Revel In Art

When I first met Heidi Of The Mountains, she stood naked before a small group of artists who were studying her figure and drawing. She is what artists’ call, “Rubenesque”, a term referring to the famous Flemish painter Peter Paul Rubens (28 June 1577 – 30 May 1640), and his delight in painting plump, attractively rounded women. Heidi is well built, but not fat. In the next three hours, I made five quick “gesture” drawings, and three 45-minute drawings of her in various poses. I had returned to Santa Fe from one year of traveling around the world, and she had begun modeling part-time for artists, to engage her creativity and break the stress of her full time job as a parole officer.

Over the next several months, I drew Heidi Of The Mountains again, and we began getting to know each other. I learned she represented artists, and she came to my studio to look at my art, and also the great variety of objects I had imported from abroad. She agreed to sell for me, and soon we began a romance that continued for two years. We married in Hawaii, November 4, 2011, and the romance continues.

Heidi offered to quit modeling nude if I object, since posing without clothes can elicit some sexual feelings. After traveling around the world and experiencing so much, I figured her body is just part of life.

Last week, I went to my figure-drawing group, and Heidi Of The Mountains modeled. Twelve people were there, seated in a semi-circle around a short platform. Heidi took off her clothes and stood on the stand. Most of the group had drawn her many times, and share affection for both Heidi and I, enjoying our new role as newlyweds. But a couple of artists were new to the group, and one of the men sat next to me. When Heidi first took off her robe, I could feel a bit of excitement surge through him, and it panged me a bit that he was enjoying in public what is my private pleasure. I realized that I risked losing a little of the special aspect of our intimacy. Nonetheless, what is even bigger is being an artist, and both Heidi Of The Mountains and I revel in art and rejoice in its creativity and generous flow.

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Jumping In

Jumping into married life after being a “free” man for years, is both joyous and daunting. I had been happy, dancing free and blowing with the wind, but now, it will never be the same because in marriage, although two trees grow side by side, their roots entwine in the earth and a symbiosis occurs so that the couple depend on each other for growth. I have to change my language. When I speak of experience, Heidi Of The Mountains expects to be included and so I have to change my thought—to use the term “we”, rather than “I”.

Heidi Of The Mountains is affectionate and full of aspirations, and we both have confidence for our future. We have assets and are combining our lives, step by step. She is pouring her energy into my art gallery and impressing me. She is a good arranger, has an aesthetic eye, is an adept manager and with her enthusiasm, sells my paintings frequently. We are marching together.

On Marriage

By Kahlil Gibran
You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore.
You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days.
Ay, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God.
But let there be spaces in your togetherness,
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.


Love one another, but make not a bond of love:
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf
Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.


Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together yet not too near together:
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.

Unusual And Entrancing Episodes

Sarah and I. We are at a dinner party in Chicago, at the home of her aunt. In the background is a large abstract painting I did in 2007.

"They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night." Edgar Allan Poe,  Eleonora

Paris Street; Rainy Day, by Gustave Caillebotte
French, 1848–1894   Collection of the Art Institute of Chicago

Land meets the sea, Kauai, Hawaii

“The very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream.”
 William Shakespeare

The past thirty days, THE DREAM delivered unusual and entrancing episodes into the chapters of my life. I am a whirling dervish, with little care for possessions, so it was not hard to move out of the house I had been living in for the past year. After all, I have a studio, and recently started a gallery to show my art. My fiancé took some of my things for safekeeping into her home, and just as the days began to chill and leaves began falling, I went to Santa Barbara, California, where my parents live.

At the beach, Santa Barbara

Rose, growing in my mother's backyard

From there, I arrived in Kauai, Hawaii, an island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. After ten days, Heidi Of The Mountains arrived and we married, entwined in love, flowers, and billowing elements where the sea meets the shore.

The newlyweds, Kauai, Hawaii

The endless sea, wild and free.

Monk seals

Halo around the sun, with Palm trees in front.

Chicago!

Ten days later we arrived in Chicago, the “windy city” on Lake Michigan, where sturdy buildings of steel and glass reach high into the air, disappearing into clouds overhead. Everything is available—museums, institutions of higher learning, vast commerce, science and industry, fine dining, entertainment, taxis, trains, busses.

Sarah, on her 25th birthday, 11-11-2011

My daughter, Sarah, lives in Chicago, and on November 11, (11-11-2011) celebrated her birthday with a grand dinner and then a dance party with live band at a local nightclub.

Dancing in a club . . . 

One month of whirlwind sites and sounds, and here I have made a photomontage. As it is said, a picture is worth one thousand words.

Seen at the Shedd Aquatrium

Baha'i Temple, Wilmette, outside Chicago

Part Of A Twosome

Wow. In one day I went from a single man to married. Well, maybe not in one day, since Lori and I had been dating for two years and a “couple” for one year.

I liked my five years of being single, especially the year of 2008, when I went solo around the world for twelve months, living in THE DREAM.

Now, I am in a conjugal relationship—part of a twosome. Fortunately, we give each other happiness, and can bounce down the path of life joyfully. I met Lori when she modeled for a life-drawing group and I spent three hours studying her figure. I have drawn her many times since then and we have become so enmeshed that she quit her long time job as a probation officer so that she is now my gallery manager and sells my artwork full time.

This week we married here on the island of Kauai. We wanted the ceremony to be very private, so essentially, it was just the two of us filling out Hawaiian legal papers and finding Baha’i’s to witness and sign. We had some nervous moments in preparation, but Spirit took over and accomplished our highest good.

Today, we leave lovely Kauai and arrive in Chicago. My daughter is celebrating her birthday with a big party on an auspicious day—11-11-2011.

Please enjoy the website I made: A SOJOURN ON KAUAI, HAWAII.

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!”