LIZARD

LIZARD

14" high x 10" wide
acrylic on canvas

It was a pitch black night as the clouds furrowed the sky, concealing any stars or moon that was above, even though it was supposed to be a full moon tonight. I sat a the edge of my porch, on the top step, letting the dark envelop me, trying to calm myself and understand what had happened today.

It started like any other day, my going to work and sitting down behind my computer. But when I went to boot up, I got a message that I was not authorized on this computer. I tried to reach technical support but my phone was not working. As I sat there trying to figure out what was going on, two uniformed men, mammoth humans really, with muscles straining against their shirts, entered my cubicle and fairly picked me up by both arms and "escorted" me out of the building. They deposited me soundly on the sidewalk, never saying a word nor responding to my shouted questions or giving any explanation, bruising my hip when they dropped me. Of course, my ego was even more bruised. I was mortified as onlookers shook their heads or whispered behind cupped hands. I spent the day wandering the streets, dazed.

So the dark felt good as it wrapped its ghostly arms around me. Then, out of nowhere, appeared on my railing, a lizard. It was big, tremendous, the size of a house cat. And it was of the most remarkable colors---green, yes, but an electric green that vibrated next to red and blue, and so many colors. But most compelling was its eyes as he engaged me, I couldn't look away. As I gazed at him, a voice said "Come." I looked around then, as the lizard had not moved and my mind could not fathom that this creature could speak. But no one was there except us two. My voice squeaked "What?".  I heard the word "Come" again but this time I realized it had not been spoken out loud, but rather in my mind. The lizard jumped down. I followed.

GROWTH by Karen Friedland

"GROWTH " 10" high x 8" wide

acrylic on canvas

The world was depicted in shades of grey now. My eyes can see nuances, lighter and darker but nothing resembling what colors I see in my memory.  I remember gazing at a blue sky, so beautiful and clear, an umbrella above me that was so often there, I didn't need to give it much thought.  The white clouds light and fluffy looking, ephemeral like illusive fibers that would dissipate between my fingers if I ever had the opportunity to try to grasp them.  The earth that I lay on was a soft cushion of green blades padding me from the hard, red clay earth in the layer below.  Gentle breezes caressed my skin and brought fresh, mild fragrances of plants and flowers, creatures and earth.  My home was a verdant place, alive with growth and decomposition, making room for new life coming.

Now there is mostly decay.  Charred ruins and decimated landscape fill my vision.  Debris is the new terrain, making it treacherous to walk, no street, no earth, no color...

But wait, through the blackness below my feet, I spy an anomaly.  Something that doesn't fit in is peeking up from under a piece of jagged cement.  I can hardly believe  and I bend low to see because it is quite small.  It staggers me with it's intensity and brightness.  I put my face very close to it because it is quite small, tiny even.  I let it fill my vision until it is all I see.  This is it...GROWTH.

Flatbush Frolic

This Sunday (day after tomorrow) I will be participating in the Flatbush Frolic, a street fair that is held on Cortelyou Road from Coney Island Avenue to E. 16th St.  I'll have some artwork, framed prints, notecards and jewelry for sale.  I'll also be making appointments for people to visit my studio.  Hope to see you there.

9/11 and the future

Today we remember a day that tore a hole in the hearts of New Yorkers and put a massive fissure in all Americans' sense of security. While I thankfully knew no one who is gone as a result of that attack, it will live within me forever. I didn't want to watch the memorial ceremonies, but I am compelled to hear the names, look at their pictures and try to imagine their lives. It is to honor their lives; I do the same with our fallen soldiers. In both cases, the deaths are senseless. I am surprised that I am still weeping at the memories of these people. My love and empathy go out to their families who have bravely gone on and rebuilt their lives.

I only wish the powers that be would let us go on by rebuilding in the site of the towers. We need to have something concrete that speaks to the future rather than a literal hole to remind us of the emptiness. And we need a proper memorial for all the families and all the citizens of the world to remember, pay tribute and heal. Let's hope they make it happen soon.

Planned WTC 2012.

ART IN FREE FALL

Come and visit my work this weekend at the opening of BWAC's Art In Free Fall Show at the Beard Street Pier in Red Hook, Brooklyn, 499 Van Brunt St. Art In Free Fall is open weekends, Spetember 13th - October 26th. I will be there later Saturday afternoon (I have to work in the Bronx earlier). Come visit me at panel #254 on the second floor. If I'm not there when you come, please say hi by signing my guestbook, hung to the side of the panel, so I'll know you've been there. Tell me what you think of the work.