"Journey"

Didn't I do a version of “journey” last week? It’s a frustrating word for me at the moment because I’ve been unsuccessfully pestering my brother to fix my car’s wheel bearings and I feel grounded. I’m also upset because a friend of mine is taking a job in Afghanistan, and his idea of “journey” makes me think about people getting blown up. I’d like to forget about journeys at the moment and rototill my garden, but my efforts are being thwarted by a rip cord. Can we send mechanical engineers to an island with an active volcano, cannibals, and poisonous wildlife? Let’s at least threaten to send them there until they learn to make engines start with an on/off switch! My arm hurts from trying to pull the stupid cord and the garden still isn’t tilled. I suspect rip cords are man’s last attempt to show women that men are necessary, but I already got that message when the wheel bearings started making noise.

This art is ancient history. I did it when I worked at a newspaper, fresh out of college. I try to post relevant things on this blog, but I felt a need to revisit this. I used to work in this style a lot. In some ways, it's similar to the butterfly tag I made in the last post, but the process of making was much different. The landscape background in the Frontier Days art is acrylics on tissue paper, messily glued to posterboard. The man is pen and ink on wet media acetate, with acrylic painted on the back. This technique is moot since computers. It’s much faster and easier to just “fill”, but I want to get back into my younger brain for a bit. I used to see things more graphically, and was often accused of black and white thinking. Lately it seems like I see too many shades of gray, not to mention shades of all those other colors.

I have to wonder what my pioneer ancestors were thinking when they started walking over mountains from Pennsylvania to Ohio, or for that matter when they got on a boat in Europe? Was life at home so bad, or was it the thrill of finding out what’s beyond the next tree? I also wonder how much of them is still alive in me. Is my current restlessness the same as they felt? Since I can’t take my car until the wheel bearings are fixed, maybe I should start walking?

“Frontier Days” is a local summer festival with carny rides and BBQ. It was a fun time when I was an unruly teenager, and is still fun for little kids and their families. The art was created for a special pull-out tabloid section with activities and local advertising.

I learned how to shoot with that Remington .22 rifle, and I’m an excellent shot. My pioneer ancestors passed down some useful talents. Don't mess with me when I'm cranky :)