a guardian of knights watch
I throw the watch my grandfather gave me, knowing time is an illusion
half of what I show is just sliver.
Searching with my good eye closed
in absence of my heroes. A thought passes that collapsing stars still leave embers of light. A recollection of a time that I met Chris Cornell as a teenager. That time is far behind me and now knowing I am doing keep. I know at this time a black dog that is cast out that is good. A guard of knight worthy of holm.
I could draw design in imitation of of mentors but it would be pale comparison to their vision. Days go that I can not pick myself up. Where I am half way if lucky to be, I was moved to tears to see a paddle on the wall of the gallery, Arthur Thompson, Thunderbird at my time of doubt.
Without Marvin, in absence of a mentor who could navigate waters of this journey. My self pity was taking me away from potential. One would imagine that I had some dream that happened over sleep. It is a place of romanticism like the idea I carve by thread of teach in my heritage. All I have I fought to be like a root reaching surface among me peers.
Umista was a word of my mentor Holm I found with great revealtion. When I was asked by someone why I am not of a house. I have no response beyond the knowing my grandmothers aunt told me, painted world will call you but don’t call it on you. If you go to somewhere you don’t believe something, it will only take you somewhere unknown. I am not inside but I protect the door.
what I hear what I know beloved to me. Songs that do not belong to me but the people that know themselves. My father, a decendant of Chief Whitebird of place I am just a shadow of his keep and steward. By old ways, I will have not connection but by keep I am a loyal royal black dog.
Whatever was taken from our time. I protect with all arms of days in me.
I make no joke, the bats come now at time like no other time. To see the raccoon in distance grass at my home now the reward of house where I can belong aside a Fern.
Many moons will pass time, and I will wear the work I need to as time sees fit.
reminder of my mate. if language was not important or valuable why was is so urgent to take it from us. Halth ci yuss, make the work good.
be careful of what you wish.
King George, King Arthur
I can see part of a picture but know it is not mine to own
it is a moment I hand off
I signed print work and saw a paddle from Arthur and this sparked idea
George David said to me, one day I would find way to keep design language in heart of being.
I put my hand in water in hopes a lamp wray would bite me in chehalis and at moon they didn’t take. Some fear and anger in me walking away.
I am the place I have already been.
be the arms that keep you.
Discipline
I keep this brief. I had not belief of sorts that holding objects had power within themselves. Until I held the D adze of Duane Pasco that Loren White handed off to my friend Adam and the moment I worked it into the wood. I felt some place of knowing the work in it’s hand.
I could hold it for an hour but not something I could endure with thoughts of who they are in that.
positive and negative
however far I travel, the tools I need are in a doctors bag. reshaped from old saws. Lessons of my first mentor and extension of who they were and are. I want someday to make moving pictures of this work and this thing I saw from Duane is in my head that won’t leave me until it becomes known.
to work with something I did not make is in my head to play another players guitar. I love Duane and Loren but it would be weight so heavy in me. I want to know them as their own rock star elements. The time they have been and who I am now. My reflection of what I learn is the adze of what I have to work with as a branch extending.
What is dead can never die.
however things go. I will use what I have to see the work through as long as I can.
No More Tears
The Light in the Window is a Crack in the Sky
Innocence
Sunday was a day people would look forward to comic strips and commentary and those places are disposable as thoughts, that go into know where. I give what is art, a bone to chew on. Look upon noticing things you don’t have awareness of innocence. Humanity is keep and this word is jostling as would your mind if you if you read it.
There are men I live to echo with some sense of what I. can be
arms within my hand
things I know I can not make, but middle i’ve met bridge to express my heart. only ways our people can understand as keepers under the mountain.
404-not found
choose your own adventure.
Trade Post Mortem
The names of places and people with whatever effort time can make attempt to erase place or purpose.
What is left of me in this time my bond to my father learned through efforts of time. Not knowing his time long before me but in all void I had gone to climb and isolate self. The teachings of his father be silent and learn nature for a weeks time with nothing.
I went to place I can come back to, sit on my back and close my eyes against the stars and adhere to my isolation. Perhaps pretend death where vultures see with coyotes I am not so.
I could have been nothing more than the echo of existence and moved sodier of art
the face of a hapa, the knows a great achievement will be a great weight to carry. I belong to this land and it arrived at time I am wound, the kneed destiny that some call it.
my call is a recollection if the success of Soundgarden as a band echoed
some sense of grate things and I demonstrate to this world, my small efforts. If I am dead the day after tomorrow to my father who raised me. All I can be is the whole that has come full circle.
Dancing Days cover STP
It Takes all Kinds
Feeling a sense of accomplishment with some work behind me today. The intention of this work was a demonstration of shapes with their purpose. The paddles behind me in the photo are varied examples of Western Washington tribes with nuances that have function and purpose.
The canoe profile is one that my great great grandfather knew well in his lifetime. A river style canoe made for rivers and inner Puget sound waters.
In my efforts to have a moon as central figure with salmon surrounding with clouds subtle reference in background. Someone once accused me being disciple of Holm. The meaning as if I were a follower of some leader but it was not him as my mentors mentor. I am a student of many people who have taken time to show me the things that have meaning.
I’m forever grateful for the time I had with those here and now another place. In either way the work continues. And even if some of the loved do not recognize me or have confused me. The phrase for Marty Holm is title to this post.
My hope is that thru time and distance. I can share the paddles shaped as if you imagine all that crowd. That many hands of time that existed to arrive to perfected shape of waters and travels.
The paddles unpainted only stained as close to natural place I to the best way I can recall so they adhere to examples of function time and place.
Content
something made me take paws, to know the place I carved paved over by industry. I saw a rabbit run that made me screech my brakes. I saw in the distance four coyotes pacing under new lamps and a new street.
Reminded of time they were there as thorns brush looking at me carving. Knowing I had nothing to do with them but my work. That was 2010, I want to believe that pack is part of one that is eternal to land that has duty to land. I went as far to pull off the road to see if one would come to me.
put my hand on the pavement, and express my memory of my heritage. One that stayed long enough to be a cars length from me, circled and got called away.
In some way I want to know, our relationship was not so far from broken, my thoughts will always be this.
A reminder of four coyotes and a black dog story I know that felt like a myth to me until I have experienced such thing. When I asked my closest known where the grandson of dog in that story is.
it is mystery, I want to think it was me. but the story is not that.
Some place I have time afford to me, work on my hands to do. When I am not social. I have no time because I have obligation.
my heart beats fast as the rabbit that is chased.
a new house will be at the place of our people now. And without me making it’s foundation I am distantly proud of it’s existence as my grandmothers mission was to see a place of belonging for those who need to find themself thru song.
There are songs that people will never know I know and know only with known.
by guard of my life I know in my heart this can be shelter for being and heart.
We as People here are not clan adhere to physical beings as much as songs. The land upon which the house stands was a farm and before it steward and maybe walked by Chief
Sitwell, A literal few would understand my sentiment in my statement. My time is my time and I regard myself as a hand in time grasping what I can understand with what moves me.
Hope stylized
All is not Lost
No division but thought. Style of what we make I was humbled by an interview Billy Corgan interviewed the brothers of Stone Temple Pilots in an exploratory intrigue. As I let some things go and let some new things into my life. I’m deeply in debt to the people who have shaped my journey to be where I am discovering new things with an ability to appreciate new things.
I drove around my community because I was to tired to sleep with energy of moving my studio at 3am I saw a place I carved the welcome figure at now a warehouse and four coyotes were pacing their feet on pavement. I had seen them at times peering from the distance when I would carve at that place and hear them howl from time to time.
Making a space to carve on family property, I was feeling an awareness that the childhood I knew of them as demonstrative beings, they were in the woods behind me and on the river bank.
They continue their journey as all things do as we pretend we are somehow more advance.
Whatever fight we may have or fleeting moment we are at a conflict, the day is always turning over somewhere. Fires of Los Angles still effect some friends I know but it becomes old news.
I’m grateful for the work I have in my hands to have purpose and resonate some of what I have ability to do.
Worthy
as much as I am not a fan of mythology. I am one of the DC universe and my inspiration came from my grandfather in appreciation for illustrations from Bernie Wrighson illustration.
from time I was born most people held a sentiment that northern tribes raided our villages and it’s understood in history that happened.
it does not mean that it was long lasting or held even in time of the country when it was in it’s place.
if I am nothing but echo of Leschi or Patkanim
I am what Chehalis might call, grandson of dog. One that picks up where someone was left off that was seen as no value.
the nuance of lines capture by Bernies work well illustrate his understanding and echo of okiyo-e style of line relief.
I made peace with self that I would not draw in those talents, ten years of study looking at what my great grandmother left to me in her time. a nuance perhaps overlook or over ruled. I was moved to understand the time of war when what is not spoken in schooling but upheld by document and true devotion, the individuals that sheltered my grandmother.
knowing this I made point to study the work and her brushes to take on something.
she had small carvings and many writings in music. I studied all of that as a child eldest of my relations. Happy times under the stairs of my grandparents house to figure out her writings when there was nothing but time. Her time is gone but the value of all that is erased is unbreakable. It is part of my existence, my boundaries what I know as person in keep.
to me she holds leadership in my heart a boss, a heat that can never be broken or taken from me.
as I dug foundation in rain with my father, hitting deep enough to find old clam shells. A sentiment of what is not gold but I held in my hands, sands of what might have been by grandpa Bennies time and the map I was trusted with to know, what places were once called.
The place I worked at called tuwadab cheh
the small running water that touches the beach is what I was told.
Linguists would not be kind in correcting me but that is my memory.
whatever differences our people have even within our own family, there is room to grow and learn and be open to thought. In pass of my grandfather, I met many people who gave my insights with patience and endurance to demonstrate their experiences.
when to great pillars were gone I lost myself. I carved a bit but not as I could at my best.
I had foundation of family that helped me through a dark hour. In that experience, I have done my best to carry over such shelter for others in my life.
The space between distance
Song: Deck Dark by Radiohead
Jeffery Verege
Jeff is an existing star now
far beyond anything i can dream or
imagine
his depiction of Spock
I wanted always for my father
he and I shared brief moments and he
like any artist, share insecurities
and to him i shared my own.
his understanding and design language
a definition of its’ own place
as a shore washes up the sand and
i place myself with my hands folded over my knees
many clouds that cover the moon
and despite it so
i see a small group of raccoons
play in the distant
a breeze from the shore sweep into my face
and i feel the water reach my feat
the water at my eyes walking distance with me
to recall a moment engaged from his universe
Thor and Rocket
Some people are gone, really gone
i could never be the imagination or voice for depiction.
His positive space like Eddy Vedder and me
gravitation to Chris Cornell
Some mutual enemy depicted by Gieger
I have to believe some place
we are a bind not broken but felt by time
in place of you on this earth
i will be the darkest our
the end is no end
I share known to few, sketch concepts and I lost many to theft
what placed itself in my eyes, the thing i would not be
sleep until i know i place it into the world
Some place you are a superhero that will find me
lost and you will help me navigate the universe
until then there is just time and space.
many moons pass but I know there is a distance between us I can only know by feel, when magnetism stands over my hand. I have nothing in monetary value, I have my heart.
I give you my tongue and endurance, my grit and the sand i’ve felt in my hands are time not lost in space. whatever time took you to the place you’ve gone to., I will always be you friend, holding the night time in it’s darkness. you are few and far between to marry and hold you keep as something good, my aim to be half as good.
I know I can not speak for those gone in their voice. I can only speak to my reaction of the reaction that is placed within me.
If we dissipate recall known
the world is different. now.
Green Coarse
A knight falls into the dawn. I am more aware of of humanity in the pass of Don George.
the other world receives you and my father is deeply wounded without you.
No person I’ve known in my life to adhere to iron, like Johnny Cash and be wild in my youth and stories told about you.
Whole Hearted
The river runs and it always will. Let life be simple.
by time
a granted time of seed I have been place of place.
it bedcomes a new duty to e embrace my endurance.
grafitti covers wall and I was tasked to be person at time needed. I put my head in good faith and I came back to a lot of my things sprawelled out turned out
What is lost can never be lost.
los angles burn
imagination of dream
a place I am my fathers legacy
a black moon fror my friend Andred
I draw my sword with purpose, cut place be bitter the toll taken
Like Fourth of July
a black flag
a dark memory, a heart like no white snake can take place a lion of fire
my integrity of collection, my great grandmother shakes a a stick in absensce of a powerful soul
hiked a moentain, never gone to Salish lodge
you are the time you were meant to be.
Bamboo
A feared dream, where all a being I was a raccoon on her installation.
I knew nothing of panda and red sign. I went away because I knew religion is not the way it was in my youth. I found my cross.
Relocation
The Fire
As fires burn in LA my father and I have some sense of communication after he’s survived cancer. We don’t speak much or engage in conversation. I’m aware the influence Los Angeles has had on his growing up. In his illness I watch the news and see his reactions perhaps like Batman in the movies To see a city burn where he was relocating out of place not of his decision.
We returned to the place we were Indian relocation act at times. Despite his complicated history and those who might have been hurtful to him. He has a severance for the place he was a young man. So to look at him and see him be held in some way without words.
I understand I am just a monitor at times. I was wild once far beyond his reach and had to become the person I come home to. Studies of many mentors, the person of return.
Coast Salish people and our region have no clans that I have understood by my time. That does not mean it is without a sense of organization. A natural state of being is like anything. A wound is made, it is healed and if too deep nature will rush to it.
The fire will go out and people who can change that will do their part.
These are one of the studios that help me get thru the days of a digital grind planning and making plans for the future.