Creative Footprint

Comic Books, Facebook, Lady Gaga and Sarah Palin

"Creative Footprint" encompasses, explores and examines the ways in which we and other creatures leave marks on culture and community. Created by Marc Dennis, artist, professor, Holocaust researcher, and bug chef. 

There’s a comic book about Hillary Clinton. There are also comic books about Michelle Obama, Caroline Kennedy, Condoleeza Rice and yep you guessed it Sarah Palin. 

                   

It's from a series called "Female Force" produced by a company called Bluewater Productions, known for their rather interesting and unique comic books and graphic novels.

                       

In their mission statement they say their intentions are to “bring a diverse library of titles and talent to the table. With stories that range from classic myths, science fiction and superheroes to Hollywood legends.”

Bluewater, according to their objective as an industry subculture, is a “fresh voice in comic publishing.” I’ll say. 

They created a comic book about Lady Gaga. Fresh enough? She's perfect comic book material.

The Princess of Freak Pop. The imaginary love child of Madonna and Marilyn Manson.  She's a master for attracting attention.

Her music videos are all about comic book sensibilities. And even if you don't like her music, you have to admit she's awesome in one way or another. 

She's like a fantasy character -- right out of a super hero freak mold. 

And speaking of individuals seeking attention, It makes perfect sense there are comic books about politicians. 

There are a lot of comic book type characters in real life it seems. And why not? We all want attention. 

Oscar Wilde, with some semblance of truth, once said, "Life imitates Art far more than Art imitates Life." 

I often think about how and why comics were such an integral part of my life as a kid. I learned to draw from looking at comic books. I loved Sgt Rock. Joe Kubert could draw like no one's business. 

I learned about storytelling. I learned how to keep a viewer’s attention on the page. Though I wasn’t actually aware, as a budding young artist I was also learning about form, shape and color. 

I'm still affected by my fond memories of laying in bed at night reading comic books. The colors were always vibrant and striking. No wonder i admire Pop Art. 

And no wonder I'm still blown away by Arthur Danto's profoundly philosophical statement (from Transfiguration of the Commonplace): 

""The issue is not what in reality marks the difference between motif and representation, but how they strike the eye and seduce the mind."

One of the best exhibitions I’ve ever seen was curated by the late Kirk Varnedoe of the Museum of Modern Art and Adam Gopnik. It debuted at MoMA NYC.

Despite some funky reviews, namely by the NYT's Roberta Smith, it was a wonderfully entertaining and aesthetically insightful exhibition called "High and Low: Modern Art and Popular Culture." 

 

BLAM, Roy Lichtenstein, 1962, Oil on canvas, 68 x 80 inches, Yale University Art Gallery New Haven, Connecticut

It was an incredible show where high art, such as paintings made by Roy Lichtenstein (above) hung side by side with comic book pages made by the likes of the great comic book artist Russ Heath (below). 

That show bridged the gap between high brow and low brow. It was actually the uni-brow show of the century. I respect the idea of uni-brow in art. 

 

Art is about connecting opposing sides, bridging gaps, dropping seeds, echoing metaphor, reminding us to forget what we've come to know and expect and bringing us to see and feel in new and fresh ways. 

Comic books on some level, depending on one's age and sensibilities, do the same thing. For most of us we experience the "uni-brow" phenomenon on the Web. 

We are all kind of immersed in it. We embrace the uni-brow way of life, with information about the world at our fingertips from the "low" to the "high."

We want the two sides connected all the time. We want our private lives intertwined with the public.

On an hourly basis we take from a zillion aspects of life - from art, politics, comics, marketplaces, pop culture, news, random information (like this blog), etc and make casual to intense attempts at making sense of our lives. 

In addition to our private lives, we are constantly trying to make sense of the larger world - the planet we inhabit. 

Through it all we seek and find new ways of fitting into the grand scheme of things - into the larger more global stage, in a definitively more public way. We want to leave a mark somehow, somewhere.

We all want attention. We want the world to reverberate with our private orbits. Sometimes we get our fix from art, sometimes from pop culture, sometimes from news and politics. 

Sometimes we get all the information and fixes we need - slammed together in one crazed filled day of checking in with - yep you guessed it - Facebook. 

Facebook, the new almighty. Most of us love checking in with FB's home page - seeing what information our friends and friends of friends and their friends of friends and hundreds of strangers have posted. 

On Facebook we are connected. We are in a kind of fantasy comic book world. Comments, links, turning strangers into new friends, establishing fresher connections, being voyeuristic, etc is all a form of attention and I might add, entertainment. 

Art, comic books, pop culture and for what it's worth politics are all forms of paying attention and turning the attention towards ourselves and throughout it all being entertained during the process. 

 

It enables and encourages us to make sense of the world and our place in it. It makes us feel good and important. It also may inspire us. Undoubtedly one of the most important and vital aspects of being alive is to be inspired. 

In the coming weeks I'll be seeing some art exhibitions, visiting some museums, spending quality time with my family, working on some new paintings, watching sports, listening to NPR, checking in with Facebook (yes sometimes on an hourly basis), and oh yeah, definitely picking myself up a copy of the new Lady Gaga comic. 

Marc Dennis can be reached here.

Hey There's a Bug in That Painting!

"Creative Footprint" encompasses, explores and examines the ways in which we and other creatures leave marks on culture and community. Created by Marc Dennis, artist, professor, Holocaust researcher, and bug chef. 

Many artists have contributed to the development of insect awareness by including bugs in their works, in particular still-life paintings.

Still-life typically refers to images of inanimate objects, such as, flowers, plants, fruit, and other foodstuffs.

And in many cases one can spot an insect or two or more somewhere in the picture. Any insects in still life paintings were always meant to be symbolic. 

In the European iconography from the sixteenth to the eighteenth centuries, the insect in still-life painting symbolized the transient nature of life for two basic reasons: 

(1) an insect’s life is in fact short and (2) some insects assist in the deterioration of matter. 

The flower still life occurs in a variety of forms, the most prevalent of which is a flower piece, such as a bouquet, usually in a vase or other container. 

Balthasar van der Ast, Still-Life of Flowers, Shells, and Insects, 1635, Oil on panel, 24 x 35 cm, Private collection

The flowers may also be strewn on a table, bound together or juxtaposed with other objects such as seashells as we see here above in a painting by Balthasar van der Ast from around 1635.

The dead wasp on the far lower right section in conjunction with the single strewn flower and the approaching spider are all likely to symbolize life’s brevity.                         

In addition and just as significant a caterpillar centrally located in the lower half juxtaposed with a butterfly with wings spread as it alights a flower in the upper section directly above the caterpillar, specifically evoked the idea of rebirth from a cocoon or tomb.

Otto Marseus van Schrieck, 1670, oil on canvas, Forest Landscape with Butterflies and Snake, 70 x 54 cm, private collection, Paris

In the painting above by Otto Marseus van Schrieck, we see at least seven species of moths and butterflies fluttering about like nightlights against a very dark backdrop.

They all serve as symbols of hope against darkness, while one of the butterflies with orange markings is just about to be consumed by a snake.

In its entirety this painting may symbolize inevitable death. Or it may hold a surprise symbol. 

Because a butterfly with its wings splayed symbolized the resurrection of the soul, death in this case could also be considered a kind of salvation – an entry into heaven.  

And at the same time, a dragonfly whizzes in from the upper right corner of the painting poised to strike at one of the unsuspecting butterflies, symbolic perhaps of not knowing when our time will come.

Abraham Mignon, Still Life with Fruit, Foliage, and Insects, about 1669, oil on canvas

Abraham Mignon’s painting above entitled, Still Life with Fruit, Foliage, and Insects, dated from about 1669, oil on canvas looks like an image of beautiful foliage, pretty flowers, and full leaves. 

Look at it. Upon a closer look however the flowers don’t appear so wonderful, but rather a bit scary. 

The leaves appear as though they’ve been chewed on and the fruit is decaying. The scene is teeming with bugs and other creatures. 

A yellowish moth clings to a vine while a nearby plum is infested with some kind of worm-like critter. 

In the meantime three snails creep along the lower half of the image, two on either side of the foreground and one in the center. 

A black and orange beetle can be seen crawling on a broken architectural motif in the foreground, a clear symbol of how human life is indeed transient. 

The creeping and hidden insects and animals, the predatory nature of each, the damaged leaves and rotting fruit, the overwhelming amount of flora, and the overall tumbling composition all refers to the idea that in time everything must pass away. 

And everything does. 

Paintings like the ones displayed above depict the natural world in all its beauty and danger, serving as metaphors for life -- images that offer the viewer much to think about in terms of their own challenges and struggles and most importantly the inevitability of change.

Through images and symbolism art informs, adds, changes or removes something in order to communicate with the mind and heart in a way reality does not or cannot.

Marc Dennis can be reached here.

Creative Footprint: Maria Sibylla Merian and a Hundred Watercolors

"Creative Footprint" encompasses, explores and examines the ways in which we and other creatures leave marks on culture and community. Created by Marc Dennis, artist, professor, Holocaust researcher, and bug chef. 

Imagine, if you will a woman, age 52, divorced, with one of her two daughters in tow, embarking on a rather dangerous three month long trip to Surinam in the northeast region of South America.

Imagine her traveling without a male companion, trekking through the jungles, camping, observing, sketching and painting flora and fauna, with a particular focus on insects and spiders. 

And imagine she's there for two years! Two years away from friends, family and homeland.

You might think that this is really no big deal, after all it’s the twenty-first century, women travel alone and practically anyone can go anywhere with certain exceptions. But for the most part the globe is ours to trek. 

But what if I asked you to imagine this happened say, in 1693? 

Then I suppose it would indeed be a big deal. In fact it would have been somewhat unheard of at the time. But it happened. Meet Maria Sibylla Merian.

In 1693, artist Maria Sibylla Merian known for her observations that revolutionized both botany and zoology, at the age of 52, divorced with two daughters, took the astonishing step of embarking - with her younger daughter, but no male companion - on a dangerous, three-month trip to the Dutch colony of Surinam, in South America. 

 

Frankfurt in the 17th century, Copperplate engraving after Matthäus Merian the Elder

This extraordinary artist-scientist was born on April 2nd, 1647, in Frankfurt and dared to venture across the "world" to an exotic and recently explored jungle region to draw and paint her surroundings. She came from an artistic family and was for all intents and purposes fairly prepared for her expedition. 

 

Portrait of Matthaeus Merian, engraving, Public Library at the University of Neuchatel

Her father, Matthäus Merian the Elder, was a Swiss printmaker and publisher who died when she was three. It's difficult to say what sort of impact he may have had on his daughter but she did look at his engravings during her formative years with her mother's second husband, Jacob Marell. 

 

Jacob Marrel, Page from a Tulip Book, 1640, Copyright Rijksmuseum Amsterdam 

One year after the death of her fist husband, her mother married Jacob Marell, a Flemish flower painter and one of Merian's first teachers. He specialized in tulips and was a contemporary of Rembrandt and Vermeer. 

 

Maria Sibylla Merian, Flamingo, watercolor

From early childhood, Merian was interested in drawing the animals and plants she saw in her immediate environment and region. She collected, raised, and observed living insects, rather than working from preserved specimens, as was the norm for the times.

 

Maria Sibylla Merian, Plate from Metamorphosis of a Butterfly Merian, 1705

And in 1793, Merian embarked on her dangerous, three-month trip to the Dutch colony of Surinam, in South America. Her goal was to study the indigenous flora and fauna because she had grown up with dried specimens of animals and plants that were popular with European collectors and she wanted to study them up close and in the wild.

Maria Sibylla Merian, Moths on Artemisia species from “European insects”,  Plate 78, 1680

She was determined to approach the discipline of scientific illustration that was contrary to the way most scientists worked at the time. By being in the environment it would provide her with the opportunity to study, observe, and record fresh and exciting information about the secret lives of what were considered to be exotic insects, spiders, plants and flowers.

Maria Sibylla Merian, Plumaria with butterflies, larva, and pupa, “Metamorphosis Insectorum Surinamensium,” Plate 8, 1705

Her work places her among one of the first naturalists to have observed flora and fauna in particular insects directly. I’d like to note that it was very unusual that someone, let alone a woman, would be genuinely interested in insects, because at that time they – insects, spiders and all other creepy crawlies had a bad reputation. In fact colloquially they were referred to as "beasts of the devil."

Maria Sibylla Merian, Pineapple, “Metamorphosis Insectorum Surinamensium,”  Plate 1, 1705

As a consequence of their reputation, the metamorphosis of these animals was largely unknown, but due to Merian’s dedication to her life to understanding and visually documenting the life cycles of 186 insect species, amassing evidence that contradicted the contemporary notion that insects were "born of mud" by spontaneous generation.

 

Maria Sibylla Merian, Avicularia-avicularia, “Metamorphosis Insectorum Surinamensium,” 1705

Merian painted over a hundred watercolors during her time in Surinam. One hundred watercolors! All of them filled with the life of the jungles of Surinam, loaded with detail, information and meaning. Forced home by malaria, she published her most significant book in 1705, which became very popular in certain sections of high society as a result of being published in the vernacular.

 

The lavishly illustrated Metamorphosis of the Insects of Surinam established her international reputation. When she returned home, sixty of them were reproduced in her book Metamorphosis Insectorum Surinamensium (Metamorphosis of the Insects of Suriname).

 

Portrait of Maria Sibylla Merian by vom Maler de Bâle, undated

In 1715 Merian suffered a stroke and was partially paralyzed. She continued her work but died in Amsterdam on January 13, 1717. She was 70 years old. 

Plate from Erucarum Ortus Alimentum et Paradoxa Metamorphosis, 1679-1717

Her daughter Dorothea published Erucarum Ortus Alimentum et Paradoxa Metamorphosis, a collection of her mother's work, posthumously.

 

Maria Sibylla Merian, Metamorphosis, “Metamorphosis Insectorum Surinamensium,” 1705

Historically Maria Sibylla Merian is considered to be the first to combine art and entomology. Due to her skills and creative drive, she was able to capture the translucency and elegance of butterflies wings, caterpillars in their furry graces and the hardened exoskeletons of various beetles with wonderful accuracy of hand and a trained scrutinizing eye.

Maria Sibylla Merian, A Parrot Tulip, Auriculas, and Red Currants, with a Magpie Moth, its Caterpillar and Pupa

I am inspired by her diligence, motivation and sacrifices. Making art requires time, patience, and many hours isolated in the studio with select materials and one's imagination and craft. The studio can sometimes be a lonely place. 

When one takes their creative intentions outdoors however, amidst nature, to feel their back up against a tree, the moist earth below their body, the mud heavy one one's feet, the loneliness becomes pure aloneness. 

Isolated but very much alive with your surroundings. working directly from nature requires a different attitude, a fresh outlook because anything can happen and preparedness may not be enough. Exploration and experimentation take on a new meaning. 

Due to her ambitions and courage she also succeeded in discovering a range of previously unknown animals and plants in the interior of Surinam. Her perseverance albeit largely forgotten for over three hundred years was reborn in recent times like a soulful chrysalis waiting to be released.

 

Her portrait was printed on the 500 DM note before Germany converted to the euro. 

 

Her portrait appeared on a 0.40 DM stamp, released on September 17, 1987, and many schools throughout Germany were named after her. 

 

And last but not least, in 2005, a modern research vessel named The Maria S. Merian was launched at Warnemunde, Germany, enabling her spirit, if you will to venture forth and discover anew in the modern world. 

 

You may contact Marc Dennis here.

 

Creative Footprint: Leonardo's Last Supper

"Creative Footprint" encompasses, explores and examines the ways in which we and other creatures leave marks on culture and community. Created by Marc Dennis, artist, professor, Holocaust researcher, and bug chef.

Did you hear the one about what Jesus said to his disciples at the Last Supper? 

He said, “Hey guys, if you want to be in the picture you’re all gonna need to get on this side of the table.”

Get it? Well, I guess that kinda depends on whether or not you’re familiar with depictions of the Last Supper, particularly and what might arguably be the most popular painting of the Last Supper in the world. 

The painting I'm referring to is a massive fresco measuring 15 by 29 feet in the refectory (dining hall) of the convent of Santa Maria delle Grazie in Milan, Italy, painted by none other than Leonardo da Vinci, commissioned in 1495 by Ludovico Sforza, Duke of Milan and completed in 1498.

Leonardo da Vinci, The Last Supper, Santa Maria delle Grazie in Milan, Italy

Many artists throughout history have painted their interpretations of the theme of the Last Supper, but it is Leonardo da Vinci’s painting that one is referring to when making the joke about Jesus telling his guests to get on the same side of the table. 

Not only is his by far the most popular depiction of the event but all the dinner guests in his painting are indeed sitting on the same side of the table. There are no firsthand accounts of the Last Supper. We really have no idea where Jesus and his disciples sat or for that matter what they ate. 

Instead, varying stories of the event were handed down and recorded two or more decades afterward in books eventually collected into the New Testament (Matthew 26:17–30, Mark 14:12–25, Luke 22:7–38, John 13–17, and 1 Corinthinans 11:23–29).

Chronicled in all four Gospels and Corinthians, despite the differences in the varying interpretations, all texts describe the Last Supper as the final meal Jesus shared with his Twelve Apostles before his death – the evening before he was to be betrayed by one of them.

And described in the synoptic gospels as a Passover Seder in which Jesus informed his disciples as to how to eat and drink for all future meals, in remembrance of him, thusly making the Last Supper representative of the most important event in the Christian doctrine of salvation, the institution of the Eucharist.¹

In pictorial representation The Last Supper seemed particularly suitable for the decoration of the great conventual refectories, especially in Florence, with its ideal theme of meditation and prayer offered to the monastic community united for the purpose of eating. 

The Last Supper as a painting however is not meant to depict layers of interpretive texts, but rather is specifically intended to portray only one thing about the event - the reaction given by each apostle at the exact moment when Jesus said one of them would betray him. That’s it, that’s The Last Supper’s moment in pictures -- to depict believable basic human emotion in the faces of the disciples. 

So why did da Vinci choose to place all the sitters on one side of the table? And why opposite the viewer? What was his inspiration? The question here is perhaps what did other artists who came before da Vinci do when they painted images of The Last Supper?

 

The Agape, 5th - 6th cent, Catacombe di Priscilla, Rome, italy

Dating back to the end of the 5th and the beginning of the 6th century C.E., depictions of an agape, also known as a “love feast,” in the Greek chapel of the Catacombe di Priscilla in Rome (see image above) is referred to by historians as one of the earliest depictions of the Last Supper. It clearly shows all dinner attendees seated on the same side of the table.²

It is plausible that due to the nature of Leonardo’s methods of investigation and inquiry, he may have received word or seen sketches of the actual catacomb paintings. However whether Leonardo was influenced by the catacomb images remains speculation. 

Upon further investigation art history dictates that famous painters before Leonardo’s time who also painted images of the Last Supper chose to place all dinner participants on not just both sides of the table but all sides of the dinner table as well including all on the same side. Interesting. Let's have a look.

Duccio, 1308-11, The Last Supper, tempera on panel, 19 ½ by 21 inches, Museo dell'Opera del Duomo, Siena, Italy

A difficult problem for all painters when composing a dinner scene is the grouping of the figures. Duccio di Buoninsegna was commissioned to paint The Last Supper for the Duomo in Siena, Italy. He chose a reasonably credible one, whereas everyone is seated around the table. 

A drawback of this grouping though is that the faces of some of the followers are only visible in profile. And I might add they are rather emotionless in their expression, something that will evolve over time. Keep Leonardo in mind on this point. 

In Duccio’s painting we are also confronted with three different angles of perspective, the positions of the sitters, the ceiling and the tabletop. It may seem extreme but it is a definitive precursor to perfecting one point perspective in Renaissance art. 

An interesting original device in Duccio’s painting, which became iconic in all future images of the Last Supper theme, is the figure of John reclining on Jesus’ side, as referenced in John 13:23, which was later adopted by many painters including a student of Duccio’s named Giotto di Bondone, Taddeo Gaddi, and Domenico Ghirlandaio, Michelangelo’s teacher. 

 

Giotto di Bondone, The Last Supper, (1320-25), Tempera on wood, 17 by 17 ½ inches, Alte Pinakothek, Munich, Germany

Giotto di Bondone, better known simply as Giotto, advanced the understanding of naturalism in all of Renaissance painting. In his first version of The Last Supper (the other is part of the series of frescoes in the Scrovegni Chapel in Padua, Itlay), he not only applied a more naturalistic approach to the rendering of the robes and positions of the sitters, but also investigated and applied the rules of perspective to the tabletop and the ceiling in a new way. 

And though they differ in terms of their vanishing points, in its entirety it offers a more realistic understanding of perceived space on a flat surface. Consequently looking at paintings became more believable. 

Oddly though his attempts are to create more believable space, in this painting likely due to the fact that it’s a square format, Giotto chose to place the sitters around the entire table, so as none of them would be cut off, not only giving the viewer some of their backs to look at, but they appear somewhat jammed. 

Their overly large halos adding to the effect by crowding them in even more, obstructing our view of some of their faces and therefore their emotions. Space was indeed perceived as real but it seems at the cost of human emotion potentially displayed in his figures. Keep this in mind too as we approach Leonardo's painting.

Taddeo Gaddi, 1340, interior of the Cenacolo di Santa Croce in Florence, Italy,

About twenty years after Giotto, his assistant, Taddeo Gaddi presented his version of the Last Supper in a rather dramatic and entirely new dinner table display. Look at the elongated lowest panel in the photo of the chapel wall above. 

Gaddi was commissioned to paint the Last Supper in 1340, inside the Cenacolo di Santa Croce in Florence, Italy, and due to the chapel’s architecture and based on the fact it was commissioned to exist as part of a cycle of the life of Jesus, Gaddi was limited and at the same time challenged to some degree as to how to present the design of each event. 

Taddeo Gaddi, 1340, The Last Supper, Cenacolo di Santa Croce in Florence, Italy,

He chose to place the Last Supper at the bottom, as you can see in the photo of the interior of the chapel above, because not only was it a low point so to speak in Jesus’ life, but it serves well as a long panel mimicking a dinner table. 

This elongated composition, the first one of its kind in Renaissance art for the Last Supper, affords Jesus not only a spot at the center of the table as in previous attempts but allows all others present, with the exclusion of Judas to sit on the same side of the table as Jesus. 

In this sense Judas is set apart, easily identified wearing black and to add to his lack of integrity, diminished in stature. The convention of seating the diners on one side of the table, so that none of them have their backs to us will set the precedent for future Last Suppers as we shall see.

 

Andrea del Castagno, 1450, Last Supper, Cenacolo di Santa Apollonia, Florence, Italy

During the 15th century, with invention of true perspective, the Last Supper began to be represented independently on an entire wall. In 1450, the tradition of the elongated table top composition continued with Andrea del Castagno’s Last Supper in Cenacolo di Santa Apollonia in Florence, Italy. Again all disciples with the exception of Judas, distinguished once again by darker colors, are seated on the same side of the table. Just a reminder, keep thinking of Leonardo.

Domenico Ghirlandaio, 1480, The Last Supper, Franciscan Church Cenacolo di Ognissanti, Florence, Italy 

Domenico Ghirlandaio who in 1480 painted a very large fresco of The Last Supper in the refectory of the Franciscan Church Cenacolo di Ognissanti in Florence, Italy also employed an elongated composition including the dinner attendees being seated behind a long table opposite the traitor Judas, who once again sits alone. Ghirlandaio uses the existing shape of the room to create extra space. 

The view in the background, the painting of the ceiling in the fresco and the shape of the table all create depth in the flat surface of the wall. The viewer is given the illusion that he looks up towards the painted ceiling. In combination with the optical device of creating views onto the background, the illusion shifts the vanishing point even farther back. 

And then came Leonardo da Vinci's version of The Last Supper.

Leonardo da Vinci, The Last Supper, Santa Maria delle Grazie in Milan, Italy

Historians agree he was familiar with Domenico Ghirlandaio’s work when he painted his version of the Last Supper, more than ten years later. However Leonardo effected a breakthrough with his Last Supper by not only reverting back to the days of Duccio in terms of including Judas fully in the group, but he introduced an entirely new aspect of rendering all of the figures engaged in lively interaction. 

Look at their gestures, outstretched arms, pointing fingers, and obvious expressions. In most other Last Suppers Jesus and the disciples were depicted sitting straight and relatively motionless at the table. Leonardo created a fresh sense of reality in his painting by showing various degrees of anger and shock in the faces of the disciples, upset and agitated by Jesus’ words. 

Leonardo da Vinci, 1495, sketches in sepia ink on paper, for The Last Supper

In other words Leonardo embraced the notions of basic human emotion in his dinner guests. This fundamental concept aside from utilizing successful perspective techniques engaged viewers like never before. By placing all the dinner guests including Judas on the same side of the table da Vinci turned the viewer into an active participant affording them a place at the scene to witness the event without obstructing their view of any disciple's emotion. 

Another technique commonly used was placing halos around all the disciples except Judas. Leonardo however in order to enhance the human emotive content creates a more dramatic and realistic effect by having Judas simply lean back into shadow instead of giving him a halo. 

 "When evening came, he sat down with his twelve disciples, and, while they were at table he said: Believe me, one of you is to betray me. They were full of sorrow, and began to say, one after another, Lord, is it I? He answered, The man who has put his hand into the dish with me will betray me. 

The Son of Man goes on his way, as the scripture foretells of him; but woe upon that man by whom the Son of Man is to be betrayed; better for that man if he had never been born." Matthew, XXVI, 21-24

As with many events in the life of Jesus, what actually happened historically at the Last Supper is not easy to discern. The synoptic gospels, supplemented with other details from the Gospel of John, paint a picture, which has passed vividly into the collective memory of the Christian world. 

However, with the advent of biblical criticism in the nineteenth century, many of the details are now questioned. Different Christian communities were not in agreement over such details as what day of the week the meal was held on, whether it was as a Passover Seder or not, and whether Jesus instituted the Eucharist at this time or much earlier in his ministry. 

With that said, it is clear that in any written format, Gospel, Corinthian or otherwise, the Last Supper is certainly a lot to digest and debate, but regardless of what you believe in visually it remains an absolute feast for the eyes.

Image above on left: Leonardo da Vinci, Self-portrait in red chalk circa 1512 to 1515, Royal Library of Turin 

¹ Eichhorn, Albert, and Gressmann, Hugo, The Lord's Supper in the New Testament, (History of Biblical studies, no. 1.) Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2007.

² Ludwig H. Heydenreich, Leonardo: The Last Supper (New York: The Viking Press, 1974), 32.

Marc Dennis can be emailed here.

 

Creative Footprint: Glow in the Dark Scorpions

"Creative Footprint" encompasses, explores and examines the ways in which we and other creatures leave marks on culture and community. Created by Marc Dennis, artist, professor, Holocaust researcher, and bug chef.

It's that time of year when and where we are inundated with glow in the dark pumpkins, spiders, skulls, bats, and witches. From toys to posters to t-shirts to sneakers, items that glow in the dark have instant popularity among the young and old alike. The attention-grabbing effect is caused by a simple chemical reaction referred to as photoluminescence.

The most common way of making an object glow in the dark is by incorporating a phosphor, a chemical that gives off visible light. When a phosphor is exposed to light, the light energy excites the electrons. 

As electrons absorb and then lose this energy, they too release it as light. Phosphors are found inside television screens, fluorescent light bulbs and computer monitors.

The other night I was taking a walk with my friend Jason Hamilton, you might remember him – I included him in my June post about the inherent design traits of the caddisfly. He’s my biologist friend. 

Anyway he and I were out walking in the crisp Ithaca air and we got to talking about scorpions amongst other things. He said he had a collection of arachnids, mainly scorpions and tarantulas in his lab at Ithaca College.

At about the same time we were talking about scorpions, we walked past a glowing spider in a web displayed prominently in a window. Hmmm, I thought, maybe that’s not too farfetched. Who knows, there just might be a glowing spider in the real world. 

After all, anything is possible in nature. I wrote about happy-faced spiders here in a previous post, which many of my friends said they had never heard of before. Life is, as they say, truly stranger than fiction.

Right then and there Jason informed me that scorpions glow under ultraviolet light. Yeah, that’s right, scorpions glow. Glow in the dark scorpions. How cool is that? Unbelievable. I had to see this for myself. 

I asked if I could have a look at the creatures and the next day we both headed out to the “lab on the hill.” Camera in hand.

Enter: Pandinus Imperator, better known as the Emperor Scorpion or Imperial Scorpion, a species of scorpion native to Africa. The Emperor is one of the largest species of scorpion in the world, with adults averaging about 8 inches in length.

 

They were beautiful and grotesque looking at the same time. In fact scorpions are an excellent example of the subversive potential of beauty. Take a look at these guys and ponder on beauty in correlation to nature’s beneficence.

 

They’re big, nasty, seemingly aggressive and they actually look like they have a bit of attitude. They’re also somewhat solemn and actually kind of mellow. Interesting paradox of form, shape, color and mood. Wonderful in all respects to look at. To ponder. 

 

I’d been lowering the camera inside the aquarium to get some good close-ups for about ten minutes till Jason lowered his hand into their habitat and allowed one to crawl onto his open palm. 

The scorpion positioned itself carefully on his palm and slowly turned around to face me. It displayed an incredible face. All at once gentle and ominous. Mysterious.

  

Emperor scorpions are typically black in overall coloration, but brownish and greenish colored specimens are not uncommon. Both males and females possess large, thick, granular pedipalpal chelae (claws) with a sparse covering of sensory setae (hairs). 

 

Their large claws are capable of delivering painful attacks that may break the surface of the skin. In the majority of specimens, the telson (stinger) is brownish to brownish-red in coloration with sparse setae on the external surface.

 

Although most are hesitant to sting, all are capable of delivering multiple stings when annoyed. However, most specimens will choose to rely on their powerful claws to defend against perceived threats. Their life span usually ranges from 5–8 years in captivity, but perhaps shorter in the wild. And then Jason broke out the black light and shone it on the scorpions. Showtime!

 

Wonderfully eerie. But what's really cool is that it is established that nearly all species of scorpions fluoresce under UV light. Fluorescence is the emission of visible light by a substance that has absorbed light of a differing, usually invisible, wavelength. 

Fluorescence happens when a fraction of the light illuminating an object is absorbed and then re-emitted as a different color, a two-step process that is necessarily inefficient. In the human visual environment of white daylight, nearly all fluorescent signals get lost.

 

What causes scorpions to fluoresce is that the material in their exoskeleton absorbs the UV wavelengths and retransmits it as visible light, which we, as humans see as the “glow.”

 

Jaekelopterus rhenaniae, a 390-million-year-old specimen of ancient sea scorpion

 The colonization of the land by Scorpionidae began after the Ordovician Silurian extinction events (about 450 million years ago). A postulate for at least one of these extinction events, posted on Arachnoboards.com is the cosmological gamma ray burst, an effect of which would be to destroy a large percentage of earth’s protective ozone layer resulting in a massive increase in dangerous UV light intensity. 

This speaks of an unintended consequence of the chemistry of the scorpion cuticle that serves no particular purpose. This speaks to function - not adaption. 

 

With that said, many also believe in the theory that the fluorescence of Scorpionidae evolved as camouflage, having once had the ability to fluoresce a kind of bluish green because of their habitat in shallow waters. And today their ability to fluoresce is nothing more than a remnant of their former aquatic existence. 

This again also speaks to adaptation – not function. Interesting to ponder. How many more "remnants" of our past speak of adaptation as opposed to function?

 

No matter how we look at it or why we think they have this ability, it is fairly widely accepted that in one way or another, their ability to fluoresce is a direct link to their past. Staring at the scorpion definitely made me feel closer to our past – closer to another time in our planet’s history. 

It made me wonder about how we as well as many other creatures evolved. I wondered about adaptation as opposed to function. And then it was back to the daily grind. Painting, teaching, painting, teaching, parenting, parenting and more parenting.

I hadn’t thought about the scorpions and their ability to “glow” for a week or so and then the other morning as I sat on the couch with my daughter and watched TV with her, it came back to me. It was a pleasant sunny Saturday morning. Birds merrily chirping outside the windows eating heartily at the feeders.

 

Huddled comfortably on the couch, window shades open, early light streaming in, delighting in the giddy laughter of my daughter, the thought of scorpions came back to me. Yeah kind of weird I'd be thinking of scorpions when it was kind of like a Disneyesque morning. 

You'd think I'd have bird songs and fat faced crickets with big feet and tiny umbrellas leaping in and out of my brain and fairies and princesses dancing on my skull, but scorps took center stage. And here's why...

 

We were watching a program called Dinosaur Train, a lively colorful animated show loaded with adolescent dinosaurs and lots of high pitched voices – easily managing to get Zayla’s attention. Mine too actually. 

Each half-hour episode includes two 11-minute animated segments, along with a live action segment that Scott Sampson, or as he is known on the show, Dr. Scott, interacts with kids during these segments. 

 

An image of an animated stegosaurus appeared on the screen and Dr. Scott asked “why does the stegosaurus have plates along its back?” He continued with, “could it have something to do with cooling itself in the hot afternoon sun?” At this moment, a dual image appeared on the screen. On the right was the stegosaurus and on the left was an African elephant. 

 

Clearly he was inferring to the hypothesis that maybe, just maybe a stegosaurus uses its back plates much in the manner as does an elephant, by flapping its large ears to cool itself. He asked, “could it be that a stegosaurus uses its plates much in the manner an African elephant does?”

He continued even further – and this is the part that blew me away, “or kids, is it merely a coincidence and a stegosaurus’ plates don’t really have any use at all?” I took that to mean that the plates spoke to adaptation - not function. Amazing, here the notion of adaptation - not function, rose its curious head again.

 

After all, it's fun to imagine what the plates are for. And then again maybe we don’t need to know what a stegosaurus’ plates are for at all. I mean, is there always a reason for everything in nature? I certainly don’t believe so. We try awfully hard to place meaning and in particular define and explain the existence of just about everything. 

Science seems too rigid in its eagerness to make sense of everything. I guess in some grand respect that's the job of science. But I think it's also fair to say that perhaps scientists simply don't play enough. Play defined us as children. What happens to it during adulthood? Where is it in scientific exploration? 

There's certainly plenty of play in art making. There's also lots of crossover between art and science. It's important if not critical to incorporate the notions of play into our daily thoughts on why things are the way they are and to leave some things unanswered.

The fact of the matter is that there are likely more things than not that we will never know the reasons for. Take Halloween for example. Adaptation or function? Or just plain wtf? Your guess is as good as mine. 

 

 

 

 

Happy Halloween.

Marc Dennis can be contacted here. 

Creative Footprint: The Swastika Has Hit The Fan

"Creative Footprint" encompasses, explores and examines the ways in which we and other creatures leave marks on culture and community. Created by Marc Dennis, artist, professor, Holocaust researcher, and bug chef.

In 2005, the U.S. Navy announced that a barracks complex at its Coronado Island base in Southern California will undergo more than half a million dollars in renovations because it resembles a swastika from the air. 

After aerial images on Google Earth revealed the architectural pattern a few years back, and online forums buzzed like crazy with heated discussions about the building, hundreds of news organizations picked up on it, including CNN, posted in the video below. The swastika no doubt had indeed hit the world wide fan. 

Boley Toy Corporation based in California, in the early 90's marketed what can be argued I suppose as a badly executed design for a children’s toy called “Cool Toys Racing Game.” An image of the game is on the left.

                     

Regent Products, a toy company based out of Chicago, around the same time, offered yet another badly executed design for a children’s toy called “Speed Game.” It can be seen posted on the above right. Two swastika infused toy designs about racing. Hmm...maybe I missed something in all my years of researching the Holocaust about the swastika representing speed. 

Zara Fashion recently manufactured handbags decorated with swastikas; intertwined with designs of embroidered bicycles and flowers and other non-descript elements. The interesting thing about the bag design is that it harkens to some degree to the history of the swastika as an ancient symbol. 

A Zara spokesman said: "We did not realize Swastikas appeared on some of these bags, the swastika was not on the bag which was sourced by us after being supplied by an external producer. "Of course we apologize to anyone who was offended by the bag, and we will be withdrawing it from all our stores."

Though the image of a swastika on a designer bag or as a toy design may prove to be problematic and evoke emotional reaction its usages throughout time have indeed been complex, its meanings diverse, and its visual presentations varied. 

But let's face it, the swastika simply isn't the kind of symbol that can be easily modified, interpreted or re-appropriated. Let's have a look at its history and you be the judge.

Until the Nazis used this symbol, the swastika was used by many cultures throughout the past 3,000 years to represent life, sun, power, strength, and good luck. The word “swastika” comes from the Sanskrit suastika - “su” meaning “good,” “asti” meaning “to be,” and “ka” as a suffix.

Bowl with swastika painted on the side in the collection of The Archeological Museum in Athens, Greece

The swastika predates the ancient Egyptian symbol, the Ankh. One of the earliest known swastikas appears on a pottery bowl, which was found in ancient Samarra (ancient Baghdad) and dates to about 4000 BCE. Swastikas have been found on many artifacts such as pottery and coins dating from ancient Troy. 

 

It has been seen on terracotta articles as well as ancient vases of Greece, Cyprus, Crete and Rhodes. It was a favorite symbol on the coins of ancient Greece and India. Swastikas were also found engraved on funeral urns that have been dug up in northern Italy.

All throughout history, the image of the swastika could be found in many cultures around the world, including in China, Japan, India, America and southern Europe. 

By the Middle Ages, the swastika was a well known, if not commonly used, symbol but was called by many different names in different countries.

In China it was the “wan,” in England, a “fylfot,” in Germany, a “hakenkreuz,” in Greece it was known by two names, “tetraskelion” and “gammadion” and in India, the “swastika." 

The image on the left above is called an "ayagaptha" found in this case as a carving on the interior of a temple in Mathura, India. 

Swastikas have been discovered at several locations as well in the New World. They were found in monumental remains of the primitive Mexicans and Peruvians and on objects exhumed from prehistoric burial mounds within the limits of the USA. 

Though it is not known for exactly how long, Native Americans both from southwestern and northeastern woodland tribes also had long used the symbol of the swastika. 

Even as late as the early 1900’s Native American sports teams used the swastika as their logo. 

Early in the twentieth century the swastika was still a symbol with positive connotations. The swastika was also a common decoration that often adorned cigarette cases, postcards, coins, poker chips, cards, and buildings.

Poker chips made by the United States Playing Card Company in Cincinnati, OH 

Postcard, copyright 1907 by E. Phillips, a U.S. card publisher

A postcard sent from the town of Swastika, Canada, dated June 1910

The town in Ontario  was named 'Swastika' after a lucky Gold strike in 1911. On a related note, Swastika, New York, located near the Adirondack Park Preserve in the northeast corner of the state, is adjacent to "Swastika Road." 

 The public access area of Fish Lake near Windom, Minnesota is named Swastika Beach. Swastika Park is also the name of a housing subdivision in Miami, Florida, created in 1917.  An upscale subdivision in Denver is named "Swastika Acres." Its name has been traced to the Denver Swastika Land Company, founded in 1908. 

 Pacific System Homes surfboards' first label or insignia was a swastika. This was before WWII and Hitler. The swastika at the time was viewed as a symbol in Eastern religions of peace & prosperity.  

 In the early part of 1940, because of the perverted wide spread use of the swastika, Pacific System Homes Surfboards changed their swastika label to a more popular 'Waikiki Surfboards."

In 1925, Coca-Cola made a lucky watch fob in the shape of a swastika with right-facing arms and the slogan, "Drink Coca Cola five cents in bottles."  During War World I, the swastika could even be found on the shoulder patches of the American pilots of the 45th Division that fought for the Allied forces before America's entry into the war. Below is the swastika design found on the patches of the airmen. 

In ancient times, the direction of the swastika was interchangeable. Some cultures in the past however had differentiated between the clockwise "swastika" and the counter-clockwise "sauvastikaIn." 

These cultures claimed the swastika symbolized health and life while the sauvastika took on a mystical meaning of bad-luck or misfortune, which brings us to the symbol of Nazism. Nazi Germany’s use of it has an interesting history. 

The initial association that the symbol seems to have had was that of extreme nationalism, but not necessarily associated with the Nazi Party. In the 1800s, countries around Germany were growing much larger, forming empires; yet Germany was not a unified country until 1871. 

To counter the feeling of vulnerability and the stigma of being such a new unified country, German nationalists in the mid-nineteenth century began to use the swastika, because it had ancient Aryan/Indian origins, to represent a long Germanic/Aryan history. By the end of the nineteenth century, the swastika could be found prominently displayed on nationalist German periodicals. 

In the beginning of the twentieth century, the swastika was a common symbol of German nationalism and could be found in a multitude of places. 

The emblem of the Thule Society, a German occultist and “völkish” group in Munich, named after a mythical northern country from Greek legend, was a swastika as seen pictured in the image on the left. 

By 1912, the swastika was seen in use by many “völkish” groups, and the “völkish” thought began to take on an anti-Semitic cast. 

It was popular enough that the firm of Ecklöh began manufacturing badges, tie pins, buckles, and other such artifacts incorporating the device to be sold to German citizens to display their honor and loyalty to Germany.

It was revived dramatically by Hitler when he made it the national emblem of Nazi Germany. He believed that this ancient Aryan sign would bring prosperity and victory. 

On August 7, 1920, at the Salzburg Congress, the swastika encircled against a solid colored backdrop became the official emblem of the Nazi Party. 

In Mein Kampf, Hitler described the Nazis’ new flag: "In red we see the social idea of the movement, in white the nationalistic idea, in the swastika the mission of the struggle for the victory of the Aryan man, and which as such always has been and always will be anti-Semitic.” 

According to historians, there are two ways of examining the swastika and its history as a symbol, by viewing the meanings of its two variations -- the clockwise, or otherwise Nazi version of the swastika means hate and death, while the counter-clockwise version, or otherwise ancient multi-cultured symbol, means life and good-luck. 

It really isn't all that simple though. You just can't use a swastika say on your vehicle's bumper or post one on the front stoop of your brownstone, slap one on the side of your bike helmet,  or tattoo one on your arm thinking people are going to interpret it as a symbol of ancient meaning, i.e., of luck and prosperity. The swastika as a symbol is seriously tainted. Big time. 

As an educator and artist, I certainly understand the need for educating and informing others as to its ancient meaning in an attempt to explain why the swastika, in a variety of forms exists in architecture, art, clothing, sports teams logos, as in the case of the Canadian ladies hockey team, "The Edmonton Swastikas," pictured above, or on the chest of a Buddhist statue in modern day Tibet, a country known for promoting peace. These are after all, swastikas that pre-date Nazism.

But to use it anew as a contemporary symbol equals nothing less than emotional controversy. With the internet at our fingertips, the swastika rides a mighty big virtual wave as does its potential to  harm. 

Google: "Swastika" and you'll see what I mean. Granted, there are many sites defending its origin as a peaceful symbol and in so many ways trying to convince us it's ok to continue using it, whether it's clock-wise or counter clock-wise. 

The swastika was used in ancient times and it's fine to study its historical context and subsequent meanings but to revive it for the sake of its ancient history, well, I just have to say, in and of itself that's just not a very productive stance. Nor I might add is it a noble cause. Here's why.

There are other sites, in fact thousands upon thousands of them, that do indeed continue to use the swastika - from the Nazi perspective - as an emblem of hate, serving thusly as a continuum of intolerance, anti-semitism, and racism. Neo-Nazism and its own demented history clearly claim the swastika as their own as seen in the two examples posted below. 

Curtis Allgier, a neo-Nazi from Kansas, currently an inmate in Utah has his face tattooed with many swastikas. I actually find it hard to understand how and why any tattoo parlor personnel would grant this guy so much "hate" ink to begin with. Freedom of expression? Maybe he fell asleep on a Sharpie.

Another neo-Nazi, pictured above, from behind, protesting outside the Holocaust Museum in Skokie, IL. For those of you who may not remember, Skokie, once home to thousands of Holocaust survivors, garnered international attention in the 1970s when neo-Nazis threatened to march in the streets.

The swastika in all its twisted nature as a symbol in contemporary culture, is not always for educational or informative purposes for a productive means, but rather to promote fascist ideologies, which as all educated individuals know, inevitably leads to destruction. The swastika today is regarded as a symbol of the destruction of life rather than its affirmation. Symbols are instruments of thought. And thoughts amount to actions, which are always based on intentions.

A building designed unintentionally to look like a swastika from above is tolerable. it doesn't bother me; why should it? The architect's intentions were productive or at least meant to do good. In fact an architect friend of mine said something to the effects that the "swastika" design is more energy efficient allowing for more light to travel through the space(s). 

On the other hand, an image of a swastika scrawled on the inside of a seat on the Long Island Rail Road is non productive. It's harsh. It's offensive. It's passive aggressive. It's violent. It's cowardly. It carries negative and potentially hurtful connotations.  It's just plain wrong. 

It's about as stupid as this tattoo of "Southern Justice." I mean, c'mon, why? This is just going to provoke anger, possibly violence. No one needs to see it. It doesn't do anyone any good. How can anyone really feel this much pride in hating? 

I've been studying the Holocaust for over ten years and have just come around to understanding to a great degree how Germany and occupied countries could become an industrialized unified state sponsored form of hatred, but I still find it hard to understand how an individual has it in them to just be so insensitive and intolerant. To anyone for any reason. 

So why do it? Why choose to get a hangman's noose tattooed on your body; why choose to draw a swastika on a train seat? Why choose to be that insensitive? Why hate? I know, I know it's easier to hate than to express care or tolerance. 

So, what is it? Intentions. It all comes down to intentions. Intentions matter. In almost everything we do, our intentions provide us with a significant component to our own identity. 

The swastika has its own identity and no matter its history, no matter the varying schools of thought surrounding its meaning and potential resurgence as a positive emblem, it will always remain a very graphic reminder of anti-Semitism, hatred and violence. The swastika was doomed since the Nazis adopted it, and I say, may it rest in...uh, er... peace?

Marc Dennis can be reached here.

Creative Footprint: Improvisational performing artist, writer, and founder of Alligator Mouth Improv Rhonda Morton

"Creative Footprint" encompasses a series of dialogues with creative people and like-minded art enthusiasts exploring and examining the ways in which we leave our mark on culture and community. Created by Marc Dennis, artist and professor at Elmira College.

My guest: Rhonda Morton

Profession: Improvisational performing artist, writer, facilitator

Current Residence: Corning, NY

Education/Training: BA in English and Philosophy from Muskingum College, 1980, and lots and lots of classes, workshops, certification programs in various forms of improvisational performance

Visit Rhonda's website here

Marc: Hi Rhonda, thanks a lot for taking the time to be a part of my project. Ok basic stuff first -- Where were you born, where did you grow up and how did you arrive in the region and ultimately decide to stay in upstate New York?

Rhonda: I was born in Oakland, CA, and lived in Japan, San Diego, Maryland, Florida, New Jersey, Connecticut, and Ohio. I was a Navy brat and lived in more houses than I was years old by the time I was 20. I never went to the same school for more than a year until high school. 

While in college, I got married at 20, and moved to the Corning area the day after graduation to caretake an old farmhouse in Hornby, sight unseen. After a couple of years, my husband at the time – I’ve been divorced for 16 years, and I had saved enough to buy a house just off the river between Corning and Big Flats. Within another year or so, my son was born, and three years later, my daughter. And suddenly I had roots for the first time in my life. 

Marc: Yeah, yeah, I know what you mean. My family moved around a lot too during my childhood and it’s a great feeling to finally have a sense of place. It’s also necessary to have good friends.

Rhonda: I made friends who are more like siblings than my real brother and sister. I love the fact that I have deep connections that go back decades with so many people in this small town. I feel like I’ve been able to make a difference, to create community. That’s why I initially stayed. 

Marc: Again, I know what you mean – community is critical. Community I believe is everything; it’s about connecting the dots – kind of why I created this interview project. How did all the changes you speak of affect your creative process?

Rhonda: At the same time, moving so many times in my childhood, I learned to reinvent myself over and over, and I developed the need for change and challenge. When my kids were little, I remember buying a t-shirt that said, “I don’t need a vacation, I need an adventure.” This community – of Corning, as conservative as one might imagine it would be, has allowed me to continue that process of reinvention, by accepting, and even embracing each iteration. 

  Peter Chwazik / photo: Jeff Richards / Star Gazette

But also, the year my youngest went to college, I spent five weeks in Berkeley, CA, and have been spending some part of every winter there for the past five years. I need that big infusion of adventure, the rich variety of ideas and expansive inventiveness offered by a big liberal artistic city, and the opportunity to develop my craft in a place that is arguably the Mecca of improvisation in the US. If I hadn't fallen in love with my soul mate and creative partner, Peter Chwazik, three years ago in Corning, I might have moved to California fulltime by now. Or if we hadn’t been able to find the other current members of the ensemble, we might have moved there together. But so far, we’re still making it work in Corning!

Marc: Nice. Let’s talk about your collaborative project, "Alligator Mouth Improv." I’m familiar with it and I gotta tell ya, it’s a brilliant combination of prose, performance and art. For those who aren’t familiar, please explain what it is you do and why?

Rhonda: Alligator Mouth Improv is a multi-disciplinary improvisational ensemble I created in 2005.  It is comprised of three other performers: Peter Chwazik, Amber Espar, and Sean Lukasik. Drawing on theater, movement, vocals, music, storytelling, and video, and using audience stories, themes and ideas as inspiration, we offer one-of-a-kind performances created in the moment. 

When we go out on stage, we know the set of guidelines, or “forms,” within which the improvisation will take place, but other than that, everything is generated right there, often from a word called to us just as the piece starts that acts as our jumping-off place. We reach inside ourselves to instantly bring out a sound, a movement, a word, and where we take it can range from profoundly moving to laugh-out-loud funny

Marc: You mentioned the word “stage;” is this a general term for a place to perform, say like a sidewalk, or living room, etc, or do you actually need a stage?

Rhonda: We have a passion for performing in non-arts venues where passersby can serendipitously participate in an art experience. For instance, in 2009, we will open the “Performance Deli: Art Made to Order” in an empty storefront location in Corning for a week or a month, depending on the outcome of some grant applications currently being reviewed. Every day we will “open for business” and anyone will be able to walk in off the street and order an instant performance from a menu of “forms.” This structure breaks down the traditional rarified roles of performer and audience member, and opens untold opportunities for both.

Marc: That sounds like a project with an impact. How cool to involve those who wake up on that particular morning totally unsuspecting of being in a performance piece.

Rhonda: We are committed to doing residencies in educational and community settings where we can have a larger impact over time too. In 2007, we did a residency with the students at Corning Community College. We took kids who had maybe never even been on a stage before, and we taught them the skills of improvisation. Then we produced a four-day run where the professionals from AMI performed alongside the students. It was educational for all of us. 

Rhonda: And we are going to do a similar project with kids from the Corning-Painted Post School District this summer. We also help work groups improve their organizations through the power of improvisation and the expressive arts. What we do is like a ropes course without the bugs. Clients have ranged from Corning Incorporated to the Trust Department of Chemung Canal Trust Company to Planned Parenthood of the Southern Finger Lakes.

Marc: I saw Alligator Mouth Improv at the Planned Parenthood of the Southern Finger Lakes 2008 Gala and was very impressed. Your performance was passionate, almost kind of electric. It was a good fit too I thought with the large and diversified audience of whom I can only presume may never have seen such a performance piece quite like it. Why do you do what you do? Why are you part of an improvisational group?

Rhonda: Why do we do this? Well, improvisation as an art form is not about showing what you can do, it's about revealing your truth in each unfolding moment. An improvised performance, because of it inherent risk and deep levels of authenticity, provides an immediacy and intimacy that are extremely rewarding for the performers and engaging for an audience. It connects us all to each other. We're not merely entertainers; we seek some level of enlightenment to come from what we do. 

We want “the divine” to show up at some point—that moment where we transcend ourselves and become a conduit for something greater to come through us and into the audience and then back around again. Our motto is, “Come with no expectations. Leave with a greater sense of what’s possible.” That’s what we are always striving for. 

Marc: I like that motto -- no expectations, in a sense equals greater possibilities. And I guess from possibilities comes ideas. How do you choose which ideas to pursue? Do you have regular meetings with your collaborators to discuss your ideas?

Rhonda: As artistic director, my vision is central to all our productions, and I pretty much decide which thematic ideas to pursue in a project or performance. I lay out who will be in what pieces, and the sequence of the pieces. However, within that overarching theme, I crave the juiciness that comes from collaboration. When we are creating in the moment together, there’s this collective consciousness that prevails over any of our individual ideas. 

Also, most new forms are developed and refined together based on the group consensus of what works best. It’s usually pretty obvious because it just clicks when it’s right. Or we watch ourselves on videotape and see where a form needs to be adjusted to work better from the audience’s perspective. We also work with a dramaturge to provide feedback from that outside eye. And because we’re all experiential learners, we usually find our way by doing rather than discussing. 

Answering the question from a more practical perspective, yes, we do meet regularly. The three of us who live in Corning rehearse weekly and also just hang out socially fairly regularly. Then when our out-of-towner comes in, we all make space in our calendars to get into the studio for long stretches every day. That’s heaven for all of us.

Marc: “Heaven for all of us,” that’s a very telling way of putting it, of commenting on what it’s like being together and rehearsing. Making art, such as painting, is a very isolating experience, what's it like being part of a collaborative improvisational project? Do you think there are unconscious reasons why you're part of a collaborative as opposed say to being a painter or writer?

 

Rhonda: I am, at heart, a loner. I love and crave alone time and solitude feeds my creative process. Even though I have a collective to work with, I still spend hours in the studio all by myself just messing around and seeing what comes. I started my creative career as a poet, then just kept adding elements to my readings like singing, moving, theatrical characters and improvisation. 

In a way, the other performers are like another element—they are a way to make my individual work more interesting for me and stronger as a performance.  And the adage about being greater than the sum of our parts definitely applies here – I simply can’t do three-part harmony all by myself. I can’t do Contact Improv alone. I can’t create one-sided dialogue. It would be like a painter moving his/her brush against the air—no canvas, no painting, no art.

Marc: What’s “Contact Improv?”

Rhonda: Contact Improvisation is a form of dance where the main emphasis is on the point of contact between two or more bodies.  It’s a dance of physics—fulcrums, levers, weight exchanges, lifts, momentum and inertia. It’s like the dancers are both the jungle gym and the kids playing on it. And to me, it’s like a movement meditation because you have to be totally present in the moment, ready for your partner(s) to do anything. It is hard to explain properly, but we have two videos on the website of Contact Improv pieces, and a segment from a talkback session where we talk about Contact Improv’s impact on an audience. It is very intimate and requires a huge amount of trust. 

Insomuch as performers are always providing a vicarious experience for the audience, sometimes people find it a little scary to watch. People can go to my site and watch "Risking Reciprocity” for a pure instance of Contact Improv, or “Connective Conversation” for a form we created that combines CI with spoken word. And you can hear what the audience and performers had to say about it in the “Connective Conversation Talkback.”

 

Marc: What is your biggest challenge personally as it pertains to being part of a collaborative improvisational project?

Rhonda: Well, until last fall, I would have had to say that not having a shared vision of what we could be together would have been the biggest challenge. I’ve been working for five years without that because the particular individuals I had in the ensemble in the past just weren’t ready, willing or able to sign on to what I wanted us to be. But with this particular foursome, I’m much closer to that.  Once you have a clear and shared intention, collaboration is a pure joy and totally satisfying.  

Marc: How would you rate your experience as an artist thus far in the upstate region? Do you get the respect you feel you deserve? Do you want more from your audiences? And if so what would you like to say to address your concerns, if in fact that is the case, and if not we can move on.

Rhonda: I’ve felt very nurtured and respected by those who regularly attend our performances, other artists, and the staff at The Arts of the Southern Finger Lakes. And I’ve been fortunate to receive financial support via the New York Foundation for the Arts and the New York State Council on the Arts—two organizations who fund New York State residents only. I am grateful to our audiences – those who assemble in theatres to see us as well as those who come upon us in non-arts venues. I’m a community artist, interested in how my art can affect individuals, who in turn shape the community. If I didn’t feel like my audience respected me, I’d have to ask: “Is it because I don’t respect my audience? 

Marc: True. Respecting one’s audience is good advice. When did you first want to be an artist, or when did you first realize you were one? What was your training in the arts?

Rhonda: My first memory of creating art is of painting the sidewalk with a Popsicle stick dipped in water. That early experience of riding the edge of immediacy as it evaporates into the next moment epitomizes what draws me to improvisation. But it wasn’t until my early 30s that I began to see myself as an artist; and at that point, I only identified myself as a poet. 

My training in the arts has been quite idiosyncratic. I searched out teachers whenever my curiosity or interest led me to learn something, or I stumbled upon just the right experience at the right time. Sometimes I’d take a class or two, and on a few occasions I dove in and really immersed myself in a discipline or particular philosophy.

Marc: Searching out teachers, stumbling on the right experience and putting yourself in a position for things to happen – sounds like you trust in your intuition and the beauty of chance encounters. You’re like a born performer!

Rhonda: About ten years ago, I took a Voice and Movement class with Bonnie McCubbin that sparked my love of improvisation. I’ve studied vocal improvisation extensively with jazz vocalist and performer extraordinaire Rhiannon. And I became a certified leader of InterPlay, an improvisation-based and body-centered approach to personal and organizational effectiveness practiced around the world. Action Theatre, founded by Ruth Zaporah, is another major influence in my work. Martin Keogh taught me most of what I know about Contact Improvisation. 

And I took classical voice lessons from Sarah Turner Williams at 171 Cedar Arts Center in Corning for years. Now, I learn from working with the ensemble or by myself or with other performers in Berkeley, by just going in the studio and using it like a laboratory to conduct independent studies and experiments.  And Peter, a life-long professional musician, is giving me lessons at the piano—helping me train my ear. And my ongoing discussions with him about performance, improvisation, and the nature and spirit of art-making, feed me immeasurably.

Marc: That’s quite a diversified learning experience! You are by nature a very energized, enthusiastic and passionate individual, eager it seems to want to work most of the time at your craft. What happens when you experience blocks; what are some of the ways you resolve them?

Rhonda: Fatigue and feeling disconnected from the Divine are the biggest sources of creative blocks for me. If I’m well-rested and remember that I’m made of star dust and Consciousness, I’m infinitely generative.

Marc: You’ve mentioned the word “Divine” twice so far. I’m curious as to whether or not the term “Divine” you chose to use has to do with God in the traditional Judeo Christian sense or if it applies to another higher power or state of being. Do you practice a faith and if so does it nurture you creatively?

Rhonda: I was raised a Methodist, which gave me a love of singing in community, but otherwise mostly confused me about the nature of God. I don’t find “God” in churches. Not that it doesn’t exist there, just that I can’t access it in that setting. Instead, I sweat my prayers. I guess I’m part Sufi, part Mystic, part Wolf, and Tree, and Dolphin-Worshipper. 

What do I believe? I believe that there is something I experience as pure Consciousness and Love and it connects me to everything.  It is a clear channel to The Source – no static, no muddiness, nothing murky. Just that clear pure note that sounds and you are unhinged, the space between your molecules expands to fill with love and light, and pure Being. 

Marc: Wow, poetic stuff Rhonda, all at once a grounded and attainable perspective, and also if I may, kind of confusing, actually almost too far out there maybe to grasp, yet I have the funny feeling my readers are understanding what you’re saying on their own terms. After all I suppose we all want that “clear channel” to a “Source.”

Rhonda: Your readers are either nodding and saying, “Yes! Yes! I know what you mean!” or they are tilting their heads in confusion, like I’m speaking in a foreign language, and bending back to whatever tome tells them what God is. So, yes, my faith-practicing is my art-making and vice versa. Art is the way for me.  Letting some force take over the pen, the voice, the body, the story unraveling from my mouth – that’s how I commune with God, that’s how I touch the Divine. 

Mine is a Jazz God – the main melody line is do unto others, be nice, there is no such thing as an enemy, protect the earth, lean into your fears, forgive, love above all else, believe it is possible to walk on water and make good manifest. And then there is the improvising, the moment-to-moment decision-making that keeps me aligned and in integrity with what I value.  I feel I am co-creating my life with God.

Marc: “Be nice” -- that should be everyone’s mantra. Let’s shift gears; what is one of the biggest mistakes you've made as an artist?

Rhonda: I don’t really believe there are mistakes in the creative process – every choice leads to limitless other choices.

Marc: What do you want people to walk away with when they experience your work?

Rhonda: As I mentioned earlier, Alligator Mouth Improv’s motto is “Come with no expectations. Leave with a greater sense of what’s possible.” A corollary to that is “Whatever you believe is possible, is possible. Whatever you believe is impossible, is impossible.” I’m always inviting myself and others to see how we may be limiting ourselves, or to see how a new perspective or a different angle changes everything we thought we knew. Improvisation is all about being an open channel for potential to manifest. 

Marc: I guess one could look at life as one big improvisational experience. How would you define success for an artist in your line of work, as one involved in improvisation?

Rhonda: Working with a talented, committed and passionate group of people on a shared vision of excellence, making a difference in the world, and getting paid for it.

Marc: I agree! Working with talented, committed and passionate like-minded people is indeed critical to success as is making a difference in the world. How do you know you’ve made a difference in the world? Is there a means, say a kind of creative yardstick by which you and your partners are able to measure it? Is there a barometer?

Rhonda Morton and Amber Espar of Alligator Mouth Improv visiting 

Cohen Elementary School in the Elmira Heights School District.

Rhonda: For me, I have already made enough of a difference to die satisfied. I know that I have changed lives, through GirlSmarts, a series of workshops I created to help teenage girls use the arts to understand who they are and what they want from their lives; "Getting Juicy" workshops for adults, the residencies Alligator Mouth has done with college and high school students, and the poetry writing and performing workshops I have offered in the region.

For me, all of these are opportunities to soften the hardened places, put light in the dark, love what we’ve banished to the dungeon, set free whatever wild thing we’ve chained. I remind people that happiness is their birthright, darkness is a place to explore, what is lost can be found, what is found can be set free, it’s okay to ask for what you want, forgive yourself for EVERYTHING, and get on with being useful in the world. 

Of course, all of that also under-girds our performances, and it is always my hope that people take that away from seeing Alligator Mouth Improv. But I don’t often get to see the transformation, the change in trajectory of a person’s life. But in the longer-term teaching and residency end of what I do and what Alligator Mouth does, the change is visible and palpable, and so very rewarding.

Marc: Wow, beautiful response – you are full of positive energy! Allow me to take advantage of all this positive energy and toss in the subject of today’s economy. You answered a previous question by equating success to some extent with “getting paid for it,” and with that, I’d like to talk about the volatile nature of our current economy and its relationship or interconnectedness to art and related creative endeavors. How has the economy affected you, your creative practices and the Improv group as a whole?

Rhonda: The economic tailspin has not affected me personally or spiritually. Perhaps it is because I’ve been self-employed all my life and haven’t bought into the idea that a corporation, a government, a system of some kind is going to protect me or provide for me. I don’t have any credit card debt. I’ll own my house in seven years. I live within my means, buy my own health insurance, contribute to my retirement account, save for a rainy day, drive a small fuel-efficient car, live in a modest house that’s full of original art, and grow a lovely vegetable and fruit garden. 

So I haven’t had my hopes dashed, or trusts betrayed by the folks on Wall Street and in corporate boardrooms who have been using any means possible to amass a bunch of stuff to fend off the certainty of death. I know that might sound a little “out there,” but so be it. I actually think that the house of cards we had been building needed to come down; it obviously wasn’t sustainable. 

I’m sorry that our world isn’t more just, so that the people most responsible for the mess have to clean it up and suffer the consequences. I’m sorry that it is the least among us who are the hardest hit. But at the same time, as a society, having the rug pulled out from under our feet can be good.

Marc: I think I understand your comment but as a point of clarification could you explain why you think "having the rug pulled out from under our feet can be good?"

Rhonda: It makes us confront whatever has us in its chains, allows us to recalibrate, to ask, “Just what IS important?” And if you are lucky, it won’t be your BMW. It won’t be your place at the lake, or your seventh mansion. It will be the light in your true love’s eyes. The connection you have with your family and friends and neighbors who reach out and help each other in new ways. 

“Hard times” are often “spiritual times,” when you are given a new opportunity to connect to your better self, to what you truly value. And because art is a conduit to the soul, to what we value, it becomes even more valuable in times like this.

Marc: And how does your response “getting paid for it” fit in? How is success defined by financial reward?

Rhonda: Art is beyond money, and yet money is the easiest way we’ve figured out how to measure value. So, as an artist, I hope to be compensated monetarily for what I do, because then I can do more of it and less of something else that provides me an income. So part of my time is spent convincing my audience, my supporters, the grant panelists, or whomever, to give me money for what I do, and if everyone is walking around feeling like money is scarce, then that job is harder and more time-consuming, so in that way, the economic situation has affected my day-to-day life as an artist. But even if I never made a cent, I’d have to make art anyway. 

Marc: Right on. Making art no matter what, like an impulse, like a behavorial propensity. People make art everywhere, all over the world. What regional exhibits have had the most influential effect on you? And why?

Rhonda: I loved the years when the Arnot Art Museum did the Re-Presenting Representation shows. I would go there and pick out half a dozen works to write from. I wept when I saw Jerome Witkin's room-sized paintings depicting the Holocaust. I once took a catnap on the floor next to a sculpture created by Eric Goulder. I have dozens of poems, and a whole chapbook, Breathing In, Breathing Out, FootHills Publishing, 2001, based on being inspired by other forms of art. 

As a performing artist, I’ve also been inspired by performances, many of them at 171 Cedar Arts, or at the old court house in Corning. When Lois Welk was running the dance and performance arts series, she brought in some breathtaking performers; David Dorfman, Toots Thielemans, Kenny Werner, Kurt Elling, Avila Weeks, and Lois herself. Very inspirational. 

More recently, I think Ann Welles is doing a terrific job with the gallery at 171 and her other projects. I loved Denny Smith’s show at 171. And Jan Kather, Tom Oberg, Tedd Arnold and the crew at Rural Research Labs in Elmira are always inspiring to me. I love how they seem to create art for art’s sake—not to sell it or to get into some big-name gallery, but just because they HAVE TO MAKE ART, and often with an eye toward social or cultural commentary. They make me look at the world anew. And of course, when Marty Poole lets his imagination have free rein, his paintings stop me cold and then light me on fire.

Marc: Yeah I agree lots of good things are happening in this region. Some of the people you name will be a part of my Creative Footprint project in the near future. I interviewed Tedd already and it was a hoot. Everyone has stories and lots of interesting things to say about the Southern Tier. Let’s talk more about our region. What was your most recent pleasurable visual experience in upstate New York?

Rhonda: Driving on Route 17 through Big Flats at sunset – it’s always stunning. The tangerine giving way to rose and lime and bright blue. 

Marc: I know exactly what you mean. Sometimes when I‘m driving on back roads or on Route 13 or 352, I follow the sun’s glow and I often think if only for a moment that I’m the only one in the world experiencing it. It’s nice to hear someone else comment on such a wonderful experience. It’s inspiring. Speaking of inspiration, what inspires you?

Rhonda: An empty room with a wooden floor and high ceilings ringed with windows at the top to let in the light and bounce sound around.

Marc: Nice answer. I can see it. I can actually hear it and feel the warmth of the sun creeping in. If you had not chosen to be an artist or performer what career would you have pursued?

Rhonda: Gardener or travel writer would have been right up there. Still are. I will be working until I’m 100. I might have to change careers a few more times between now and then.

Marc: If you could meet any artist, poet, performer, etc, living or dead, who would it be and why?

Rhonda: I think I’m caught up on the word “meet.” It connotes a superficial encounter with a celebrity or something. Of course there are artists I’d like to hang out with for hours at a time and really get to know.  But truly profound connection with just about anyone excites me, whereas those “quick handshake after the show” encounters exhaust me. 

Marc: Ok, let me rephrase my question – what artist, poet, performer, or other creative individual, dead or alive, would you want to hang out with for a solid 5 hour stretch of time, morning, day or night, with or without an interpreter, anywhere in the upstate region of NY and PA? Who would it be, where would you go and so on? Set up the scene.

Rhonda: Well, put it that way, and I’d like to gather all those people I mentioned in my answer about inspiring regional exhibits and performances – artists from here and from afar—plus writers like Annie Dillard, Mary Oliver, Brian Swimme, some of my mentors like Rhiannon and Phil Porter, my fellow Alligators, my writers group, and my best friends. I’d like to get us all together and create something collaboratively. Cook. Sing. Dance. Create that kind of open-pore connection you get when you are kissing your beloved and you just kiss and kiss and kiss until God shows up and kisses back. 

Oh, and since I can set the entire scene, let’s have it be on the first really warm day in April, from 1:00 until 6:00, so that we can enjoy the warmest part of the day and the sun slanting and creating color in the air in that magical way it does, and let’s gather in the woods next to a creek running high from the winter melt and spring rains with wildflowers everywhere and birds going crazy.

Marc: Annie Dillard’s one of my favorite writers too. Her writings give me a greater appreciation for the simple things in life. What are some life lessons you've learned from art?

Rhonda: There are always more choices if you're open to them. Lean into whatever scares you.

Marc: What advice would you give to a young or budding artist?

Rhonda: I’d like to emphasize “budding” here, because this is good advice for an emerging artist of any age, 20, 30, 40, 50, etc. Live in such a way that you can give yourself over to your ideas and impulses fully without other responsibilities. Seek out highly-functioning artist peers and mentors who will inspire and validate you as an artist. Avoid “blocked artists” like the plague. Cross-pollinate: read, travel, surf the web, talk to the most interesting people you can find. Throw out your TV and any other mind-numbing habits you may have developed. Be single-minded and live for your art.

Marc : I couldn’t agree with you more regarding your advice on seeking out highly functioning artist peers and mentors, but allow me to be the devil’s advocate for a second and ask you about your comment, “throw out your TV” I can’t argue it because I don’t have a TV in my Brooklyn place, but in Ithaca, I have a 40-inch Samsung HDTV and I gotta say, I love it. For the most part I do understand your point, but what specifically do you believe is negative about TV for a “budding” artist? Do you have any examples? And please list some other “mind numbing habits” you allude to. And what does being “single minded” and “living for your art” mean? Pardon the bombardment of questions!

Rhonda: I haven’t had a TV since I left for college some 30+ years ago, so I’m no expert on it. But when I catch glimpses of, or read about, or hear people discussing, sounds like TV has really really dumbed down over these three decades. I’m sure there are enlightening shows to be had, but the vast number of channels are devoted to drivel and to selling you ideas intended to line other people’s pockets with cash. I could go on and on about TV, but that’s not really the point I was trying to make.

What I was trying to say was, being an artist means being engaged with life on a deep level. It means diving into your murkiest shadows and digging around in there. It means being a keen observer and an analytical thinker and a committed sensualist. It means feeling everything there is to feel, thinking the unthinkable, telling your spirit “yes” even if your spirit seems silly or dangerous or a bubble off level. So I think it takes a whole lot of concentration and courage and consciousness to be an artist. And at the same time there are any number of distractions and opiates available to keep you shut down from all of that, and you have to be aware of what those are for you. 

I think of it as “your drug of choice.” It could be watching “Dancing with the Stars,” it could be dusting your knickknacks, it could be staying in a bad relationship, it could be taking on problems that aren’t yours, it could be playing solitaire with a computer screen, it could be worrying, it could be drinking/eating/sleeping too much—whatever. All you have to do is look closely at your life to see what it is. 

And in my experience, there is usually a long line of things, so you get rid of one and there are a million more waiting to take its place. So, being single-minded and living for your art means that you are ruthless about cutting out those things that aren’t life-force sustaining, that are time- and energy-wasters. And continually come back to being in alignment with your truest values, your deepest dreams and your fearlessness.

Marc: Dang, that was a wholehearted smack-me-upside-the-head response. Gotta love it! Thanks for that. I get the feeling some people are posting their TV’s for sale on Craigslist right now! Enough abut TV, let’s move on to film and books. Can you mention and add a brief comment about one of your favorite movies or books?

Rhonda: As I said earlier, some of my favorite writers are Mary Oliver, Annie Dillard, and Brian Swimme – experiencing their minute attention to the cosmos and our place in it is like prayer. Favorite poets include Robert Hass and Billy Collins because they show us the magic and the sacred in our everyday lives.

Marc: So nice to hear Billy Collins’ poetry mentioned – he’s brilliant. He was U.S. Poet Laureate in 2001 through 2003. He’s also from New York. I love his stuff. How do you manage your life in terms of making art and doing other things? Do you have a work schedule where you put aside time just to make your art?

 

Rhonda: In addition to managing Alligator Mouth Improv, I’m self-employed as a marketing communications writer for area businesses and organizations. So it’s like I have two fulltime jobs. As I said, I don’t have a TV. I don’t have hobbies. I don’t visit my dad enough. I rarely invite friends over. Sleep is precious. I pour every spare second into Alligator Mouth Improv; the administration side to it, for example grant writing, PR, promotion, sales, scheduling and planning time in the studio with the ensemble, etc., etc., is amazingly time-consuming. 

And yes, I try to get into the studio three times a week for solo exploration and at least once for collaborative time. Plus, I try to sit down at the piano in my house and practice ear training regularly. I also set aside big stretches with the full ensemble where we go into the studio for days at a time. And I go to California every year to get a dose of inspiration and training from the improvisational greats. And I have been meeting with my writers group to critique each others’ work for close to 15 years.

Marc: You are very dedicated. What is the greatest compliment anyone has ever paid to you regarding your artwork?

Rhonda: No one person comes to mind, but on a number of occasions people have said, “What you did moved me to do something I needed to do or had wanted to do for some time.” That’s music to my ears. Also, when other performers I really respect have wanted to work with me - that too has felt terrific. And of course, when my dad says he’s proud of me.

Marc: It’s a beautiful thing to recognize the continual importance of parental support throughout one’s life. It’s a great feeling to love one’s parents. Maybe you should plan to visit your Dad soon; you did mention you don’t visit him enough. Is there any hidden, suppressed or secret goal or dream in your life, whether creative or otherwise, you'd like to pursue and accomplish?

Rhonda: Nothing hidden, suppressed or secret. I make no bones about wanting to work with my ensemble fulltime, making a difference in the world, and all of us making a living wage from it. Our time is coming. I have faith that our dream will come to pass.

Marc: It’s good to have faith. I hope your time comes too, although I believe it’s here and always has been for it seems to me you truly strive to live in the moment. Ok, here’s the big question, my last one, the one question that prompted me to come up with “Creative Footprint,” the one question so many of us ponder. At this point in time in your life, what do you think will be your mark on culture and community that you leave behind?

Rhonda: I hope people have added me to the chorus of voices in their heads and that I’m belting out a big fat song of “yes” whenever they think about pursuing what’s important and true and essential to them.

Marc: Spoken like a truly inspired person. You have lots of heart and passion Rhonda Morton, thanks for your time and for putting up with my questions. Much love and respect to you and your group in all your future endeavors. 

Photo credits: Annie Dillard by Phyllis Rose

Marc Dennis can be reached here.