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Posts Tagged ‘recycled art’

I ventured out over the weekend to see what I could see.  The Ohio River is still very high, but receding.  All along the riverbank you can see how far the water rose because large logs and plastic trash reveal the high water marks.  Once all this water reaches its “normal” level…there will be a huge amount of trash left behind to challenge any clean-up attempts.  Today I wasn’t out looking for garbage, but other signs of life.  Perhaps it is a bit early to look for migrating birds although I can feel that is just a short time away and getting closer.  Already species like the Red-winged Blackbird are staking out nesting territories.  Species we see all the year round like the Northern Cardinal were singing at the tops of their lungs and I enjoyed standing under one bright red bird that was doing just that!

This particular bird has many rivals.  I could hear many other cardinals singing across the landscape.  I could almost imagine the spaces they were occupying by the volume of their singing…every hundred meters or so it seemed a different bird was calling out.  I wondered how the poor females went about the task of choosing which one to form a pair with?  I did see a few Yellow-rumped Warblers which are usually the first warblers to arrive and among the last to leave.  The other warblers will be winging their way here shortly…or at least I hope they stop here ever so briefly on their way northward.  Over the last two or three years it seems there are more changes to the environs around the Falls of the Ohio State Park.  I know that there are many other better choices all along the Ohio River than here. It seems we have decided to put people’s needs first over what birds might need.  During my wanderings, I did see my first butterfly and here it is…

…this is the Spring Azure butterfly.  Here it is mid March and this tiny ( no wider across than my thumb nail) bright blue-violet butterfly was visiting plants.  Unfortunately, I couldn’t obtain an image of that beautiful blue coloring, but with this species, the underside or ventral wings are more helpful in identifying it.  Since there were no dark marks on the dorsal wing tips, this helped me determine that this butterfly was the male of the species.  I was really excited to see this little wonder and thought that this could be a really uncommon species…but it wasn’t.  It’s fairly common, widespread, and has many morphs.  Formerly, this species was scientifically named Celastrina argiolus, but is now called Celastrina landon. With this species, there is still much taxonomic hair-splitting to do.  It’s just that variable over a large area of North America.

As I walked along the riverbank, I came across a few familiar signs now mostly underwater.  Here’s what happens when you throw “Caution” to the water…you get this view.  And here’s one that partly hides a “No Trespassing” sign near a storm sewer that feeds into the river.

As I moved along where the faint hearted fear to tread, I was hoping that my slogging through the mud and muck would be rewarded.  Earlier I had seen a few Blue-winged teal which is a small species of duck and so I was hoping to see another small, but rare duck that sometimes mixes in with these teal as they migrate.  Today was my lucky day and here are three images of the very unusual  Mud Duck.  This bird likes to really get into the underbrush particularly during floods to take advantage of feeding areas usually restricted to other ducks during normal river levels.  It is a very oily duck and highly buoyant on the water and as a consequence…it almost never dives beneath the surface of the river.

The price of observing this unusual fowl was foul boots.  I became so coated with mud from my knees down that I didn’t worry about my foot gear until I was ready to go home.  This mud is particularly sticky and each rise of the foot is accompanied by a sucking sound.  You definitely need to tie your laces tight, otherwise you risk stepping right out of your shoe or boot.  I stopped every so often to clean the bottoms of my boots because the weight of the mud made each step an additional burden.

So far, I haven’t seen any of the large pieces of Styrofoam that found temporary refuge in my plein air studio.  They are probably half way to the Mississippi River by now.  It may take another week for the water to fully retreat and then it will be even more time before the riverbank dries out some.  I’ll close for now with another flood view.  Over the years, these sycamore trees have been a good marker for high water.

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As I write this post the Ohio River is still high and lingering due to unexpected heavy rains.  I’m anxious to see what the new standard will be along the riverbanks.  Until my old haunts are once again accessible, I’m forced to dip into the old archives.  Here’s a selection of images made between October 2010 and February 2011 of a sculptural grouping I came to call “The Choir”.  Some of the members of this group made appearances in my last post and were in fact made from Styrofoam and other found objects I collected along the river and kept at the plein air studio.  Each began as a unique piece that was constructed and photographed on site at the Falls of the Ohio.  After each piece fell apart or was destroyed by other park visitors, I retrieved the parts and moved them back to the studio.  I didn’t try to repair them but instead chose to stand them back up to see what would happen.  Happily, people interacted with them by changing, rearranging, and adding new figures to the grouping.  On the down side, they were also attacked several times, smashed and eventually knocked down.  Now, who knows where they are, but it’s possible I may find parts of them in other places of the park.  In my imagination I see “The Choir” being lifted by the water and floating away piece by piece.  Here are the images which are in chronological order except for the very last picture.

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The informal trail to my plein air studio was marked by something different today.  Old tires that were cut apart to extract their metal wheels were hung upon a few select willows like perverse life preservers.  I saw few people out today and in fact a light drizzling rain probably contributed to that.  Approaching my “studio” I could see that it had been visited again.  The “Choir” group of sculptures that had been thrashed a few weeks ago were once again the targets of abuse.  All the figures that had once been standing were all broken and horizontal.

By now, I am somewhat accustomed to the destruction that happens to the works I regularly leave out here.  This time, however, there was something oddly different.  Why would anyone take the wooden plank that I like to sit on while I make these sculptures?  I checked all around the area and could not find it and so I assumed it was carried off.  My searching did uncover this scene involving a small found object sculpture that someone had previously made and left as a gift.  Here’s how it appeared this time.

Perhaps the same people who made a mess of my outdoor studio set this up.  A small doll that I had found months previously was decapitated and its head placed on this improvised “pike”.  I took a few photos and left it be.  Returning to my polystyrene cache, I decided to recycle some of the larger pieces that were now lying haphazardly on the ground and here are a few in process shots of the new sculpture I came to call “Big Red”.

Because this work was reminding me of something I had made before, I decided it needed something different to distinguish it.  While looking for my favorite plank, I also came across the unravelling rope snagged on a willow branch with its small figure I had posted a few weeks a go.  The rope was now lying in the sand…it had been pulled down from the tree.

I removed the little figure hiding among the fibers and put him in my collecting bag.  I will reassemble him once I get home and perhaps make a gift of him to somebody.  The shredded barge cable I also took along, but I had a different purpose for this…it would become a wig for Big Red.

I arranged the dishevelled rope upon the figure’s head and decided it needed a bit of styling.  Luckily, while walking the river I found the tools I needed.  First I found a brush…and I have found many of these over time.

And then, I located a blow dryer!

In no time I was able to coif my figure.  Here she is as a train passes over the railroad bridge.

I left the figure where I made her and frankly I don’t expect to see her intact again.  It wouldn’t surprise me if she didn’t last the day, but at least I have these pictures to record her existence by the riverbank.  Here is my parting image of her as she waves to the river that partially gave her “life”.

One final snapshot…I got a kick finding that little hair dryer and I do mean little!  To help judge its scale I placed a five cent piece from my pocket next to this artifact and recorded this image.

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It’s the Falls of the Ohio and it’s nearly midwinter.  The quality of the light feels like it’s coming from banks and banks of incandescent tubes in the sky.  It doesn’t even feel like light, but more like a heavy presence more  akin to fog than photons.

There are fewer people out today.  The last of the last snow lingers on in the cool places and tomorrow it will probably be gone.  I’m trudging along the river and getting muddy.  I use the stick I brought along to test its sticky depth and tap the thickness of what ice I encounter.

Close to shore dozens of mallard ducks are dabbling in the muck.  I wonder what they are finding to eat?  Whatever it is it seems to be worth the energy expense to go after it.  The normally iridescent colors on the drakes are now subdued and await the splendor of the sunlight to reveal their gaudiness.  Watching the ducks I slip and slide in the less secure places along the riverbank.  My wife is not going to like seeing these shoes!  Once in a while, I find a good spot to rest and scrape mud off the bottoms with the edges of a stick.

I walk by familiar spots along the way to my open air studio.  I like checking out the uprooted trees and appreciate their exposed root masses like the fine subterranean sculpture they seem to me.  Seeing a tree like this is an odd sensation because you know the roots that supported and nourished this tree claimed a space in the earth that was hidden from view.  I often think of these conceptualized spaces.  There is a complete lack of greenery that lays the structural aspects of the park open for inspection.  Sometimes the driftwood feels like the bones of the river.

The sculpture group I’ve come to call the “The Choir” is still standing.  I’ve enjoyed seeing what happens to these guys.  Visitors are still playing with them and I notice small changes here and there.  As the eyes, ears, noses, and mouths fall off, the character of each personage changes.  The starkness and artificiality of my material choices contrasts with all the wood that surrounds them.  When I work in my spot, “The Choir” watches my back.  I like this recent photo of my studio spot.

The wood tells its own story.  All the sticks that wiggle, twist, and reveal character are grouped together and await their potential to be realized in just the right sculpture.  This site looks like it could be ancient.  I remember photos seen in a book about Andeevo in Russia where entire winter structures were made from the remains of mammoth skeletons covered in prepared hides.  That was life 15,000 years a go.  I can picture my site covered by a tarp and maybe I’ll try that this year if the river allows it and the opportunity presents itself.

Meet “Skippy” who is named after the glass I used for one of his ears which came from the bottom of a peanut butter jar.  I found it in the sand. The raised letters told me the brand name.  “Skippy” is also made from Styrofoam found along the way, plastic fishing bobbers, rubber, a plastic mouth guard, and various woods.  The “Choir” is visible behind the studio site.

I don’t have a good story to go along with this figure.  I did kind of imagine that Skippy was checking out the river line and looking for fresh and unusual flotsam and jetsam.

Cold, wet, and muddy Skippy entertains himself by looking for colorful or unusual artifacts such as these found on this trip.  The joy in finding is its own reward.

So many lost toys almost all of the time.  Each time I come out here I find some plastic representation of life.  I usually take a picture of the object as found and then it goes into my collecting bag.  I like that relationship between images and objects…although the years worth of objects is starting to take up serious space.

This is where I last saw Skippy.  He was standing by the snow with a willow tree framing the view behind his head.  The bright blue of a plastic drum adding a note of wondrous color in an otherwise drab riverscape.  We have a way to go before Spring and everyone I know is already sick of winter.  I’m going to try to stay positive and look for the beauty in the common place.  I wonder what the groundhog’s shadow will say?

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Looking up at me with that reassuring smile, I thought it a good omen on my first foray of the new year.  It’s winter and so it’s cold, but the sun is bright and clear and strong shadows are everywhere.  I’m bundled up and so it’s okay as I venture forth along my spot on the Ohio River.

Today the landscape and it’s living inhabitants are asleep or away.  I see only a few seagulls and ducks along the river and that’s all.  With the leaves now fallen, the polystyrene sculptures that mark my studio area are more visible.  The very bright whiteness of the Styrofoam can be seen from a distance and it helps these pieces are vertical elements too.  This contrasts sharply with Spring and Summer where you could walk within fifteen yards of this spot and not see these figures for the trees.

The “choir” is still all here, which is what I expected.  People are fair weather animals and when it’s cold, fewer are willing to explore this landscape on foot.  I admit to liking the existential “feeling” I perceive on these winter walks.  There is a clarity that I appreciate not only in the light, but within my mind too.  Winter does a good job with its cold in prioritizing things and the relative lack of sound makes it easier to hear my own thoughts. 

My found materials are as I left them at my open air studio.  I decide to sit on the plank (a little cool on the buns!) and make my first figure or 2011.

Looking around I pick up two smallish pieces of Styrofoam and constructed this delicate figure.  Here he is before the addition of found glass ears.  The mouth is also glass and I like how the river and sand polish this material as it grinds away the sharp edges.  Once completed, I look for an interesting backdrop to create the images that represent this day.

I featured this on a late post from last year.  I’m fascinated by this frayed barge rope or cable that has been snagged by this willow tree.  I like how it is slowly unraveling and the bright orange nylon? fibers add that unnaturalistic element that seems so out-of-place in this environment. 

As I move this little figure around this orange fiber outburst I wonder if the beauty I’m perceiving from the color is somehow out-of-place and perverse?  I begin the year wondering if what I’m also doing out here is aestheticizing garbage as much as I am calling attention to our relationship with nature?  In my defense, I tell myself that I’m just an artist doing what artists have always done…which is react to materials and processes and selectively ordering things in the ways that artists do.  What do you think?

When I last saw this frayed cable, it was helping to form this interesting drift that was a combination of wind, snow, sand, and ice.  I posed a different figure around that formation.  Now all the snow is gone for the moment, but surely we will receive more before season’s end.  Oh, I forgot about the small shoe sole that I tied onto my figure.  Since it came from a child’s shoe…it is meant loosely to be an attribute of innocence.  I have done this with other figures in the past.

When I could no longer push the cold out of my mind and finger tips, I decided to leave this figure by its orange curtain.  I moved him into a position that suggests he’s taking shelter from the elements.  On my next outing to the Falls, I will stop by and see how he’s doing…that is if he’s still out here and hasn’t walked away.

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Another year’s worth of fresh water has passed under our bridges.  It’s been an eventful year in many ways and to recap things sounds like more energy than I currently have to expend on something at this moment. I guess I can’t party like I used to!  So, here I am limping my way across the finish line with Post number 223.

I love the way ice changes the riverscape at the Falls.  Over the years, I have been a lucky witness to some interesting ice formations.  On this last trip, however, the ice present seemed to cover surfaces in a glassy coating.  I decided to take a walk along the river side of the Woodland Trail.  It was cold, but the wind was calm which helped things a lot.  I made this figure that I named “Acorn Eyes” from stuff out of my collecting bag and objects that I found along the way.  The snow and ice formed a lighter background that actually helped objects to stand out more clearly.

Here’s a colorful shoe followed by a child’s playground ball I came across. 

One natural object that caught my eye was this ice-covered milkweed pod.  This plant is very important in the life cycle of the Monarch butterfly.

By the sycamore trees I found a spot I like that has these wonderful exposed roots.  You could still see the mottled greens and whites of the tree bark through the thin coating of ice that covered them.  I decided to take a few pictures here with my newest Styrofoam figure.

With as much pressure as is regularly put upon this landscape, I marvel that there are any trees here at all.  The river is a powerful force washing away most everything that stands before it.  Subtler still, but also very effective is the role ice plays in breaking apart the fossil rock.  Water seeps into the smallest cracks and as the temperature drops below freezing, the water expands into ice, further wedging apart the gaps.  In this way rock is split and broken down. 

Walking along the trees that border the river, you can see the remains of logs that were washed into here during previous floods and eventually became stranded.  As they decay, they release their nutrients back into the environment.  I like looking for the patterns formed by the various layers deposited. 

I am also looking forward to whatever the new year brings.  May it be a positive and peaceful one for all.  I know the river will keep life interesting for me…and I hope I can do likewise for you through this blog.  See you next year!

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I’m the only one out here and for good reason too.  It is just so cold and the wind isn’t helping matters at all.  My eyes peer through a narrow exposed  slit formed by the bottom of my hat and the top of my scarf which covers most of my face.  On a day like today it is good to have a purpose and I do.  Each year I make my own set of holiday cards and mail them off to family and friends and I use the Falls of the Ohio to provide materials and context.

The snow changes things by generalizing the landscape.  You need to be careful where you step out here since the snow gives you a false sense of security.  All the old dangers are still out here…they are just harder to see.  A misstep can cause you to fall or twist an ankle and it is slippery walking on top of this wood. 

For me, however, all these miserable conditions are worth the moments of enchantment that occur.  Every day objects take on a renewed visual interest and new compositions are created.

With the vegetation gone, this frayed barge cable shows up easily on the willow branches that have snagged it.  The river deposited it long a go and it is finally falling apart.  Next spring, strands of this rope will form parts of next year’s oriole nests.  What I also find interesting here is how the wind, sand, and snow blow together to form a light drifting mixture.

Walking towards my outdoor studio site, I unexpectantly came across these tracks in the sand and snow.  These were made by a very large bird and I thought Great Blue Heron or even Sandhill Crane?  It’s unusual to see these bird tracks here since the herons in particular stay closer to the water’s edge.

The little dog traveling with me couldn’t resist seeing where the tracks led to.  The sand and snow mixture may have exaggerated the true size of this bird.  After a short walk the tracks end here.

I wonder if what is recorded here is a brief moment of indecision?  First, the bird turns one way then another and then the tracks are gone.  It may have jumped into the air from this spot since there are no other tracks in the immediate area.

I come across another nice snow/sand drift and start taking a few shots for my holiday cards.  I had made this little Styro-snowman with a Blue Hat at home with Falls’ materials and brought him along.  Here he is admiring the drift as he walks on one side of it.  Each time I take a picture I need to take my glove off and before long my finger tips start to burn.  The longer I’m out here…the more purposeful I become.

Reaching my familiar site, I find the large figures that watch my back.  Other than the snow, more has changed here since my last visit.  There’s a new figure leading the group like a skinny choir master.  It’s getting harder to take a simple picture and I think the day is getting colder still.  The camera is freezing and the batteries are getting zapped.  Soon, I won’t be able to take pictures and I decide to turn around after about a half an hour’s walk.  I did take one other picture for this post from my snow filled studio.  It shows that indeed, milk crates can hold water…as long as it’s frozen.  See previous posts a go.  Time for some hot chocolate and heat!

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The train and I arrived at the Falls at the same time today.  It’s a frosty cold morning, but the sun is rising.  The only places you can find the icy covered driftwood now is in the shadows.  I’m more in the mood today to just go for a walk with my trusty camera.

I found this little composition and it reminded me of some of my favorite Max Ernst paintings.  I’ve always admired his creativity.  Ironically, the plywood panel with the circular hole is made of plastic!  I have no idea what it belongs to?

I thought I would check out the area near my outdoor studio site.  There’s not much in the way of birds out here in the willows, but on the river, I have spotted Lesser Scaup ducks mixing with Mallards.  The photos I made of them are good enough only for identification purposes. 

I came across one of my recent Styro-figures that I had thought was gone.  The last couple of times I have been out here, I don’t remember seeing it. He or she is still standing in an area where someone has recycled the metal wheels from these tires.  By cutting these tires up it prevents them from becoming mosquito nurseries and at least some element from the wheel gets reused.

Stopping by my trusty site gave me the chance to revisit some old friends.  The wind has knocked a couple of them down and I think they may have had some human help too.  It may only be a few months before this area will get rearranged by the later winter/early spring river overflow.

Walking down to the river it’s much windier.  The reddish bark of the willow saplings adds a note color to the landscape.  The river is a little higher than before and waves are pushing against the shore.  In the air above, Ring-billed Gulls dive into the water when food is spotted.  Yes, there is also trash in the river which gets pushed onto the land.

Objects made with fossil fuels wash over limestone bedrock with its embedded fossils.  A little water seems to make the fossils stand out a little more.  Over 350 million years a go these corals were at home in a marine environment.

Contrasting with the cleanliness of the exposed rock are sections were mud, sand, and silt have been cast ashore.  That’s were I found this image.

To me this also has the feel of a fossil.  This comb is evidence of life and its made from ancient carbon.  I wonder if plastic can fossilize?

I have collected more than one milk crate along the way.  I like to use them to store found objects and wood at my outdoor site.  Walking the river I found this image and was  provoked by it.  It’s a picture that finds some beauty in futility since this crate will never hold water.  There is snow in the forecast for this weekend and I’m anxious to see if it pans out.  More later.

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There’s drama walking through the autumn landscape.  The colors and forms are beautiful and so much change is occurring so suddenly that it holds your interest and makes even the unobservant aware of the fleeting nature of life.  The season is also a reminder of unrealized ambitions and unmet goals.  Whatever urgent dreams you may harbor, better happen sooner than later because time waits for no one.  Recently, I caught up with a friend at the Falls of the Ohio who I don’t see often enough and he told me this interesting story he witnessed about a buddy of his.  The following images are as they impressed themselves upon my imagination as the tale was told.

Here’s the short version of the story.  One day this guy is visiting the Falls of the Ohio and he finds a feather in the sand.

As feathers go, it wasn’t anything special in its own right.  However, it did trigger this notion in the brain of this fellow who found it and it served as a catalyst for this story.

Apparently, this man (let’s call him the Aviator) had a secret desire to learn how to fly, but heard through others that this was an impossibility.  He decided not to take the conventional wisdom at face value and determined to find out for himself.  He tied the feather into his hair and began the process of learning how he might accomplish his goal.

Having watched birds all his life, the Aviator knew that he needed wings, but what could he use to fabricate them?  On his travels around the river he frequently came across this odd material that was light and surprisingly strong.  Could it be used to make wings?  The Aviator began to gather this material from the woods around him.

Soon he had what he thought would make a nice matched pair of wings.  He created straps and sleeves that would allow him to attach the wings to his arms and this gave him a sense of having a power that he never had before.  Through practice, and trial and error, the Aviator taught himself the fundamentals of gliding and how to remain safe when things didn’t quite work out.  He sustained many bumps and bruises, but also gained mastery.  After running up and down the riverbank and letting the wind lift him just off the sand…the Aviator felt confident enough to try his first sustained flight. 

The Aviator needed a place where the winds were a little stronger than he found at the riverbank.

In the distance, the Aviator spotted the remains of a great tree.  It was from this spot that he would try his first flight.  He folded up his wings, adjusted his feather, and climbed up the enormous tree stump.

Reaching the top, the Aviator spread his wings and could feel the force of the wind upon them.  He grew more than a little fearful.  In his mind, he heard all the people who told him it was impossible to fly.  Breathing deeply, he pushed those voices into the wind where they dissipated.

For a moment, he closed his eyes and said a little prayer.  He let the memory in his muscles take over.

When a particularly strong gust of wind came up…the Aviator allowed it to fill his wings and he could feel himself lifting off the stump!  For the briefest of moments, the Aviator became aware that his decision-making process was too slow.  He would need to trust his instincts to fully learn how to fly and he let go.

The wind carried the Aviator up and over the river and he levelled out his flight.  He tested his maneuverability by banking from right to left.  He also practiced rising and descending.  When he felt confident that he had the right amount of control, he glided further and further away from his starting point.

It must have been a great thrill to be able to move around in a completely new way!  What surprises and delights to see your shadow projected upon the world below you.  To move with the freedom of a bird…hasn’t this been one of man’s most cherished dreams?  What a feeling of accomplishment the Aviator must have felt. 

I asked my friends whatever became of the Aviator?  He said he wasn’t sure since it had been awhile since anyone had talked with him.  His memory was already becoming the stuff of legends.  There are those who believe he fell into the river.  Others in town think that he is on an around the world trip.  And, there are folks who feel that it isn’t out of the realm of possibility that he was transformed by his experiences into a bird. If I have to choose…I like the last option best and every once in a while, I spot a bird that reminds me of the Aviator’s story.

POSTSCRIPT:  In 2003, among the anniversaries that form part of the backdrop for my Falls projects included the 200th anniversary of the Lewis and Clark Expedition and the 100th anniversary of the Wright Brothers first sustained flight at Kitty Hawk.  At the time, I remember wondering why we weren’t making a bigger deal about this flying achievement than we were?  Yes, there was a commemorative stamp and a few other smaller observances, but nothing of international attention that I recall.  Being able to fly has been on our collective imaginations since before the story of Icarus and Daedalus and is repeated throughout the world’s cultures. We even have flying dreams in our sleep.  And so, when we finally achieved flight, and eventually went to the moon and back…it struck me that we weren’t making a big enough deal about this?  It isn’t everyday that we achieve what was first conceived in our grandest imaginations.  I thought it deserved more recognition than it got.  What do you think?

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It is late autumn at the Falls of the Ohio and soon all the leaves will be gone having succumbed to the wind, rain, and frost.  For now, there is still color and it is during this transitory moment within the season that the memories of past loved ones comes to my mind and heart.  I was walking along the riverbank recently and thinking about my grandfather and so I created this story for him out of thanks, sticks, and river-worn Styrofoam!

Perhaps it’s the shimmer and play of light upon the water that helps those who have gone before to communicate with the living?  I can picture him now, very tall and very thin and neatly dressed with his fancy bow-tie.  Because he took an interest in me as a boy, I in return have never forgotten him.  My grandfather was not a particular eloquent man, but as the saying goes and there is truth in this…actions do speak louder than words. 

Grandpa or Opa as I sometimes called him loved to tend his small flower garden.  In the heart of the old city this was how he kept his connection to the soil.  And because his garden was tiny it was also precious and everything that happened in it took on added significance.  When a new flower bloomed …that was a cause for celebration as were the times when some new never before seen bird would alight in the yard even for the briefest of moments.  All these little events were full of meaning  to my grandfather and now I see that I inherited this ability too.  Finding wonder when life is at its most mundane is a true gift.

When I was a very small boy my Opa would put me upon his shoulders and give me a unique perspective on the world.  He moved along the city’s canals so easily and I was able to take in all that was going on around me.  I would describe him as being a patient person, but there were some things he found difficult to tolerate.

Perhaps at the top of his list was injustice.  He had lived during the hard times of a world war when his city was occupied.  He had witnessed and experienced how his fellow human beings could be callous and cruel to each other.  When the war ended and prosperity returned, it bothered Grandpa to see how the very land itself was treated with little regard.  He knew about the magic that could happen even in the smallest plot of dirt.  To treat the ground as a garbage can is an injustice to the earth.

Our walks together were always learning opportunities and this was fun for me.  Grandpa seemed to have an encyclopedic knowledge of the living things around him.  He said that life was so interesting that he needed to know about it, but that he was alright too when there were no answers.  He also found contentment in the mystery of it all and that somehow it fit together and worked.  His true position in life was balanced between the twin poles of knowing and not knowing.  It was important to remain open to recognize and receive wisdom when it did come his way.

If my Grandfather could see what is happening with our treatment of the environment…I know it would upset him.  Before the war (which was bad enough) there was also a world-wide depression.  To get by and make ends meet, everything that could be reused and repurposed was.  People even knew how to fix and repair things because they had to if they were going to have anything extra at all.  Creativity and thrift were virtues because they were survival skills.  Nothing was thrown away without careful consideration.  Now economies are based on mass consumption and disposability and something else has been lost in the process.

Grandpa told me that if we didn’t take care of all our precious resources, then we were in danger of losing ourselves.  The more we change the land, the more it changes us and that our ultimate fate is intertwined with what happens in the real world.  Here on the banks of the Ohio River my Grandfather’s concerns have come back to me.  Now I am a father and someday I too may become a grandparent.  During my lifetime, I would like to feel that we can be reawakened to the needs of the planet so that we could build towards the most positive and healthy future possible.

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