Tuesday, September 23, 2014

Art Ranger is back

Dear ones of the Department of Homeland Inspiration,
Thank you for compelling us back to the station where we aspire to open doors toward seeing Art/ART/art as it unfolds by chance in the everloving world around us.  The equinox has passed and Art Ranger has by now laundered her ranger shirt and souled her shoe - she scouts the earth waning and waxing for your images and participation. Please feel free to send some to FAF@homelaninspiration.org or forward this bloggling on to other humans.
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While at large over the summer, Art Ranger accumulated notes of certain  moments and not others that we now finally dare to share with you few who read below the fold (or scrolled):
Prelude:  Quote from Gertrude Stein's "The making of the making of Americans ", 1924
I write for myself and strangers. This is the only way that I can do it. Everybody is a real one to me, everybody is like someone else to me too ..............

Contributed by Richard Anthony in Austin
Snapshots stored in "notes":
One boy rejects the sunscreen due to the word emollient. 
the other texts saying “don’t use words like rational”
We consume the perfect peach reaching its full flavor pinnacle due to natural causes; 
Or, a strawberry entirely unmarred by life on the road.
he grew this
The young one drapes long arms over newly hairy longer legs on a
bench that looks now small.
 We got to dine with the American Legion because great Uncle Billy made glass eyeballs during WWII.
Tiny birds grow feathers
Morning is gray
We bought some other animal’s ribs to eat
A company called “the ageless male” was giving away free testosterone samples on Independence Day  - a consolation prize
For safe and sane fireworks
Three dead fish in an orange shoebox
for waaay too long
partched plants
we forgot to eat them
the sugar snap peas, with knuckles
a small black and white animal came to ruin
our life – temporarily
The fridge may never be brought back to the smell of white
swimming is how to pretend you are another animal
We bought a fat book called “CAPITAL in the twenty first century” that we will never exactly read
More Fish were caught and released, otherwise the vacation
would have been a bust
The matriarch, her emotions stretched thin like the skin on her shins
At home home, deer consumed our lovingly tended garden and victory shat on the driveway
Then there’s summer when it wanes
The basil bolts for the bees
All halted abruptly by the smell of new yellow pencil
Photo by Jim Lindenthal
One who left the nest
we bought him grey sheets, sand colored towels,
Tears in the can opener aisle spill over his release
Into the middle wilds of college 
The Math Department on vacation

We ate animal patties on the side of a windy road
While the world erupted again- and picked its same scabs
Elegant trees leaned home
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Friday, June 27, 2014

Found Art Friday 154

Hi- I'm the Little Debbie display at Safeway
Dear Ones,
Do you need a snack?  Today's visual offerings of found "art" begin with this new twist on the "slow food" movement. You just grow the stuff right there in your pantry. Monsanto be damned.

Soon, the Art Ranger will be on leave from her desk, replenishing or pretending to, while tumbling upon art in daily life.  How about you?  We know you all carry those rectangle eyes with you nearly everywhere.  Please take slices of your alertness.  And thank you to all who have already contributed to The Department of Homeland Inspiration.
Whereas our pioneer ancestors wore bonnets and collected wildflowers that they named and pressed into books, we noted a perfectly squashed lovely bee in the doorjamb instead.

Meet Lorde and Lucinda one week old ladies in waiting to be hens. Beginning flock number three of the series "Big Useful Birds".  If all goes well they will probably each lay over 900 eggs over the next few years and we will tell stories about them.  
They've gone up to $2.99 a piece
Nice birdy
Have yourselves some summer wonderment.  We will talk to you as soon as the inspiration spills from the Homeland.

Friday, June 20, 2014

Found Art Friday 155

Dear ones,
Today, as the solstice approaches, we hope you find a piece/ peace of perfectly ripe fruit to help you fully swing into summer. Found Art Friday this week has been superseded by a guessed essay - Uh ... another rant has arisen:  Art Ranger chews upon the topic of why we (personally) haven't yet latched on to the kindle/ e-reader or online newsfeed despite the inevitable. Why are we still so attached to brick-n-mortar books?  And to the touch, the smell, the feel of (expensive and wasteful) newspaper reading? What is it about the physical presence of those already obsolete pages trembling in your own hands? Why does our enthrall with technology not include falling for the ebook nook or ipaddy as a sleek screen of disappearing ink, a veritable space-collapsing wonderland?  What is your experience?
i no cloud  - u cloud too?  resource intensive in a different way
Certainly trees are the lungs of the earth and "we the people" have devoured and scorched the planet at an alarming rate. We know that "the newspaper" is now a ridiculous premise left for largely people over the age of 48 and that it requires too many resources.  As well, we truly consider ourselves to be treehuggers with mothering earth in our life practices as much as possible.  So why have we balked on paper-free living? In fact, husband and (I) have treasured our Sunday newspaper pit every week for 30 years. Comprised of one local paper and the New York Times (in various years, The Boston Globe, or Los Angeles Times).  Hundreds of pages clattering about the room folded and unfolded, rattled and passed back and forth, stacked and restacked and savored with ink smudged fingers and two cups of tea. "It's the tactile experience" says he.  Which starts with physically taking the dog down to the mailbox in fresh morning light and carrying two papers back into the house that have been printed on rolls and stacked and folded and sorted and transported and often stuffed in ghastly plastic bag.  Whew.... so many steps.
Are you tired of the word "platform"?
All in an unacheivable but compelling effort to learn, seek, soak, sort, through the hullabaloo of what all the hell is going on in the universe of humankind.  Maybe, it is that the large physical format of newspaper pages make noise and generally activate more senses. A plus for us, papernews allows you to choose what to read next and what to finish (or not) and when.  Perhaps you can feel more like your own editor/ navigation agent  See "Paper Boat Navigating a Digital Sea"  Without the paper Sunday "newspaper", we may never have experienced this sentence by poet Patrica Lockwood featured in the New York times magazine: "If something doesn't get published." Lockwood said, "I'm like a bear leaving scat in the woods.  I move on."  This reading moment makes our day, which gives us fortitude to rub up against/ absorb all the grim and absurdly stupid news.  Or, for example, Chelsea Manning speaking up from prison: with "The Fog Machine of War":
Okay,  to read online just does not feel as "free" as it does on paper. What do we mean by free? Free to actually think about contents in a drifting way, glue them onto your own thought strings. The reverie of paper is different.  It can be lateral, horizontal, vertical, or entirely daydreamed.  In contrast, we don't wish to be constrained by a screen showing us what we are supposed to see right now.  The light emanating from the rectangle causes us to be hypnotized or transfixed, whereas a paper page you have chosen to look at wears language printed physically upon itself.  It occupies a flexible space that you wrestle with your arms. To boot (?where did that phrase come from), with app reading, there is the entire flashing outer rim of moving distractions, ads more akin to neon lights in the redlight district than they are in glum old staystill print (more easily ignorable).

How, as a blogger, actually very committed to providing a quality online experience, could we not devour with gusto the e-book extravaganza? To be able to carry around an entire library on one little booksizedrectangle lodged under your armpit.  We could nillywilly indulge our flair for dabbling and flitting from one topic cluster to another.  We Imagine ourselves with painted toenails (not really) on a beach somewhere having access to an entire library of literature and other supremely educational materials.  We could care about Proust one second and Rachel Carson the next, then brush up on our obsession with "the economy".

Reading involves at least 15 books stacked in various shifting order on the bedside table. Of what we are reading (slowly), what we are (pretend reading). What we should read. What we will or might read. What we just like to have there. Books Books Books.  Instead, those could all be open windows causing electronic hyper-ventilation and chargecard suction.  And why do we keep books we'll never read again or never did read when we were supposed to - for perhaps decades?  As somehow part of the foundation of our identity.  Why does it feel sad/foreign to us that our children don't care about books much at all and think they could live without them just fine.


Please send us thoughts regarding your own relationship to paper or news, or recommended reading matter.  As of July 1, Art Ranger is at large and on recess.  So have a swell summer in living loving color.  Please find a new cool band for us to listen to.  And we recommend unplugging ourselves soon if you can.

Really - A recent error message while computing - time to leave our desk
Congratulations for reading this far - most don't.
Sincerely, 
The Art Ranger  - we do house calls 

Friday, June 6, 2014

Found Art Friday 153

Well hello blogovores,
Alas, this fell into the Found Art Friday inbox making Art Ranger glad to see that weaving and dog hair incorporation is not a lost art.
witnessed by Bonnie Hotz
This makes us think of one soon to leave the nest, though here the nest itself has come unmoored and appears no longer necessary.  
Now this fell out of a boy's school folder:
Meet "Snardge" whom emerged while son #2 was taking notes for an English final last period of last week
We'll try to play your little school game for another day or two and then explode

This next series is called yesterday's errands: put in italics and you can do them faster

Meet Lucile and Hank fast at work

Hark - A rearview monkey - (nevermind the car monoxide)

Might come in handy when we get to the driverless (really?) car phase.  Please send your found "art" happenings to FAF@homelandinspiration.org where they will be relished and served perhaps with mustard or shared with our fleet of sock monkeys.