Reflections in Wire Sculpture

"That's your art?" the first one says, flicking it aside.

"That's your art?" the second one says, as if surprised.

"That's your art?" the third one says, laughing and jolly.

Le Flaneur, 8:43 am

Art School Teacher: Assignment Due, Make a New Yorker Cartoon

"Copy cat!"

36 Questions for Take Me to the River

What do you hear when you listen to the river?

In the currents can you hear voices from your past?

When the seagulls cry do you hear the ocean?

In a storm, broken hearts?

What sound does the river make in the thick of night?

When your thoughts turn to your deepest concerns?

What do you see where the river meets the sky?

How deep beyond reflections can you see?

What is the opposite of now?

Can a river flow more than one way?

What secrets does the river conceal?

What stories do you read in its waves?

How to reveal the meaning of the river?

Why is our awareness so fleeting?

Can you feel the river in your bones?

How long do you sit by the river before turning to other things?

How to understand that my arm is not mine?

What makes a river what it is?

What is your connection to the river?

What is the song you sing whenever i’m around?

If we walk by the river, will you hold my hand?

Can you imagine a time before this river was born?

When the sky and earth were one?

Can you imagine how a river is always home?

When do you think about the river?

When do you crave its song?

How often do you make your way to the river?

Have you ever been to where the river is born?

Have you ever floated its length?

Have you ever traveled to its end?

Have you considered this river of thought?

This river of vein? This river of sewer?

Can a rock be a river?

Is the sky a river?

What about this moment?

Are you and i a river?

A Few Facts About Me and The River

Sometimes I forget there's a river nearby.

Sometimes I forget to look at the sky.

Sometimes I find myself churning over useless worries.

Sometimes I walk by the river.

Sometimes I look at the sky.

Sometimes I find myself letting go of useless worries.

Tranquility and the Revolution: Moondog

The long anticipated Moondog: A whimsical short film by Len Borruso

With many special thanks to:

Tad Neuhaus for always playing and selecting the perfect accompaniment,

Elyse-Krista Mische who made Moondog's costume on very short notice,

John Fleckner who agreed to play Moondog with even shorter notice,

Len Borruso who agreed to film, direct, and edit the whole thing on the shortest notice of all,

Therese Joanis of Top Spins and Luke Jacobs of Jacobs Meat Market for their willingness to play along,

Dane Richeson for letting us play his beautiful instruments,

and

Andrew Dane and Rory Olson for always being game.






Moondog from Ekphrasis where you can view all the Tranquility and the Revolution short films and discover where the cassette tape binders came from.

Hope to See You at Take Me to the River!

tonight!

grand kakalin

kaukauna

tad neuhaus, guitar

joanna dane, vocals

save it for the grottos

what is the experience of now?

what sensations do you feel?

where does the breath begin and end?

how many tears have you shed?

from where does joy emerge?

what does it mean to be free?

how many days until the new year?

how many hours before you’re near? 

from where does sorrow rise?

Getting Ready for the Grottos

faces by Roseanna

Hope to see you there!

after the storytelling

a woman came up and told me how much she liked my story

i said thank you

she said she wouldn't have liked it if i wasn't such an odd person

and i believed her

Art School Teacher: Class Announcement

This week we finished our first bound book, a simple Japanese stitch. Everyone including me felt a bit awkward working with the needle and thread. Except Huachewh! We didn't have quite the right tools, which is my fault, I'm learning right along with you. And that's NOT something to be embarrassed about. That's just the learning process. How about this for homework: How about remaking the bond book. Now that you've done the process once, see what happens when you try it again. Maybe think of what kinds of things you want on your pages. Visualize that. And then start. And see what happens. Our next book will be a free choice micro-biography. Think of someone whose work you admire. It could be someone you know personally, or someone long dead. Do some investigation. A micro-biography reveals a few poignant details which illuminate a person's full character. So don't worry about the whole story. Really, all you need to know about Flannery O'Connor is that she raised peacocks. Search for the most interesting details. My favorite source is wikipedia. And browsing the nonfiction stacks at the library. So, make a second bound book, and think about who you want to make a micro-biography about. Feel free to post an observation about class.

sumo book made by Elyse Mische
Check out what Elyse is up to in Lubbock, Texas!

where is the river song

tad neuhaus, guitar 

joanna dane, vocals

oh dears

i know there's been an endless amount written about this topic already

but have there ever been any satisfactory answers?

can the central dilemma be solved with something as simple as 

a change of perspective, a missive, a bone?

how much help can it be, sitting here breathing?

and if i choose to write about it, to fill these notebooks with this topic

will that solve anything or just make it that much more complicated?

maybe that's the point.

how to understand that my arm is not mine?

how to understand impermanence when i feel so permanent?

river poem #3

a river is a

metaphor

a pinafore

an accord between

now and then

a mess of well stones

pouring forth

from mitochondria

and springs

the life force

the circulation

of ideas

the high tide brings

the sturgeon upstream

where we marvel

at our own

being

a river

a life

always moving

and yet always

at home

river poem #2

where is the river

if the river has no edge?

can a being be a river

can a being have an edge?

where is the line between

water and mud?

wing and air

wave and root?

what is the

definitive truth?

can you see me

when i disappear?

can you feel the

current when it’s calm?

when the river

churns and bellows

when the swallows

flutter at dawn?

is it true

is it true?

have the pelicans

moved on?

On the Long Prairie Highway

tad neuhaus, guitar

joanna dane, vocals and flute

it is gone through the city

late to the broken evening

dreaming of 6 bells chiming

on the long prairie highway

the past looming larger

then every scrap beside you

i never know to never wander

in the long mountains

among pastures in the doorway of heaven scent

over the long vast breath

on the magic carpet ride

finding me turning around turning round

breathing in and out

inside of you

never never wonder

why is love how

it has to be

please

beside you baby oh i

wonder never wander

inside beside child of high sky wide

i’ll be back

back inside

child child child child child

child

oh my my beautiful child

never never never never never

never wonder why

why love is how it has to be

baby

why it has to be

baby please

never never never never never

wonder why love is how it has to be

please

beside you baby

oh i wander

never wonder

inside

beside child of high sky why

i’ll be back back inside

i’ll be back back back back back

i’ll be back back back

i’ll be back inside

child

river poem #1

about rivers

mostly what i know

is imaginary

inventions of mind

tributaries

memories

sensations

mostly what i know

about rivers

is right on the surface

the wild mix of color

and ever changing

reflections

sky and willow

wave and hollow

rereading Siddhartha

it’s quite astonishing

to catch a glimpse

of the essence

of the vastness

but mostly

the river of thought

takes over

drowning out

the river at my feet

River Memories

When I was a child, there was a grand river nearby

on the far side of downtown behind warehouses and train yards 

and fields of junk and thistle.

We only saw the river if we drove the bridge to Iowa 

or hiked through Fontenelle Forest.  The Missouri flowed fast and brown.

We threw rocks we collected from the train bed,

our reward for hiking.  Sometimes a tree limb floated by.

Mostly what I know about rivers comes from books, from Mark Twain

and John Hersey, Edward Abbey, Annie Dillard, Rumer Godden, V.S. Naipaul.

I lived at the mouth of a river once, during the months I worked in Livingston, Guatemala 

where every few days I'd slip into a kayak and roll upriver to explore jungle creeks.

And when I got to missing Andrew, I'd hop a boat

that motored up the gorge to Rio Dulce where I'd catch the bus back to El Estor.