Strength and beauty

Don't let the delicacy of these perfect mum blossoms fool you.

This flower is no wimp.

It survived winter in my flower box, surprising me come spring when it started to grow without being planted again. Everything else in that box died and stayed dead as the temperature dropped and the freezing weather set in for months and months. What a surprise to find a volunteer.

More impressive than that, it survived my unpredictable watering all summer long. I'm just not capable of something as tedious as watering every day. And often it was near death by the time I got to it. But it perked up every time -- even after the occasional vacation where I just didn't want to ask any favors and was sure it would rain once or twice anyway.

So I give you these beautiful blossoms, not just for you to enjoy, but for you to appreciate. This beauty has strength. It survives. It thrives.

It inspires.

Microwave as art

After reading the article about the guy who's famous for taking photographs of the inside of an oven, I thought I'd try it.

Only just to go my own way, you'll notice this is the inside of a microwave.

Close up and not so.

So?

Do I have a future in microwave-oven photography?

Are these not the most artistic shots you've seen of a microwave oven?

Perhaps I should point out, though not crucial to the picture, that this isn't any old microwave. This is a brand-spanking-new microwave. I would not likely have taken a picture of my old microwave due to the splotches and splashes. But it is now gone and I'm happy to share with you this incredibly white (thanks to Photoshop because my adjusting of the white balance on my camera never quite worked -- and actually using Photoshop is something I generally avoid so it is progress) wonder.

A new microwave was necessary because our old microwave was haunted. The fan inside would start up if you so much as walked by. And if you closed the door after cooking something, the fan would go on again. And if you wanted, in fact, to cook something, the fan would sometimes go on and make you think something was cooking, when in actuality it was just blowing air.

My husband and I each had our own way of dealing with this. Sometimes we'd just leave the door open so the fan wouldn't have a chance and we could walk by without being freaked out.

But when we were actually trying to cook something and the fan did its thing but the cooker did not, I had a system of opening the door and pushing certain buttons in certain ways to get it to cooperate. My husband's methodology was to pound the door in a variety of areas until it bowed in submission. Perhaps the pounding was to show it who was boss. Perhaps it was to get frustrations out.

But the time came when the frustrations and the freaking out were happening all too frequently, so the old microwave was replaced by this exact replica to fit the space. So far so good.

So it works as a microwave, but does it as an artistic photograph?

It is William Eggleston who spoke lovingly of his oven picture. And Time included with the article his picture of a kitchen sink that was truly artistic. Kudos to Eggleston for making something mundane become somehow magical. And kudos to the rest of the world for honoring him for his passion and sight.

Artists need a niche. Something they can do better than anybody else. Something that will get them into the Museum of Modern Art in New York City and buy them an apartment in Paris.

Artists struggle with doing what they love and doing what will bring them popularity. It is a gift to manage both. Congratulations to Eggleston and his photographs.

Me, I think I'll stick with landscapes.

An impractical idea

Here's a suggestion for those who are starting their holiday lists: Buy Local.

And I'm not talking produce here. I'm talking art, theater, crafts and music.

I have become very well acquainted with a group of artists who put their hearts into their works. All they've learned. All they feel. All they want to express.

But their creation isn't really finished until somebody loves it enough to make an investment in it and take it home to love some more.

I've sat with these artists at festivals in the park, and smiled with them, at those who pass by on their way to the food booths next door.

We always need more food. But art?

I've sat in a gallery filled with art of every style and price, watching people rush past to the post office or the hair dresser or the bank.

There are needs more immediate than art. But are they of more value?

I found myself drawn to the little artisan shops when souvenir hunting in Greece. From a weaver I bought some bookmarks for my sons, from a potter I bought some little Grecian jugs for the family, from a crafter I bought some charming bracelets for my daughters. From the artist whose gorgeous pieces were selling for thousands of euros, I bought... a postcard. While my two euros wouldn't put food on her table -- nor would the money from the small items I purchased from the other artisans -- it would let her -- and them -- know their work was admired.

Throughout history musicians and artists have struggled. Without patrons they would have to leave their craft for more practical employment. Yet in many cases, their work has lived long past their difficult lives and delighted and enriched more people than they could possibly have imagined.

So this holiday season, if you can, consider skipping the Wal-Mart, the movie theater, the CD store for your gifts or gift cards. Consider art from a gallery or tickets to a local theater or items from a neighborhood craftstore.

You'll be feeding more than one soul.