Wednesday, November 23, 2011


The Marble Topped Table from my mother's house last summer when I intended it to be an art workspace. 
A Collection of Postcards spread on the table after an impromptu antique mall outing.
The Table Today:  some books have moved in and a blank comp book awaits.

The Picture on the wall by my computer (in the same room):  My mother at the Indiana Dunes in the mid 50s.


  1. who is she looking at, jane? i see children in the corner and another leg just slightly higher up. could it be you?

    it is such a painfully beautiful photograph. clicking on it and seeing it against black is such a pleasure, the light of the sand pulling so much of the world into it, and her, but for a moment, there forever.

    oh oh, ha! see! i have forgotten your workspace. i have a question. what do you think this says about you most? oh, and another, what do you want this to say about you? i know it says so much, but before i say anything else, i wonder on what you think.

    i like the presence of the flashlight. i laugh. i find it grounding.


  2. Erin, Thank You. I didn't realize that one could click on pictures and get a separate image. A black background is most agreeable for the B&W of my mother. This photo is so iconic for me, mythic, almost. My mother seems so ideally feminine in her flowered sundress and strappy sandals with "American" magazine, no less, casually strewn by her side. This was well before my birth and I think somehow she managed to get away without any of us kids. She did once tell me that she thought that she might be pregnant with an older sister of mine in this picture. Anyway, she does appear to be smiling beatifically toward a child playing in the sand.

    What do I think the desk pictures say about me? That I'm a romantic optimist. The marble table I had meant to be used in my kitchen, but it is too short. I was really pleased with it in a sunny spot and had plans for what art would/could happen there. (I also like the flip-flops under it.) It has gotten overrun with other projects, mostly of the written variety. The flashlight is there to remind me that it is in need of batteries. We'll see if that visual prompt helps.

    These pictures also tell me that I was too much of a coward to show my bookcase because I didn't like what it revealed about me. Mostly, that I am NOT an intellectual & rather random and messy in my thoughts--if that's what a bookcase shows.

    What do you see?

  3. that you are careful, neat and particular. i wish i could see the pictures as i write this. but the illustration of the narrow group of trees i think says it the most; there is a minimalism tied gently with feminism, or perhaps this is the romanticism(?) and you have a tropism toward fine things, like granite, or the fine scents or materials that weave their way into your poems so often.

    i wish you had shown your bookshelves. what we want to say least, is what we should say mostly, at least to ourselves.

    i doubt i post pictures but i think you could guess at my workspace. it is a constant flux of clutter and debris, bookmarks in and out, books strewn, a candle, a pen, keys, earrings i mean to send to a friend that will take a year or more to get in the mail, an empty bag of popcorn. too many of my books are in boxes in the attic but there are piles of books falling over on my bedroom floor. and always i am searching for poetry. where oh where is there a book, as though they are hard to find. just today i found ondaatje in my car and gilbert in my shoulder bag. we are these spaces, aren't we, jane?


  4. There really is so much energy and joy in these photographs. Your work space is gorgeous, the light, the trees "growing" from the top of your table; I thought it was drapes, but it must be a picture.

    There is much beauty on the table, in the light. The notebook, dictionary, pens, books.

    The photo of your mother really is tremendously evocative. I love reading what you wrote about it to erin. I almost feel as if her skirt becomes the sand and its holes and notches, like finger- and toe-made flowers, everlastingly caught in black and white.

    This post tells me much about you.

  5. Thank you both.
    I am very pleased to have a work space with so much light,that overlooks my backyard. I can let the dogs in and out and look at my garden and roses and watch whomever is visiting the mulberry.
    I think at times I am careful and precise, but I'm also very messy too!
    Maybe shots of my bookshelf would show that.
    Anyway, the trees on the desk are a watercolor I did depicting my impression of part of the exterior of where I work. From a previous post:
    I try watercolors