Fire Ants

Overheard while traveling in Jamaica: "Excuse me sir, but you are sitting on fire-ants!"

unintended collaboration - Frank & P.A.M.

The question arises as to what is original.

detail from gate sculpture

Faras and a Geel*

I Live in Minneapolis, acrylic on vinyl

It would not be a bad idea, if you live in Minneapolis, to learn some Somali language. There are some amazing older people who moved here from Somalia and other parts of E. Africa as refugees from the war. Many of the elders were hidden away in apartments here in Minneapolis/St. Paul, often alone during the day while their family members worked and went to school. A few years ago, the first adult day care center opened up, and now, a lot of older people attend adult day centers for community, along with health and enrichment activities during the day.  My work (day job: public health) brings me in conversation with hundreds of elders in several of these adult day care centers.

The other morning when I got to work, it was quiet. The drivers were out picking up people, who now live all over - Columbia Heights, St. Paul. It was the first snow and everyone was late. The old people were afraid to go out, and the drivers had to convince them to come.

I sat with an older Somali woman who was working there that day; she was early, and she was viewing a Webinar to learn Arabic. We watched it together and chatted. I told her, "I'm going to the MIA to meet a group there." I showed her the postcard, below (from the 1930's, but, this view hasn't changed much), and asked, "Do you know this building?" She said, "Yes, I lived on 26th and Stevens for seven years. I've seen and walked past it many times, but have never been inside. I didn't know what was in it." This woman's story is one reason I like bringing groups of people for their first visit to Mia to view art.

I found a docent with interest in Islamic art, and we planned a tour of the galleries, routed to avoid as many of the nude representations as possible. The first group arrived, along with our interpreter. Do you want to learn about camels? Look at the sculptures in the China gallery with a Somali elder - they will tell you more than you ever knew there was to know about camels. (In my research I found that both camel milk and urine are used in East Africa for healing purposes, and camel milk actually has been shown to contain an insulin-like protein which lowers blood sugar in people with diabetes.)

My group of E. African elders enjoyed many of the objects on view at MIA that day ~ the carved elephant tusk from Benin, in the African gallery, and the Algerian, whom one gentleman insisted was Sudanese. They liked the Tissot painting in that same gallery, as the three men on camels in the desert reminded them of Somalia. I think their favorite objects were in the Islamic gallery, especially the pages from the Qur'an. All of our guests that day could read Arabic, and, after my brief morning Webinar, I was looking around for letters I could recognize. So, yeah, we were that group, the colorfully dressed older ladies, and me running about, pointing "alif! alif!" - the letter I could identify for certain.

* Somali ->English translations:  Faras = horse ; Geel (rhymes with 'well' or more like we-ell') = camel

Frog-Umbrella-Camel-Kangaroo

It was the spring of 1972 -- and, I had taken the 17 bus down Lake Street from high school, where I was supposed to be, to sit on the grass at Lake of the Isles, to enjoy the outdoors and read (Henry Miller, as I recall). This was where I met a student from the art school (MCAD), who tried to seduce me. The following year, I was completely seduced -- but, by Picasso, Manet, Gauguin, Toulouse-Lautrec, Chagall, and Klimt; yet couldn't quite find my own groove with painting. Also, that same year, I was injured in an assault, fell out of art school, and, moved to Wisconsin to try to find myself again. 

Portrait of Joe

Living in the woods and back country of western Wisconsin is better in memory than in actuality. I've forgotten the ticks, the poison ivy, the dead skunks, the loneliness, the flypaper. I might not remember driving into ruts, but do recall neighbors getting their chains and dragging me out. . .forgotten living without running water, but remember some refreshing outdoor showers. I've forgotten waking up to frosty air, but do recall the smell of the wood stoves, amazing meals, and cozy nights. I've forgotten the pain in my hands from milking goats, the bee stings, the goose shit, being lost in the woods, the exhaustion, sore muscles, overall general muck, and wet feet of farm life, not to mention that smell that got on everything.

But, wait a minute.  . remembering those funky smells brings me back to more memories of the grace of country life -- the order of things, skinny dipping, and drinking right from the lake. The wild asparagus coming up, and the watercress in the spring. . the crazy neighbors -- the ones who used to fight, loudly, and, the ancient brothers who lived together in the house down the road by the tamarack trees. (May have been inspiration for Brother's Keeper).

Country life was an inspiration in so many ways, but I don't think I came back to myself until many years and lots of therapy later. Making art has saved my life in a way, but I'll save that for a future rant.

Kabo Kabo Kabo

I am the "Kabo" woman. . . .the person who will (hopefully) bring new shoes for a bunch of people before the end of the year. I contacted one of our major health care providers to ask about them providing shoes to my clients with diabetes, to encourage them to walk more and improve health outcomes. They said yes, and they'll soon be delivering a lot of shoes ("kabo" in Somali) -- and that's money well spent. The $40 pairs of shoes, if used as prescribed, can actually turn around a person's diabetes in the early stages. They can help someone drop 40 pounds. They can reduce a high blood sugar by 40 mg/dL.., high blood pressure. . .well, you get the idea. Perhaps they can save 400 or 4,000 or 40,000 dollars in future medical expenses, along with helping their clients live healthier.

Portrait of Somali Elder

Since we started measuring feet for these shoes, every time I see my clients, they ask me, "Kabo??" and give me a searching look, a big shrug, universal language for "where the heck are they already?" My answer, "Soon, Inshallah".

With Kugel

Someone asked me recently how I met Frank Gaard. It was May Day, 2003, right after the parade at Powderhorn Park, and there was at a party at Emily Carter's house. I went with a friend ~ I didn't know Emily, but, presumably he did -- maybe not. But, anyway, we get to this party, and, yada yada yada, local luminaries at the food table. . . but, with little pretense, Emily had made a lokshen kugel! Nobody makes kugel for parties, except for Emily and my weird brother; and, nobody here in Minnesota would ever make kugel for random holidays, particularly for May Day.  It made a good impression and made me feel right at home, like I was with my aunt Elaine and it was a holiday or maybe a bris. Haimish ~ that's the word for the kugel, for Emily, Frank, the whole mishegoss. . . and the painting below(?).

Secret Garden

I discovered Frank on the back porch, and, next to him was this most unusual painting, which had been his gift to Emily on an earlier occasion.  The picture was a formulation, including minerals with their gram amounts; it looked a lot like the food formulations that I worked on for research in those days . . in the dreary basement laboratories at the University of MN. But, the formulation on the painting on Emily's porch was not for Kashi Chocolate Malted Crisp GoLean bars, (1 bar 55 g) . It was not for Pirate's Booty Smart Puffs, (1 serving 31.5 g). You will have to guess what it was for.

double portrait of Kate

For the past few years, Frank and I have been making portraits as a collaboration, painting the same model at the same time. We paint on our own paper or canvas, and both make large-scale faces, resulting in a psychological portrayal of two sides of one person, in conversation with themselves.

To see some of the 'double portraits', if  you happen to be on Facebook, go to:
Portraits by Frank Gaard and Pam Gaard

Stay Same (My Counterfeiter)

One time, in my travels to Jamaica, I met a counterfeiter. This isn't him - no - this is some random guy working at a restaurant who saw the camera and jumped right in. Don't even know his name. That must be why I look like I'm sucking on a lemon in the picture.

random guy and me

But, anyway, my counterfeiter, well, I'll call him Robbie. At first glance, you might think he was native Jamaican, but, actually he was born and raised in Chicago.  He had lived on the island a long time, and spoke in perfect patois.  One day I followed him to his room - we were going somewhere, and he had to iron his jeans. I'm not kidding - he was that kind of guy -- the neatest Rasta on the island. He had no furniture in his room but the bed, which he used as an ironing board. And, it turned out that under the bed, there was a box. Of memories, you might say.

From the box, Robbie revealed his story to me. He'd saved some of the currency as a kind of souvenir. The US bills were made painstakingly on copy machines, so he had to perfectly line up the fronts and backs to print them.  He had kept some one-sided sheets, where the backs didn't print - perfect in all appearance till you turned them over and found them blank.

His friends would buy and sell or otherwise distribute the bills, like they'd buy ten 100's for $300 from him, and they'd resell the bills so everybody made a profit. Until they got caught. Then, Robbie did his time, turned Rastafari in jail, and moved to Jamaica. His favorite phrase was, "Trust me." And, so, of course, I did.

LOLA Art Crawl

Helen Miller called recently and asked if I wanted to collaborate on an idea, and, to put some work in her shop for the LOLA (Longfellow Neighborhood) Art Crawl next weekend.

I was surprised that she picked my drawing, 'Abu Ghraib Sofa', as inspiration for a design for a home interior textile, but less so after I got to know Helen, and saw her 'anti-war dress'. Come and see our art, our collaborations, (and furniture!) next weekend (August 27, 28) at Miller Upholstering on Lake St., along with art by Rhesa Schwartz. Rhesa's work presents the darker, creepier, funnier, and campier side of human anatomy.

I've been turned down by galleries in the past because I made work out of cloth. Too hard to store. Which is true, I've found out. But, it's not hard to own, (if you're regular people with regular wall space or floor space in your home) and textiles can add a warm feeling to a room . . . well, maybe not all the ones you'll see at LOLA this weekend. . .

So, thanks to Helen, for the invitation, the beautiful blue velvet, and for turning me into a screen-printer for a day.

Wonder what will become of the fabric? Me, too. Come by on the weekend and find out. Hours 10:00 to 5:00 p.m. each day.

Meshuggeneh (My Yiddisha Grandma)

I learned all the swear words in Yiddish from my grandma -- the Russian we called 'Ma' who was married to a Turk. Her pet names for me were: little coo (cow), glump (dummy), and little drek (shit). Despite the unflattering names, I knew I was her favorite grandchild. 

Other families had grandparents living with them, too, but none scared people like MY grandma. Was it her bark, her bite? Or, was it the facial hair?


Self Portrait, acrylic on canvas, 20" x 10", 2010

When I was little, she'd take me on adventures unparalleled by parents in cars. We'd take the 17 bus downtown-- our regular stops were Power's basement, for fabric, the Great Northern Market downtown, which always smelled like fish, and then to Munsingwear for thread and zippers. I had horrible social anxiety as a child and wouldn't talk to anybody. This was rewarded by gifts from sympathetic shopkeepers who thought I was mute. One time I came home with a nice piece of cotton yardage with purple butterflies on it and my own small trout.

In 2009, the Coen Brother's movie, A Serious Man (ASM), perfectly captured the stark emotional and physical landscape of St. Louis Park growing up. There were the pale ramblers, a few young trees, manicured lawns and sidewalks of new suburbia. As one of 200+ 'extras' in ASM, I became a small part of the artistic wizardry of Mary Zophres as she made us into background wallpaper for the movie. Every minute detail in wardrobe, hair, and make-up recreated 1968, and allowed us to become our own aunts and uncles, in flashback. Funny how time becomes more fluid as you get older, and as you become your meshuggeneh grandma.

ASM pix from NY Times ~ the author, at 2:00, with an amazing bouffant and a heavy glint off her glasses

No Sane Man Will Dance

"Clothianidin", acrylic on gramophone record (78 rpm), 10" d,

The insecticide clothianidin has been known since 2003 (the same year it gained EPA approval) to be toxic to honeybees. It was banned in several European countries years ago. Other concerns with the chemical include possible immunotoxicity in humans. Studies have linked it to decreased thymus weights in rats, which correlates to this concern as the thymus controls our immune function (through T-lymphocytes or T-cells).

The insecticide is listed on the EPA site as most often used as a seed treatment on corn and canola, to protect against boring insects -- grubs and worms. It presents known toxicity if the seeds are eaten (by songbirds), or if it reaches our ground water.

Corn and canola are two of the most widely grown and most widely consumed crops in the US, especially in Hispanic/Latino, African, Native American, and African American homes. Additionally, these crops are opportunistic class-wise, as they are often cheaper than other oils or grain products. Of course, as Michael Pollan points out in "The Omnivore's Dilemma", we are all full of corn knowingly or not from the additives we use -- HFCS in virtually everything, and cornstarch, also, found in many foods from yogurt to baked goods to condiments. Baking powder, you'd think would just be an acid salt and an alkaline component (usually baking soda) that get together to create air pockets in your muffins while they bake, which cause them to rise (NaHCO₃ + H⁺ → Na⁺ + CO₂ + H₂O).  But, no, the acid and base salt are mixed into an inert starch, which is usually cornstarch. So, -- it's everywhere.

Besides corn and canola, on a CA Pesticide Info Site, the main food crops that clothianidin is used on include: table and raisin grapes, wine grapes, and pears.

_{From the EPA report:}

Clothianidin is highly toxic to honey bees on an acute contact basis (LD_{50 > 0.0439 μg/bee). It has the potential for toxic chronic exposure to honey bees, as well as other nontarget pollinators, through the translocation of clothianidin residues in nectar and pollen. In honey bees, the effects of this toxic chronic exposure may include lethal and/or sub-lethal effects in the larvae and reproductive effects in the queen.
Clothianidin as a likely rationale for colony collapse disorder.}

Also, for more info from EPA's on the insecticide, look here:

http://www.epa.gov/opprd001/factsheets/clothianidin.pdf

"No sane man will dance." - Cicero (106-43 B.C.)

Promises of Paradise

Portrait of Abdul Ahmad, 14 x 14", acrylic on canvas, 2010
(Homage to Hamid Ahmad)

A Shakespearean tragedy in modern times:  A father, a guy about my age, who lived in Iraq, fought against his government, then ended up in jail for a while, and, later took a job with the US military in Iraq.

Three of his four sons were insurgents. As the uncle later said, "When Al Qaeda came to our areas it was easy to get the young people because they were religious and there were promises of paradise."  The son pictured, Abdul Ahmad, age 32, was the one who shot and killed the father, with the explanation as written on his shirt when he confessed to the killing.


Iraq’s Conflict, Reflected in a Family Tragedy

Promises of Paradise, acrylic on vinyl LP, 12" d, 2010

Counting Backwards by Nines

I had a job at a university that shall remain unnamed. I worked there as a scientist in the Department of Public Health and Epidemiology. One thing that I did for a couple of years was a function that they called "Missing Foods", meaning that I did support work for researchers throughout the nation on topics related to food and nutrition. When these investigators couldn't find a match from the18,000 foods in our department's database, I provided them with a specific formula for a food they could plug into their study.

Missing Foods was a job that nobody wanted to do, or only the extremely obsessive compulsive could do, because it involved 8 hours of researching foods and doing Sudoku each day. Not actual Sudoku, but that's the best way to explain the computer program which one uses to calculate and formulate the Missing Food. Each number changed by the user of the Missing Foods software results in all numerals in the grid to change. The final formula, when resolved, is an act of grace, of mathematical poetry, completeness. And, to the third decimal point, a place so infinitely and ridiculously small.

Portrait of Lu (Lutetium 71), acrylic on BFK rives, 29 x 22", 2008

Someone visiting my studio recently asked, "Why the Periodic Table of the Elements?" It's just one of my favorite things. Such a beautiful, perfectly organized representation of something absolutely minute. So, imagine my excitement when I found my friend, Lu, on the periodic table!Who knew that she was corrosion-resistant?!
And, that her name originates from the Latin word Lutetia, meaning Paris.
And, that her melting point is 1656.0 °C - 1929.15 °K, boiling point is  3315.0 °C - 3588.15 °K

And, sadly, (for lutetium, but certainly not for Lu)  ~
Common Uses:  No known uses 

Rant (Bisphenol A) and Some Pictures

"Truth", found objects, wire, 6x6x2", 2009




"Schmattes", acrylic on canvas, 8 x 16", 2008

"There is no there there." -- Gertrude Stein


Bisphenol A, or BPA, is an additive used in plastic, in our water bottles, baby bottles, and in many food containers. It mimics the hormone estrogen in the body. How is it that we allow a known endocrine disruptor into our food supply? And, how is it that we accept as normal having ubiquitous low-dose human exposure to a known carcinogen? Now I don't want to sound pessimistic, but I think I'm gonna have to put BPA on my 'Mother's Worry List'.
http://pamelagaard.blogspot.com/2010/05/mothers-worry-list.html

Research on laboratory animals shows that Bisphenol A is an estrogenic hormone disruptor that causes reproductive damage and that it may lead to prostate and breast cancer in adulthood. For that reason, it was banned in baby bottles in Canada nearly two years ago. But it's still legal in the US.

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention detected Bisphenol A in the urine of 57 - 93 percent of the 2,517 people aged 6 years and older who took part in the National Health and Nutrition Examination Survey (NHANES) from 2003 - 2004.

And, in this other study*, data suggests that it is more of a concern for children, and notably, for children in lower-income households:
"Children had higher concentrations than adolescents (p < p =" 0.003)."> $45,000/year)."

The controversy now is whether exposure causes weight gain and if the additive is somehow related to the obesity epidemic. As another researcher so eloquently states, "The causes of the current obesity pandemic have not been fully elucidated," but, it IS known that this chemical alters early adipogenesis. And early adipogenesis has long been thought related to obesity in later life.

I am proposing this warning be put on baby bottles:


alters early adipogenesis



 and, then we teach all our babies to read.



*Calafat AM, Ye X, Wong L-Y, Reidy JA, Needham LL 2008. Exposure of the U.S. Population to Bisphenol A and 4-tertiary-Octylphenol: 2003–2004. Environ Health Perspect 116:39-44. doi:10.1289/ehp.10753

Hak Mir Nisht Ken Tshaynik

Literally meaning "don't bang away at me like the lid on an empty kettle", the phrase "hakn a tshaynik" was tossed around freely when I was little. But, mainly I remember it in Yinglish (Yiddish-English) as "quit hakkin' me a tshaynik". I've since found that every culture has an idiom for the elders to tell the young people to shut-up.

Also, my grandmother never learned the English name for tea kettle; it was always, "Give me the tshaynik" or "Shut off the tshaynik". . . so my mother thought that 'tshaynik' was English for 'tea kettle' until she was well into her 20's.


Mishegoss Clown, acrylic on cd, 4.5" diam., 2007

me·shu·gaas or mish·e·gaas or mish·e·goss (msh-gäs)

n. Slang

Crazy or senseless activity or behavior; craziness.

Mother's Worry List

~ shoe bomber
~ mesothelioma
~ bird flu
~ swine flu
~ propofol
~ anosognosia -- how do we know that we don't all have it?!

"There's no space too small, too dark and airless and fucking hopeless, for people to crawl into." -- Nick Hornby (A Long Way Down)

"Someone pissed in the genepool." -- anonymous (heard at a party)

Lists

Adrenaline
Night Eating Syndrome
Horror Vacui
My First Encounter with an African American Nazi
Hak Mir Nisht Ken Tshaynik
Counting Backwards by Nines
Colony Collapse Syndrome
The Sacred and the Profane
Parathyroid Adenoma

Sometimes lists are useful to get things out of your brain. Stay tuned for further blogs on these topics.