Girls are also on my mind, and equality for them. To that end, to celebrate womanhood I would like to share a wonderful piece my sister Linden sent to me. It is a excerpt from an interview with Joss Whedon.

Joss Whedon, award winning writer of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, expressed these thoughts when being honored for his contribution to equality in film and television. He was asked why he wrote strong women characters. “Because these stories give people strength, and I’ve heard it from a number of people, and I’ve felt it myself, and it’s not just women, it’s men, and I think there is something particular about a female protagonist that allows a man to identify with her that opens up something, that he might — an aspect of himself — that he might be unable to express — hopes and desires — he might be uncomfortable expressing through a male identification figure. So it really crosses across both and I think it helps people. Because equality is not a concept. It’s not something we should be striving for. It’s a necessity. Equality is like gravity, we need it to stand on this earth as men and women, and the misogyny that is in every culture is not a true part of the human condition. It is life out of balance and that imbalance is sucking something out of the soul of every man and women who’s confronted with it. We need equality, kinda now.”

So, why do you write these strong female characters?

“Because you’re still asking me that question.”

©2010 Jill Berry Blog. All Rights Reserved.

I spent yesterday spinning a tale, channeling the voice of my grandmother, Mildred Masterson McNeilly.  She was called Kelly. She was complex, delightful to me, and challenging. In 1954 she and my grandpa went to Paris with my mother, who was 19 at the time and engaged (Holy cow, that is another story altogether). This is a project for my book with North Light, due out November 2011. My book is about maps, and finding our place in the world.

Personal Geographies:
Mapping Your Stories in Mixed Media

My Nana is gone now, so I decided to write her story for her, as she might have done on her Royal typewriter. It will go with a set of postcards and maps from Paris at the time that I made into a book, which you will see later on down the road.

My mom gave me a list of things that they did there, and I just let loose. It was fun, and I recommend it. Here is a sample of what I wrote.

Monday, July 5
The third day I set to shopping, as any sensible woman would in Paris. It was a gloriously sunny and successful day, at the end of which dear Glenn was laden with bags and I was actually beginning to feel civilized. Lunch along the Seine, Coq au vin and of course, more vin than coq, merci beaucoup. A song popped into my head and stayed there, darned that Dinah Shore.

“Gimme eastern trimmin’ where women are women,
In high silk hose and peek-a-boo clothes,
And French perfume that rocks the room,
And I’m all yours in buttons and bows.”

Saw an actual bottle of “Joy”, at a mere 45o an ounce, the most expensive perfume in the world. Who wears this? I am guessing whoever it is would actually rock the room, avez-vous d’accord?

Today I am back to my own voice, and working hard on my book. I have so many things to catch up on, including writing about my fabulous time at both Art Unraveled and Red Deer College in Canada. Almost ready to do that, and will this week. In the meantime, channel some loved one, and one of their stories. It might surprise you, and it certainly will entertain you!

©2010 Jill Berry Blog. All Rights Reserved.

The bodies, people, statues, exhibits, what does one call them, were in various dramatic poses in plexi display boxes. Artists were sitting, standing and kneeling with their drawing pads and pencils, all around each of the displays. It was dark. There was a glowing yellow light on each figure, and mystical music in the air. Words are not working for me right now, explaining this, and I can tell you that I went purely because I did not want to, and I knew that meant there was a growth opportunity there. I am glad I went.

Here are my sketches.

While I was sketching I was thinking how beautiful they were, how so many parts of their bodies reminded me of feathers and flowing water. It scared me a little too.

In Rome there is a chapel made of the bones of the Capuchin monks who died there. It is called the Capuchin Church of the Immaculate Conception. The first time I went there, somewhere around 1980, I remember walking through those skeletally decorated rooms with the hair straight up on the back of my neck. At the end, there is a sign that said something like “Where you are now, we once were. Where we are now, you will be.” I really don’t like that idea. The same with Body World. Maybe I am just too immature to discuss death, perhaps.

Today is gray and wet, my dog is here at my feet and I am drinking a really good cup of coffee, very glad to be alive.

©2010 Jill Berry Blog. All Rights Reserved.

Now I head to teach at Artfest for the first time. No small amount of twitchiness involved with that idea. The time here at that cabin-by-the-sea finished off my readiness.

Meanwhile, outside of this fantasy world, other things are happening. My dog went for a walk with Steve and came home with boots.

And my sister’s grand baby is beautiful. Okay, I am a step great auntie. There, it is said, and here is the little wonder.

Arlo Kai, born and living in Hawaii, where I used to live and can still smell when I close my eyes.

I won’t be writing from Artfest, every minute is planned and I doubt there is an internet connection. The days will be spent teaching, learning from Jesse Reno, and taking on the new Iron Chef teacher challenge that Teesha came up with a few weeks ago, just in case we weren’t on our toes. Back here on Sunday for two more nights. Life is grand.

©2010 Jill Berry Blog. All Rights Reserved.

A big bald eagle, just letting me watch him. Of course I had to make a fuss to Sydney on the phone about his arrival, and she was suitably impressed.

Thinking about this grand bird, about his soaring abilities, made me want to write a poem. Flight, death, soaring, life, all of it was floating around inside me. Then I found this.

It is my hope that Larissa can fly now.

©2010 Jill Berry Blog. All Rights Reserved.

This morning is it three letter words, a concept that I have worked with for about six years. Mighty little words. Today my words are “ART” and “SKY”, and I am looking up imagery for each of those words. Here are my canvases so far.

Only the "A" is finished.

Close up you can see my bird's eye map.

In searching for imagery for the word “SKY” both in my head and in all the books strewn around my studio, I suddenly remember a poem I found a few years ago when I was working with the same word. It is written by a Japanese poet, Shuntaro Tanikawa, (translated by Harold Wright, date unknown but probably 1960s). Coincidentally, Paul Klee has a painting he made in 1923 with the same name, Landscape with Yellow Birds. I present them to you here.

LANDSCAPE WITH YELLOW BIRDS
Shuntaro Tanikawa (1931-    )

there are birds
so there is sky
there is sky
so there are balloons
there are balloons
so children are running
children are running
so there is laughter
there is laughter
so there is sadness
so there is prayer
and ground for kneeling
there is ground
so water is flowing
and there’s today and tomorrow
there is a yellow bird
so with all colors forms and movements
there is the world

I am working on acceptance right now, and this poem speaks to me. There it is, just as it is, and we have to find the dreamy, beautiful parts as we sometimes wade through sadness. Here I am, painting in my own studio, and tomorrow I have to go and say goodbye to an 18 year old friend who died in a car. For now, I will find the beauty and gift of art here in my studio, while it is dark outside.

©2010 Jill Berry Blog. All Rights Reserved.

Books for my Artfest Classes

At the end of the week I got the good stuff. Katie Kendrick came to town to visit her new grandbaby, Jackson, and I went to meet her for lunch. It was a huge treat to hold that gorgeous little bundle and listen to his baby noise. Katie and I are the same age, and have lots of sameness in our lives, but my kids are 10 and 11. No grandchildren for me quite yet.

Katie and I headed out to lunch and yapped for so long I was late getting home. I met her last year at Artfest, and so enjoyed the class I had with her, mostly because of her gentle spirit, authenticity and great talent. This is an artist who works with everything, and her paintings are especially wonderful. She is interesting, smart and fun, and I hope you head on over to her blog and see that gorgeous baby.

In the middle of the night when I can’t sleep, I am reading MAPPING THE WORLD: Stories of Geography, recommended by my new friend Ellen. Interestingly, some of the stories are ones I tell in my map class. At about 5 am this morning I am reading about Jacques Cartier, who is said to be the one who discovered Canada. So Columbus discovered America (not really, but let’s pretend) in 1492. Cartier discovered Canada in 1534. It took 42 years to go north? Who discovered the nearly straight line of delineation between us and our northern neighbors? And Columbus, why didn’t he get credit for the whole continent?

My kids came up with the best solution for this ‘line of delineation” business. We were driving south, to New Mexico. There was a sign by the side of the road “You are Now Leaving Colorado”. A few yards later, another sign read “You are now Entering New Mexico”. One of the kids said, “that’s the line. In between those signs. It has to be big so you can see it from the sky.”

©2010 Jill Berry Blog. All Rights Reserved.

Some of this you can learn at Magical Midnight Stories at Art and Soul in Virginia in May. Some of it would be included in Journal Texting at Art and Soul in Portland in October. Or, you can just get out the Butterfly Pen (made by Jim Chin), Sumi Ink and watercolors and sit on the floor for some wild fun.

Here is the poem.

Poppies

Mary Oliver

The poppies send up their
orange flares; swaying
in the wind, their congregations
are a levitation

of bright dust, of thin
and lacy leaves.
There isn’t a place
in this world that doesn’t

sooner or later drown
in the indigos of darkness,
but now, for a while,
the roughage

shines like a miracle
as it floats above everything
with its yellow hair.
Of course nothing stops the cold,

black, curved blade
from hooking forward—
of course
loss is the great lesson.

But I also say this: that light
is an invitation
to happiness,
and that happiness,

when it’s done right,
is a kind of holiness,
palpable and redemptive.
Inside the bright fields,

touched by their rough and spongy gold,
I am washed and washed
in the river
of earthly delight—

and what are you going to do—
what can you do
about it—
deep, blue night?

©2010 Jill Berry Blog. All Rights Reserved.

Yesterday’s Super Bowl game was just what I needed. It was a clean, impressive, exciting and immensely gratifying to watch New Orleans win.

You may have noticed the fleur-de-lis on the side of their helmets. This is a heraldic representation of an Iris, which is also the symbol of one of my other favorite cities, Firenze, Italia. The flower ultimately represents the Goddess Iris, who is the messenger between the gods and humanity, manifesting herself in the rainbow. The iris flower is one of the most resilient plants on earth: it sends up its rainbow flowers in hundreds of climates and countries in many styles and hues. Yesterday there was no rainbow at that game that we could see, but surely you can feel it now.

©2010 Jill Berry Blog. All Rights Reserved.

Sam sent the dog outside saying “Teebo, wanna go out? Wanna go out into the world? Wanna go out into love?”

Sydney woke up and said “Mama, it feels like there is a whole world in my stomach and the continents are crashing into each other.”

My niece, Sophie and a large group of her friends memorized this poem. They were challenged to do so, but no one actually expected them to. When asked for volunteers, nearly the entire group of 11 year old kids stood up, and in unison, recited:

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the Pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll.

I am the master of my fate:

I am the captain of my soul.

William Ernest Henley

©2010 Jill Berry Blog. All Rights Reserved.