A View of the Galahadian Tropical Zone

A conversation next to one of the windows in the Corsican screen, on the Galahadian side.

© 2018 lcmt


A Canticle for Horus Venose

Horus Venose is a deity that started nudging its way into my consciousness several months ago. I have yet to find any myths about him, but images of his physical appearance occasionally flicker into the view of my mind’s eye. He might not be a god of the Jackalopian cosmos that underpins Geranium Lake Properties, and I am not yet sure where he belongs.

© 2018 lcmt

A Tile From the Kitchen on Eleanor Avenue

Yost’s depiction of a tile from the kitchen floor of the Other Space Museum and Coffee House. Cardamom is the signature spice at the Coffee House. I can recommend the Latte for the Sky (cardamom and coconut milk). The image below gives you an idea of how the tiles were laid out.

© 2018 lcmt

The Road That Must Be Travelled

A while ago, when I was first working on this invocation, my idea of what it was about was wrong, or at least incomplete. I had to wait. Time has always been a crucial element in my work. I had to give the universe time to filter through me, change me, and change what I was making. With this piece, it was not until I had a conversation with my sister Susan that I realized its final shape, when she spoke of a dark road.

© 2018 lcmt

Inanna at the Door

Spring arrived yesterday morning when the goddess Inanna knocked on my front door. Inanna chose to appear as a short Mexican-American woman, approximately 80 years old, attired in brightly-colored fleecewear. After she invited me to step out onto the sun-warmed bricks of my front walk, the goddess informed me that the temperature would reach 70 degrees Fahrenheit, and suggested that I might enjoy drinking my morning coffee sitting on my stoop, which is the little patch of brick and cement in front of my house. The chairs did indeed look inviting, clustered with potted plants against the stucco wall beneath my kitchen window, with everything bathed in bright sunlight. Inanna then scolded me for neglecting my plants. (My plants are all tough cactus and succulents–neglect is an essential strategy of my horticultural regimen.) To appease her, I gave her a handsome specimen for her own collection, a plant she had singled out for her particular attention. The plant had been given to me, and I was mostly ignoring it, so using it to curry favor with a divine entity seemed a judicious thing to do.

After Inanna left (she lives next door), I dusted off my chairs, freshened my coffee, and sat in the sun on my stoop/patio/porch-like-thing-in-front-of-my-house. On the street, an occasional car rumbled by. Birds chattered at each other, different birds with different voices, a jay scolded, a mocking bird practiced his scales, an unseen crow called in the distance. I closed my eyes so that I could turn my face to the sun and bask. I was amazed to see that the colors inside my eyelids were the same orange, red and magenta colors I had used for my invocation “Inanna Ascendant”.

When I opened my eyes, I noticed that green, supple weeds had sprung up instantly in the cracks in the cement, while my eyes had been closed.

The temperature reached 72.

Inanna Ascendant

Dreaming of the vernal equinox.

The furnace in my house is old, and last year it quit half-way through the winter. Since I live in a climate where the winters are not harsh, and I could not afford to pay a repair guy to come out and just look at my furnace, I bundled up in extra layers and shivered through the remainder of the winter. It was a small commonplace adventure, I enjoyed it, and I liked the money I saved.

I lived through the warmer seasons with a cold furnace gathering dust, and as the nights grew longer again, I resolved to make it through this entire winter season without trying to repair the furnace. By the middle of February, spring has usually arrived in this part of California. Not this year. February was a month of freezing nights, frosty mornings, and dry days of cold blue skies.

© 2018 lin tarczynski

Black and White

Lots of great stuff in Issue 9 of Brave New Word, including my series of short abstract comics, “Meanwhile…”

I went to a used book sale on Friday, and one of my more expensive finds (still a bargain at $5) was a battered library discard, a book about the history of artists books. It is a representation of the 1994-1995 exhibition, A Century of Artists Books, from the Museum of Modern Art, New York. The book is a nice bit of thrift sale treasure, but I can only get a glimpse of a cover, or a couple of pages, from each featured book. Among them, I discovered Quatre Histoires de blance et noire by František (Frank) Kupka.

Luckily for me, the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco has online images of the 26 woodcuts from Quatre Histoires at their site. I stole a few to put up here.