Journey

'Journey' 18x24" oil pastel;  Kathleen Faulkner

Friends Make Us Fuller

Friends make us fuller. When friends leave, their light stays behind. It is like the blue sea that supports the white breakers that come and go. No matter how far I go I long to return and be with friends. It is never the same fire I left, but beneath it are the ashes of all our meetings that have gone before.

~Robert Sund

reflection

'Pathway'  29x32"  oil pastel;  Kathleen Faulkner

Robert passed in September, 2001.  It was a sad winter that year.  

I've always missed him most though, in April.   

April Has Turned Cold

April has turned cold.

The evening light fades through the clouds.

A string of geese calls me out

to sing a farewell, and

I wish them luck as they go from Ish River,

away out over the ocean,

long, long sweeps of rippling wings

bound for Siberia.

Their wild song they take with them, 

and leave some behind.

They leave enough so

I don't have to leave home any more.

Robert Sund

poem from SHACK MEDICINE

history

'Passage' oil pastel, charcoal,  28x33"   Kathleen Faulkner

The river glides in silence.

The night is deep, like a

  loving mother.

A silence goes back and forth

  through the marsh.

The same silence that was here

in my shack waiting for me.

  It was always here.

I was gone so long, now

the silence is so much deeper, and

  I sink down into it.

The sadness I met in the world 

  falls away from me.

One by one my dreams return.

Robert Sund  from 'Shack Medicine'

The Visit

www.robertsund.org

One never knows where one's mind might wander..

I've been thinking about The Poet's House and Robert Sund's new book, 'Notes from Disappearing Lake'.  

I love this book because it is a visit with an old friend.

I drink my tea and read the book and Robert comes alive. 

and what is good and what is beautiful lives on

'Returning to the poetry of Robert Sund'

Bits and pieces..

Neckpiece; 7"+ chain; found objects;
Kathleen Faulkner

An old friend is on my mind a lot lately.  He has been gone at least a decade yet I still run into bits and pieces of  him here and there when I least expect it.

Yesterday evening, for example, a dear friend of his  (that we all thought was dead)  came walking down the dirt road where I live.

Earlier in the day I had toasted his memory with a friend in Bellingham.  That encounter, too, was serendipity.

I found these shards recently at the beach by his old house.  

It is the same every time I walk by:  I always remember and it always aches a bit but I would rather have an aching heart than an empty one.

  

Friends make us fuller.

When friends leave, their light stays behind.

It is like the blue sea

that supports the white breakers 

that come and go.

No matter how far I go

I long to return and be with friends.

It is never the same fire I left,

but beneath it are the ashes

of all our meetings that have gone before.

                     Robert Sund

Happy to be home

'Sauk Mountain' 17x23" oil pastel; Kathleen Faulkner

When I travel away from the Pacific Northwest I am always happy to be home.  Don't get me wrong.  I miss the friends I visit, I miss the excitement of traveling but, something about our little corner of the world has me  forever.
Yes, the winters are cold, wet, foggy;  a damp cold that chills to the bone.  The summers, especially this summer, less than satisfying with temperatures that compete with the winter temps of California, northern, that is.

There is a reason we are called the Evergreen state:  it's called rain. 

Rain is my inspiration.  It can be depressing at times but it is also a big part of the reason I create.  Art is what I taught myself to do at a very young age to keep the demons away.  It works well.


In the woods above Issaquah
near a grey farmhouse
we pick plums in the rain.
Another day, on Sauk Mountain,
we lie in a meadow.   A bird
jolts a stalk of fireweed
so the light seeds drift over us
     and down the slope.
Far below,  the Skagit River
winds toward the sea, turning
     like a pattern in old jade.
At home you put some tomatoes
on the window sill to ripen,
and I think of jade again.
Nights,
while a bird outside the window
begins to budge the night away
      with a single sound,
your breasts, your lips, your eyelids
are delicate as petals of
      winter poppies.
I don't know what happened,
One night, no use knocking on your door,
I stepped down from the front porch
as rain fell through big leaves and the grass woke up,
      and your face was
      a small round stone
      falling through dark water.


'In the Woods Above Issaquah'   Robert Sund

The Toast

'Spider Web' digital photo; Kathleen Faulkner

It is a wonderful time,  Autumn.

Light becomes the beautiful, moody, shadow producer.   Spiders are out in force and there is a feeling in the air:  crisp and clean.  Change is on the way.  

Summer is great for vegetables and hikes and eating outside  but Fall is when the real work begins. This year I want to produce heavily.  I have some new ideas and I'm finally feeling the inspiration.  

So, here is my toast to us:   

'I wish us inspiration in abundance, faith in ourselves, hope for our future, change for the better

and lots of patrons!'

Cheers! 

'Robert's House' digital photo; Kathleen Faulkner

New Growth

'New Growth Series' brooch 2x2.25" fossilized walrus ivory, printer's ink

sterling silver; Kathleen Faulkner

One of my friends tended a bamboo farm. When he died, I inherited several large clumps.  I've always especially enjoyed bamboo.  It reminds me of many things.

Robert Sund was a bamboo man. His painting and calligraphy brushes,  his Pacific Rim persona, his living backdrop in the sitting area of the garden        

that continually grew

Japanese aesthetics, green tea and woodblocks.  It all spends time together in my bamboo thoughts.
  

It is a wonderful thing, bamboo and when I look at mine I also think of my friend from whom my gift came.

Cheers to you and the bamboo!

'Thank God For This Beer!' 
Robert Sund

A Snail Tale

There is an area down by the docks where I go to look for broken pottery, glass shards and miscellaneous flotsam.  It is interesting potential for jewelry.

I've heard that it used to be a dump site for the town - a bit unsettling if I think about it much.

I found it when I used to go to Flounder Bay Boatyard to visit Robert Sund, the Poet.  He lived in a very lovely little cabin in the lumber yard.  Everything about his place was a work of art and everything about him seemed to be a ceremony.

Sometimes we would visit outside in the yard while he'd hunt for those annoying snails that eat everything in sight and overwhelm the gardens here. 

They're everywhere, cause trouble and have no friends. Unlike most people, Robert would never kill them.  Instead, he'd collect them in a bowl and then take them across the street and over to the abandoned yard on the corner, wishing them well as he'd gently place them.   Very Buddhist

I first noticed that beach one day while traveling with Robert and the snails to their new home.

Ever since, I've made a point to go down and look.  There is always something.  My route takes me  by the place where Robert lived.  It has since been torn down and the new owners have built two 'cute' cottages in it's place but it will be Robert's home forever, in my mind.
Then, as I head for that beach, I pass by the 'dropping off place' and I always think of Robert and the snail tale.

"Flotsam" Neckpiece 30" sterling silver, glass shards, Kathleen Faulkner

"April has Turned Cold"

"Early Morning: Cranberry Lake" 17x17" oil pastel, Kathleen Faulkner

There was a tragedy in my little town this week.  It was very large and very sad and it has put a bit of a damper on things.  

It seems to be a volatile time around here in general, lately.   Cranky people, crazy weather, accidents and a little something off in the air.

When things get a bit overwhelming, I generally go somewhere.  A good place for me is Deception Pass.  It's best, in my view, in the early morning or early evening, less people depending on the season.

Hearing the surf while walking among the trees is incredibly soothing and the best part is that it is just minutes from my home.  I always come away with a renewed sense of wonder.

April has Turned Cold

April has turned cold.

                                 The evening light fades through the clouds.

             A string of geese calls me out

             to sing a farewell, and

                                I wish them luck as they go from Ish River

       away out over the ocean,

                    long long sweeps of rippling wings

       bound for Siberia.

                        Their wild song they take with them,

               and leave some behind.

 They leave enough so

                          I don't have to leave home any more.  

 Robert Sund

                                                                         from "Shack Medicine"

The Magic Skagit

"Skagit Fields"  9x11" oil pastel  Kathleen Faulkner

I live in the Magic Skagit.  It is called this for many reasons but the richness and fertility of the dirt is part of it.  The earth here is special.  It feeds people, literally and figuratively.  

It collects artistic talent.

I moved here to be able to disappear into a forest within a matter of minutes rather than hours.  Although my world revolves around art, I wasn't thinking about the artistic history here when I settled.  I was thinking about the trees and I was struck by the vast areas of farmland in between.. and the colors:  grey sky and green earth.

I was also thinking about the sense of community one gets when not living in a city.

Life just seemed easier and it still does.  I'm grateful everyday.

This area has been considered home to such artists as Morris Graves, Guy Anderson, Richard Gilkey and Clayton James*, who, by the way, is still alive at the tender age of 91 and still painting.  This is where Tom Robbins lives, the place where Fishtown became famous and our old friend, Robert Sund, wrote a lot of his poetry.  Now,  new generations of artists are sprouting, growing and thriving.

Food, art and poetry in a magic spot on the Salish Sea.   Who could ask for more?

*Clayton James

  Richard Gilkey

  Morris Graves
  Guy Anderson
  Tom Robbins
  Robert Sund

Cherry

"Cherry" 17x17" oil pastel;  Kathleen Faulkner

This is my newest oil pastel.  It is one of many in the "Tree" series, which I'll be posting from time to time. 

Although cherry trees are not native to this area, they do grow well here and seem to enjoy teasing us with  their early blooms.  Some around the area are blooming now.

Much of my inspiration comes from the area in which I live.  There is magic here and the light is special, too.  We are in the midst of the largest temperate rainforest in the world.  There's everything from snow covered peaks on down to the salty sea   Salish Sea, that is.  

Our friend Robert Sund called this area "Ish River country".   

One can always tell the tourists by how they pronounce the names of places around here.