now sea wind left of sales
a place you can not sure with sands in a prediction of shape. Arthur sat with my to know my name as well as George, this place we are learn what you think you know and grow it.
I am task to do work to this level and I do not sleep to dream.
I wound that heads itself, so fast. a time that takes me to place of my origin. the wound that keeps me whole in darkness knows its’ gravity. I do not practice anything of philosophy but I lived in a knight of shadow for ten years to bring out a wound with me that George David told me would reveal its own worth.
Do not be the time of peers and let them judge you what I taught you to reveal as a black dog when I am not hear and I will here you.
this will be the reward of your keep when you dream this. my best attempt to capture this love of life.
Foreign
there is a heart felt knowing, if one goes so far into the work, and know.
do best to venture this land mine, and it will give you only influence of it’s time. I am a tired keeper of dreams of all I can remember that is all.
I'd dreamt hard in the woods to sleep hoping I would be taken to something. In that night people came and shared stories as humility is. A people I knew as people in books, I went to part of river to be under a bridge that wasn’t there.
Understand a world I cannot be part of but know its endurance.
my uncle Jr. said I would wear the stripes and in that place I am a prime today. Painting and recalling what you see as what it is.
two places found my heart
my father witness his dream and my heart whole by the work of Beau Dick and Art Thompson. I fall into love with a thing many thought dead.
a ghost brought me to a place
drink one drink and become a knowing where by I am not same door.
Ghost ii
what you think you know.
Black dog in the Sky
Don Yeomans once made a design that I had conversation of with George David in morbid curious. Be the name they call us as rivals. The time your weavers pass, this box is to be open.
a fragment of onyx and piece of willow.
end is the beginning is the end, someone told my friend, an owl is signal of death, and it is. As a farm boy on a river bank where we had no money. I know sand bars, I was angry with someone taken to another place. I went to the sand bar to be anger.
no moon was behind in clouds, all that was there crows and a coyote.
I wear not mask I am many things of name, my river within me. I am the place you called to be.
if you ask for Tsa-qwa-sup, the iron you wish for, be careful for what you wish.
part or my heart, is gone but it never escape my knowning
no one can say, we are slaves from this day forward, we are peaceful people.as we have always been, if you ask something of our nature, know, we don’t dance with masks, we are the time within our call.
I protect that nature with my name.
some offered to place mask on me and I could never be such integrity. I wanted it as a boy but it would be a weight so heavy I can not know.
I can only be as far thrown is I can be a shadow. This told to me once by mentorship of a house. The times I could count on my hand who is the notable of our people with fame to note. I understand now as Winter comes closer, that has never been our goal or aim. The land and people beside us are the only things we know. We dance without masks and witness one another as we were only comparing selves to others when books were written. With all that behind me, I never forget the time I met Chris Cornell as a teenager after Seaweed released their album with a cover that had four paddles on its cover. I listened to that and knew those songs and of all things taken from my studio it was an item that could not be replaced.
A ship Adze that was inherited from my uncle perhaps used as a garden tool at best. If that is what was the need to break into my world. It was in my hands as the land was. I can remake some things. Like songs that escape my mind, they were the time I needed to hear them and become who is the many arms that pushed me into the place I am at this moment.
On this day some note as discovery. The four fathers I know are somewhere else and I am standing in their shadows keep.
I will never forget that moment he shook my head, I told Taqsablu about it once and she said, you became pet. Western idea would frown on such thing to be called a thing. I sat by her with my grandmother at coldest winters getting her water if she needed or peel her orange if she asked me to. That value has not escaped me and it never will.
I could hate myself for not dancing maskless but what I know is my time in my hand, what pulls me thru this place is imagination. Arms within my hands I am never lost to this place.
my brother in arms asked for a way to see how we are, I can not show what I do not live.
if my world was called all gold, if would be this.
imitation
I have a hundred ideas in my head, when Diety recorded in Ballard, two months follow death of
staley, I do not drink in ways or drug their practice, in their challenging life I want a knowing life is eternally kept
Steve Jobs had love for music and Tim is about health and that place I can climb I
have inspiration if nothing else
narrow escape
the faces on wall of where we were before. not stone but true and in all efforts I can be part of my promise.
Nobi Takahashi as iron forge thru me
like Lock Shot, the name of my adopted grandmother.
Kamaitachi by Sepultura
I will endure what beyond is a tension and what things were intended good
the teachings of something larger than myself to be nothing without break
I can never be white, I could not find all money in the world to be and it was never me place to be that.
my duty to hold ground with the name I have no one can take from me, an iron of earth no place can forge but the story I can be place I know horse stalls of contained patience are not formidable but adherence.
I hold ground for lock Shot
because my name defended her mother, that is my duty.
I can be nothing without a reminder to her an eagle fishing out fisherman on water. she knows this pulling in water. That is plight.
I found the names Ramona and Hoagie at a place unfair. Hold within my heart tremble of the undefeated knowing of families important to us. Before the Fair was Puyallup is was trade and holder of great value.
A dsiplay that has Kobiyashi, Yamamoto and Kawasaki.
I hold my hand against that wall for two seconds feel the void of what was taken
like the stalls Bill Holm said our Chiefs of his teachings endured. A protection of culture like cages.
the darkest hour of what happened I have privilege in my hands to do something. Be travelled well enough to go back and forth to feel what bonds are not broken.
uncontainable
I let go something to carry on a knowing, my fealty to heart. Know I am work in progress. Moved by many things that I must remain faith to.
without dark holder of gravity. An exploration of extremes, there is nothing.
it would be easy to say the sky is crying
A day when one of great depth and knowledge
goes somewhere we can not be part of
my heart goes out to the Hunts
in a time i could not find a way to make things
i looked to my piers and Shawn was making
remarkable things like no one had ever seen
no design i can make for my friend in distance
my world is shaped by many things that are not
about money but value
I talked to my fellow artists here where i am
pictures of his work
a made awareness
light is like a graviton lance
a half moon that came up over
the water telling my peers
who Bradley Hunt
my friend said, tonight
the moon is like a half blood moon
i reminded her, that there are fires
in distance
the darkest time I thought I would not be the name I am. I went to Loren White to lift me up from my self doubt and carved and carved until the sun came up. I can’t remember if I shared the inspiration. I know no other family member that can break into a darkness of theme and exploration that inspires so many.
Tribute to my lifter
Rande Cook can be the witness of this along with Richard
the work we are changing many things and the playful nature of design language I am not playful with but I am part of too many thoughts if I try to absorb them all.
if ever you need a place to carve, this south side an open house to be a place where only we know how to do what we do.
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.
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.
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
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.
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
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.
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
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.
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.
