elm, and a joy to pass underneath every morning. Here we go folks, one last time...

winter sunlight...

It's wild to think about the sights and sounds and experiences I have become so accustomed to living in New York City, even wilder to think about leaving them. One day I left the Horticultural Society of New York when they were still in that cavernous space on 58th Street. It was probably an interview, which would take the scene back almost ten years. From there I had nothing else on the agenda so I decided to stroll Central Park. Like most new to the city I would get terribly turned around, but I wasn't concerned. I knew I could figure out where I had to get to by that point in order to get back to safety, at that time a tiny room share in Park Slope. I was already used to walking a lot, and this afternoon I walked for a long time. Eventually I would end up in an alien land. I stumbled upon a fenced-in formal garden I didn't even know existed. I climbed stairs and found myself under a breathtaking wrought iron pergola covered in wisteria. It was summer or early fall so the park was rich in green, new growth. Giving my legs a break I would sit for a few and watch a gardener carefully pruning back the aged wisteria with a pole pruner. He seemed at peace. Carefully snipping the unwanted new shoots I would remember thinking to myself, "gosh, if I had a job like that I could last in this city a long time". This was on the heels of being at a party at my brothers apartment in Brooklyn and a friend of his recommending that I "just give the city ten years and see how you feel", a suggestion that seemed like pure lunacy to this young surf kid from a small ocean town. Sure enough nearly ten years would pass. I would learn the man I saw that afternoon was a gentleman named Paul Serra, Assistant Curator at the Conservatory Garden there in the north end of Central Park. (My walk had apparently taken me from the base of the park at 59th Street all the way up to 105th Street on the east side). Paul and I would not only get to know each other but would become good friends and colleagues tending to the Conservatory Garden under the direction of Curator Diane Schaub and Director Lynden Miller. I would get my chance to have an "office" most people would die for. And as my dear friend Diane would compliment, I would share some of my best years with that garden. I learned to love and respect the garden and the park and those that tend to it in such a caring and selfless way. Doug Blonsky, the President of the Central Park Conservancy, the organization that maintains the park for the city of New York through a model public-private partnership, himself wastes no time calling his horticulture staff the ambassadors to the park. After years I would learn how right he is, and how proud I am to say I am one of those ambassadors.

This week was a major week. Only a couple months ago we began the search for a home, a real house, and yard. Thanks to all the right people being in our corner we found a house that seemed perfect. We said "why not" and put in a bid, and to our amazement the back and forth happened quickly, and in our favor. All of a sudden the question of whether this might be the year we get out of the city became the question of how soon might we get out of the city, no "if" about it. We put out feelers on the work front and crossed our fingers. Hard work, it would turn out, had once again paid off as calls quickly led to conversations which led to setting up meetings. Our house bid was accepted, confirming we are buying our first home. Interviews were set, letting us know that we have the skills to take the show on the road. I would pause and look up to get caught by the morning sun as it narrowed through the buildings along Fifth Avenue and shot in to spotlight the wisteria covered pergola in the middle of the Conservatory Garden. It's these moments that make you stop for a sec, to behold the beauty of the here and now. Maybe it's a sight you have seen a thousand times before, but you never saw it like this before. Or maybe it's like you are seeing it for the first time, all over again. It's the exploration and adventure that will ensue that you don't even know yet. You will remember this place and time. The next challenge begins. With great admiration and respect you get a deeper glimpse into who you are and where you are going based on where you came from, and all of those steps along the way. The pergola and the wisteria, the tiers of spirea and yew, you have been so good to me.

on the topic of collages and selling artwork

"Adventure"
collage on paper
6.5" x 10"
aef08 (2008)
image courtesy of the owners, H. Harrison and C. Mcpherson

Ultimately the question is this:
Would you ever consider buying one of my collages?
...and if so, what would you pay?

The longer question goes like this:
I have always been pushed and pushed myself to make art. Growing up dad always had these sketch books that lived around the house and periodically us kids would create some new doodles and drawings. ...of course now so much fun to revisit as adults contemplating kids of our own. In high school I studied under great artists and began learning the basics of sculpture, photography, and painting. At the Colorado College I expanded my skills to installation art, printmaking and what we liked to call "exploratory media". To this day I kick myself that I didn't record more, for there I did some of my best installations. Following school I was back in New York at the end of Long Island growing as a painter, collage artist, and budding horticulturist. So flash forward to city living in the 21st Century. As I have shared in blog posts my main focus these days are collages of various shapes and sizes, some with apparent themes, others simply juxtapositions of images and memories that strike a chord. Each piece is completely hand made, the tangible process of laying layer atop layer and the tactile finished product as important to me as the image presented. Each collage is one of a kind and would never be recreated.

Though I have often traded art among friends and mentors I have never formally sold my collages or paintings. For years I have been urged to, but ultimately I never figured out what I would charge. Over those same years I have seen others successfully vend their artwork via their own blogs so now I am investigating following suit. Therefore, o' visitors of arborboy, let me ask you. To have one of these collages, completely original and one of a kind, sent to you in an attractive mat that all you would have to do is put in a frame, what would you realistically spend, or want to spend?

Seriously I would love any and all feedback on this matter. Whether you are an old friend or a stranger reading this blog for the first time, I would like to know what you would value these pieces at and what you would be willing to spend to have one of your own. Like art itself the answers are completely subjective so clearly there is no right or wrong answer. As far as size, let's say for the moment that said collages would range in size from 6.5" x 10" up t0 10" x 15". (To view other collages I have made, click on the collage tag below.) Feel free to comment or if you would prefer to email, send your input to arborboy@gmail.com The goal is for me to share with you these pieces at a reasonable rate so that I am driven to create new and better pieces on a more regular basis. If you wouldn't spend more than $20 I'd like to know. If you think I'm a fool not to charge $100 I'd like to know. If a number or range of numbers come to mind I'd really like to know. Whether you are a buyer or artist or both, please respond. I'd appreciate it.

Thanks in advance for your help.
cheers,
aef

Welcome to the world...

Keira Chanel Marshall
born July 11th at 1:20am
Mom (Kate Dunkle), Dad (Jerome Marshall), and Big Sis (Janaya) are all doing well.
And we of course couldn't be more thrilled and excited to see our precious new niece.
Much Love to the whole family,
A&K