loving art, science and creative kids
2/28/2015 9:18:56 PM
I Thought I Knew You: Contemporary Totem
by Marilynne Eichinger
Beaver Totem by Ray Losey Beaver Tattoo
Tattoo Taboo
Last year Ray made a totem pole for an Oregon sports club whose mascot was the beaver. One of their members was so impressed with the sculpture that he decided to have a tattoo of Ray’s design inked on the back of his calf. Photos show the pole and the leg that will be colored over the next several months.
Though he felt honored by this gesture, tattoos represent quite a generational disconnect to me. As a child, my friends and I were fascinated by photographs in National Geographic displaying body art on Polynesian people. Those images were a curiosity that spoke of the exotic, but were labeled by my peers as belonging to a primitive culture, not to be duplicated. The process appeared to be agonizing and made us wonder why anyone would want to mar their body in that way.
Today, with new and safer technology, many people wear tattoos. They are often quite artistically executed, but I continue to wonder why a person would want such permanent body art. I prefer the option of being able to change my selections whenever I desire. I choose jewelry and scarfs to accompany my mood and clothing. Paintings on my walls are juxtaposed with nearby furniture in order to show the art off to its best advantage. Their attractiveness depends on placement, good lighting, and coordinated colors.
Body art needs be displayed with the same holistic approach as a painting, yet it is rare that clothing enhances the tattoo. I recently watched a young bride walk across the far side of a luxury hotel lobby wearing a beautiful white gown. Her bare arms were fully covered with blue/black tattoos. The contrast between her elegant satin dress and decorated arms was jarring. I wanted to wash away the tattoos so she could look pristine on her wedding day. I wondered how she was going to enjoy her body in fifty years. Sagging, flappy old age skin will change the appearance of her carefully executed youthful designs. I questioned whether she will join the 60,000 people the American Society for Aesthetic Plastic Surgery say had tattoos removed in 2012.
Tattooing is an ancient art. There is evidence that it existed during the bronze age five thousand years. A frozen body known as otzi, the ice man discovered in the Alps was covered with fifty-seven tattoos. On every continent of the world there are examples of ancient people adorned with some form of body markings. In North American the Chickasaw decorated their outstanding warriors, Iroquois tattoos were made in recognition of rank, and Inuit women’s chins were decorated to indicate marital status.
Tattooing (known as tatau) in Polynesia began over 2000 years ago, and represents some of the finest work of its type. Rank and title were reflected by the tafutga (tattoo artist) who spent long hours perfecting designs. The pain of being tattooed was extreme carrying with it a high risk of infection. A person who aborted the process was considered incomplete and a coward.
Japanese and Polynesian body art have had the greatest impact on contemporary American society. In the mid-1700s, explorers brought back reports from their travels, describing the elaborate body designs that made men look as though they were fully clothed. Their descriptive accounts fascinated the public, and the practice took hold on sailors and society’s fringes.
The fashion declined, however, with the influx of Christian missionaries from the west. They vilified the custom as inhumane, barbaric and unholy. In most mission schools youth were forbidden to wear tattoos, though over time the missionaries did relax their attitude.
In the United States the first permanent tattoo shop was opened in 1846 in New York City. The practice grew with patriotic fervor as military men were drawn into body decorations during the World War II era. By the 1950s tattoos were more widely accepted, though they continued to be generally disdained by upper society. As a child, I remember going to Times Square in New York and seeing sailors strolling by with images of nurses and hula dancers on their arms.
Today tattooing is considered an legitimate art form that appeals to both sexes. 21% of Americans have one or more tattoos according to a Harris Poll conducted in 2012. People get tattooed for social, political, and religious reasons. Some are applied as expressions of love, others are forms of self-expression or fashion statements, and many, as in the case of the beaver tattoo, are done in recognition of group affiliation.
Tattoos vary in price depending on whether it is original art or a stock selection. $50 might get you a star. In general small, simple pieces take about an hour to complete and cost between $75 and $150 per hour. A quality tattoo artist will change $300-$350 per hour, and even more for intricate time-consuming designs. It is not unusual to pay $ 2,500 for an arm from shoulder to wrist plus about $1,000 for tips.
I find it interesting that 86% of tattooed people say they have never regretted getting one while those without tattoos hold strong opinions against the custom. One-quarter of those polled say that tattooed people are less intelligent, healthy or spiritual. 50% consider them to be rebellious, and two out of five think they are less attractive and less sexy.
There are increasingly more people getting their tattoos removed. Though many are artistically executed there are a also great many mistakes . . . even by well paid professionals. Other reasons for removal are that the individual longer finds the design relevant, it is not perceived as appropriate for professionals, or it does not project the current image a person has of his or her self.
People are more likely to get tattoos if their friends and family have them, for as the custom has grown it has become better accepted by society. Even though I continue to stare with curiosity, I am no longer horrified. I even ask people what their pieces of body art mean to them. When it is completed it will be interesting to see the fully colored beaver totem.
I would love to hear what you think of tattoos. Do respond on my blog site at eichingerfineart.com/blog.
Art work is always for sale. Go to eichingerfineart.com to learn more.
Want to know more ?
http://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/tattoos-144038580/?no-ist=&page=5 - history of tattoos
http://www.pbs.org/skinstories/history/ - history of tattoos
http://www.designboom.com/history/tattoo_history.html - history of tattoos
http://time.com/2826644/you-better-have-a-good-reason-for-that-tattoo/ - tattoos and regret
http://www.usatoday.com/story/news/nation/2014/05/21/tattoo-removal-laser-treatment/8892601/ - love/hate relationship with tattoos
http://www.vanishingtattoo.com/tattoo_facts.htm - tattoo facts.
2/23/2015 3:59:00 PM
TV Diva - Who is she?
On Being Real
I just returned from a talk given by Tom Disrud about being real. It made me consider who I really am and who I want to be. Recently I have been told that I need a different moniker for my art work. My surname changed twice because of marriage, but I stayed with Eichinger because that is how I was known for twenty years, and Marilynne because that is all I ever knew myself to be. Each pseudonym, however, initiated a time of changed responsibilities as housewife, mother, museum president and finally company owner. Last year I sold my business in order to write and paint, and I asked myself if it was time for a new handle. And so I started to explore the meaning of my name.
The word Marilynne, according to baby name lists, conjures up sexy images, bringing to mind Marilyn Monroe. It’s origin is a hodgepodge of English, Israeli, and Hebrew languages that blend Mary with Lynn. It is not a popular name today, as it was when I was born (there were three in my homeroom), but its popularity rank over the past two years has been rising again. The problem with this name is that I am now aging. Does sexy still describe me? In Zumba classes we put our hands above our heads pretending to be belly dancers one minute and hip-wiggling salsa dancers the next. A sidewards glance to the mirror had me in stitches when I tried to imitate the sexiest twenty-year old in the room.
My middle name is Hildegarde. Learning to write all of those letters was quite overwhelming when I young and had to sign my name as Marilynne Hildegarde. In Scandinavian mythology Hildegarde was a Valkyrie sent by Odin to escort battle heroes to Valhalla. In America the meaning is Battle, the name is all about war. My exercise program contains a smidgin of Tae Kwan Do and Tai Chi, so now I wonder if am I ready for battle? In front of the mirror I tried making my face fierce, disguising the smile crinkles in the corner of my eyes. “Ayee!!” I shouted. I failed abysmally.
Hildy, the name my grandfather gave me, according to Kabalarian Philosophy, is a person who has a desire to be of service to others, but practicality and attention to detail restricts her spontaneity. I am supposedly patient and will work hard to accomplish my endeavors.(true ) I tend to build a solid foundation of fact and logic ( yes ), but am not inclined to pursue inspirational or creative expression in music or the arts . . . (“uh oh!”) That statement stopped me immediately.) The article I read goes on to say that my ambitions are modest. (My friends would laugh at that one.) I do, however, appreciate a settled home environment that lets me show love for friends and family. It this who I am? Should I sign my art work Hildy?
To consider who I really am, I had to divide myself into two parts, the physical being and the spiritual one. I started with the physical since it was easier to dissect.
Since retiring I have made some changes that I do like. My weight has come down to match what it was when in college. But instead of the tiny waist that my father used to wrap his hands around, five children have brought about a permanent increase in spread. Not bad though I can live with the reality of a slightly larger waistline. Exercise has made a big difference and I am stronger than I was a year ago. I can now do squats, kick my leg up to at least ninety-degrees and engage in jumping jacks with ease. Posture is now my bugaboo.
As a child dancer, I was taught to stand in first position, and for years walked with toes turned outwards. If you have watched ballerinas you will often see them resting on one leg, the other slightly forward with toes out, belly protruding. (look at Degas sculpture of the Little Dancer.) After carrying babies on my hip, that position became exaggerated and my back suffered. Changing my stance to walk with feet in a parallel position has not been easy, but my back is much better. I feel great!
So why the shock when I looked into the mirror to find the real me? I suddenly noticed my bobbing computer head. “How did that get so bad,” I thought. Then I looked around the shopping mall and city streets to observe hundreds of heads dangling at the end of forward bent necks emanating from hunched shoulders. That description really fit me, and I did not like it. Was this just another part of the aging process, and was it something that could be corrected? With a computer head, I certainly could not keep my sexy Marilynne name or do battle as a Hildegarde. I still felt uncomfortable with a Hidly who was not involved in the arts.
I went online to discover something called computer neck. It is a common problem these days because children as well as adults sit at computers for hours at a time with poor posture. “Ouch!” This stance has made chiropractors wealthy. I learned that there are several things that can be done to get rid of computer neck. When sitting, with head in a neutral upright position, a line drawn straight out form your nose should intersect with the middle of the monitor. Forearms have to be positioned parallel with the floor with elbows close by each side. Feet should sit flat on the floor with thighs parallel to the floor as well while sitting slightly forward on a chair. To maintain the curve of my lumber spine, I decided to use a large chair-ball. Since it is slightly unstable it also forces me to use my core to maintain balance.
I am going to work on improving my stance and keep Marilynne as my name. I like the idea of staying a feisty, sexy woman. As to the spiritual side, well that is a whole other story.
References:
http://orthoinfo.aaos.org/topic.cfm?topic=a0026 - How to sit at a computer.
http://www.kabalarians.com/Female/hildy.htm - meaning of hilly
www.sheknows.com/baby-names/name/marilyn - meaning of marilyn
2/13/2015 9:16:29 PM
Twin Starts Colliding
A Blast in the Woods
My home is in the forest near a parkland trail. Built on seven levels that are nestled onto a hillside, the back of the house is over 100 feet up in the air. I fondly think of my dwelling as a treehouse. Some of our guests get dizzy looking over the railing, but I love to peer over the side into the woods or sit back to watch the canopy birds attracted to our numerous feeders.
Last Monday, just past noon, while working quietly at my desk enjoying a occasional nod to the view from my window, of rain gently dripping from the Cedars and Douglas firs, I was startled by a loud crack. It sounded like a lightning bolt hit the roof colliding with a freight train. As my head to jerked to attention, I looked out the window to see the top half of a huge tree rocket to the ground. Ten seconds later an earthquake like blast shook the house, toppling pictures, breaking glass, and sending branches shooting through the skylight to puncture holes in the stairwell wall.
The first thing I noticed when I leaped to my feet was that my heart was pounding, adrenaline shooting skyward and my body shaking. Ray was shouting at me to come upstairs, and I kept thinking to myself, “Calm down. You are a meditator and are not supposed to get upset. Thankfully no one was hurt.” At that moment I was very glad that I was not alone in the house.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I ran up to the main floor to find shattered glass blocking my way. Stepping gingerly through an unbelievable mess, I worked my way to the back deck to discover it was half dissolved and no longer fenced in. Looking down from the remaining splintered boards, vowing not to become a statistic with a seventy-five foot fall, I tried to discern which tree was the culprit. I am possessive of my trees and was unhappy to lose even one. It was difficult to tell, but with a bit more investigation I was crestfallen to see the upturned ball of a magnificent 150 ft. Red Cedar. In totem terms the trunk could be used to make eight or nine poles.
It was then that I finally let out a laugh. Yesterday I had been speaking to the young man we mentor and had told him that, “Life is just a series of problems to be overcome.” I had been trying to make him realize that there is never such a thing as, happily ever after. “Overcoming difficulties makes life interesting.” I had said. He was in the house at the time the tree went down, so when he came bounding into the room I turned to him and said, “ Remember what we were talking about yesterday? Well, it looks like this problem is going to be a doozie!”
I have always been a preparation type of gal. After listening to lectures about earthquake probabilities in Oregon, I bought cases of bottled water, and for both work and home, purchased several sealed buckets containing enough dried meals to feed a family for twenty days. My car contains an emergency supply tub complete with a change of underwear. At work, I asked employees to bring extra clothing which I stored next to blankets, quilts, flashlights and batteries, ready to be accessed as needed. And our safety committee made sure we had first aide material in all parts of the building.
Since I lived in the woods, I was always concerned that a tree might come crashing down from the hill above. Ray and I pruned the branches on those nearby to make sure that the three and four foot diameter trunks were weighted away from the house. It never crossed my mind that one located eighty feet downhill on rain saturated ground could fall upwards causing damage. Acts of nature are full of surprises that send twists to planning documents.
This incident has made me realize that there are preparations for dealing with a disaster that are rarely mentioned. It is a good idea to have your doctor, insurance agent, and in case of a homeowner problem, an emergency response contractor’s number programmed into your cell phone. I also grasped the importance of doing exercises to help my body move swiftly and my mind to remain calm. Meditation and physical programs that push my brain to adjust to changes in rhythm and movement can provide me with solid grounding from which to take action. Core strength, balance and flexibility will help make cleaning up messes more manageable. With these insights, I added new goals to my New Year’s resolutions.
I hope a personal disaster never happens to you, but if it does remember that there are a lot of people ready to offer their support. Thank you Gary.
2/7/2015 2:17:35 PM
The Barnyard
by Marilynne Eichinger
Think STEAM
Recently I read about a pioneer family that homesteaded in Colorado in the 1800s . The book focused on the life of a ten-year-old who assisted his father erect their prairie home, complete with barn, fences, and sheds. As a youth he watched a dowser use two rods to locate water and then helped dig the family well. The boy had neither time nor need to play with blocks or science apparatus when practical objects had to be assembled and serviced. By living with nature, he became aware of cloud formations and the weathers impact on planting and harvesting. Cycles of bird migration and birthing habits of lambs and other livestock were part of his domain. During the era of western settlement, construction and farm skills were passed down from father to son. Sewing, preserving, medical and cooking accomplishments went from mother to daughter. In both cases innovation was was a result of multi-generational cooperation.
My partner Ray grew up on the edge of a gravel pit that created similar experiences for him. Since his father owned quarry, at a young age he was taught to crush rocks, fix machines, and even drive tractors. Today he can repair most small engines and is a useful man to have around the house. When we hire contractors to do repairs, Ray watches them attentively, making sure that they do not cut corners and that the work is completed as promised. "Build it right the first time," he instructs.
Town-raised children have little contact with farming or, as in Rays case, gravel mining. My father was a physician and had to trust tradesmen, who were not always trustworthy, to complete work around our house. The contractors my parents hired often had several jobs going at the same time, causing them to jump from one location to the next paying customer, trying to keep all of them satisfied. The company owners were often adept at doublespeak and disguised the limitations of their knowledge. In later years, it always surprised me, when faced with a similar situation, that their bill was rarely discounted. It often took me several years to notice imperfections that would not have been there if the contractor had been upfront about the companys abilities.
The current generation of children will most likely face a worse situation. I, at least, studied physics, learned a bit about engines and mechanical advantage and was given some practical experience in household management. Home economics and shop courses were part of the curriculum in my day, and as a
get in there and mess around type of person those subjects appealed to me.
Since parents are not qualified to pass on these skills to their offspring, it is time for schools to step in. Every child needs to receive a modicum of practical training. A rudimentary understanding of carpentry, electricity, plumbing, small engine repair, automotive care, and personal finances will make life smoother. Shop, art, home economics and music classes need to be added back to the curriculums for academic as well as vocational students. These subjects are intrinsically motivating and often serve as pathways to careers in engineering, the trades, or science, and they have a dual benefit of fostering creativity, curiosity, and problem solving.
So what happens if your offspring are not given a chance to learn these subjects in school? Though parents and grandparents may not be able to show their children how to build a home on the prairie, they can provide an area in their home filled with real tools, blocks, wooden planks, cardboard, pipes, glue and tape. They can give their children small engines, radios, and clocks for dismantling. Visits to construction sites and observing tradespeople at work and hands- on museums can go a long way to stimulate curiosity.
As adults we can encourage educators to think in terms of STEAM (science, technology, engineering, art, mathematics) for rounding out curriculum options. My high school physics course led me to a career managing science centers. My art class gave me a hobby that has become a profession in retirement. Cooking classes introduced me to measurement and chemistry as I mixed flavors, colors and textures, leaving me with surprising concoctions to sample. I thank my old school and my parents for the opportunities they gave me, and for inspiring my curiosity about everyday objects.
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