Nature Is king

Why do I love to return to Kauai, Hawaii? After all, it is like standing on one of the highest mountains in the world in the middle of nowhere. The mountain begins underwater and rises 18,000 feet (5,486 meters) to sea level. Emptiness of the Pacific Ocean surrounds this tiny island in every direction for at least 2400 miles. The wettest spot on earth is here, on Mount Waiʻaleʻale, 5,148 feet (1,569 m), with an annual average rainfall of 460 inches (1,200 cm). Yet nearby, on the west coast of the island, it is quite dry.

A year after my oldest daughter Naomi died at the age of nineteen, I lived on Kauai for six weeks while I finished writing my book, A Heart Traced In Sand, about her life and struggle against cancer. I have done many paintings here, made friends with a surfer who paints, found favorite places to swim in the ocean and walk on beaches, learned where the best fish market is, and where the weekly farmer’s market happens. I have hiked the Waimea Canyon and along the Napali coastline. And now, I am getting married on Kauai, to Heidi Of The Mountains, on November 4. She has arrived to join me, and every day we take long walks on the beach at dawn and sunset.

Hawaii is one of the last places on earth to be inhabited by humans and only in 1778 “modern” contact became established when it was discovered by Captain James Cook, (British, 1728-1779). Even now, there are only 63,000 citizens—less than the small city of Santa Fe, New Mexico where I am from. Nature is king, and on the North Shore, I have not seen a movie theater, disco, or McDonald’s.

Because of their isolation the Hawaiian Islands are biologically unique. Hawaii has no native land reptiles or amphibians and only two native mammals, the horay bat and monk seal. Over 4300 species of plants and animals exist only in the eight Hawaiian high islands. The 1000 native plants evolved from as few as 280 original plant colonists and 100 endemic bird species developed from as few as 15 original aviators.

Verdant Kauai, oil on board, 11 x 14 inches

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Billowing, Fathomless Seas

Whenever I visit Hawaii, the most remote area of land on the planet earth, I always ponder how people arrived in the first place. It is believed Polynesian people settled onto the islands at least 1200 years ago from land over 2500 miles away. The only way to get here was on crude boats made of wood, across billowing, fathomless seas ready to swallow them at any moment. It seems miraculous and gives me a deep respect for the adventurers who started on their improbable journey.

What prompted the Polynesians to set sail into the unknown? They drifted with sea currents for days, weeks, months—seeing nothing but water, the flat horizon, and the sky above. Certainly, sharks were about, and storms, hefty waves, and rain. To discover the tiny volcanic islands of Hawaii would be a miracle. And then, how would they ever return and establish trade routes? Maybe people back then were guided with stronger intuition and instinct, which modern man has lost.

The other day, I arose before dawn to hike in Waimea Canyon, on Kauai. When I arrived at the trailhead, the sun was at the horizon. I noticed a perfumed scent of blossoms in the air and set to walking through wet woods. I expected to walk 3 miles total, with a lookout offering a view of the NaPali coast and Pacific Ocean at the end of the trail. I discovered mid-way that the hike is 3 miles to the lookout, so 6 miles roundtrip. The air warmed up and the tropical environment held more humidity than I am accustomed too at home in the dry mountains of Santa Fe. I sweated profusely and on the walk back was panting on the strenuous, rugged trail. At one time, I felt so tired I talked to my angels . . . especially Naomi, and asked for inspiration to continue. The response was a sort of laughter—and the playful admonishment to take stock of my strength. I was focused on my weakness, but really, there was plenty of strength to get me through. Then I found new vigor to continue on unabated.

And I think this is how Hawaii was discovered. The primitive people relied on spirit to gain their strength and accomplish their impossible goals.

"Misty Mountains Of Kauai, Hawaii" oil on panel, 12 x 16 inches

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Kauai

THE DREAM has brought me once again to Kauai, Hawaii. I will be here for three weeks, writing, painting, photographing, adventuring, observing, relaxing, simplifying, transforming, and oh yes, marrying Heidi Of The Mountains on November 4.

My flight from Los Angeles began at 6:10 PM yesterday, and I arrived in Hawaii at 9:00 PM. We flew against the rotation of the earth so although the trip took over five hours we only lost two.

I awoke this morning and while in bed, savored the quiet, lulling environment, listening to doves, gentle breezes stirring palm leaves, and a rooster crowing. As I engage the day, everything speaks to me, saying, slow down, loosen your cares, and give in to the primal mother, the great SEA, from whence all life emerged. I feel my former life is far away—on the other side of a rainbow.

Kauai is the oldest of the Hawaiian Isles. The Hawaiian Islands are the most remote land masses in the world—over two thousand miles from any other land.

At first, I am exploring the west coast region for a few days, including Waimea Canyon, one of the world's most scenic canyons, before traveling to the North Shore, an area I know intimately and where Heidi Of The Mountains and I will marry.

Our marriage will be informal and free. We do not have a plan, just the will and a happy expectation. All we need is each other and the love between us, then speak our commitment in front of a witness and get Hawaiian civil papers signed.

Best of October Blogs

Here are some of the best October blogs from My Fairy-Tale Life, dating back to 2006:

The Smallest Grain Of Sand, October 31, 2010

What Poets Write About, October 4, 2009

My Astonished Eyes, October 16, 2008

Molting, October 27, 2007

What a day!  October 7, 2006

No Middle

Recently, a married couple came into my gallery and I noticed, as is almost always the case, a sense of wonder and also, hesitation. Artwork is personal and subjective, and invites a reaction. Sometimes, the work does not impress and it is dismissed, and then again, occasionally a work of art can cause a light to go inside the viewer. Sometimes, people fall in love with art.

In my front room are my landscape paintings but the couple strolled into my alcove area and the husband was the first to stop in his tracks. My alcove is where I show my paintings I call Hangups. It is a series that I made of faces hanging from clothespins, suspended on a clothesline. Usually, the initial response is bewilderment, and then it quickly goes to either like or dislike. There is no middle. Stopping in front of a painting called “Pecking Order”, of a face hanging from a clothesline and being pecked at by two crows, the man went from being startled, to bewilderment, to amusement and confirmation. I could almost hear him say to himself, “I know what that is like . . . I tried to tell someone but nobody understood. Now I am vindicated.”

The couple walked through the rest of my gallery, speaking with Bill, my gallery director, and I. They were from Texas, where it has been very hot, and they enjoyed the change of climate in Santa Fe. We learned that they had not been married long, each coming from a previous marriage. We arrived back to the alcove and the gentleman spoke with Bill while I talked with his wife. They had both suffered loss, but were trying to get back to happiness. She told me she was eighteen years older than her husband, which surprised me greatly, and I said, “You don’t look it.” I could hear bits of Bill’s conversation and heard the man speak of his fight with depression in the past. Later, Bill told me it was because of divorce.
Finally, they both agreed they liked “Pecking Order” but could not afford it. I offered to make a pigmented inkjet print on canvas, the same size as the original at 1/6 th the price. The husband still hesitated, but the woman chirped in with a smile, “I will buy it for you as a Christmas present!”
I have made the copy and will send it off to Texas this week.

To see more hangups, go to: either Steven Boone Fine Art or The Steven Boone Gallery

Soul Mates

Life is change, and a big change is coming for me soon. After four years of being single and footloose, I am now engaged to Heidi Of The Mountains, and we will be married on the island of Kauai, Hawaii, November 4. Over the past two years, we have grown steadily closer, so that this is a natural evolution and culmination of our relationship.

I have enjoyed my four years of singleness and done things that I was only able to do alone. I have many experiences, and memories of adventures that will serve me the rest of my life. After we marry, Heidi Of The Mountains will most often be by my side, and I can be a trail guide for an enthusiastic explorer.

In our relationship, she has been bolder and more of the trailblazer. She has been the one to proclaim the supremacy of love, and press the bonds of affection. As if under a spell, my castle walls made of sand have steadily crumbled into the sea of love.

We are a team now. Heidi Of The Mountains quit her job of fifteen years to manage my art gallery. We make daily decisions together and plan our future. She does not stand for negativity and constantly affirms positive results. Getting married is a result of both of us thinking positive together. We have both been married twice before . . . so I feel slight trepidation, but Heidi Of The Mountains confirms that we are “soul mates” that have found one another.

Raspberries

Heidi Of The Mountains is an outdoors type, and this week amidst the whirlwind activity at my gallery, she said, “I have to go to the mountains . . . and soon.”  I agreed to stop work, and today, we drove together to a ranch outside of Santa Fe that is renowned for raspberries.

When we arrived around noon, I was surprised to see a dirt parking lot crammed with cars, and looking out to the raspberry field, about 100 people ambling through the rows, buckets in hand, picking berries. We gathered our baskets and set out io the raspberry patch. A field manager took us to a row, and said, “The field has been picked over, especially since so many people were out on Saturday, but look under the leaves along the way here, and you will find berries.” I asked him about the growing season, and he told me the plants would continue replenishing berries for a few more weeks. “By Tuesday, they will all be back” he said. We stepped into the field, and soon, found ourselves each alone in our own meditative space, looking down, concentrated on spotting the ripe, ruby red berries amidst the green leaves and prickly stems.

While picking the berries, it is impossible not to sample the juicy fruit. To taste a freshly plucked raspberry is wonderful. The soft flesh almost melts in the mouth, oozing sweet and slightly tart flavors. The tiny seeds are all that are left to crunch upon before swallowing. In forty-five minutes, the two of us had gathered about 2 ½ pounds, for which we paid $12.00.

After our picking, we went to the quaint ranch café and ordered a slice of raspberry pie, then sat in the shade and shared.

As the sun moved slowly across the afternoon sky, I took my paints and easel out, and while Heidi Of The Mountains stood next to me making a watercolor painting, I captured a scene of an old adobe warehouse standing along the road. Its weathered tin roof pitched at an angle and reflected the bright sky, while the faded stuccoed whitewashed walls stood accented by deep green shrubs, sunflowers, and a few decrepit windows. A grand old tree grew at the end of the building, almost like an exclamation point.

On our way home, Heidi Of The Mountains massaged my head and neck while I drove, saying, “Oh thank-you . . . I had a wonderful day!”

Perplexed At War

There are events that happen in life that have a way of embedding themselves so deeply and suddenly into the psyche that they seemingly cause time to stand still. The news is such that when it is delivered, a person stops as if frozen, then takes account of his surroundings, as if checking to see if life will pick up and start again.

On November 22, 1963, I was playing with my best friend at his house when the maid entered his bedroom and announced in a sad and incredulous voice that President John F. Kennedy had been shot to death. That was 48 years ago, and I still remember the moment like it was yesterday. Our happy play stopped and all three of us shared a bewildered silence, not particularly knowing how to carry on.

On September 11, 2001, I was in my home when a repairman came to work, and when he entered the house, announced that a plane had hit the World Trade Center in New York City. I turned on the television and the news was unfolding, with pictures of the airliners hitting the towers, played again and again. It seemed unreal, and also unreal that life could continue normally.
Today is the tenth anniversary of the attack on America that killed 3000 innocent people.

The event will never be forgotten . . . and yet life continues as it has since the beginning; toward an uncertain future.

I have traveled around the world and seen our beautiful planet in its glorious diversity and splendor. It is such pleasure to be friends with strangers and overcome outward differences. The human heart has a deep yearning toward unity. This is why I am constantly perplexed at war.

An Emotional Link

Leo Tolstoy (September 9, 1828 – November 20, 1910) thought that art must create an emotional link between the artist and audience. Usually, an artist creates his art, then it goes forth into the world to be appreciated—or not. Most often, connoisseurs act as middlemen, promoting the creation to the public, and if they sell the art, they make a profit. Usually, the artist works alone and never meets the purchaser of his work.

Now that I own The Steven Boone Gallery, I have the pleasure of meeting the people that appreciate and buy my art. It is mutual happiness. The collector is choosing my work to include in the intimacy of their home surroundings, so they are glad to meet me and become friends, and I am pleased to get know those who value my work and are willing to purchase it.

Previously, I made paintings, and then delivered them to galleries for exhibition. Most often, when a work sold, I only heard about it and later received payment. I could only imagine the collector and their prompting. Now, I shake hands and look into the smiling faces of people, and then take time to converse and become intimate with them. It is a fuller experience, so that we can enjoy and remember each other. When the buyers take my art into their home they have a richer association and knowledge of it’s origin after having met the creator. The value for me is that when I make my art, I put all my self into the creation, and letting go of it is bittersweet. Knowing firsthand where it is going to be cared for, and seeing the depth of feeling and intellectual satisfaction that it gives is rewarding for me.

Best of September

September is a few days away, so here is a collection of my best blogs from September:

Places Unimagined    September 5, 2010

Visual Vocabulary   September 13, 2009

How Awesome Is The World     September 14, 2008

Finishing One Part Of Life   September 29, 2007

Passion and Inspiration

 

Your time is limited; so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma – which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of other’s opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition—they somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.   Steve Jobs (born February 24, 1955)

Starting my own gallery without forethought during these troubled economic times might seem to many as unwise. Yet I have never been averse to taking risk. Just being an artist is risky, since there is so much uncertainty regarding money. But artists live by passion and inspiration—that is their food, not materiality.

My gallery is like a newborn horse that is able to stand, but wobbly on its feet. I have a full-time staff and we are working to put our hopes and dreams together as a team. We will progress and not give up. For me, the emotions might be a little higher because the “product” is me, . . . my creations.

If we listened to our intellect, we’d never have a love affair. We’d never have a friendship. We’d never go into business, because we’d be cynical. Well, that’s nonsense. You’ve got to jump off cliffs all the time and build your wings on the way down.   Ray Bradbury   (born August 22, 1920)

The important thing is not being afraid to take a chance. Remember, the greatest failure is to not try. Once you find something you love to do, be the best at doing it. 
- Debbi Fields (born September 18, 1956), founder of Mrs. Fields Cookies

This week I managed to build a website for the Steven Boone Gallery, so take a look!