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.

"Christ Church, Raleigh, N.C."

"Christ Church, Raleigh, N.C." (c) 2011 Stu Jenks

My sister Pamela used to go to Christ Church when she was momentarily pissed out at St. Mark's, but she always came back to St. Mark's. She was a mighty opinionated woman.

I watched the last Harry Potter movie last night. Cried a couple times, once when characters I loved died, once when I wished my sister hadn't.

"Adios, Amherst"

"Adios, Amherst" (c) 2011 Stu Jenks

During this journey of selling The Old Home Place, I've dealt with some of this nicest people as well as some of the most despicable. Truly evil fucks I tell you. But the young man who will be living in the Amherst House will share it with his two year old daughter and will put my ancestral home back in tip top shape. Frank (not his real name) is one of the nicest people I've met in this journey. However, his father, a very very bad man, who bought Frank this house and his father's realtor, a true witch of a woman, made my last two days before closing a clusterfuck of greed, lies and selfishness. Happily, the sins of the father did not fall onto the son. And the female agent has a special room in Hell reserved just for her.

But if one thing the recent greedy behaviors of others has taught me, once again, is all that really matters is giving love, kindness and compassion to our friends, our families, our lovers, our co-workers and yes, even to our evil fucks who cross our paths from time to time.

Money is fleeting but love is eternal.

So on the road I go in the morning. To parts west, where I'll break bread with old friends and perhaps share a cup of Joe with new ones.

And finally, returning to my desert home, where the Sun turns the sky orange at dawn and Mourning Doves announce the beginning of the day.

"Wayfaring Stranger at Pamela and Mary Jenks' Graves"

"Pamela Jenks' Grave, St. Mary's Whitechapel Episcopal Church, Lively, Virginia" & "The Empty Living Room, Amherst Lane, Raleigh, North Carolina (c) 2011 Stu Jenks

 

At Mary and Pamela's funeral in Virginia, I played Wayfaring Stranger. Obviously, no one recorded it at our family plot, but in the cavernous, post-estate-sale living room at the Amherst house, I did. The song is in G minor, open tuning on my mandolin, and I played it as a waltz, rather than in 4/4. Hope you enjoy my version of this old tune.

Wayfaring Stranger (Amherst Lane)

 P.S. I'm off to the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival in San Francisco, and also to pick up a new, better surfboard at Nor Cal Surf Shop. I'll be back in Tucson, middle of next week and I'll fill all book orders when I return. Thanks for your patience with the orders, and thanks for your prayers around Pamela and Mary.

Shri Ram, Jai Ram, Jai Jai Ram: (Pamela On The Plane)

 
"Shri Ram, Jai Ram, Jai Jai Ram: Pamela On The Plane" (c) 2011 Stu Jenks

(Photographs of Krishna Das by Cindy Elliot: Toning of the KD images by Stu Jenks. Portrait of Pamela Jenks, a month before her death, and a photo of her casket in the kitchen in Raleigh by Stu Jenks.)

An MP3 of Shri Ram Jai Ram Jai Jai Ram by Krishna Das (Be a good guy and buy it on ITunes if you like it)

    Maybe it’s wishful thinking. Maybe it’s sleep deprivation, but I swear I feel Pamela’s presence here on this train platform at the Philadelphia Airport. No, she’s here, all right. It’s not just me.
    “What to share a smoke?” I ask Pamela.
    She just smiles.
    “Did I do right by you, Pamela?” I whisper to the empty space to my right. “I’m really not sure,” I say. “Those three friends of yours. Jesus fucking Christ. Those three women who picked over your bones like vultures after your funeral really pissed me off. What is wrong with those people, going through your DVDs, your books, your china, your clothes at the house? What is wrong with them? But I did end up giving Katalina your silver, after talking with Martha. Martha seems solid. She knew who you were, Pamela, good and bad. Martha said Katalina was OK, that you really did want her to have that silver. So I gave her the silver. Anyway. I hope I did right by you.”
    The angel/ghost of Pamela continues to smile to me. It’s the first time I’ve felt her around since just after she died on Tuesday.
    “You did great, Stu,” she says. “And you were right. I am free now.”

    On the plane from Philly to Phoenix. Working of some pics of Krishna Das that Elliot took at The Rialto ten days ago. (Sweet of her to share those with me. They don’t allow me to take pics at The Rialto. The Rialto. Krishna Das. Was it just a week and a half ago? Christ, it feels like a month or more.)  I put on some of Krishna Das’ music on the laptop while I work. I recognize a song from the concert.
    “Shri Ram Jai Ram, Jai Jai Ram,” sings Krishna Das into my earpieces. The crowd on the live recording sings the phrase back to him, in that wonderful Kirtan call-and-response way.
    And I start to cry.
    There is an empty seat next to me.
    Pamela’s ashes rest on the kitchen counter in Raleigh, but I feel her spirit in that seat right next to me, right here, right now.
    I want to sing Jai Jai Ram with KD and the crowd on the recording, but I can’t here. I’m on a dark plane with a hundred other souls. But I can sway.
    And Pamela sways too.
    I can almost see her angel/ghost. She’s not the bloated ugly woman of the last twenty years. She’s not the angry, hurtful, unhappy woman I’ve known for so long. She’s light, bright, beautiful, blond, thin, and joyous.
    “I’m so happy,” she whispers in my ear.
    I say nothing. Just slowly cry.
    “I don’t suffer now, Stu,” she says “And you shouldn’t either.”
    And then Pamela Jenks, The Friendly Ghost, raises her arms above her head and sways with Krishna Das. I cry a little more. Not out of sadness but out of wordless, soundless joy for my sister who suffered so much these past decades and now suffers no more.
    She is free.
    I look at her angel/ghost out of the corner of my eye. Slender arms above her head, eyes closed, loving the music.
    And I think of the hug we shared hours before her death. The first time she ever hugged me, in which she didn’t break the hug first. A long, deep hug of love from my sister who was so scared of dying, but who longed so much for death to come, to release her from her pain.
    A sister who finally found freedom from her life of sorrow.
    And it appears, if I’m not completely out of my mind, a sister who is digging the fuck out of Krishna Das.
    I chuckled.
    Who would have thought it? My Anglican sister digging Hindu Kirtan music. Then again, she’s an angel/ghost now. She can love anything she wants.
    “Oh, Stu,” she says, leaning over.
    “Yes,” I whisper.
    “I love you, Bro.”
    “Love you too, Pam.”
    And she throws her head back and blisses out with the music.
    And I join her in her bliss.

 

 

"Cloud Chamber for the Trees and Sky" (& Mary is fading again.)

'Cloud Chamber for the Trees and Sky' by Chris Drury: 2003; North Carolina Museum Of Art, Raleigh, North Carolina.

(Photographs by Stu Jenks, 2011)

Mary is fading again. Just saw her. Her breathing's shallow, her color's poor, a bit jaundice, her speech is slurred, she's weak as a kitten. I just sat with her on her bed, both of us saying nothing. A rarety for Mary and I, to be speechless.

This is time number four of "I think Mary is dying" over the past three years. This does feel different however. Sadly, I'm heading to California in the morning, for business and pleasure (A nocturnal photography conference at Mono Lake and a U2 concert in Oakland), but I may need to cut my trip short if Momma's malaise continues or worsens. Wendy at the house will keep me current on Mary's condition.

But if you are reading this, and it's the first week of June, 2011, please say a prayer for Mary, whatever that prayer may be. I'm not going to tell you how or what to pray for. Just do what you do.

And I feel quite sad. I've prayed for Mary to die a lot over the last few years, but this afternoon, that's not what I want. Nope. I'm selfish today. I love my mom, and I've actually enjoyed her humor and wit these past few months. I'm going to miss her.

I'm not praying for her to live, but I'm not praying for her to die either. That's y'alls job today. (OK, I guess I am telling y'all how to pray. Drat.)

P.S. Above is a photograph inside a camera obscura in my old hometown. The image was taken inside a round, moist stone hut in the middle of a forest near the NCMA in Raleigh. The aperture was in the roof of the hut. I was surrounded that day by moving images of green trees and blue sky. It was beautiful.

And it seem appropriate to post it today, for I'm hoping Mary gets to walk among the green trees and  the blue sky very soon as well.

Thanks again, y'all.

Love, Stu.