Monday, November 16, 2009

Mrs. Springfield's Pinyon tree and Fall in West Texas



Mrs. Springfield’s Pinyon is 91 years old and we know that because she was born the day they planted it’s original cut. It’s trunk is 48 inches wide and she stands by it like a bright white weed in the shade of something magnificent. They say it takes 3 to 400 years for Juniper Pinyon to get that size but for Mrs. Springfield, just 91 years. She swears its only ever gotten water but plenty of it.

The creeks are noticeable only by the bright yellow cottonwood trees. Cibolo Creek through Shafter is a long string of yellow.

Sunday, November 1, 2009

Halloween Hay Ride in Marfa


This town of 1,500 is small by any one's estimates, but it has a powerful spirit, and seems to increase ten fold at times. The generosity of spirit on Halloween was such good example. Daniel Browning borrowed an antique farm tractor and hitched up two trailers. Mercer Black got the hay bales and we supplied trick a treaters. By night fall, the streets were packed. Third Street and Columbia more so. I was dressed inappropriately and even Mateo wasn't wearing much of an outfit but we were so happy. Full moon light and in it I caught a huge smear of chocolate on his face.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Headed to a home



First we were lost in New Jersey, a slap in the face of this east coast year with Mateo. His last anxious look at New York was from the other side of the Holland Tunnel, lost in a series of awful communities that I never visited and for good reason. Deven, the trusty god son, made this wonderful audio recording just before we drifted out of town:


Then we were off to Charlottesville to visit my good friend Jane Barnes, from there we made our way due south through Alabama to visit Charlie Harmon in Birmingham, and through all makes of boudin and cracklin in Louisiana, to Houston, to Austin and, days later, to West Texas...and home.

Saturday, August 22, 2009

I stink


On the way back from steamy Tompkins Sq play ground yesterday evening my son, Mateo, said, "no, stop it, you stink" and kicked his Croc sandals off in to the street. Being 2.5 years old and willful, I should not have been surprised or even that upset, but yesterday felt different. For what feels like the 4th time in my life I am making a major move and it does not feel slight. Yes, I have done this shift between NYC and Texas before, but there have been just a few times when those treasured possessions have been disbursed. Yesterday, I saw my beloved books being rifled through, tossed around in delivery boxes and commented upon. My library is wiped clean. A young woman asked if I had any poetry books and I nodded enthusiastically, happy to unload some weight in the 100 degree heat of the late afternoon. With those give aways goes a certain part of my life's dreams, my aspirations, my hope. The focus has been just to get there, to find work and survive, and I had forgotten to pay homage to the history here on 4th street. Sometimes history can haunt but yesterday it said a teary good bye. I may stink now for not letting Mateo go down that slide one or two or three more times, but I hope some day he'll know how much it took to get to that play ground, and how hard it is to leave.

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

A little West Texas in Tompkins Square

One of the many aspects of living in the East Village which will be missed is Tompkins Square Park. Years ago I found myself studying the Ruth Orkin photo series of Tompkins Square from the Christadora (A World Through My Window) and hardly thought I could be traversing those same pathways. It is a gem of a park especially since they've done such stunning work renovating and beautifying and putting in those great playgrounds (three!)

My dog Scout loves the dog park there, for obvious reasons. He was a bit setback this Summer by some nasty virus that was going around that sandbox of germs but now we use the hose on our paws and that helps.

I found myself chatting with a guy named Ignacio about our dogs, both mutts, and why all the dogs seemed to be sniffing in the exact same spot. He mentioned the Boy Scouts I gave a very brief explanation of why mine is named Scout and Austin came up. Ignacio said better to be found in Austin than West Texas. This opened up a well of things to discuss. He asked where I lived -- Marfa -- and he had lived in Alpine. For close to a year he worked on the horrible PBS series, Ranch House, but for years he's been writing about Black Cowboys and the Buffalo Soldiers. Small world, indeed.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Terrible twos and a resultant vocabulary

The sentences are replacing tantrums and whining for Mateo, I am proud to report. He is well known for what I believe to be the first sentence, "ouch, that hurts". This morning he made a concerted effort to put the following words together in a report on Sesame Street:

Super Grover opened the door.

Sunday, August 9, 2009

re-discovering NYC


Mateo and I set out to walk Scout yesterday morning on a stunningly beautiful morning and re-discovered our neighborhood just by walking down 6th street. First we went to the newly re-designed East River promenade and could actually smell the sea. Unlike the Hudson, there were no plane crashes to report, and just a lot of pleasure boats and barges. Scout loved the waves. Then we walked back west on 6th street and Mateo coaxed me in to the 6th Street garden off of Avenue B. I hadn't been there for years and had it not been for Mateo's persistence would have skipped it entirely. It's magical there -- wow -- and worth every donation, large and small or even compost. Mateo loved the goldfish pond with turtles. The Barak street art is part of my continuing series on LES art. Another fabulous billboard from Chico, famous airbrush artist of the lower east side. I love that Cheney looks like such a putz and that Barak looks Puerto Rican.




Wednesday, July 29, 2009

NYC as pea soup

It was bound to come, this hot and humid morning. All the usual metaphors apply, well worn. The sky seemed pregnant, waiting to burst in rain. We walked through what felt like pea soup on our way to the park. Our shirts were soaked in sweat. Scout and I took a brief stroll around Tompkins square as the morning started lazily. Many of the homeless people sat on benches, dirty and just waking up, waiting for the free breakfast truck to park at the edge of Avenue A. Garbage cans overflow. One of the lawn gates is open so Scout and I take a short stroll through the forbidden lawn. A number of men are still asleep in make shift tents and on found blankets throughout the lawn. Young and old. Some look mentally ill and others seem to be runaways or punkers passed out for the night. In that early morning light all the sleeping men look like toddlers to me. They were all someone's son; they all took naps once upon a time.

Monday, July 20, 2009

link to Julie Speed video


About a month ago, Bernstein Documentary edited a short video on Julie Speed's work with music by Shawn Colvin. I am proud to link the You Tube site here. Please tell other artists that I will do an inexpensive by cool video for them too. Julie has a book of her latest work coming out through University of Texas press and I will announce that here as well.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=maehkmNqkYo

maiden voyage for Bernstein Documentary's blog


I always feel as if I will be the only person, aside from a best friend or two, to read this meandering blog but here goes.

Test, test, test. You can also find me on Face Book.

Boy do I need a more recent photo of Mateo and me. He's now 27 months and looking like a teenager by comparison.