Kaye Iverson, Aspens in Winter

October 5 is the deadline for Ciel Gallery’s November/December juried exhibition, Winter Whites. With entries already in from Australia, Cyprus, Monaco, Canada, and the US, this show promises to rival our current Contemporary Mosaic Art 2009 in its international-ness. Primarily fine art mosaic, the exhibition will also feature textiles, watercolor, acrylic and photography. For a full prospectus, go here.

I’m avalanche-ally excited about this show. Last year’s Simply Red was a bonfire-al success. The artists loved creating the heat and visitors basked in it. This year we’ll put the chill on. With an almost total absence of color, Winter Whites will be a textural banquet, and a deliciously apt follow-up to our neighbor Charlotte Art League’s October exhibit, Art Beyond Sight — that which tickles the four less used senses rather than the rods and cones of our retinas.

I am an unabashed color slut, but these Winter Whites are tickling my fancies big time.

Submit; Partake; Revel; Glean; Go Forth.

I hate politics. Always have. There isn’t a sentence you could utter about any politician on earth that I wouldn’t believe, no matter how bizarre, how far outside the bounds of credible human behavior. Except Mark Sanford. I loved that man.

I uttered as much to the father of my children last week, and he replied, “I feel the same. He was my Tar Tudent. Character matters, and I hope he has boatloads. He’ll need it.” Indeed.

Mike Sanford was one of those, a true Tar Tudent, and I knew it from the first time he was introduced to us by a mutual friend. Sanford was not your garden variety politician. In fact, it seemed he wasn’t a politician at all. A proponent of limited terms, tough love and straight talk, it seemed he was one of those lovely men of character who have better sense than to dally near the political arena. It seemed he was a candidate no party would support, because he refused to be a pretty face with a big smile and a push button for regurgitating party agendas. Mark Sanford was his own man and nobody’s mouthpiece. Dangerous? Only for the status quo, I thought.

When Hubby first mentioned the news last week, I immediately refuted the claim — didn’t even give the possibility a split second in my psyche before spitting the ludicrosity right back out. “No,” I said. “He would never.” And then my daughter, who, at 22, has grown a CNN appendage with a hearty Economist diet. “It’s true.” I stared at them blankly. But I loved that man!

A week ago, I scoured the news. I read transcripts of the curious press conference, Jenny’s boldly gracious response, and emails that made my teeth hurt. I tried to understand. Surely there was some emotional breakdown that obliterated his judgment, erased his memory of a wife so supportive that she served by his side as campaign manager, shrouded his dedication to four strapping sons.

After a good day cutting tile and shaping the colors into a glorious red as red heart, I walked up the front steps this afternoon with newspaper in hand, uncharacteristically glancing down through the bluish plastic rain cover. “Sanford Admits to More Liaisons,” read the headline. My jaw dropped. And then the caption beneath his chagrinned face, “SC Gov. Mark Sanford says he’s trying to fall back in love with his wife, Jenny.” Only the sight of our 13-year-old by the door kept the sound from my fury.

Momentarily.

Well fuck you, Mark Sanford. Fuck you. It isn’t enough that you’re whining about love instead of sharing it with your spouse and your children, it isn’t enough that you’re whining about the fishbowl of politics instead of governing the state, it isn’t enough that you’re flying your “trusted spiritual advisor” to New York for dinner with your curvy-hipped lovedrop, but you have the gall to say, publicly, as if this scandal isn’t pain enough, that you’re trying to fall back in love with your wife, Jenny. Just fuck you. I hope she douses you with gasoline and gives you one last kiss so electric that you burst into the flames of hell. And I’m not given to that sort of talk.

So there were others. I no longer care. I will no longer try to understand. I dump you into the scum pond of politicians who feel they are not only above the law, but above any notion of human character. American politicians have become the laughingstock of the nation, if not the world. The concept of service is dead. We could let them finish out their terms on I Survived a Japanese Game Show and get as much out of them as we do in Washington and our state capitals. I am ashamed. So very ashamed.

I loved this guy, and I’m not the naive type. I’m so not-the-naive type that trust is excruciatingly slow for me. I look, I listen, I wait, and maybe in five or ten years, I trust. But I trusted you Mark Sanford. And you are not a Tar Tudent. Turns out your character was somewhat less than boatloads. Too bad for both of us; for all of us. And now I’m done.

My name is Pam, and I am in a Bad Mood.

If you’ve read Sex in the Fifties, you’re probably aware that I’ve been in a Bad Mood since that first hot flash in June 2006. I’ve heard that hot flashes can continue for 10 years. A very bad mood indeed.

Maybe I could deal with the hot flashes if that were the end of it. I could learn to work naked, my feet thrust into slushies, my lips dribbling any liquid served in a frosty can, a sponge poised high issuing rivulets of chilly springwater over my glowing back. This might even get a rise from my amorous husband, if he hadn’t learned by now that sex and menopause are about as likely to be linked as the geek and the prom queen locked in a bum-fondling slow dance. Understand, mind you, that HE is the prom queen these days, while I have been banished to the computer room, deemed unfit to mingle with humans.

And it’s not just the hot flashes, the mood swings, or the lack of sex. It’s the damn diet. The damn “why is all this weight ballooning from my belly” diet. I weighed 119 until I was 30. I weighed 128 until I was 45. Now at 53, dammit, 54, I weigh 128 with a 15 pound yoga ball shoved in my gut. Life sucks. And not in a good way.

Dearie says it’s because I eat too much and don’t exercise enough. I was forced to smite him, and he has Gone to Bed. Without Me.

But since I’m not being sweet to him and not having sex with him, I’ve decided to dump the damage, and toward this end I’ve come up with a fairly successful Menopause Diet.

Each day: one cup of tea, two lean cuisines (not at once), one apple, one low-fat graham cracker, and 4 bottles of water consumed while performing 200 daily crunches.

Due to the nature of this diet, you will require additional supplements for optimal health. The most effective supplement is Zoloft, the non-addictive (hahahahahaha) alternative to Xanax, both available without prescription from any school-age child. For pricier upscale drugs, target those who attend private schools.

Lest you think the Menopause Diet is little more than idle days of exotic new frozen cuisine choices, activities are also included. The following regimen is suggested.

Barking. Quite easy, perhaps even second nature. Not only does barking energize facial and chest muscles and increase lung capacity, it’s extremely effective against telemarketers, delivery personnel, and chatty cashiers.

Sullenness. While several hours spent in sullenness burns few calories, it’s a valuable tool for warding off unsightly wrinkles caused by laugh lines. Sullenness can also gift you with several hours of quality time away from family members and co-workers.

Swatting. Swatting is superb for increasing upper body strength and combatting feelings of helplessness. Even better results may be achieved if a suitable target is used.

Growling. Growling rates near the top of my exercise list. It can be performed in any location or position and requires no particular equipment beyond sagging breasts and an internal combustion engine. Growling is also a superior method of communication, making your point of view instantly clear with a minimum of effort.

If only I could reward my diligent efforts with a Caribou Lite Coffee Cooler with Whip (220 calories for a small — the Whip alone is 100 of those (all fat, 14.9 grams), but soooo well worth it in the mood lightening department).

As dietary sins go, the Bou Frap is pretty mild. Dairy Queen’s large Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Blizzard stuffs a whopping 1,320 calories with 52 grams of fat.

Pair that up with a Double-Quarter-Pounder with Cheese Super Combo from McDonald’s (1,620 calories and 72 grams of fat), and I’m suddenly feeling pretty damn skinny. Hungry, but skinny.

Word is, I can lose 1 pound each week if I lower my calorie intake by 1000 calories per day. That seems pretty extreme, especially when I need extra energy for the barking and swatting. If I don’t see some progress soon, I’ll have to beef up my routine with scale hurling. I’m pretty sure that’s a Scottish sport.

I’ve just returned from a visit with my sister in Virginia, and the October slant of the sun is currently pickling even the lowliest subject matter into a sparkling celebrity in Fall’s Five Minutes of Fame. I’m a snap and run kinda girl, not by nature but by practice, stealing as many shots as I can while companions wait with varying degrees of patience ten paces ahead.

Not every face is lovely, but this one is Beyond Beautiful. Ancient Indian elephant, Wise Woman, patterns of dew-starved earth? Fall colors steal the show, but I’ve always been a sucker for the overlooked.

Ciel Gallery’s exhibition entitled The War Against Peace presents the responses of artists across the nation as they ponder the question of why we continue to cry for peace and simultaneously continue to wage war. Best of Show winner Janet Kozachek, whose Fallen Floyd is pictured above, illustrates the emotional and physical torture of war in stone and handmade ceramic. Phil Fung’s War and Peace depicts a hundred or so maniacal beatings and beheadings in cartoon style, overpainted with an Asian character for Peace. CharlesCaldemeyer ’s four interconnected canvases intersect with a spiral stair descending into the depths in Creators and Destroyers. Kenric Johnson photographs the war toys outgrown by his own sons, in a bittersweet commentary on youth, parenting, and the coming of age for war. Fred Sexton continues this theme with his portraits of child soldiers. Sandra Lynn Gray’s Destruction By Money catalogues the rampant abuse of our planet, while Laura Brosi created a “wartime pinata” of shredded names of every American killed in Iraq since Bush declared that our mission had been accomplished in May of 2003. This piece is aptly titled Unfinished (MIssion Accomplished), and gets a bit larger every week.

These aren’t just pretty pictures. Some aren’t pretty at all. But each serves to make us think about our own choices and whether or not we choose to act on them.

The War Against Peace Exhibition continues through Friday, November 7 at Ciel Gallery, 1519 Camden Road, Charlotte, NC. Sneak previews are here. Please email me for more information on any of the artists or artworks pictured. And if you stop in the gallery for a closer look, bring or create a Peace Flag to hang in our community installation, adding a few more voices to the cry for Peace.

Okay, random things first. In between my too-many pursuits, I finally finished Howl, my mosaic protest piece, just in time for the opening of The War Against Peace Exhibition at Ciel Gallery. I chose to work this piece in a folk-art style, because it is so often the “child” within us that reacts most instinctively to the atrocities around us. The image depicts a Peace Angel howling in anguish over the current state of Man and Earth. Alphabet Millefiori spell out her howls as she flies over the land surveying our lives below. This piece uses vitreous, smalti, millefiori, glass beads, and shell. Click on the image to enlarge and read the messages.

The great thing about mosaic artists is that they just never want to put down the nippers. So what starts out as “just finishing this one little section” ends up with you staring zombie-like across a cup of steaming tea while a Dear One utters words that sound oddly like, “What happened to you? You never came to bed last night?” Hence the Premier Gluefest of Charlotte Art League’s Community Mosaic Project was a howling success, bringing in brand new artists who refused to go home until we had a firm schedule for the next session, which will include lots of energy food for nipping into the wee hours.

And, lest you mistakenly think this is “crafty”, try precision-cutting a piece of hard-bodied high-fired clay with a hand tool. We are possessed. We are also wordy, and captured the attention and imagination of two local bloggers: here and here, as well as a News 14 reporter, who’s headed back to nip a bit herself.

The next workshop and outreach session will be Friday, August 8, from 5:00 Until, Ciel Gallery, 1519 Camden Road, Charlotte, NC. Possession is half the fun.

I am such a huge fan of Master Mosaicist Giulio Menossi, that I would consider it the highest honor to be plastered with smalti and embedded into one of his wholly fantastical three-dimensional works, just to have the honor of hanging about in his studio and watching this genius at work. Consequently, I am beyond thrilled to announce that Giulio Menossi will serve as juror for Ciel Gallery’s Juried Contemporary Mosaic Art Exhibition in September.

Giulio has been working in mosaics for 38 years, creating masterpieces from religious icons to portraits to mosaic renditions of classic paintings to his own richly textured imaginings. Residing and working in a studio in Udine, Italy, just outside Venice, Giulio will review submissions digitally, and artists’ statements through the assistance of mosaicist Cristina Colli of Ireland.

More about Giulio Menossi can be seen here. Or if you’re really lucky, in a town named Udine, just a bit NorthEast of Venice. And if I’m lucky, you’ll find me there, too, clutching a little fistfull of smalti.

For more information on the Contemporary Mosaic Art Juried Exhibition to be held September 5 – 26 in Charlotte, NC, look here. And don’t forget to visit our very gracious sponsors and mosaic-suppliers-supreme, MosaicSmalti.com and ArtfulCrafter.com.

Entries for the Contemporary Mosaic Art Juried Exhibition must be received by digital submission by August 4, 2008. A full prospectus is available here. Questions can be asked and answered here. The exhibition will feature artists working in mosaic from across the globe, both 2-D and 3-D, showcasing a wide variety of materials. Show dates will be September 5 – 26, and will include several receptions. Best of Show Award is $500, sponsored by MosaicSmalti.com. Artists’ Reception and Cocktail Salon will be held Saturday, September 6, sponsored by ArtfulCrafter.com. More information on Ciel Gallery in Charlotte, North Carolina is available here. Mosaic Art featured on the postcard shown above by (clockwise from upper left) Virginia Gardner: Secrets; Valerie Fuqua: Dangerous Curves; Marian Shapiro (inset): Lolita; Kathleen Jones: Un Moment de Paix, and Pamela Goode: The Happiest House.

I was waxing my way through Summer Pierre’s fab blog called An Accident of Hope (gotta love it), when I mired down in the post “30 Things I Feel Oddly Passionate About.” Of course that got me to wondering, what would be tops on my own list of odd passions? Of course I’m passionate about my family, art, respect, and a crucial pair of gladiator sandals from Anthropologie, but those hardly qualify as odd. And I’m passionate about things like open cabinet doors, spiders skittering towards my legs, and combing my hair before answering the phone, but I’m just going to go ahead and file those under OCD. When it comes to the quirkiness that makes me me and makes you you, what are the defining idiosyncrises? Shall we give it a look?

1. There are certain songs that MUST be danced to! Cases in point: “Love Shack” and “Do You Love Me?”

2. Dancing and love should always be unabashed.

3. Cooking is the most fun when done in groups. Remember The Four Seasons? (Adultery optional)

4. Smashed and reconfigured stuff. There’s cool treasure in parking lots.

5. Looking through someone else’s eyes.

6. Travel. Anywhere. Now.

7. The freedom of silence in a land where you don’t know the language.

8. Eye communication. Even when you’re only determining the ripeness of a pear, the connection is almost like sex.

9. Opening my arms and my breath and my soul to a sudden breeze.

10. Gregorian Chants, The Prayer Cycle, Todd Rundgren, Sonya Kitchell, and Reel Big Fish singing “Come on Eileen.”

11. Watching trees whisper.

12. Peeling paint finishes that bare layers of color indicative of past lives, particularly in rural Greece.

13. Flowers. Shape, hue, scent, impermanence.

14. Thich Nhat Hahn.

15. Quentin Compson.

16. Color, and the absence of color.

17. Clean bodies on clean sheets.

19. Panera’s Tomato Basil Soup with Asiago Cheese Croutons, which they have made the horrendous error of discontinuing for the summer season. Who doesn’t think “tomatoes” in summer???

20. Kitties pummeling my tummy while I watch the Food Network.

21. Riding around with my top down. Car top. Hah.

22. Menopause! Why, why why?

23. Overthinking Of course I don’t call it that.

24. Ruth Gordon in Harold and Maude: my idol for 37 years and counting.

And you?