The Fezziwig News by Stu Jenks

All 8 1/2" x 11" A/P archival pigment prints by Stu Jenks for $25, shipping, handling and taxes included...

Image: "Queen Esther Baptist Church, Lancaster, Virginia" (c) 2011 Stu Jenks (Just down River Road from Victoria's house. Love that luscious red carpet. And for you nocturnals out there, it was handheld. Rare for me.)

In this time of making photos on iPhones and Macbook Pros and only looking on screens, I forget I'm a old-school guy. I make a 8 1/2 x 11 work print on archival paper of EVERY image I make. EVERY one. It's the only way, for me, to accurately check for color shift, density, composition, etc. I really like my iPad screen but it's no way to make a good print.

And I have hundreds, if not thousands, of work prints artist proofs at my studio.

If you see an image of mine on The StuBlog or on my old website or on the Fezziwig Press Store or in any of my books, there's a beautiful small print in a box somewhere, perhaps with your name on it. And since I'm organized, I can find it.

Many of you can't afford my larger prints. I understand. I don't have an extra 50 or 100 lying around either. But I do have an extra $20 for stuff I really like.

So if you see an image of mine on any of my sites or in any of my books and you want it, it's yours for $25, shipping, handling and tax included. (I believe in paying taxes, sales and otherwise.)

Just email me at my facebook page or through the StuBlog or at stujenks@gmail.com, and tell me what print you would like or just pull the jpeg and send that to me.

I was just watching the Tarhells lose today in basketball, working on images at my computer when I thought, 'I bet people don't realize I have boxes of work prints here.'

You all do now.

Love and light,

Stu

p.s. Ignore the catagories belows. The computer went wacky. Another reason why I prefer a print in the hand as opposed to an image in The Cloud.

Back to work on 'Dementia Reds'

On the advice of counsel, (that counsel being Mary Ann Harris and Charles de Lint), I'm letting the novel sit for a while before I go back to revise, edit and fix it. Charles suggested to start another novel. Good idea. I have another novel in mind, but instead I'm going back to a book I put down while I was writing the novel: Dementia Reds, the memoir documenting my mother's final journey into dementia and death, and my sister's succumbing to her breast cancer. I left the book after I had written two funerals but not the third. Just glancing at the document now, I really don't have much more to write. (Fingers crossed. I said the same thing about the novel.)

I left Dementia Reds in the Fall of 2011 for a lot of reasons. I was still pretty angry at some people in Virginia and North Carolina, I was in the midst of selling the tear-down house in Raleigh, and there was that pesky novel and all its characters running around in my head. But now, I need for the novel to steep, like a pot of Earl Gray. And I'm not so mad at the vultures and the overly-righteous from my ancestral South. I mostly just miss the hell out of my sister Pamela.

So thanks, Charles and Mary Ann. I hear your counsel. Oh, and on a business note, Dementia Blues is my only book that's selling. Give the people what they want. To buy.

Love and light,

Stu.

p.s. The above image was taken while Pamela was still alive, when I visited her near the end of her life. I got a sweet free upgrade on that rental car, receiving a hot red Mustang from Enterprise. Pamela and I had fun, punching it hard on the Beltline on our way to chemo. And below are pics of my sister and mother when they were young and healthy.

Graphic Pen Images From The Novel

Been working on a backlog of images that may be chapter headers for the novel I'm writing. Images from Memphis, Pacifica, San Francisco, Picacho and Barstow.

I have been on the road a lot this year, haven't I? From North Carolina, Virginia, California, and parts inbetween.

It's good to be stationary for a while, working at my desk, with cool wet night air drifting in from outside, and the smell of lavender on my hands from a living plant I purchased today.

Happy Solstice everyone.

The Sun will return.

 

Now available, on the Apple IPad: The Transpersonal Papers (1861-2010) and Bozo In Love

Been a long time coming for The Transpersonal Papers (1861-2010).

Three editors, two proofreaders, two designers, four printers, and hours, days, weeks, months, years, lifetimes, (I know I'm overstating), of writing, traveling, shooting, editing, remembering, hiking, and more writing, shooting, and editing, but I'm not complaining. No, no, no.

And apologies for not having the dough right now, to print The Transpersonal Papers as a coffee-table book as I had originally planned. ($10,000, it would have cost. Maybe someday.) But you now can buy it, for $14.95, as an Ebook on the Apple IPad, and I expect it to be available within a couple days on the Nook and the Kindle as well.

I just looked at it on my new IPad. The photos, text and design look grand.

And as an extra surprise, Bozo In Love is now up on IBooks too, ($9.95), as well as the rest of my catalog: Flame Spirals, Hoop Dancing, and Dementia Blues, on IBooks, Nook and Kindle.

Just in time for Christmas.

And don't worry. All but The Transpersonal Papers can still be bought as a book book through Fezziwig Press. I have plenty. Just go to www.fezziwigpressonline.com, for the hardbounds and paperbacks, but go to ITunes, today, (and Kindle and Nook, soon) for the ebooks.

Heavy sigh from my third story apartment balcony. I look out onto the Tucson city lights in the valley below. Cold, dry air embraces me. I inhale deeply. Exhale.

A very good night in the desert.

Think I'll make a cup of coffee with egg nog and play some Angry Birds on my new IPad.

Time to celebrate.

 

"Manns Chapel, Chatham County, North Carolina"

"Manns Chapel, Chatham County, North Carolina" (c) 2011 Stu Jenks

Off to Raleigh tomorrow, one last time. (I've taken the 12:45 Delta from Tucson to Atlanta so many times in the past few months, I expect the flight attendents to say "Hello, Mr. Jenks. How are you?")

I'm renting a Penske truck on Tuesday, loading up the last of Pamela's things to bring them here to Tucson (A nice blond-wood work table, a huge chest-of-drawers, Pamela's old single bed from when she was a kid, and Mama Lillie's secretary desk I inherited in 1983, but had no way to get it out here. And some Christmas presents my sister wrapped before she died. Sweet of her, eh?)

And on Wednesday, I am closing on the Amherst house. Very sad but not for the reasons you might think. Since my father and mother did no maintenance on the house at all, basically letting my sister live in an old damp, moldy house, rent-free, for 20 plus years, The Amherst House, which would have been worth $250,000 or more on the recovering real estate market of Raleigh is now being sold for $110,000, as a tear-down. The man who is buying the home says he's going to fix it up but I don't quite believe him. (He has made plans to cut down all the trees on the property. That sounds like a tear-down to me. The land is worth $100,000 so he's getting a piece-of-crap Cape Cod for $10,000.)

Speaking of trees, the one bugaboo left to do is I have to get rid of the firewood in the basement. Some nice people from Pamela's church in Raleigh have taken some of it, but I have to dispose of the rest, before closing on Wednesday. I'm hoping the Wake County dump will take the logs but they may not. No one on Craiglist wants them, and that poor church in South Raleigh can't use them either. So I may just have to take the firewood back to the woods, unloading it along a nice piece of river.

I kind of hope I get arrested.

"Stu Jenks, artist and photographer from Tucson, Arizona, was arrested today for putting wood back into the woods. Reports are that Jenks laughed hysterically as the sheriff slapped on the handcuffs. It is uncertain if he was intoxicated at the time."

So I'll be away for about ten days. I'm taking my Rollei with me and some Christmas lights too, to perhaps do some hoop dancing photography in the moonlight. I am driving across some pretty country, don't you know? And if you want to buy the image rights of something, or a hardbound book, you'll have to wait until I get home. Then again, some of my books are on the IPad now. Hint, hint. But no worries. Just letting you all know I'll gone for a while.

OK. I should stop writing now. I really should. I really really should. But I'm not.

On a book note, I am writing a conclusion to Dementia Blues, called Dementia Red, telling the stories of Pamela and Mary Jenks' last days and weeks. With photos too.

And to those of you in Virginia who needed to ambush me at my sister and mother's burials, to tell me how you didn't like Dementia Blues (You know who you are), I guess you forgot I make a very small living writing things as well as photographing things. And eventhough I'm getting a little demented now myself, my memory is still pretty good. I'll be changing your names and the places in Dementia Red, but I won't be changing your words.

Oh, and shame on you for what you did to me, that rainy afternoon, and shame on you for what you did to my mother, three years ago.

Shame.

And as one of you jerks mockingly said to me that day in The Northern Neck,

"Oh, Stu, you aren't suffering financially."

Yea, I am. In a few ways, financials just being one.

I'm not getting much cash from these two estates. Pamela didn't have a pot to piss in, nor a window to throw it out of, and we had almost gone through all of Mary's money taking care of her here in Tucson before she died, with the expensive adult care home and all.

But I am grateful that there is some cash in the estates and in the sale of the Raleigh House; to pay all the heirs and debts of my mother (but sadly, many of Pamela's hospital bills will go unpaid); to pay for two nice gravestones for my mother and sister; to pay for the plane tickets and motels and the Penske truck and the rental cars these past few months; to pay for the storage locker here in Tucson; to have a little to give to some people who are in need; and to have some cash for me to get out of credit card debt at the end of all this; but I am not getting rich off of the death of my family.

So, to you Rich White Trash in Virginia, two words. Fuck you.

And even though I don't miss my mother very much, I do miss Pamela a lot. I feel a lot of compassion for her journey through life. She never got away from my crazy family. I did. And Pamela died way ahead of her time. Sure, she shares responsibility for her life, but my mother, on numerous occasions, told my sister, "...you aren't pretty enough to ever get married, Pam..."

Pamela was over 200 pounds when she died, and she never married.

Be careful what you say to your children. One hurtful statement probably won't fuck them up. A couple dozen times probably will.

I miss you Sis. Thanks for being a nicer person the last six months of your life. I truly wish I could call you on the phone and tell you what those horrible people at Mary's old church said to me after I buried you all. I wish I could say, "You were right, Pamela. You were so right."

And I do believe I feel your spirit these days, but it isn't the same as hearing you cuss like a sailor and hearing you laugh like a crazy person. I miss that.

Big hug and kiss, Pamela. Know that I love you. I hope I'm doing right by you.

And Mary, may the light of God always shine on you. I feel blessed that your dementia made you into a sweeter Mom. Mostly. And most people are loving you in Dementia Blues. You are a bit of a superstar, Mom.

OK, enough jokes and resentments. I need to finish packing.

See you all when I get home, and maybe I'll see a few of you on the road.

Look for a small Penske truck with firewood falling out its back and the police chasing it.

That'll be me.

"Dementia Blues" is now on ITunes and IPad.

Dementia Blues is now available on ITunes and IPad (as well as on the Kindle and the Nook.)

Been waiting a long time for this day.

A very good day for those of us at Fezziwig Press.

And expect the entire catalog of Fezziwig Press to be up on all the ebook platforms by Christmas. (As soon as more of Pamela and Mary Jenks' estates are settled, I'm going to my local Apple store and buy myself an IPad. Maybe a Nook too at Barnes & Noble.)

And in 2012, expect more titles at Fezziwig Press by writers other than myself. Books by poets, fiction writers, therapists, and artists are on the horizon. More on that later.

And as always, thanks for your continued support of Fezziwig Press.

"Flame Spirals: The Second Edition" is now available at the Fezziwig Press online store.

Flame Spirals: The Second Edition is now available at my studio in Downtown Tucson, at Tucson Touch Therapies, and at Fezziwig Press Online.

I'm extremely happy with how well Taylor Publishing printing the book. It's a lithograph book, printed in The United States, hardbound, and reasonably priced (as opposed to the lulu.com First Edition, that was digitally printed and a bit too expensive for many.)

In this, The Second Edition, I've added a couple new flame spiral images, some new Thanks You and a new dedication to "Ghost Dad, Ghost Mom and Ghost Sis."

And I can't say enough about how wonderful Bill Homan at Taylor Publishing in Texas was, as well as Gail Cross, my amazing book designer.

The price is $29.95 plus shipping and handling, or you can pick it up at Tucson Touch Therapies, or catch me at BR-549 Studios.

Finally, expect an ebook version of Flame Spirals soon, on the Kindle, Nook and IPad platforms. We are hoping for Christmas but it may be early 2012.

And thank you all for your continued support.

Love and light, Stu.

"Hoop Dances For My Sister Pamela"

"Hoop Dances For My Sister Pamela, Joshua Tree National Park, California" (c) 2011 Stu Jenks

    The Mohave Desert winds rage. Semi-trucks roar on the Interstate a mile to my south, but not nearly as loud as this wind.
    Just a hint of light to the west. A Brownie Starflash camera, older than I, sits on its tripod ready to shoot its long exposures. I click the shutter open, hoping it’ll stay stuck open for as long as I need. Fifteen, twenty minutes should do.
    I walk in front of the tall Ironwood tree I’ve picked to be the star of this image. I eye the wide angle of view I’ll have with the Brownie. I can put maybe seven or eight hoops in this view, spread out enough to denote spaciousness, yet clustered together enough to imply community. I begin to spin the Christmas lights. I make the first hoop. I then move a few steps to my left.
    Then Pamela comes to mind. I say a prayer. I make the second hoop dance. My prayer is simple.
    “God, I don’t expect you to cure Pamela’s cancer. It’s in her bones. It’s in her ribs. It’s in her nerves. It’s filling her left arm. But God, I pray that good men and women, doctors and laypeople alike, find the right treatments and drugs to ease her pain. She says that on a scale from one to ten, God, her pain is a thirteen. Help her with this pain, God. Help her.”
    I spin hoop dance number three, then four, then five, thinking of my dying sister, praying for her release from pain, but proud of how she is soldiering on, aware of her fate, yet smelling (literally) the roses, and gazing with wonder and joy at the dogwoods in her backyard. She is praying for a miracle but she knows that cancer sometimes, many times, most times, is more powerful than God when it comes to the body. But she also knows that cancer can do nothing to kill her soul, to wound her spirit, unless she lets it. And being my sister, she’s telling her cancer to “Fuck off, God-damn-it! You can’t have my soul!”
    I spin a couple more hoop dances. I look toward the Brownie. I think I’m out of its view now. I walk among the creosote bushes and let the ambient light do its job, lighting the distant mountains and the foreground plants, so that everything registers on the silver in the film.
    The winds gust harder, shaking the top limbs of the Ironwood tree. Against the lighter sky, they’ll make a beautiful blur, if I leave the shutter open long enough. And that is the plan. But there are no guarantees with this old Brownie camera. No guarantees at all with anywhere. All I’m entitled to is air and gravity. Everything else is either something I work for, or a gift. Mostly they are gifts.
    Off to LA for a couple days, then San Francisco, then home to Tucson.
    And then, I’m guessing, to Raleigh, North Carolina, to do what needs to be done. Take my sister to radiation treatments, buy some groceries, sit and laugh with Pamela. We won’t be crying together. Pamela’s a tough old bird. But I know Mr. Stu. At some point, in a room by myself or in The Rooms of The Anonymous, I’ll shed some tears.
    But first things first. Got to do this California part-business / part-pleasure trip first. Promote ‘Dementia Blues’. See Scala perform.
    I close the shutter on the Brownie by slapping it hard on its side. I hear the shutter click closed. I pack up my gear and head back to my car.
    I’m tired. I think I’ll camp here for the night.

 

 

[Note: This image was shot on April 7th, 2011, and to make it (and all images) larger on the StuBlog, just double click on it.]

Images from Tucson Festival Of Books

Charle de Lint on a Young Adult panel.

Jim Harrison reading his poetry.

Mike Brown of "How I Killed Pluto"

Charles de Lint & MaryAnn Harris performing at Tucson Festival Of Books

And me, signing and selling books at the West Authors' Pavilion. Images of me taken by the amazing Jeff Smith. All others taken by me. (c) 2011 Stu Jenks