This is Helen Burling Ottaway, my mother, in 1945.
The vest was red wool with embroidery. We had it still, when we were kids. We probably wore it out.
I am not pensive today, I am festive! And home! Three days of driving, with Sol Duc the cat objecting quite a bit, and we are home in Washington.
There are a LOT of mountains between Grand Junction, Colorado and Port Townsend Washington. Many passes as we drove northwest, over to Salt Lake City and then up through Idaho, part of Oregon and then Washington. There was snow on the first pass, but not on the road. We stayed in Burley, Idaho and then in Pendleton, Oregon. When I drove over Snoqualmie Pass, we drove into a cloud and rain and suddenly I could smell the sound! Salt and sea! It was raining in Pendleton yesterday morning but there was no ocean smell. Sol Duc continued to complain intermittently and got tired and slept a lot. Just wait, cat, we are going back!
It is fabulous to be home and see friends already! A friend came and made me banh xeo, Vietnamese pancakes, with spinach and salmon filling, and then I crashed to sleep.
Another group that I saw at the nowhereelse festival is Ben Sollee. The group was him, his cello, and a drummer. And oh, my gosh, could they fill the tent with music! And he used that cello in all sorts of ways.
So here is his song about heroes and heroines: Cajun Navy.
When my (now ex) husband and I were first married, we bought two gold chains. I was just starting medical school. Third year we hit the wards. This meant that I was often running around the hospital wearing scrubs, rings off. I wanted a chain to put my wedding ring on. Some people tied them to their scrub pants, but they can get lost.
I go home from Richmond, Virginia to Alexandria. We show the chains to my parents, both used ones, but gold.
My sister reports to me later. “Our mom said, why are they buying gold chains? That’s dumb. They don’t have any money!”
“Maybe they want them,” says my sister.
“Well, I think it’s a waste.”
“You bought more paper the other day.”
“Oh. Hmmm, yes I did.”
“You aren’t using that paper yet and you have an entire vault of paper.”
“Yes, but I am an artist. I need supplies.”
“Katy wants the chain for work to put her ring on. How is that different?”
“Oh, well. Maybe you’re right.”
I am very pleased that my sister defends me but it also was very funny. My mother had a stack with one by ones with thin 24 by 30 boards, on them, stacked five feet high to put paper in. Cheap shelves, though it would be totally unstable in an earthquake. She bought paper that she loved and used it too. She did watercolors, etchings, carried a sketchbook everywhere, oils, scorned acrylics, woodblocks, clay, colored pencils, chalk pastels, oil pastels and then she loved crafts as well. She was a master of paper mache. Artists need supplies, but everyone has something like that. My daughter did not get the pack rat gene and is a minimalist, but even she has some things she really likes. Real stationary, for one.
I wore that chain for more than 14 years. We were divorced at 14 years but are still good friends. My ex went on the nursing school and has been a Covid-19 hero, much to some people’s surprise.
My mother was inconsistent, as we all are. She prided herself on being frugal and not spending money, but when it came to art supplies, she wanted them. She still could be frugal but she certainly had the supplies and she would stock up when beautiful paper was on sale! And pencils and pastels and watercolors and oils. My father would quote Ralph Waldo Emerson, “A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds.” Both he and my mother would call each other out when one was being inconsistent. They could be very very funny.
The lead photograph is from winter 1991-92. Mark Warren Wilson, Helen Burling Ottaway, Christine Robbins Ottaway, me and Malcolm Kenyon Ottaway. Taken by Joel F., my sister’s first husband, with my camera. This next was taken by my father and there is Joel F. We went to Colorado and all stayed in a condo and skiied. My father found out that he really did not like heights, either driving or the ski lifts. Joel and Mark staged a pretend dramatic argument making fun of Chris and my arguments, and they were right on. We were quite embarassed and annoyed, but not instantly cured. And the skiing was delightful.
My mother, father and sister have all died. I do miss them. Hugs for all the recent losses of people.
I did manage to cross the finish line for the Blogging from A to Z.
It was a bit tricky because I had a last minute trip. I got the tickets last Sunday and flew on Tuesday. I flew back on Friday and got home on Saturday. I traveled super light: no laptop, no big camera, only phone and a small day pack and one change of clothes, so I washed some by hand daily. I am proud that I still got the A to Z done!
I feel more like a finisher than a winner. It does feel good to share so much of my mother’s artwork. Helen Burling Ottaway died at age 61 in 2000, so her artwork did not have much of an internet presence. She is present in the Lake Matinenda Cottage Owners Association here. She and my uncle and other family and friends worked on a Matinenda flora of the wildflowers and plants. There have been two more since.
Hooray for everyone who contributed to or supported or read the Blogging from A to Z this month and hmmm, what should I do next year?
Sleep is not evil. Nor is snoring, though you might think someone is evil at 2 am if their snoring is keeping you up.
This is a small watercolor, 9 by 6 inches. Again, no date, but it is a view near my parent’s house in Chimacum. They loved that house and the views. They moved there in 1996 and my mother was diagnosed with cancer a year later. I want to end with this painting because they were so happy there, even with the cancer. They had wanted to move to the northwest for years, but waited until my grandmother died. She was in her 90s and they were afraid to move her. After she died, it took three years to find a place and sort things and move.
So let’s end with them sleeping and waking to morning and the sun coming over the mountains and the farms around them and the views.
Yellow can mean fear or cowardice, but it is also a color. Sunlight, summer, warmth, daffodils, spring and tulips.
This watercolor by Helen Burling Ottaway is from 1999 and my daughter chose the mat. I love her choice, the orange picking up all the oranges and yellows in the painting. Orange would never occur to me, but it is wonderful.
Are phobias evil? A fear of strangers or of foreigners. I think a phobia can make someone behave strangely or dangerously and harm others. I think that the isolation of the pandemic has increased our fear, so it may well exacerbate xenophobia. Not only the pandemic, but inflammatory news and war and changing weather patterns and the news that one in five trees is dying in part of California, unable to survive the warming.
This is a watercolor, again no date, but I think it is of the Olympic Mountains. That means it was painted in the last four years of her life, between 1996 and 2000. She and my father bought five acres with a house and barn in Chimacum, off of Center Valley Road. She loved the views up and down the valley. She was diagnosed with ovarian cancer in 1997 and died in 2000.
The mountains look like they have a crosshatching, Xes to indicate snow and valleys and places where the snow can’t stick. Or has fallen down.
Is wildness evil? What sort of wildness? The forest and waves and wilderness are not things we think of as evil, but some wildness in humans seems very evil. Some is silliness, some is substances, and some is truly violence and cruelty and terror and evil.
This is another of Helen Burling Ottaway’s fantasy etchings, titled The Hunt, number 6 of 30, 1986. A merman with a trident and dogfish, with a variety of tails. The etching is 6.75 by 8, the paper 11 by 15. I like the lines of movement, of waves, from the escaping shark.
Virago gives positive and negative definitions, but all female. The most positive ones are of a very strong woman, “like a man”. Is there a male word that means the same thing? A word for a man, where the most positive one is that he’s very strong, “like a woman”. Perhaps “like a woman in labor”. Let’s make one up if we can’t think of one. “Obstetico”, perhaps. A man who complains like he’s a woman in labor, but the positive definition is strong like a woman in labor.
This is a watercolor postcard. Helen Burling Ottaway painted a bunch of postcards, with wonderful detail. These snapdragons could be viragos or obstetricos or perhaps both. This is from 1999, two years into her ovarian cancer. So the song is the Bald Headed Blues.
Unlikely isn’t evil. Well, I am tired of evil, so U is for Unlikely because I am tossing in a monkey wrench. U for unexpected, too.
Back to etchings: U is for Unicorn. This is titled “The Virgin and the Unicorn II”, number 10/75, 1986, H. Ottaway. The etching is 7 inches by 8 inches and the paper is 11 inches by 15 inches. She would often frame them mounted but not matted, in frames that have a slot to hold the glass away from the picture. She did her own framing and especially disliked cutting glass. I knew when a show was close because she would be framing and grumpy.
Discover and re-discover Mexicoβs cuisine, culture and history through the recipes, backyard stories and other interesting findings of an expatriate in Canada
Engaging in some lyrical athletics whilst painting pictures with words and pounding the pavement. I run; blog; write poetry; chase after my kids & drink coffee.
Refugees welcome - FlΓΌchtlinge willkommen I am teaching German to refugees. Ich unterrichte geflΓΌchtete Menschen in der deutschen Sprache. I am writing this blog in English and German because my friends speak English and German. Ich schreibe auf Deutsch und Englisch, weil meine Freunde Deutsch und Englisch sprechen.
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