Staggerlee Wonders   1 comment

Abstract Art by kenne

I always wonder
what they think the niggers are doing
while they, the pink and alabaster pragmatists,
are containing
Russia
and defining and re-defining and re-aligning
China,
nobly restraining themselves, meanwhile,
from blowing up that earth
which they have already
blasphemed into dung:
the gentle, wide-eyed, cheerful
ladies, and their men,
nostalgic for the noble cause of Vietnam,
nostalgic for noble causes,
aching, nobly, to wade through the blood of savages—
ah—!
Uncas shall never leave the reservation,
except to purchase whisky at the State Liquor Store.
The Panama Canal shall remain forever locked:
there is a way around every treaty.
We will turn the tides of the restless
Caribbean,
the sun will rise, and set
on our hotel balconies as we see fit.
The natives will have nothing to complain about,
indeed, they will begin to be grateful,
will be better off than ever before.
They will learn to defer gratification
and save up for things, like we do.

Oh, yes. They will.
We have only to make an offer
they cannot refuse.

(Click here to read the complete poem.)

— from Staggerlee wonders by James Baldwin

Make The World A Safer Place, Wear A Mask When In The Public   3 comments

Photo-Artistry by kenne

When defining COVID Rules,
think less in terms of unbreakable rules
and more in terms of CONSIDERATION, RESPECT,
and MAKING OTHERS COMFORTABLE.

— kenne

Mexican Hat Wildflower   Leave a comment

Mexican Hat Wildflower — Photo-Artistry by kenne

Every person passing through this life will unknowingly
leave something and take something away. Most of this
“something” cannot be seen or heard or numbered or
scientifically detected or counted. It’s what we leave in
the minds of other people and what they leave in ours.
Memory. The census doesn’t count it. Nothing counts
without it.

— Robert Fulghum

Flashback, 1972 — The CDCP Days   2 comments

Flashback, 1972 at SIU — The Pipe Smoking Days

In the early 1970s, I worked with Dr. Larry J. Bailey, my friend, and mentor, on the Career Development for Children Project (CDCP). Several of us worked on the project to produced a career development curriculum for elementary school children. In 1973 I went to work at McKnight Publishing Company to help produce project materials. Career development is not obtaining knowledge in preparation for living, but rather it is a process of experiencing living.

Before leaving CDCP, I prepared a paper titled, “A Theory of the Functional Self.” The paper reviewed self-theory that explores self a being a product of social interactions. From this theory, we have seen that self-information is a developmental process that takes place within the social system. A social system may be a peer group, a single classroom, school, community, occupational establishment, or any other organized group of individuals.

It is also assumed that a social system has two dimensions, the individual and the institution, and the patterns resulting from the interaction of these dimensions are social behavior. The individual’s inferences from his behavior define his self-concept, and a self-concept that has career relevance is the functional self. 

The functional self, like the self-concept, is a self-process, a process of being and becoming. It is the functional self’s developmental process that should enable educators to develop a process career developmental curriculum, rather than a content occupational information curriculum. Career development is not obtaining knowledge in preparation for a living; rather, it is a process of experiencing living.

— kenne

“I think every man is his own Pygmalion and
spends his life fashioning himself. And in
fashioning himself, for good or ill, he
fashions the human race and its future.”

— I.F. Stone (1971)

Hepatic Tanager   Leave a comment

Hepatic Tanager — Image by kenne

Some may try,
but it is not possible
to stop the river of life.

— kenne

Tucson Basin   Leave a comment

Tucson Basin — Photo-Artistry by kenne

“Remembering is an ethical act, has ethical value in and of itself. Memory is,
achingly, the only relation we can have with the dead. So the belief that
remembering is an ethical act is deep in our natures as humans, who know
we are going to die, and who mourn those who in the normal course of
things die before us—grandparents, parents, teachers, and older friends.”

— Susan Sontag

Corner Fence Post   2 comments

Corner Fence Post — B & W image by kenne

My father
dead now for interminable years.
Won’t leave me in peace, doesn’t want to go.
I see him every day.
My old man hides in trees, in water,
in clouds of smoke escaping from secretary cigarettes,
or he enters like a thief through my windows
and he steals my food.

He’s a live wire.
He’s capable of hiding himself on the moon
and he tells me,
son, nothing remains.
Nothing remains.

My father planted in his Mexican soil,
laying roots into the dark meadow of forget, shines.
When I turn off the lamp,
his face throws sparks in the corner.
When I make love, he comes running.
When I step out to the street,
he pursues me through the eyes of homeless children.
He wears heels of gold.
He smells my coffee.
I see him without seeing him and he says,
son, nothing remains.
Nothing remains.

My father dead already and turned to dust,
cries tears of clay.
With the voice of stones,
he shouts, he sings,
his final advice.

Son, your life is one coin.
Spend yourself well
for nothing remains.
Nothing remains of me.

— from Ghost Sickness by Luis Alberto Urrea

Patio Still Life   Leave a comment

Patio Still Life — Photo-Artistry by kenne

A patio screen
Softens the afternoon sun
For a glass of wine.

Little bonsai plant
Decorates the tile table
Everything is allowed.

Camera-ready
Birds rest in the olive tree
Best to be prepared.

— kenne

Posted October 22, 2020 by kenneturner in Information

Sonoran Desert Sunrise   Leave a comment

A Sonoran Desert sunrise from five years ago. — kenne

Becoming is Superior to Being

sunrise-1-of-1-7-blog ISonoran Desert Sunrise — Image by kenne

Despairing of God, I came to the desert seeking saints.
The tongue of the tribe sleeping in my family
whispers spiny songs: chumpaco / place where they killed
the dogs: huirives / bird: bacochibampo / the water of the
serpents: bajeribampo / water of the lizards: cuirimpo /
the place of the drummers.

— from 48 Roadsongs by Luis Alberto Urrea

View original post

Posted October 21, 2020 by kenneturner in Information

Final Soliloquy of the Internal Paramour   Leave a comment

This is a good sequel to my posting a few days ago, read, listen, and enjoy. — kenne

Frank Hudson

American poet Wallace Stevens constantly spoke in his poetry about the creation of art. This sort of “art looking at itself” move has a danger of being too self-referential and one might fear that it would sit with the reader as unresolved as being between two mirrors. I think today’s subtle poem works, despite those risks, and we’ll see if my performance of it brings out something that you may not have noticed in it.

Stevens, though wordier than Emily Dickinson*, often has his poetry seem like a riddle or puzzle, and though his poems have a surface beauty one can see right off, they also sometimes work like a lawyerly contract with the reader, full of obscure words and fine-print sub-clauses that you may not fully understand.

Let’s listen to Stevens read his poem himself.

One can hear background noises outside the room in this recording, so Stevens’ voice…

View original post 930 more words

Posted October 21, 2020 by kenneturner in Information

Arizona Beggarticks Wildflower   Leave a comment

Arizona Beggarticks Wildflowers — Photo-Artistry by kenne

I paint with pixels
Adding new layers and filters
To create new art

Only to allow
The eye of the beholder
To become the judge.

Art is everywhere
Needing discipline of time
Found in simple things.

— kenne

Dried Vines   Leave a comment

Dried Vines — Photo-Artistry by kenne

Once the process of bringing forth new life passes,
leaves fall, vines become brittle to the touch,
and seeds are transported to new lands
where life can begin anew when the rains return.

There is reason to believe that the rains will not
return, or at least with so little only the hardiest
of the hardy will survive when the heat of the
new normal bakes the already dry land.

What will come of this wasteland? A land where
the winds carry a deadly virus bringing death
to weakest of the weak, where many feel they
are not accomplices to what caused the suffering.

— kenne

People Tank   1 comment

There are times when reversing worlds can be helpful to our being. — kenne

Wild Like the Flowers

View original post

Posted October 20, 2020 by kenneturner in Information

White-lined Sphinx Moth — Abstract Art   1 comment

White-lined Sphinx Moth — Abstract Art by kenne

When we are faced by something
that really threatens us,
it’s impossible to look around,
even though that is
the safest and most sensible thing to do.

— Paulo Coelho

Frank S. Rose, 09/11/27 – 10/15/20   2 comments

Mountain Wildflowers of Southern Arizona —
A Field Guide to the Santa Catalina Mountains and Other Nearby Ranges by Frank S. Rose

When I began hiking the mountains of southern Arizona, I always had my
camera with me. If you follower of this blog, you know there are many
photos of beautiful mountain wildflowers, most of which I could not identify.
However, Frank S. Rose made it easy for me to put names with the photos
with the publication of his field guide in 2011. 

For years before the guide’s publication, Frank spent summers painting
watercolor images of the wildflowers. But, much like myself, he experienced
difficulty identifying the wildflowers. It wasn’t until Frank got to know Joan Tedford,
Bob Porter and other Sabino Canyon Volunteer Naturalists spending time
with them on their weekly nature walks, that he began to work on his
photographic field guide.

Thank you, Frank, for your many hours and miles of walking, searching,
photographing and learning about flowers from which so many of us have benefited.

— kenne

 

Joan Tedford, Debbie Bird, Edi Moore, Heather Murphy, and Frank Rose (May 2, 2016) — Images by kenne

In this video, Frank Rose tells the story of how he met Joan Tedford.

 

%d bloggers like this: