Stu Jenks' Fezziwig Press: Cancer

December 20, 2022

Christmas Haiku #38

New solstice prayer:

Chemo, kick some cancer ass;

And heal everyone.

Image: Painting by Rockwell Kent, at the Taubman Museum of Art, Roanoke, VA. Image capture by me.

Posted at 08:59 PM in Art, Cancer, Christmas and Winter Solstice, Emotions, Greensboro, NC, Love, North Carolina, Other Artists, Rolodex Of Haiku, Snow, Stu Jenks, Travel, Virginia | Permalink | Comments (0)

October 18, 2022

"Al Foul (Alan Lewis Curtis), Desert Agave, Arizona" (c) 2022 Stu Jenks

Al and I didn't know each other well. (For a profoundly personal article regarding Al's death, from his widow Hannah Levin, click on this link.) Only met him and talked to him a few times, but I loved his spirit and his rockabilly music.

Here's my favorite Al Foul story:

Al was performing for an art opening I was attending. It's wasn't my art opening, some other folks'. Al was the night's entertainment, playing guitar, stomping on his bass drum and singing his sad but rowdy songs. At the set break I went up to him and thanked him for the music. I introduced myself and shook his hand. "You're Stu Jenks?" he said. "I love your work. Great stuff man." "Really?" I said. "Well, thank you Al. That's very nice of you to say. I love your work too." We both smiled, spoke a little more, shook each other's hands again, and I went back to the art work and the patrons . That's it. My first time meeting Al. Genuine, kind, excited. That was Al. God, I miss him.

In his honor, I made a wall piece from six pieces of desert agave, gently linked together by bright brass hooks. I think Al would have dug this new work of mine. At some point, I'll ship them to his widow Hannah, but I don't want to let go of it just yet. Soon, but not yet.

I'm so sad and angry Al, that you suffer so much those last months with cancer. For a good soul like you, I just hate that Hannah and you had to go through all that. You should have lived to be a hundred.

Miss you, Al. Heck, the whole town of Tucson misses you, and it's not because of just your music. It's because of the wonderful man you were. Love you, buckaroo.

Posted at 04:51 PM in Arizona, Cancer, Desert Agave, Deserts, Good Folk, Hope, Music, Prayer, Tucson | Permalink | Comments (0)

October 07, 2022

Circles & Spirals: Stu Jenks' Newsletter #12: October 7th, 2022

1) Just a short newsletter. I'm having pretty terrible post-radiation side effects. I'll spare you the literally shitty details, but I'm a little concern something else might be wrong. I'll be seeing my GP on Monday and I may be getting a referral to a gastro guy. It's been very painful and unpleasant for the last two months. Keep those prayers and good thoughts coming.

2) I have not gotten around to photographing the new red cedar wall pieces, but I will. I promise. Look for them in future posts.

3) Alexa is slowly healing up for her abdominal surgery. She's still in some pain. Long roads for both of us, I'm afraid. Pray for her as well.

4) And lastly, the mid-terms are in a month. Go online, if you need to, to make sure you are registered. Vote like your life depends on it. If you are a woman of child bearing age, your life may depend on it. We are on the edge of Federal autocratic rule in America. But if the Dems win big, we can push the fascist bullies back, just a little bit.

5) Thanks for all the prayers and good wishes. It means the world to both Alexa and I.

Love, light and luck,

Stu.

Posted at 09:34 AM in Art, Cancer, Circles, Current Affairs, Death, Home, Hope, North Carolina, Pamela's Baby Rocking Chair, The South, Virginia | Permalink | Comments (0)

August 31, 2022

Circles & Spirals: Stu Jenks' Newsletter #11: August 31st, 2022

"Abandon All Hope, Joe McFall, Hickory Art Museum, North Carolina." (c) Image captures by Stu Jenks, 2022.

1) Before I get into a commentary about Outsider Art and Art in general, a health update:

Alexa is slowly on the mend. It's going to take a while.

I'm slowly on the mend. Looks like it's going to take a while for me too.

I'm having nerve pain and gastrointestinal issues, post-radiation on my prostate area, more than I had during the entire 8 weeks of my cancer treatment. I didn't expect that. My lovely urologist Juan in Tucson says it's going to take a few weeks for me to heal, that all of this is normal. My anxiety lessened with those hopeful words from Juan, but the pain and discomfort has not. I'm two weeks out of radiation. I'm not going to freak out until October if it all still hurts the same as today. They say 2 to 6 weeks. Guess that's what it is. Acceptance doesn't mean approval.

2) Now, some art criticism:

Included in this newsletter are image captures of Joe McFall's amazing piece "Abandon All Hope", which is on permanent display at the Hickory Art Museum, here in North Carolina. They have an extensive collection of what they call "Folk Art", which I tend to call "Outsider Art". Traditional, this work is made by not formally trained artists who have a certain vision about the world, sometimes religious, sometimes humorous, sometimes fueled by a bit of mental health and substance abuse issues. Notable among these are Vollis Simpson, Horace Pippin, Morace Hirshfield and many others.

At the Hickory Art Museum, I learned this, or rather I thought this:

There is also bad and exploitative folk/outsider art. Much of what I saw there felt like a con. Sorry but it did. Some work was amazing too, but other stuff felt like some people were just trying to cash in on the popularity of people like Vollis Simpson, who late in his life, did make some serious coin from his work (as he should have, because he's brilliant), but much of what I saw felt more like a way to make money and less about projecting your artistic vision. Except some pieces, and the work of Joe McFall.

And, not surprisingly, when I got home and searched the internet, I discovered, again, that a lot of this Outsider Art is bringing huge prices at art auctions.

Let's talk about Joe McFall for a second.

Not much is known of him, and I searched a lot. No wikipedia page. Only auction house tallies of his work sold, not by him but by art collectors. Joe does or did have some serious substance abuse issues. "Abandon All Hope" was created after he got out of a substance abuse detox center. And it appears he was originally from Tennessee. That's about it. I could have found a curator to talk to at the Hickory Art Museum who probably knew more, but I didn't that day. There was a little info on the label for the piece but not much.

I really love this piece. It shows his views on addiction, both his own and of the world at large. It shows the seriousness and consequences of addictions, but also the humor of living an addict's life. It's a complicate piece and I really liked it. Addiction and recovery is a complicated thing. Just is.

However, what disturbed me, is it appears, by looking at how much money his pieces are bringing at auctions and also, by the inauthentic quality of the some of the work I saw in Hickory, that art dealers are taking advantage of addicts, alcoholics, and mentally ill people, and that pisses me off. Or maybe it's my mood regarding my cancer. Shit, I don't know, but it all smelled bad.

Where I am truly naive is, art dealers, and art business people have been screwing over artists for centuries, whether they be relatively-sane creative folk like me, or people who have some serious mental health and/or addiction issues. I guess I just should accept it, but it still sucks. And I'm sure Mr. McFall was happy to make money off his work when it initially sold, and I'm going to guess the Hickory Art Museum did not taking advantage of Joe and paid him a fair price.

I, as an artist, have only been majorly fucked with a few times, i.e. aggressive haggling of prices for my work; reneging on the buying of my work after delivery; the stealing of images off the internet; once not getting work back from a gallery; small things like that. I've been lucky to have two great art rep in my life, and really good people I have worked with and who have shown and promoted my work. I'm grateful to all of those good folk. But it still bugs me when artists are taken advantage of by people with money and power.

My mother Mary Jenks once corrected me when I said, "Money is the root of all evil." "No, son," she said, "It is the LOVE of money that is the root of all evil, not the money itself."

Greed and avarice. An old story that never goes away.

This artistic missive here may be tainted with the penile and intestinal pain I'm experiencing now. I don't know. I do know I saw some very good art and some just terrible folk/outsider art at the Hickory Art Museum the other day. And I believe that people like Joe McFall may have been exploited in the past. Not the Hickory people doing it, but the art auction people and the wealthy people who bought his and others' work for a song.

Here endeth the rant.

3) Saw some great Grandma Moses paintings in Roanoke, VA recently, as well as a 'perfect' painting by Rockwell Kent from 1943. They are here as well on this post.

4) Remember to registar to vote and to vote in November. Truly our democracy depends on it. And don't fret. Trump will be indicted and convicted for probably a small felony. Proving intent is not necessary. They have him dead to rights. He'll probably cop a plea. He will not be President again, because of this conviction. Now there probably will be certain counties in America I might not want to drive in, given my bumper stickers, but I don't fucking care. I'm a liberal with a handgun and they don't scare me. Most bullies are cowards.

As I said in January, 2017: There are more of us, Independents, Democrats and reasonable Republicans, then there are of them, the greedy, lying, avaricious fascists. We just need to fucking vote.

It's Roe-vember, baby.

Love you all,

Stu

Posted at 09:22 AM in African Americans, Angel/Ghosts, Art, Cancer, Ethics, Humor, Love, Money, North Carolina, Other Artists, Sickness & Health, Snow, Social Justice, The Sky, The South, The Woods, Trouble With The Law, Virginia, Women, Women Artists | Permalink | Comments (0)

August 09, 2022

Circles & Spirals: Stu Jenks' Newsletter #10: August 8th, 2022

"Push and Pull" by Hugh McCloud, an image capture from a recent show at Duke University's Nasher Museum of Art in Durham, NC

1) Alexa and I are both on the mend. She's a month out of abdominal surgery and is healing well, even though it will be a long process to full health for her. But she is doing great, and she had a birthday on Sunday. Happy, happy, honey.

2) This coming Monday, I will have my final radiation treatment. I've had 36 out of 40 Easy Bake Oven sessions as of this afternoon. Frankly, the side effects have been horrendous. I'll spare you the details. Thank f-ing God this will all be over soon. But I'm hopeful that this will have zapped the little bit of cancer that I still had after my radical prostatectomy surgery in 2020.

3) And lastly, I'm pleased and honored to have been accepted into Tohono Chul's show, Elements: Fire. The show will open on August 25th and run through early November. I hope you can get to see it, if you are in the Tucson area. James Schaub, an amazing painter in his own right, is the Director of Exhibitions at Tohono Chul Park. He has quietly championed my work for a good number of years now. Thank you, James, for picking these two pieces for your show. Included below are the vision statements for these pieces and the images themselves.

That's it for now.

Love you all, and thanks so very much for the prayers and support you have given the Jenks, in this difficult summer for us.

Love, light and luck.

Stu

“Catalina State Park, Arizona (The Ikon)”
11 x 14 inch fiber based gelatin silver print, sepia toned
Edition: 9/25
Taken with a 1954 Rollei medium format camera, using Ilford 400 black and white film.
A time exposure of around 30 minutes, on a full moon night, the light source for the flame spiral, a Zippo lighter.
Printed in the Toole Shed Darkroom in Tucson, by me, in the early 2000’s
Price: $400

I could tell so many stories about this image: how it was used on a Steve Roach album cover; how it became the logo of the Mythic Journeys conference in Atlanta; how one woman came up to me at an opening and said, “It is so amazing that you were there when THEY came.”; how it’s one of my top five images I’ve sold in my career; and how I’ve enjoyed telling people how I create this flame spiral image, at many open studios and gallery openings.

Due to limited space, I’ll just tell this one story.

In 2016, Julie Sasse, the Contemporary Art curator at the Tucson Museum of Art, asked me to show this image as part of her Into the Night: Contemporary Art and the Nocturne Tradition show. I had printed up a three large, 16 x 20 inch fiber based prints of The Ikon over the years, one hanging in the ex-CEO of Krispy Kreme donuts’ home, one stored safely away, and another framed in my studio. The large framed print was given to Julie for her show.

That summer, a woman I knew only casually, took her godmother to see the Into The Night show. When she came to this image she said to her godmother, “I know that guy.” That started her wheels turning. “I want to get to know him,” she thought. She reached out to me a month later. In December, we will have been married five years. Her name is Alexa McCool Smith Jenks.

“DC-10 Spreading Retardant, Dragoon Mountains, Arizona”
4 1/2 x 8 inch archival pigment print
Shot using 70-200 mm IS glass, with Canon 5D Mark II back.
Price: $100

It’s too bad this image doesn’t come with a soundtrack. I’ll explain.

A few years ago, a terrible fire exploded near Cochise Stronghold in the Dragoon Mountains of Arizona. I drove down, found a low hill to stand atop of, and waiting for the DC-10s to make their passes.

(Photographer’s Tip: To take a good picture, go out into the world, find a spot, and wait. Then wait some more. Let the image come to you. Try not to chase it. Just be present in the space. Look, wait, and see what happens. Pop the shutter then.)

The DC-10s seemed to arrive every 20 minutes or so. I think I was there for an hour and a half. I captured two images that I liked. This is one of them.

Here’s what you don’t see in the photograph.

After the planes had dropped their loads, they banked hard to the left and headed back north to replenish and refuel. The little hill I was standing on was right below their flight path. I know they were probably over 100 feet above me, but it sure didn’t feel like it, as the sound and force of their accelerating engines shook my body. It was fabulous, almost as loud as a Social Distortion concert at the Rialto Theatre.

Almost.

Posted at 05:00 PM in Alexa McColl Smith Jenks, Arizona, Art, Cancer, Chemical Darkroom, Current Affairs, Emotions, Fire, Flame Spirals, Good Folk, Greensboro, NC, Love, Medium Format, Mountains, Night Photography, Nocturnal Photography, Other Artists, Relationships, Spirituality, The Moon, The South, The West, Toole Shed, Trains, Women | Permalink | Comments (0)

June 03, 2022

Circles and Spirals: Stu Jenks' Newsletter #6: 6/3/2022

1) Good news, bad news. The CyberKnife radiation treatment for the tiny bit of prostate cancer I still have is unavailable and ineffective, so say the good folk at UNC Hospital in Chapel Hill. So I'll be getting old-school-hopefully-it-doesn't-tear-me-up-too-bad radiation here in Greensboro. Shit. I was really hoping to get the less invasive radiation but alas. I did hear though that Dr. Matt Manning here at Cone Hospital is one of the best radiation oncologist in the country, so I have that going for me. Fingers double crossed.

2) Went to the races in Charlotte over the Memorial Day weekend. The ARCA cars and the trucks on Friday night were something, literally shaking the ground as they passed the start-finish line on restarts. And there are some up and coming black NASCAR drivers now too, and there are some black folk in the stands in Charlotte Motor Speedway. Made me very happy to see a more diverse crowd than what you might see at the little tracks in rural Virginia. Things have changed, a little bit.

3) Reluctant capitalist plug: The ebook of the 10th anniversary edition of Step Zero is now up on Amazon. Just click this link and it'll take you there. It's free if you already have the Kindle Unlimited or $2.99 is you buy it. Baby needs a new pair of shoes, so hit those buttons. The paperback edition will be coming out soon. If you want to pre-order the book book or be put on the list for a copy, just email me. [email protected]

4) Finished up the remainder of the Arizona images from my recent trip. The Painted Desert Project in particular is one of the best public art projects I've seen in years. Real, gritty, beautiful, meaningful. You can see it if you are driving from Flagstaff to the eastern entrance of The Grand Canyon, in Gray Mountain. It is stunning.

5) I visited dead relatives over the Memorial Day weekend. Mom, Dad, & Pamela. Dad's parents and my murdered great aunt Bertie too. (To read the sad story of Aunt Bertie and her children, clink on this link). At Bertie's grave in Richmond, the candle I placed there months ago was still there. I had an extra U.S. flag with me and I placed it at her grave. She wasn't a veteran of the armed services, but she certainly was a veteran of sorts, of the violence against women. I know it's a stretch but it seemed right to decorate her grave with something. It was nice to visit Stuart, Mary and my sister in Lancaster County. Sit on the OK-God-Let's-Do-It bench. Play a couple of songs for them on the bouzouki. Walk through the woods. Reminding myself that I have forgiven them (mostly) for what they did or didn't do. It's different everything I see them. They haven't changed. They're dead, but I'm different each time. This time, I really embraced what my mother Mary Jenks did for me. Of all my family members, Mom and her mother Nannie were the only two who really got the odd little boy who was me. I really appreciate them for that. Yes, it was $125 in gas just to hang there for a hour or so, but it was worth it. Life is short.

6) So that's it for now. I'm slowing healing up from COVID. Still have some congestion but the sinus headache has mostly gone away. If you want to help me out financially, buy the new Step Zero e-book, or some music or prints or sticks or whatever. Alexa is doing well. It's hot and sticky here in Greensboro, but we have a bunch of bunnies in our backyard, and birds, birds, birds. Alexa figured out if she put vegetable oil on the bird feeder pole, it makes it so the chipmunks can't raid the birdseed. Smart woman, my wife. Love you all, Stu.

Posted at 11:27 AM in 12 Step Fiction, Angel/Ghosts, Art, Beachs, Cancer, Churches, Death, eBooks, Fantasy & Science Fiction, Fezziwig Press, Hardwood, Hope, Love, Making Money, Mountains of North Carolina, Nature, North Carolina, Photography, Spirituality, Step Zero: A Sober Love Story in 2076, Stu Jenks, The Civil War, The Ocean, The Rez, The Road, The South, The West, Travel, Trees, Tucson, Virginia, Women, Women Artists | Permalink | Comments (0)

April 21, 2022

Circles and Spirals: Stu Jenks' Newsletter #3: 4/21/22

"PTSD" by Clarence Heyward, acrylic and gold leaf on canvas, 2020. Image capture by Stu Jenks.

Hello everyone,

1) Currently some of Clarence Heyward's work (pictured above) is being shown at the Nasher Museum of Art at Duke University in Durham, NC. This show is shunning, presenting the work of 30 emerging artists. Entitled, "Reckoning and Resilience: North Carolina Art Now", it'll be up until July 10, 2022. I've been three times already to visit this show. I can not recommend it highly enough.

The featured painting is very large, guessing 5 feet tall at least. And yes, that is the Pledge of Allegiance in gold leaf behind the figure.

2) Maundy Thursday service at Holy Trinity Episcopal Church, here in Greensboro, was as good as it gets. Washing of the feet. Reminding the congregation of Jesus's last commandment, "... to love one another...", the stripping of the altar, all very nice. (And to be clear, I'm not a Christian but I was raised in this Church. I do believe in a God of sorts, cosmic muffin or intuitive thought, but I don't believe in the Risen Christ. I'm more Buddhist and Deist than anything else. And yes, I believe in the ghostly presence of my ancestors in my life. Got that belief from a Native American friend years ago.) But what made me cry was a professional singer, a lovely baritone, singing "Where you there...", that old powerful slave song from almost 200 years ago. Just wonderful.

3) Not so wonderful, my prostate cancer has returned, but only a little bit. Probably the size of the head of a pin. It's a long story but the type of radiation that one cancer center planned for me was very destructive to the good surgical work of Dr. Juan Chipollini 2 years ago. Currently, I don't poop nor peed on myself and everything is working great down there, if you know what I mean. The shotgun blast radiation would change all that, possibly making me permanently incontinent, messing up my colon, and destroying my current sexual function, also maybe for good. This depressed me a lot as you can imagine. Until I remember that great medical school at my alma mater, UNC-Chapel Hill, just an hour to the east. There, I found a new urologist and radiation oncologist who does a very pinpoint radiation using a machine called the Cyber Knife. Great name. Appointment is in early June for this second opinion consultation but I'm already sold from what I've read. And my new doctor is more patient oriented in her care. I'm much more hopeful. Quality of life, baby. Quality of life.

4) The tenth anniversary edition of my first novel, Step Zero is completed and being converted to e-book-ness and soon to be uploaded to the book printer. I'll be making some book-books, but they are expensive. Soon, you'll be able to buy the e-books for either $1.99 or $.99. Attached here is the new cover art for the book. (Thanks to Michael Joplin, for turning me on the the null set symbol. That was brilliant.)

and 5) lastly, here are some images from recent print sales of mine. I have a big inventory but I'm always, always interested in what people buy. Perhaps you are too.

Love you guys.

Thinking about y'all, and holding you in white light, as the Woo-Woo man says.

Stu.

All images (c) Stu Jenks 2022, except for "PTSD," (c) Clarence Heyward 2022.

Posted at 10:51 PM in 12 Step Fiction, Art, Books, Cancer, Canyons, Coalmine Canyon, Deserts, Fantasy & Science Fiction, Good Folk, History, Inequality, Making Money, Mountains, Mountains of North Carolina, Other Artists, Paintings, Recovery, Relationships, Spirituality, Step Zero Series, Step Zero: A Sober Love Story in 2076, The South, The West, Trees, Utah | Permalink | Comments (0)

March 24, 2021

“The Cancer Stick (For Those Diagnosed With Cancer), Aspen Wood, Arizona” (c) Stu Jenks 2020. [Extended Family Series]

“The Cancer Stick (For Those Diagnosed With Cancer), Aspen Wood, Arizona” 57 inches tall, (c) Stu Jenks 2020.

Price: $250, shipping included in the price. Simply contact me via my email address at [email protected] or Facebook message me, if you would like to purchase one of my pieces. Payments can be made with Paypal, Venmo or credit card with Square. All pieces are signed with its title, and can be hung from the wall. Love y'all, Stu.

"My wife Alexa hates this piece but I don’t blame her. I have prostate cancer. It hasn’t spread to my bones but it needs to come out. She frightened that her husband will die sooner rather than later. I am too, but it is what it is. I might have already had the surgery by the time this piece goes up on the StuBlog. Pray hard that everything down there continues to work, that they can save one of the big nerves, and that Alexa and I are OK. I’m not big on prayers of intersession but at times like this, I’ll make an exception."

The above paragraph was written in early April of 2020, a month after I made this piece. On April 28th I had radical prostatectomy surgery, during the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic. I'll get to the specifics of my surgery later when I write about my doctors, but today I just want to talk about what it's like to be diagnosed with cancer.

It sucked.

My prostate cancer, by the time we found it, was very advanced. Gleeson score of 8. Major fears that it had spread to my bones and lymph nodes. Many worries that I would be incontinent and/or sexually impotent. That second visit with Dr. Levin after the biopsy, when he told me what I had was just horrible. The sad look on his kind face. The need to move quickly on this, he said. The feeling of all the blood leaving my face when he said it was bad.

This stick isn't about just me, but goes out to all who have had to face the fear of life-ending cancer. My father and my sister died of cancer, Dad from an odd interstitial rib muscle cancer, Pamela from breast cancer. I was there for both of them as they died, but I didn't know what it felt like until I knew what it felt like.

To those of you out there who are fighting cancer, or who have recovered from cancer, or who simply live with cancer, this stick is for you. For me. For us.

P.S. Almost a year post-surgery, I'm doing pretty much OK. My PSA, which should be 0.01 is 0.14, which isn't great. We will keep an eye on that. It means there is still a tiny bit of cancer down there, but my lymph nodes have been removed so it won't spread and maybe at some point, in a year or two, I might need a touch of radiation. And best of all, I pee just fine and Mr. Happy is still happy.

P.P.S.: During April, May and June of 2020, when my recovery was at times both painful and scary, many friends brought food and love and kindness to me, both IRL and on Facebook. I truly can't thank you enough. You know who you are.

#cancerstick, #cancer, #stujenks, #extendedfamilyseries.

Posted at 01:46 AM in Alexa McColl Smith Jenks, Art, Cancer, Faith, Walking Sticks, Wall Pieces, Wood | Permalink | Comments (0)

February 03, 2021

"Eterally Grateful" (c) Stu Jenks 2021

Assemblages are tricky pieces of art. They usually end up looking like "shit on a shingle" created by a first semester art student or an old retired guy who thinks he's making something pretty. Hopefully this piece isn't crap.

I believe my job as an artist is to take the personal and make something that expresses the universal. That's true whether you are a singer/songwriter, a filmmaker, a comic, a writer, or a guy like me who takes photographs of chairs, nightscapes and whatnot, hangs sticks and things off a wall, and who, on occasion, lays his hands on a musical instrument. I feel very strongly about this. Self-indulgent, hey-look-at-me Art is a thing, but it ain't my thing.

That being said, a lot of things in this old Playskool wooden wagon, that hangs off the wall, are very personal to me. I don't know if it'll translate to you, my audience, but I'm trying to make something bigger than me.

So I'll just list the individual elements and leave it at that. I like how my eye moves threw this piece. I'm OK if it doesn't float your boat, but I hope you like it. Some artists say they don't care what other people think, but that's a load of shit. We all care. Just some don't admit it. Don't tell me John Prine didn't care if we liked Angel From Montgomery. Of course he did. Rest in peace, John.

OK. I'll shut up and list what's here.

1) A 1950's Playskool wagon. This used to be filled with colorful woodblocks but only a few are left and I don't know where they are. I do remember playing with this when I was 4 or 5. It was fun.

2) A smooth piece of drift wood found on the shores of the Rappahannock River below the old home place on Mothershead Neck Road in Virginia. Mom sold the place in 2003, a year or so after Dad died. Dad didn't believe in life insurance or having many investments so Mom had to sell it to survive. Yeah. Dad fucked up. No big surprise. I still love the place though. The current owner lets me go down sometimes and walk on the pier.

3) A large piece of crude crystal picked up while walking around Coalmine Canyon on the Hopi Rez in Arizona. Coalmine Canyon is a personal spiritual space for me for almost 35 years. It's gotten a little overrun by tourists in trucks the last 20 years but you can still find a isolated spot to pray and meditate. It's a groovy place. If you ever go, be kind to the land.

4) A rusty old railroad spike found on the tracks near The Cienega Creek Trestles in Southern Arizona. Another holy spot for me, that part of the Arizona trail. I didn't pull the spike out of the tracks. It was just laying there. I swear.

5) A piece of tree fungus harvested just north of the Smith-McIntyre farm in Ashe County, North Carolina. That's Alexa's family old summer home place. The Smiths and McIntyres are generous enough to allow me to occasionally go up there to hike the hills around their property. I recently found 2 new holy spots there since I moved back to North Carolina, one, an old stone cairn across the state line in Virginia, and the other, a piece on a high ridge south of the house. Can't tell you how grateful I am to them, and to the land.

6) A broken gold watch given to me by Alexa a few years ago. It be broke. It don't run. Ain't going to pay to get it fixed, but it came from my wife and it sure is purdy. Just like her. It's set at 12:03, for no particular reason. It just look cool.

7) A XXXII sobriety chip from AA, received at my old home group Smoke Free Nooners in Tucson. God willing and the creek don't rise I'll have 36 years on February 7th of this year.

8) A blue heavy Fender guitar pick. I don't play guitar. I play the mandolin. Poorly.

9) An aluminum Mexican heart given to me by my good friend Mark this last Christmas. We've known each other since 1985. It's a big deal.

10) A tiny piece of wood scrap from the top of a walking stick/wall piece that I'm currently working on. Been doing this series the last few years called The Extended Family, featuring pieces named after family, friends and people I admit and love. This piece is called Bono, Beech Wood, Uwharrie Mountains., North Carolina. Bono, for those you living under a rock, is the lead singer of U2.

11) A 23 year sobriety chip from Cocaine Anonymous. This fellowship and its members have meant the world to me over the last 35 plus years. We're here and we're free, as they say.

12) The absence of anything in the upper left-hand portion of the wagon. The lack of something is a thing to me. I love spaces.

and 13) A special three-spiral chip from CA entitled Eternally Grateful. It's created for those members who have died but we still wise to honor. I placed it here for my friend Chris R. from Atlanta, who died of COVID in 2020. He was a wonderful man who helped many people.

I hope this small thing speaks to a larger truth. It now hangs back in the Jenks' garage where I see it often. Needless to say, it's not for sale. Unless you are talking a shit load of money.

Love you guys.

Stu.

Posted at 11:56 AM in 12 Step Fiction, Arizona, Art, Cancer, Circles, Cocaine Anonymous, Dying, Good Folk, Love, Nature, North Carolina, Sculpture, Spirituality, The South, The West, Wall Pieces | Permalink | Comments (0)

July 16, 2020

Images from the final months of the Trump Administration.

Yes, it's 4 months before the November election but it's a lock that Trump will no be reelected. I can hear some say "Don't jinx it. We said that about Hillary." Well, many independents disliked Hillary and didn't come out to vote. Now a ton of Democratic-leaning Independents hate Trump even worse than Clinton, and they will show up to end this horrible shit show that is the Trump Administration. And tens of 1000's of young people will be voting too, just like they did in 2018.

Most people look at my Facebook page for photos and info about me, maybe a few look at my Twitter feed, but hardly anyone I know comes here to my blog. That's OK, but I'm going to leave a large Easter egg here and I'm going to see if anyone notices.

In mid-August, I'm moving back to Greensboro, North Carolina, to hopefully find work there and to live the rest of my life with my lovely wife Alexa. All I need to do is find part-time work. I'll be OK.

And I miss Alexa like the Dickens.

My recovery from my radical prostatectomy surgery has been slow but moving forward. Still pain in my groin and sexual functioning is every so slowly returning but it is coming back a bit. The cancer is all gone and I can pretty much hold my piss and shit. That last sentence is a big fucking deal. Many men do not have that result after surgery. I do. I'm grateful.

So before I leave Arizona, here are some photos from the last few months: some good, some mundane, but all heartfelt.

And I'll see who text me, emails me or Facebook messages me and says, "Dude, you're moving? Man, we will miss you, but do what you gotta do."

I am. I need to go home and be with my wife.

Hugs, kisses and deep gratitude, y'all.

Stu

It's mid July and the Bighorn Fire is finally out. We think. It burned all over the Catalina Mountains for what? Six weeks? While the Covid-19 spread so did the fire. It was a bit much after a while. Everything right now is a bit much for many of us.

I may never see this place again. Been coming here for 33 years. And even though I'm sad, this canyon has given me so many things, physical, emotional, and spiritual. Big kiss, Coalmine.

Going to have the sell the Buick for scrap before I leave Arizona. It has a value lifter problem and the car is only worth $1000 at best, with 415,000 miles on it, and the repair would cost over $2000. Luckily, I have the old Pathfinder with a new clutch and a new-ish front end. Strong engine too. 'Spirals' on its license plate. I will be styling when I get to NC. Even the good-old-boys will respect an old truck like mine but the Arizona tags may make them a little suspicious.

This particular juniper tree I have been visiting for over 30 years. Have harvested its boughs for incense more than once. It's an old but very fragrant tree. I'll miss you buckaroo, but I'm taking some of you with me.

Obelisk!!! (Inside family joke.)

"Cast of Richard III, Meredith College, Raleigh, North Carolina, Summer of 1973" (c) Photographer unknown.

The first play I acted in, a couple months before I went off to UNC-Chapel Hill. In the Raleigh News and Observer, in their review of the play, I was mentioned positively in my role as Lord Dorset. That one sentence in the paper propelled me to a career in the Arts. I'm not kidding. All the photographs, music, books, projects, installations, etc., point back to that one role in Raleigh in 1973 and that one tiny bit of encouragement.

Yep. Fucked me up pretty bad. (That's a joke. Sorta.)