End of Season

Last night, Austrian yatch brokers; tonight, Libyan oil entrepreneurs.  They buy me a drink, just for the heck of it.

Garden

Have trouble growing anything in my garden.   Dont know why.   Shade?  Water in dry season?untended most of the year?  But this wild mountain thyme that I uprooted on the path up to St. Martins struggles along year after year. Likewise the mint from the roadside to Supetar.  

Only 3 Days Left

All Hallows Eve,

All Saints Day,

All Souls Day.

Beautiful weather to say good-bye.

(Happy trick-or-treating, Eason. . . er, I mean, Darth. . . The Force be with you!)

Reading at Sunset

Flies,

Buzzing, buzzing, buzzing.

How many words to  make Now?

Fwd: Re: Congratulations!

-------- Original message --------
From amir salkanovic <salkanovic@yahoo.com>
Date: 10/29/2014 20:54 (GMT+01:00)
To Julia Hurd <julia@qsoup.net>
Cc 'JRH' <jhurd@qsoup.net>
Subject Re: Congratulations!

Hello Julia and John,

. . . As I was away for two weeks when Lejla was born it got really busy at work. This last weekend we also visited Zavidovici and Zivinice with both kids for the first time, so grand parents were real happy. 

I attached two photos, one with Mak and Lejla, and second one from Zavidovic from this wekend. Mak is playing with my friend girls, and there is Lana, Faik's daughter (with orange hair)..

Hugs,

Amir, Inela, Mak, i Lejla

Tues

Marius took his photos and left!  Off on the ferry!

He plans a showing to Subud this weekend with his new data projector of 150 of the best.  Some pretty gorgeous stuff. He leaves in photographic debt to Pero and Ivo, which I know he will repay.  

I am paying bills,  doing laundry,  baskingnin sun and dreaming of haiku and painting,  and beginning to plan my own departure.  Sun is shining (but nights are chilly).   Slavko is still on the mainland.

The Holiday weekend approaches so I must plan carefully (I forgot when I booked my return flight): All Hallows Eve, All Saints Day, and All Souls Day (Day of the Dead).  There is a brisk business in flowers and candles for this Memorial weekend, as you can see from when I stopped by local garden shop. 

Sunday

Sunday,  the bells --real bells -- ring wildly at Communion.   We take the long drive down the length of the island,  just to say we did it.   Visit old church of St, George.  Snooze under Pines in deserted village of Gazul.  Delicious tuna steak at night at marina.   We are only customers.   Only 2 restaurants left open in town.  We are helping to shut this place down for the season!

Mon

Down the primitive south side of the island today,  and up the new fire road toward Blaca.  Beat the h☆ll out of poor old lady Bella Bijela 2, had to tie her together with old strapping I found on mountain top.

Day 3: Visiting Pero at his Aetelier

Here's a photo Marius took yesterday of Pero Jaksič with a sculpture he is working on.   This will be one of ten he hopes to have ready for exhibition next summer.

Autumn

A truly lovely autumn image by Lynne!

Marius -- Notes

Day 1, we hang out with the guys in Nerezisce, including Ivo and stone sculptor Pero Jaksic.  Then go to dark alchemist lair to watch grape mash transformed to liquid gold... a stop at ancient chapel of St. Ilias on the way home...

Day 2, Skrip, Dol, and a gracious luncheon with Ivo and Lilijana at their remote house in Bobovisce;  we drive the riva in Milna, the beach,  the hill and loop on Mlin.

Today

Tim,  Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday to you!

John

Marius Arrives Safely but Tired

My stone house shudders,

Thunders rend the air,  alas!

A guest at midnight. 

(Ed.:  Here the poet is undoubtedly referring to the change of weather which preceded his guest's arrival although the sunset had been beautiful and resulted in several lovely photographs. Or perhaps it isn't the weather to which he is referring?)

My Patio, Windy Day

This guy knows what it's about ...

Shida Yaba (1663–1740)

Hakisōji / shite kara tsubaki / chirini keri

After I've swept and tidied up, 

Down fall some camellias.

Garden at Sunset

Dry fig leaf clatters down to stone.

Who would believe such racket? 

-- Sun slips into the sea. 

Good-bye

Chris finishes repairs on my front gate,  which I had just painted.   I thank him.   

He says,  "Do not say "Thank you" so much.   We don't do that in Croatia."

"Oh," I say,  "like in Klingon.  No word for Please or Thank you."

"Yes," he says, "or for good-bye."

And he leaves. 

Fwd: Ah ha! Part 2 -- Backfire

-------- Original message --------
From jhurd <jhurd@qsoup.net>
Date: 10/20/2014 17:44 (GMT+01:00)
To Dsoup <dbrute.dsoup@blogger.com>
Subject Ah ha! Part 2 -- Backfire


So M☆☆☆ surprises me and drives all the way from Splitska to see me.  Maybe 25 kilometers or so.   I am busy cleaning the bathroom but sit on the patio with her.  "John, " she says,  "I have come to Milna to see you.   Your Black Madonna (Magna Mater) painting is haunting me.   I must have it.  I have collected paintings from all over Europe.... Poland,  Russia, Bulgaria....I have many on my walls in London,  but this one I must have. " 

Well, I didn't really expect to see her again and still I am feeling fairly secure because I know she is going to offer me about $375. USD, which she does and which I intend to refuse..  "All I have is 2000 Kuna, " she tells me. 

"Ah," I tell her, safe in the knowledge that I wont have to part with my painting after all, "I am flattered but I can't sell it for that.   I must keep my prices stable." (Ahem. Clever me.)

There follows a little exploratory discussion to see if I really mean it, then --  "I must have it, " she repeats, "let me see it again. " So I trudge upstairs,  and bring it down. "OK. She says,  "I am haunted by this. That is so beautiful.  I must go get more money. "

Now I panic.   This was not what I expected.  Sell my beautiful painting?  What to do?  Be honest instead of politely dodging?

"M☆☆☆," I say,  "This is generous of you,  but I really don't want to sell it. "  Ouch.

Strangely enough, this she understands. . . "Oh, that is why.  Well, maybe paint a copy.   I am here until Saturday." (Ahem again!)

I expect to hear more about this from mutual friends here.

Bad News

"Bad news,"  I text to Slavko, who is working on the mainland in Solin. "You know those pieces of 3x5 cm wood you bought to make my entry roof? Some sneaky bastard has taken one,  cut it up,  made stretcher bars,  and stretched canvas on it to paint! "

"John," he texts back.   "You just couldn't resist,  could you?   Roberto is gone from your street,  so it is either you or old lady Lukrica."

"You're right, " I reply.  "That d☆☆n old woman.  Who would have thought it of her?!!! "

Johnny Smokva: Food and Drink

1.  The Night Before

This little fish,

Swimming now in olive oil.

Yum!

2. The Next Day

A charming custom, 

A small rakija in the morning --

I'll take coffee,  thanks! 

(Ed.  note:  The first poem deals with the barbarous habit of eating fellow sentient beings once widely practiced at all levels of world society.  Here the poet appears to anticipate and relish such ingestion. 

 The second poem refers to the intake of ethyl alcohol,  here a poison distilled from fermented grape marc with debilitating,  short and long term mental and physical effects.  Also once a wide-spread practice.  The attitude of the poet here is apparently health conscious, or perhaps ironic, or perhaps remorseful.)

Eason and Charlotte

Dream Villa

Wow!  Well, I knew it!  Ivo and Lilijanas cottage in Murvica, where we pick grapes and make wine each year, is selected as one if the top 20 dream vacation houses in Europe.  See Dream Villa Brac at link.  The secluded cove perfect for skinny dipping --as I can attest --  didn't hurt either, I'm sure.

http://www.theguardian.com/travel/2014/jan/10/top-100-holiday-beach-houses-europe

Whachou lookin at?

Update: Abandoned Cinema

Update:  I probably should put on my glasses
and take this out in the sun.
Its certainly not my most polished,
but I think its pretty well done,

Previous coment:

In work.  I am not sure that I can pull this baby through.   Of even if I should . . .  I will figure it out.

Johnny Smokva told me:

Monk,  woman,  stream. . .

Leave the flowers where you find 'em.

. 

But do I listen??? 

No! I am too sharp for that!   I carry them late into the lonely night wondering,  how do I paint a leaf? How do I paint a flower?  How do I paint a wall?   Or do I?  What color,  for goodness sakes?  What is a painting?  And why? 

And 

how can I get just a little more light? 

Painting here

Painting over here,  at least as I do it,  requires a different technique than at home.  I make my stretcher bars and stretch my own canvas,  yes,  but the canvas that I use is 10 oz. Painters drop cloth that I bring from the States.   Then I gesso it with a water based primer that I buy from the village hardware store.   This results in a hard surface that is very rough,  more like a coarse sandpaper.  It is impossible to simply brush on the paint.   It just won't cover.  Instead,  I have learned to make a mixture of paint,  acrylic medium,  and water infused with a flow agent. This results in a juicy paint that I apply liberally with a coarse bristled brush,  grinding the paint into the canvas.  The brushes are quickly worn down by the coarse surface. Lots of paint is required.   The whole act is very physical. 

My little atelier measures only about 7 x 14 feet working space.  This size,  I am delighted to say,  works just fine.  It is set about 3 feet below grade (which results in continuing water problems) and has two nice windows which open for the air onto a small field with almond trees and Bird of Paradise plants.  Morning light can be glorious, especially with the white plastered walls.  But except in summer,  or on bright mornings,  it is impossible to actually see the colors I am applying! Shades of green,  red,  blue are impossible to discern!  Especially at night,  when I usually paint.  So painting requires some instinct, a little knowledge,  and lots of guesswork.  Occasionally I fire up a halogen lamp which I purchased for the purpose which brings another dimension altogether. 

A little domestic wine also helps dilation or other discernment.  Occasionally I step out to the patio for a cigar, which I find also helps.  I do have a fan for smoking inside but use it very rarely. 

Outside Sutivan -- A Whole Hillside

Ah ha

Word through the grožđa vine is that M☆☆☆ wants to offer me $350 USD for my Magna

Mater (Black Madonna) painted over the last two years here in Milna.   I sent back word through the same grožđa vine, "No.  This is $700 in USA,  $500. Here. No sale. "

Neighbors....

Well,  for three days I had neighbors on my deserted street!  Roberto and Maria showed up to make a few off season repairs to their place. (Do you sense a common theme? ) Then back on the ferry to Italy.

Johnny Smokva said:

Light across the path!

One less place to watch for toads --

Must watch for people now. 

Repairs

Chris repairs our front gate.   I guess that after 12 years it was time for us to do it.  Now that means I will need paint it too!

End of Season

No mosquito spray! 

Crap!  What do the stores know

That mosquitoes don't? 

J.S.

"Tin" Ujević

There is a story about the well known Croatian lyric poet and author Augustin "Tin" Ujević.  A bust of him stands just below our house on the waterfront by my favorite konobas.  Slavko identified him for me.   His mother was,  I believe,  from Brač.  He died in 1955.

Anyway, he was known as Bohemian and anarchist and he loved to carouse.  One night at a cafe his friends blindfolded him and provided him with glass after glass of wines from the various districts of Croatia.  Whether red or white,  without fail and with a single sip, he could name the wine and the area that produced it.   Until at last a friend filled a glass with water and gave it to him.   Tin took a drink, paused, then took another.  Finally he said,  "This one I do not know. "

Up at St. Martins overlooking the Whole World

1.

Under juniper,
St. Martin's crocus second bloom --
Do I see Solin?

2. 

In juniper shade,
Goat droppings on white stone.
Bees late fall buzzings.

3.

In juniper shade,
Goat droppings on white stone:
A sudden need to piss.

Hunters Moon Eclipse, Oct. 8th, 2014, 6 a.m.

Sun and Moon contend,
Alarm clock joins the fracas--
Bedclothes over head.

Nom de Visite

So,  following Basho, l have a new name as I write little haiku-likes this visit to Milna.   His name came from a banana tree that a disciple planted outside his humble home.   I lack disciples and banana trees, however Pio, a friend's father from Serbia, planted a fig tree for me in my tiny garden several years ago.

Therefore for the last and next few haiku-likes,  as I  seek a Zen-like calmness of mind and mindful appreciation over here, I shall be known as Johnny Smokva!

Radim

Lumber and tile for our new portico arrived today. Nikola hauled it half way up the hill,  as far as his little tractor could go,  then Slavko and I carried it up the steps and the rest of the way.   Hot work.   I had thought that maybe we could get the entry built while I was here but now I see that was overly optimistic.  Plenty of work to do anyway.   Plus I would like to do some sight seeing, photography while Marius is here.   I am already half way through my stay!  I have even already booked a room in Split by the airport for the night before I leave!

What day is it?

Croatia vs Bulgaria football match inside smokey Fjaka on waterfront.   Outside on tour boat someone is singing "those old cotton fields back home"  in an unrecognizable accent.  My beer glass is somehow empty.   Time for bed. 

My Peach Tree (after Basho)

Fallen breskva leaves, 

Autumn's gold calligraphy --

Sweep the patio!

(Ed.: Yes, I know that the second line sucks.)

Independence Day

Fish and spinach at Slavko and Nada's on this national holiday.  (Slavko says there have been 3 different indepence days in his life -- "how can that be?" he asks -- so it doesnt matter to him.) Talk of haiku,  history, petro dollars, plants flowers seeds,   local matters.  Afterwards a solitary walk through the village to this abandoned cinema, still putting on a good show.

Two Poems for Slavko

1.

Yellow flowers of Milna,

will they ever grace

 the white walls of Solin?

2.

Beer at noon, 

Nun at 1.

Plenty of time to plan a future. 

Last Night

Last Night at Ivo and Lilijana's

Going home at 1 a m. A 15 min walk in the dark along narrow paths above the sea,  then climbing in Bella Bijela 2 up twisting roads, threading the stone alleys and hairpin turns of Lozisce and Bobovisca, up past the hill of St. Martin, then the long coasting glide back down to the sea and Milna.  My  usual parking space was waiting.

A long evening of food (cuttlefish, mussels, roasted lamb, salads, fruit and chocolate cake), musicmusicmusic, lots of people and homemade plavacs red wine in an unfinished mansion above a quiet,  hidden cove of aqua blue.

Finis

Okay,  enough of this baby.  Between cleaning the house,  working on car,  weeding garden,  and patching and painting walls, crawling around in the attic -- with some nice sightseeing drives, a morning with Slavko where we visited Bozidar on his solar powered pastoral land overlooking the sea,  and a dinner-music party with Ivo and Lj. thrown in -- I have decided this is done.   Stretching a new canvas right NOW!

Julia and Ermis, Just Back from a One Day Trip to Winthrop

-------- Original message --------
From Julia Hurd <julia@qsoup.net>
Date: 10/03/2014 07:47 (GMT+01:00)
To 'jhurd' <jhurd@qsoup.net>
Subject RE: Call

We didn't stop all day today. Started off going to Sadija's shop for coffee - 9 am, Lori's at 10 - impressive new aluminum boat, veggies, stories, horses, etc. Stopped by La Conner for a quick tour and Christiansen's briefly - with huge pumpkin contest. Then on to town for errands which included Ermis getting a burrito at Tacos Guaymas. Bought top soil and mulch for the rodies - which should now be happily put to bed for the winter. Except for that darn white fly. But Ermis dumped all the bags and was a huge help. Then dindin, including homemade choc chip cookies that he requested. Tomorrow similar - making dinner for E and E and E, but Ermis wants to make red lentil soup. On to Bayview, maybe dike walk or interpretive center, then babysitting, dinner and flopping into bed.

Charles is INCANDESCENT: The Bee Paintings

-------- Original message --------
From Charles Grimes <charlesgrimes9@gmail.com>
Date: 09/27/2014 04:08 (GMT+01:00)
To John Hurd <jhurd@qsoup.net>
Subject The Bee Paintings stab 2

The Bee Paintings

 

 

 

I was just out

with the Bee paintings

in the studio

and I must say

I was intimidated to

say the least

 

these bee paintings

are so magnificent with color

and the transfer of light

and funny with the Bees

and the gorgeous flowers and

the expression and substance of paint

and the painterly illustrations of the brush

expanding onto the canvass

and yes sometimes I

struggle to believe

that I painted them and not left in my

studio by someone else

 

but then I remember walking home

in the dark all alone so many nights

and then I remember

cleaning all of the brushes

so many times this 

summer that yes I

do remember it was me

who painted the paintings

 

 

and it was me who was 

greatly influenced by Monet

and that was such a surprise

to me

and it was me who stared

at Cezanne's late water colors

and it was me who was dazzled

and it was me who was so amazed to see

that he was 50 years ahead

of everyone else and Picasso

knew that and Picasso called him

the father of us all

and I knew that too

 

 

but tonight I have to say

that some other part

of me and not the part of me that just walked

into the studio just now 

painted these Bee paintings

and kept me painting these paintings

for weeks and weeks and weekends

so many I can't remember for the 

life of me.

 

and I think about the different parts of

me and how I am always managing my time

between breathing and loving and eating

and working and how all the creative parts of me

wait painfully for me to return to them

and how my creative self competes

with my other selves for expression

and time for expression

and then I begin to see that that part of me

that leaps forward with no sense of how to

go forward and which

wants to make visual the ideas in my

head and the ideas in my heart and make them manifest

and yes that is the part of me that is clearly the  

part of me that Bees

and conversely it is obvious to me

that that is the part of me that painted the Bees.

 

Charles H. Grimes   2014

Every Year

So, every year I add another coat of paint to the plaster in my studio  trying to cover the past years water damage,   This year I stop and say,  "Wait a minute ......."

Compounding the Problem

Stumbling downstairs in the morning,  I find a scorpion motionless on my tile floor.   What to do?   So I trap it under my beer glass.  Now,  I wonder,  what shall I drink my beer from?


Oops, I mean..... from what shall I drink my beer?

Bella Bijela 2 Balks

BB2 Bakica was running well when I picked her up from Mate.  I noticed he had re installed the radio which I had removed two years ago cuz it drained my battery.    Well,  I will watch it, I thought.   But I was busy or forgot or something,  so when I went to start it two days ago it was stone dead.   Argh.  So I bought a wrench and removed the car battery.  Then I  lugged it sweating and cursing up the hill outside town to the local auto shop.  Mechanic checked it out and said, 'Well, I dunno, it might be ruined.'  I left it charging all day to return the next for the good news. It turned out to be okay and got recharged.   Once again the local shop charged nothing for the service.   Hey, things were going my way!   After I carried it back to car,  I discovered that I couldn't get the hood open.  The latch just wouldn't budge.   And as I pulled and tugged the cable handle that Mate had juried rigged broke off in my hand.  Cursing, I poked about half-heartedly in the front of the car and just when I had almost lost heart, by god, it popped open.   Great!  I re installed the battery, hopped into the drivers seat, turned the key, and the car wouldn't start. It ground and ground but wouldnt fire.  So I looked in trunk for starter fluid (which I discovered I didnt have) and the trunk lid fell on my head. As I reeled from this, the force of the trunk falling knocked my license plate from its holder and it clattered to the pavement.   I looked to see if any of the regulars at the Models bar were watching, then slunk away to leave it for the next day.

Ma Petite Jolie (Mach 2)-- continued Iteration

Ah, the continuing  pleasure of wet paint and canvas, painting into the night.