Unexpectedly, this weekend brought warmth along with time for a soul refresher.
After the watery gale we Midwesterners withstood, the sun warmed our skin, and then dried up the mud into the white scaly stuff that resembles ash. The rivers are still high, and churning with dark mud but draining the more than 12 inches of rain that May brought.
Fortunately, the drain plug of the Gulf of Mexico remains open, and so the Mississippi River opens its arms and billows the waters on down as our waters flow across Oklahoma, Arkansas, and on south.
Georgia O’Keeffe resided the southwest, and her ashes were scattered on the mountains of Cerro Pedernal. She loved them so, and she hoped God would give them to her if she painted them often enough.
Interesting conversation for heaven.
The exhibit currently at the Wichita Art Museum highlights the iconic black and white palette. I knew the navy black pansy would be there with its upright tail of forget-me-nots. And her “Grey, Black, White.” The colors bleached and spare sharply define a fold of linen pants or the petals of morning glories. The reflective nature of craggy red outcroppings near Santa Fe. The V-shape in the crux of nude sun washed branches, the mirroring effect of a valley.
Unexpectedly there were clothes.
Satisfying, because I was hoping some of her wardrobe would be exhibited.
Set against the linear sharp perspective of the landscapes and flora: spare closets of her simple wrap and draped designs that have ingenious folds and casings which eliminate the need for some buttons or hooks.
O’Keeffe designed and constructed them herself. Fine linen, silken and airy fabrics that had invisibly stitched seams, hems, tucks, and modest ties. The picture below does not show the mastery of the needle. Truly the ivory fabric is ethereal as a passing thought, but detailed as the finest dreams we recall.
The whole presentation mimics a stark yet purposeful landscape of fabrics. They are at once gauze and sturdy, woven luxury.
Unexpected: Around the corner in the permanent WAM collection was a city-scape that really caught my eye.
One O’Keeffe picture that I hadn’t seen before is “Cottonwoods in Spring.“
In my own backyard, a stunning Cottonwood shades the scorching rays of Kansas. One summer, almost 20 years ago, my mother, Loretta, brought a small sapling by. Towering above my roof line, I see every summer that she was, as expected, correct; it is cotton-less. In the Wichita Art Museum entry, there were some tumble weeds lit with faerie lights.
Once in the 1970s, my mother decorated some Russian Thistles and used them for a Christmas tree.
Unexpected, yet satisfying.
In another backyard, this weekend, I admired my husband, Alan’s, handiwork. He constructed, without plans, the water wall pictured below.
The owner had a picture that guided the work, and Alan, along with his brother, designed and built the stone fountain. Two commissioned bronze works are in the forefront (the crane and otter) The eagle formerly lodged in the owner’s office. The artistry and precise placement is under represented with my photos, and I hope you can appreciate the unexpected beauty of it.
An Unexpected Arrangement That Mimics the Water
The master gardeners who hosted the garden tour were spinning tales of the design, the owners, and especially, the water wall. And look at the river rock placed on its end. Alan listened and never mentioned to them that it was he who had built it, not to mention the actual home as well.
As expected, he remains humble, yet contentedly in the background.
Just another Sunday in the MiddleWest.
Return soon,
Debra