Showing posts with label i. Show all posts
Showing posts with label i. Show all posts

Friday, July 31, 2009

Wizened and Natal

What does that mean anyway?
I'm a wise woman a nice crone wizened by life. What a life it's been rich with love, friends, travel, excitement and interesting experiences. My talents are honed and sharpened after much use and experience. Oh Baby! Now I understand the cliché "youth is wasted on the young." Still in spite of my gray hair I remain young at heart anticipating each new day and the chance we’re given to do it over again. Perhaps that’s what Natal means every day is new like a new baby a clean slate, natal, another chance to live this enigma we call life. Or is Natal a place like a state of mind? hummmmmmm


Encaustic Wax Creations
Wizened and Natal
From 6-8
By
Judy Vars

Alaska Gallery @
Madd Matters
105 E. Arctic Avenue
Palmer, Alaska
99645

Meet the Artist Reception
(Second Saturday)
August 8th 2009

Thursday, December 25, 2008

It's Christmas and He's Alive!



Did I ever mention how neurotic my hubby is? No?, well here is an example. Peter wakes up and begins to cry out Buddys dead! WE KILLED BUDDY! Immediately I imagine what a horrible Christmas this will be with my beloved dog dead and it's my fault. OMG


Normally when I go to bed I will move Buddy off the bed, I'm usually not one to lie with dogs, but last night was at least a one-dog-night and I wanted to sleep cozy on Christmas Eve with my man and my dog.

So Budster slept peacefully on top of the bedding between our legs. Now Buddy has this funny way of falling asleep in any position and sleeps very soundly. When Peter woke up and felt buddy there he nudged him when he didn't move then he picked him up and he was limp (because he was sleeping soundly) Peter thought we had smothered him and began to panic crying, Buddys Dead, We Killed Buddy. I quickly turned on the light to see Buddy looking bewildered and confused but very much alive. Gurrrr what a way to wake up on Christmas morn.


So this Christmas I am so very thankful for my family, my friends, hearth and home and especially that...


He Is Alive! this Christmas Day......

Sunday, August 24, 2008

It's Still My Birthday Uh Huh, Uh Huh


When Peter asked me what I wanted for my birthday I said, A PARTY! and a party is what I got. Peter cooked 6 racks of ribs with a Santa Maria dry rub there was 3 chickens with lemon line herb rub, roasted corn with garlic butter, 3 ti tips Santa Maria style, tatter salad and all the trimmins. It was a real meat fest.
So many of our friends showed up and brought me gifts and cards full of good wishes, love and humor. We took alot of pictures but I will not post them in the interest of anonymity.
For the fun of it I wore my Harley Davidson shirt the one I bought off my sister, with the tattoos on my arm making me look like I was all sleeved out. So many people were fooled it was hilarious, like you never noticed before that I had my arms covered in tattoos, too funny.
When everyone sang Happy Birthday and brought out my cake make from 56 cupcakes in the shape of a palette with new brushes on top I was overjoyed. I recommend everyone have a birthday party every now and then "it's a good thing."
Tonight it's John Prine at the PAC.................................................

Friday, July 18, 2008

Life and Death and our Hands and Feet


I have been absent from my blog lately, why? Because my friend Cheryl passed away Saturday afternoon after being in a coma for two days and I have been preoccupied thinking alot about life and death and hands and feet. When she took her last breath all three of her children were there, and she was surrounded by six loving friends. We played Stevie Ray Vaughn her favorite artist, minutes before she passed on she opened her eyes and looked around, Frannie pictured her dancing down the path towards the light with Stevie Ray Vaughn and I'll bet she was right.

We sat with her all day keeping a light hearted vigil by her bed side massaging her hands and feet. At a certain point in the day when her two girls had gone to the airport to pick up her son Jonny, we women friends were alone with her and the five of us got out the sage and rubbed it on her feet. We were having too good of a time and the nurse came in looking at us suspiciously and said "what are you doing?" I said rubbing sage on her feet, another said; to make her path easier and to let her know it's Ok when she is ready to walk down the path. The nurse looked stricken and backed out of the room, too funny. Fran took a picture of her feet to paint them, in the photograph they looked like they were flying so free and etherial. What a powerful painting that will be!At her wake today it was as she would have wanted it to be lots and lots of people having a good time and there was enough food to feed the multitudes. Because Cheryll was a pack rat there were boots that had been turned into flower pots for people to take home. Something she would do, and there was the sand she saved and the shells, beads, broken jewelery, and bottles, we made our beach bottles with memories of a good, good friend. Her obituary said: The most memorable thing about our mother was her unique sense of humor and her creative fashion sense. She had an open mind and a nonjudgemental attitude. She was always there to listen and lend a helping hand and didn't know a stranger. She truly enjoyed the simpler things in life: gardening, collecting rocks, berry picking, bird watching, Charlie brown Christmas Trees, long walks and spending time with her family......
I will add she was the coolest that ever lived.

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

If I Were an Angel I Could Fly


Life was getting overwhelming and I needed to give myself a mini vacation. I wanted to be alone in the desert. I come from Utah and wanted to go home. Moab, UT was crowded with bikers for some marathon race. I tried to get a room but they were all booked, one guy said he could get me a cot and I could sleep in the laundry room, No Thank You! I was resigned to stay in my SUV then I decided to try one more place. There was no room there either, so the clerk called a bed and breakfast for me. Moments later an angel disguised as an older woman bid me to follow her white Cadillac. Her home was a big cozy home packed with nick knacks and photographs, loving mementos from a lifetime with family and friends.
My bedroom was a haven of pink, pink carpet, pink bedspread, pink pillows, It felt like a cloud, the bathroom was even pinker! I couldn't resist a soak in the tub with pink Dove Soap. I drifted on my pink cloud into a heavenly sleep. In the morning Mrs "Angel" and I talked awhile, I told her some of my woes, she suggested I bend my knees, and we said farewell.

I wanted to get an early start the frost was still on the grass making my steps crunch; first stop the Delicate Arch. On the way up the trail I began talkin to God, asking to be a better woman, a more loving mom and wife, I asked him take some of my bad habits and give me some graces.
I thought to myself that when I reached the Delicate Arch I would pass through as a symbolic gesture of changing my life.

When to what to my wondering eyes should appear the gigantic monolith in the shape of an arch. I approached this massive structure it perched majestically on the edge of a canyon so deep it looked like the abyss. It occurred to me if I was an angel I could fly through that arch. Instead I fell onto my belly and crawled on my elbows and peered over the edge scared to death.

Thank you creator for showing me your wonders and teaching me some humility.
Amen and Amen
Judy

Sunday, September 30, 2007

Sunday, September 02, 2007

Brother's Fine Red Wool Hat


If I could have knit you a fine red wool hat I would have.
It would be made from the world’s finest wool, it would be a very handsome hat, care-fully knitted to protect your hard round noggin and keep your big ears warm.

Your Fine Red Hat would bring tons of compliments people would say things like;
I sure do love your awesome hat! And that hat makes you look so smart and confident. I wish I had a hat as cool as that. Where ever did you get it?

You'd proudly say; my big sister knitted this hat for me.
It took her a lifetime; she used the finest wool and knitted every stitch with love.
She made it red because blood is thicker than water and it's my favorite color.
She made it to protect my hard round noggin and to keep my big ears from freezing in the wind.

Sunday, July 01, 2007

The High Priestess,Sacred Mother,Goddess,Crone and Friends


When my dear friend Michelle called tonight from Hurricane, Utah we talked for at least an hour, my friend is a beautiful spirit, with so much goodness and light and I miss the warmth of her hearth more than I can say. I met her in church. I'm what they call a C & E member (Christmas and Easter) otherwise I tend to leave religion alone preferring to muddle along in my own way. But because I was in need of friends in Alaska I went to sacarament that Easter Sunday angling for an invitation to Easter dinner at someones house. Michelle sat next to me sharing my hymn book and singing like an angel, she invited us to dinner. Michelle and I grew up in the same culture with the same teachings and because we are both a little "different" and look at the world and our religion with a unique perspective. We became immediate friends just as if we knew each other in our pre-existance. We would sit on the grass read poetry together, talk about our lives, share our secrets and solve the mysteries of life. We were both fond of the writings of Carol Lynn Pearson.

Years before we met I took myself and my daughter so see a one woman show "Mother Wove the Morning" this was more than a play it was a sacred event about 16 women in history searching for the female face of God. This mind blowing play was written and performed by one woman Carol Lynn Pearson. She so impressed me being at least 6 feet tall is a very formidable woman who also grew up in the Mormon Church. The Church which abounds with subliminal messages that it's a mans world. Here is a woman who stands up and proclaims the High Priestess, the Sacred Mother, the Goddess, and the Crone. She speaks to the spirits of women and reminds us how powerful we are.

Dear God,
I would not turn
From the test of fire.
No flame burns
So hot that
I would leave Thee.

But often,
At weary bedtime
I cannot hold
My knees to the floor
So Cold,
So very cold.
CLP

Saturday, June 23, 2007

Life and Death

I've had some sad news lately, a friend's grandson drowned in a lake. It was a terrible tragic accident and no ones fault really. He played on a raft when his mom said NO. The wind carried him out very quickly people tried to reach him but could not get him in time. The raft hit a buoy and he fell in and drown.
Today, I heard that a distant friend killed herself. She had kinky, curly, wild, red hair was a real hippy and one of the friendliest and warmest people I knew. While she wasn't a close friend, it make me happy when I saw her. I was happy knowing she is still around somewhere in my universe.
Life is so hard and painful and sometimes bad things happen to good people. Why? The randomness makes no sense to me. Life is a mystery.

If I knew how many days I have left to live I would be faithful, I would stop protecting myself from the pain and joy love brings, I would live my life with passion and stop being a coward.

Memento mori
is a Latin phrase that may be freely translated as "Remember that you are mortal and Remember you will die."

Prayer helps
Judy

Tuesday, June 05, 2007

I'm ready for my close-up Mr. De Mille

OK lets admit it we're all a little vain, yes? I wanted to have a photo on my blog that I actually like. Invariably people say "that doesn't look like you" I have so seldom had photographs taken of me that I like. In Hollywood the stars of the "Golden Age" like Gloria Swanson they were always photographed from their best side in perfect lighting. I love those black and whites. In a beauty magazine I read once, "carry your self always as if you were being photographed from every angle", imagine that! I'm not smiling in this photo but I do look dramatic and sensual. Don't you think?
Patti, if you are reading this you inspired me with your pin-ups. I am going to honor the Diva inside and have my celebration of my womans sensuality. Come back later when I'll ready for my close-up.

Monday, April 30, 2007

Mothers and Daughters

Detail of Mary Mother of Jesus encaustic wax icon by Judy Vars

Yesterday my second daughter Charmaine and my granddaughter Rhaya left. I’m left feeling a curious blend of emotions Love always, mixed with melancholy, joy mixed with sadness. When I brought my girls into the world, I was still a girl just seventeen. I was inexperienced and relied on my dog-eared copy of Doctor Spock’s child rearing book to guide me. I laugh and call them Spock babies and they say yeah with mock resentment.
On the nursery wall was a plaque I made with the poem by Kahill Gibran from the “Prophet” Children
I read it over again and again and cried each time. Today it comes back to me.

And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, “Speak to us of Children,”
And he said: Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts. You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams. You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you. For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far. Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness: For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves the bow that is stable.

My Charmaine put herself through college and earned a MBA. She lives life fully and on her terms. She loves to travel and has been all over the world. She overcame thyroid cancer last year. Her strength and will power is an inspiration to everyone she knows. She is a fun person to be around and generous. She will not tolerate negativity or victim thinking...she loves her family and friends deeply but protects herself with a prickly exterior.
Rhaya is the image of her mother in temperament; friendly to everyone, self confident to the extreme, and totally gorgeous. If my children have any faults I cannot see them.
Long ago I concluded that I can’t take too much credit for my children’s successes or even their difficulties like Kahill says they are the living arrows sent forth into the infinite so let your bending in the archers hand be with gladness.
Miss Moo and Rhaya I love you so much more than I could ever express.
MoM and Grandmom

Saturday, April 28, 2007

Last Nights Fun Oh Yeah

No doubt I'm getting older but when did sex get so high-tech? The Slumber Party last night was a real hit. Charmaine (my daughter) was the representative for Slumber Parties (see my side bar) she told everyone that her goal tonight was to embarass me. She should have known better because I have been on this planet longer than her and seen more stuff and you cannot embarass me, I thought. We were all having a great time looking at the lotions, potions, and toys. When she goes into this speel about this little tube of cream and explaining that it contains benzadrine and you can keep in your first aid kit, put it on bug bites, cold sores etc. then she gets real animated and says its "Anal Ease" this picture is worth a thousand words. I suddenly fell flat out laughing so hard my cheeks hurt and turning red, I wasn't sure if it was a hot flash or embarrasment either way she had me.
Please don't flag me for objectionable content. Heres to great sex!

Monday, March 05, 2007

The Good Wifes Guide or the Diary of a Bad Housewife


Today my mother-in-law from my first husband sent me an article in Housekeeping Monthly dated May 13, 1955, a list of things to do to be a good wife so we could all laugh.
Some of the suggestions were:
1. Make the evening his. Never complain if he comes home late or goes out to dinner, or other places of entertainment without you. Instead try to understand his world of strain and pressure and his real need to be at home and relax.
2. Don't complain if he's late home for dinner or even if he stays out all night. Count this as minor compared to what he might have gone through that day.
3. Arrange his pillow and offer to take off his shoes. Speak in a low, soothing and pleasant voice.
4. Don't ask him questions about his actions or question his judgment or integrity. Remember, he is the master of the house and as such will always exercise his will with fairness and truthfulness. You have no right to question him.
5. Great him with a warm smile and show sincerity in your desire to please him
6. A good wife always knows her place.
WHAT A PILE OF SHIT!
To think that not so many years ago I believed that pile-o-crap!
When I was a young woman 17 or 18, Vilate (my mother in law) gave me a book called Fascinating Womanhood. I did not have a clue how to be a wife and mother. So I followed the book to the letter. My also young husband Russ really liked me acting like that perfect wife. In fact he ate it up with a spoon. Problem was I was playing a role and was not being myself. I got so angry at him and at me that I would swear, smoke, drink and run around with my girlfriends being wild and rebellious behind his back. The book came to symbolize the loss of me, my dreams, desires and my freedom. Like I say, I was very young and impressionable. Later, I burned by bra, got divorced, worked a mans job and got a mans pay check and learned how to be a bitch. Like I said I was very very young and naive. 30 some odd years later we can laugh at the people we once were. It was not so funny at the time. But to tell you the truth if given the opportunity, I would set the timer back and do it all over again every precious excruciating second.

Saturday, December 30, 2006

WAXING ARTFULLY LOCAL PAINTER TAKES AN ANCIENT FORM OF ART TO A NEW LEVEL

The local newspaper did an article about me it came out today in the entertainment section. It's right on even to the point of describing my husbands contributions to the interview. I am so impressed with myself. :)LOL


Artist intangled in intaglio.
BY DIMITRA LAVRAKAS
Frontiersman
It started out, as with most great notions, with a daydream.
In the early 1990's in Salt Lake City, Judy Vars dreamt of a cabin in the Alaska woods where she would have a studio and do her art.

"I would love to come to a place where I could make a living with my art," she said." That’s my Alaska Dream."

And here she is, tucked sweetly off Beverly Lake Road, with her husband Peter, carpenter and carver and ardent supporter.

Self taught, she did many jobs before concentrating on her work.

"So many things - I delt Blackjack, sold cars, worked as a Hospice person, and had a cleaning company here for several years," she said.

Working now in encaustic painting she started out doing assemblages with found objects and small boxed scenes reminiscent of Mexican Day of the Dead, boxed scenes of skeletons doing everyday activities, like doll house figures.

She happened on encaustic painting by chance.

I was a member of the Girdwood Center for the Visual Arts and a friend said, "Its right down your alley."

And it was. Over 3,000 years old, the medium used heated beeswax mixed with dammar resin crystals. Ancient iconographers used the wax mixed with pigment and then heated tools are used to manipulate the wax. Spread our on a rigid backing like wood. Sometimes the backing is covered with canvas. Vars likes using wood she's found because it has character.

"I lay a slightly wet printed paper on top of the wax face down, then roll the paper off layer by layer with my fingers, ant the toner stays in the wax," she said. "The wax is so open to things - it's so pliable and malleable. If you want to change something, it can just be warmed up."

Though it takes a temperature of 160 degrees to melt the wax, places like cars left out in the sun and places hear heating sources isn’t recommended; Freezing should also be avoided as the wax can crack.

She also does the transfer then mixed oil paint into the surface. The wax has a human skin feel to it and a luster if dulled can be rebuffed by hand.

"If you want to change something, you can even 20 years later,' she said.

The subjects she's choosing to do in encaustic are tending to be ageless themes.

"I lean towards icons - the duality of things is what find interesting," she said.

A skeleton with wings in one piece, a ravel flying over a salmon in a stream in another - above and below, death rising.

She admits going through phases with subjects and medium, which has thrown off potential funders.

Rather than looking for a common thread in her work, they can only see a jumble of seemingly different styles. Look hard enough and the duality is always there.

Overhearing the conversation, her husband comments, "I thing you're an evolving artist working in different mediums."

They want to see a bunch of stuff that hangs together, and to me, if I was Jackson Pollock, I’d get bored with that after a while," she said as she waved her hand across the floor as if throwing paint. "I want to so something else."

Many artists have a hard time parting with their work because they’re like their children they say. When asked if she had that problem, Peter chimes in again.

"No doubt," he says. My kids can inherit them."

Vars loves the idea on selling one-of-a-kind works of art with no reproductions available.

She will have some chosen pieces on display and for sale at her show at Espresso Cafe on January 6, with the opening reception held 6-9 p.m. The cafe is located at 1265 Seward Meridian, Suite A, Between Wall Mart and the Chevy dealers

Thursday, July 06, 2006

My Family Pedigree or My Blood is Blue

Last night my son and me went on a journey through our family history, it started with the question what am I? (meaning what blood runs through my veins) http://http://www.familysearch.org/it was a fascinating trip back through time. For example on my mothers side of the family there is great,great,great,great,grandpa William Griffith Born: abt 1445 of Pehryhn Castle, Caernavonshire, Wales Died: 1505-1506 This is Penryhn Castle

or John Phylips (Sir Knight) Born: 1502 of Picton Castle, Pembroke, Whales.

we have two family castles in Wales. I searched back as far as 0314 A.D. a person named TEGID in North Wales. Perhaps the most beautiful natural lake in Wales was named after him. http://www.fishing.visitwales.com/fe/default.asp?n1=135&n2=140&n3=155
I found out my name Judith Abagail is the name of my great, great grandmother and the name Judith was passed through the generations all the way to 1402 Middlesex, England. We learned that our ancestors have been in America since 1600s WOW. I learned that they were a part of early Mormon history. Living in Nauvoo, Illinois and they were stranded in Winter Quarters on their trip west to SLC. Imaging who your dead relations are and how they lived is so satisfying. I think my relatives were celts and druids and later Christians. We determined that at least on my mother’s side of the family we are English, Scottish, Welch, Prussian and German. As my grandmother told me when I was a little girl "Judy, you are the dukes blend" took on a whole new meaning. Help I'm lost in family history and can't get out.

Thursday, March 30, 2006

HGTV and Me


I spent most of my day preparing an application for a spot on HGTV. I could demonstrate my encaustic wax art. They wanted a recent picture and they wanted to know my age. So I asked Nicole my daughter to come by and take some pictures of me. It must be important how old I am and how photogenic I look. I hate that it matters and I hate it that I care. It would be fun to have a tv crew come to Wasilla, AK and come to my own bit of paradise my home on the lake.

When I was young the quality of my life didn't matter much there was so much of it
Later when I was still young enough to care but too old to start over again
I would pick up the pieces and scraps as evidence to my ego
and vow to let me live life until I'm too old to care