Reading Zelazny is like dropping into a Mozart string quartet as played by Thelonius Monk

--Greg Bear
I couldn't agree more! I've been reading an anthology of Roger Zelazny's early works, genius in the rough. I am especially enjoying his notes and commentary adended to each piece. A Rose for Ecclesiastes was poignant and agonizingly fraught with the the disappointments of the human experience; Certain lines scattered like gems throughout the piece resonate across the spectrum of humanity;

No! Never interpret Roses! Don't. Smell them . . ., pick them, enjoy them. Live in the moment. Hold to it tightly, but charge not the gods to explain. So fast the leaves go by, are blown . . .

And no one ever noticed us. Or cared.

***

The added years of service were so many added tails to the cat repeatedly laid on my back.

***

And I came to the land where the sun is a tarnished penny, where the wind is a whip, where two moons play at hotrod games, and a hell of sand gives you the incendiary itches whenever you look at it.

I also loved The Doors of His Face, the Lamps of His Mouth. It was compared to Moby Dick by some critics, but I think The Old Man and the Sea would be a more apt parallel. I enjoyed the journey, and the world he created to contain it. His metaphores fire my imagination.

And I dream about those eyes. I want to face them once more, even if their finding takes forever. I've got to know if there's something inside me that sets me apart from a rabbit, from notched plates of reflexes and instincts that always fall apart in exactly the same way whenever the proper combination is spun.

In one of his notes, Zelazny discussed an accumulation of early material that had been rejected by publishers. I appreciate his comments concerning these, and feel that they can be applied to many aspects of work that we as humans create to express ourselves;

"One thing struck me about all of them: I was overexplaining. I was describing settings, events and character motivations in too much detail. I decided, in viewing these stories now that they had grown cold, that I would find it insulting to have anyone explain anything to me at that length. I resolved therafter to treat the reader as I would be treated myself, to avoid the unnecessarily explicit, to use more indirection with respect to character and motivation, to draw myself up short whenever I felt the tendency to go on talking once a thing had been shown."

Ivory Billed Woodpecker

Another quick study a la Audubon.

Carolina Parakeet

Two studies from Audubon's Carolina Parakeets. Mostly watercolor, some graphite and pastel.

Sandhill Cranes on the Rio Grande

I saw these cranes in the open spaces just before I crossed the Rio Grande, in January. The image stayed with me for a couple of days, so I spent some time working up a watercolor, trying to keep it free and unstudied. Silas built a frame and I matted it and sent it to Mom; She has a piece of New Mexico with her in Oregon now!

Sameness

“There is no sameness. If you looked down upon the world from above, like an albatross, you might phant’sy there was some sameness among the people crowding the land below you. But we are not albatrosses, we see the world from ground level, from within our own bodies, through our own eyes, each with our own frame of reference, which changes as we move about, and as others move about us. This sameness is a conceit of yours, an authors hobgoblin, something you fret about in your hammock late at night.” ---Neal Stephenson, The System of the World

Sometimes it's too bad we are not all the same; with the same needs, desires, fixes. We could take care of each other by rote, easily determine what is missing from the happiness equation, and supply that deficiency. No effort, no delving into the consciousness of another, no silly anticipation of needs, just a simple answer to the simple question 'What do I want?', it would be the same for everyone else . . .

Gold and Green Turquoise

I fell in love with a gold ring last weekend. Curious. I'm generally not much of a jewelry person. Of course I appreciate a nice stone or skillful metal work as much as the next person, but I don't wear jewelry very much and have never been acquisitive in the accumulation of jewels. I don't even wear a wedding band, much less an engagement ring. But, then, I've never had a piece 'speak' to me in quite this way before! Betsy and I went to Naranjo's Jewelry and Repair in Old Town Albuquerque, on Romero, to get a quote on some turquoise pieces that Betsy wanted repaired and/or altered. We spent some time talking with Stella, and Elizabeth, looking at the jewelry and trying on pieces. I saw the ring in a display and commented on it, it was so unusual. But I didn't try it on. A bit later it caught my eye again as I walked past the case, so I asked Elizabeth to pull it out for me. Yellow gold, formed like coral tendrils wrapping around the finger to delicately grasp an oval cabochon of green turquoise with a lovely rusty brown matrix. The gold looked rough and natural, as if it had been plucked from the earth as it was. Beauty in its roughness, elegance in the setting of the turquoise. Very heavy, very comfortable. I can't stop thinking about it, though I know I can't have it, with no private income . I reluctantly returned it to its case. But the weight of it on my finger stayed with me for quite some time. I've been back to see it several times, and have to talked to Stella about its history, it is one of her pieces, lost wax technique, and if I remember correctly the turquoise is from CO.

Petroglyphs

My favorite petroglyph at the Pertoglyph National Monument, Albuquerque, NM is the macaw. I love the simple free lines, and yet enough detail in the tail and wing to evoke movement; It is two dimensional, yet I expect it to morph into three dimensions and flutter off the rock at any moment. I am fascinated by the exotic bird trade from South to North America; the idea of these intelligent birds being carried across hundreds of miles of desert, companions to their bearers, and placed at such a value as to be traded for turquoise, silver, gold, or other precious stones. The feathers themselves were sacred and beautiful, bright adornments from the southern jungles to the dry muted mountains of New Mexico . . .

Another group of petroglyphs I like, also from the Petroglyph National Monument, are the curly Navajo sheep. They have an amazing amount of detail considering the medium, and more than a utilitarian aspect about them; I feel that these particular sheep were familiar enough to the shepherd to be recreated in leisure hours upon the varnished surface of the lava rock with an effortless grace and love and humour.

The Mountain Lion Petroglyph is located in the Arizona Petrified Forest. I love the impact of this piece! The claws, the long tail thrashing above its body, and yet the lack of teeth! It is quite a large design, upon a thick. flat slab of desert varnished stone. Powerful in its elegance . . .