Stu Jenks' Fezziwig Press

Pamela's Baby Rocking Chair (Tossed About)

"Pamela's Baby Rocking Chair, The Rappahannock River, Virginia: [Tossed About]" (c) 2023 Stu Jenks

These days with my cancer and such, I'm feeling a little tossed about myself.

Love you all.

Stu

"The Happy Couple" (c) Stu Jenks 2022

"The Happy Couple, Red Cedar, North Carolina" (c) 2022 Stu Jenks. Price upon request. 

Well. looky there. Our democracy has been saved for another two years at least. 

And I've been saying this for months. The young people, the Gen Z and others, will come out and vote, because Repubs have done nothing on climate change, taken away women's rights, and turned a blind eye to gun control. And they did turn out. The young people will save us. Now. let's just watch the Republicans fight amongst themselves, and watch the policies that Biden and the Congress passed begin to make a difference in Americans lives in 2023. In two words, hot damn. 

And this piece makes reference to Alexa and I: two substantial individuals connect by golden hooks to make a happier, move loving whole. That's what I had in mind when I made this. You can just see it as two pieces of pretty red cedar wood, hanging from a wall too. I'm good with that.

Love y'all, Stu

"Mr. Zippo (George Blaisdell), Red Cedar, North Carolina" (c) 2022 Stu Jenks

"Mr. Zippo (George Blaisdell), Red Cedar, North Carolina" (c) 2022, Price upon request for the wall piece. 

 

As some of you know, the Zippo lighter was paramount in the development of my artistic vision. In simpler terms, I was a night photographer in the late 1990's, and I was looking for an organic light source to create my flame spirals. The Zippo was it. 

George Blaisdell invented and produced Zippos from 1932 until his death in 1978. After his death, his two daughters, Sarah and Harriet, took over the company. I made this sculpture to honor him and them. 

Truly, if it wasn't for the Zippo lighter, my life would have been very different. Its tall, beautiful, bright flame was the perfect light source for many of my photographs, for over ten years.

I still have one of those two Zippos I owned back them, one given to me as a birthday present from my good friend Micheal Doll. (Thought it would be sweet to give Michael a shout-out)

Enjoy some of these flame spiral images from that time. Photo image rights and prints are always available. And the book Flame Spirals: Journeys Through Nocturnal Photography is available wherever you buy books. 

Flame on, y'all. Have a blessed day and a peaceful night. 

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.

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

"Annie & Johnny Beeton's Graves, Oak Grove Cemetery, Lexington, VA" (c) 2022 Stu Jenks.

Eleven years ago yesterday, my mother Mary Jenks died. I could write a lot about her. Frankly I already have written a lot about Mom. Click on this link to my Amazon pages and you can buy/read two books about Mom. Dementia Blues and Pamela's Baby Rocking Chair) All I'll say tonight is I miss her. Yes she was a force of nature and she tended to push people away with her narcissistic neediness, but she's wasn't all bad. Actually, I'd say she was at least 1/2 good. Not a ringing endorsement I know, but Mary was a glass half full or half empty, depending on how you looked at her. You might be able to say the same for me too. For all of us perhaps. Anywho, love you Mom. May your spirit roam free. 

"Mary as a newlywed, Rocky Mount, North Carolina (c) Late 1940's. Photograph taken by my father, Stu Jenks. 

Our main story tonight is this. Again, I've already written about this before too, but he's a summery.

Johnny and Annie Beeton were my great-great-grandparents. Their third child Ella, born in 1863, was my great grandmother who married a Jenks, and off we went. But Johnny and Annie, it appears, and I've made some assumptions from viewing the partial record, were not like most Southerners of their time. Or may be they were.

Johnny worked at the Virginia Military Institute in Lexington, Virginia before The Civil War. He and Annie already had two kids. It appears Annie and Johnny were happy. Then war broke out. Then the renowned and quite-crazy teacher at VMI, Thomas "Stonewall" Jackson, drafted the entire student body of VMI and most of the able bodied men in Lexington, into his new regiment. Johnny knew, much like many at VMI knew, that Stonewall was at best, a reckless crazy man and at worse, an egomaniacal bully. Johnny quickly got transferred out of Stonewall's Brigade and spend The Civil War, making munitions in Richmond. It appears he was quite good at making guns and bullets. After the War, he returned to Lexington, and worked at Washington and Lee College, just down the street from VMI. He and Annie had 11 children in all. Yep, 11, 10 who lived into adulthood. Sadly, Annie died in 1883 at the young age of 45. Given the large grave marker Johnny build for her, and other information I have gleaned, it appears Johnny loved Annie very much, and I think Annie loved him too. Johnny never remarried. Ella Beeton married into the Jenks clan and that history is ripe with controversy and hurtfulness, but prior to that, it appears the Beetons were a large happy family. 

Now, in the art world, particularly back in the 1970's and 80's, there was this thing call Conceptual Art, art that was more about the idea than about the object; art that couldn't be bought and sold that easily; art that was only remembered if you filmed and photographed it or experienced it live, in the moment. Conceptual Art is the mother of what we now call Performance Art. 

Back in art school, I did a bunch of Conceptual Art: burying myself in fire brick at the center of campus; leashing myself to the front porch of 608 Airport Road for 12 hours, not speaking for that time and hoping roommates brought me food and drink; building a brick sculpture from 1152 fire bricks, one a day, everyday, for thirty days, taken one down and then building another; and most famously, painting Fatal Figures on the streets of Chapel Hill where all the fatal traffic accidents had occurred from 1970 to 1978. Yep, I did all that, and I have the slides to prove. 

I made my current artistic career mostly as a nocturnal photographer, selling image rights and prints, making a little coin from my music, and producing a number of books. Conceptual Art was not made by me for decades. 

Until last week. 

During my travels since I moved back to North Carolina, I've visited many cemeteries. Some, during certain times of the year, are decorated with Confederate Flags, mostly the awful battle flag "The Stars and Bars", but of late with the National Confederate Flag, with its circle of stars on a blue field, and with its bands of white and red. They are trying to be politically correct. Good for them, but they fail. Sorry, the Confederates were traitors to the Union, not matter how much you might admire Robert E. Lee and the aforementioned Stonewall Jackson. It was a war to free the slaves and I'm glad as fuck, that the South lost. 

And I believe my great great grandparents, Annie and Johnny Beeton, thought The War Between The States was a stupid and ridiculous idea as well. At the very least, foolhardy. Why else would Johnny transfer away for General Jackson? He knew how crazy he was. He worked around him. But he also felt pressure that he had to serve, whether he wanted to or not. The southern Home Guard, a group of disreputable men who made southern men enlist during the War, made sure that Johnny had to go. Luckily, he found a safe place to serve, in a gun factory in Richmond, Virginia. 

And lets face it. Had he stayed to fight along side Stonewall Jackson, he would have probably been killed or died in the first year. He wouldn't have been able to come home and visit Annie during the Fall of 1862 to conceive my great grandmother Ella. And I won't be here. 

Repeat. I won't be here. 

So last week, I took a National Confederate Flag I had stolen from a cemetery somewhere (guilty as charged), and wrote on it with a black pen 'He Fought Reluctantly'. Then I drove the two hours north to Johnny Beeton's grave and placed in the the ground. 

Hardly anyone was there on that day. I took my pics. I also visited my great great grandparents on the Jenks side and my great great great grandparents on the Beeton side. I also looked at the large grave market for Stonewall Jackson and thought, "What an asshole." I always think that. Jackson was a crazy man who got thousands killed, fighting for the right for white men to own black people. Almost every time I visit Annie and Johnny, strangers pass by to pay their respects to Stonewall. They are almost always loud. They almost always don't notice I'm 30 feet way, staring at the gravestone of Annie and Johnny. On a good day, I just shake my head at their rudeness. On a bad day, I whisper "Would you all shut the fuck up?", hoping the negative vibe carries to their souls. Never does. 

Anyway, Johnny and Annie, I made a piece of Conceptual Art for you all. If you were alive today with your 19th century perspectives, you might think me a little mad, a little crazy. Can't really argue with you there. 

Love, light and luck, 

Stu

Circles and Spirals: Stu Jenks' Newsletter #7: 6/28/2022

"Flame Circle at St. Mary's Whitechapel, Lively, Virginia" (c) 2001, 2022

1) Just horrendous. You know what I'm talking about. The over-turning of Roe v. Wade. So much has been said already, and perhaps the last thing we need is a man bemoaning what I believe is a woman's primary right to her own body. Or maybe more men do need to speak up. I don't know. But I will say this. The steady march to a New American Theocracy, a nation ruled by religious beliefs rather than by laws, worries the fuck out of me. Vote in the Fall for all Democrats, no matter how wimpy or conservative they are, and register others to vote as well, so we can hold onto state houses and perhaps hold the U.S. Senate and U.S. House as well. All this makes me so angry and sad. That being said, I have to remind myself that America has only been a 'true' democracy since 1964, since The Civil Rights act.

So Rest In Peace, American Democracy (1964-2022). Adios muchachos. Hopefully a New Democracy will be reborn in the future.

One outside hope I have is that corporations will be less willing to invest into anti-abortion, anti-women states, not sending new offices and factories to those places. That along with the slim hope that Democrat politicians will eventually grow a pair and learn how to fight. I pray for the former to happen but have little hope for the latter. I just feel awful for all the women and girls in my country right now. Just awful. 

2) My radiation oncology has begun on the salvage/killing of the little bit of cancer that remains in my pelvic floor. Not fun. The feeling of having to pee all the time, not every day, but many days, sucks. But truly, the hardest thing about this daily process is walking from the parking lot to the cancer center on my bad left leg, and then the massive fatigue that hits me an hour after treatment. But I don't want to die before my time. The docs seems hopeful that this will kill the cancer that's still left. I sure hope so. 

"Desert Agave Walking Stick, North Topsail Beach, North Carolina" (c) 2022 Stu Jenks. 

3) I tried to sell some of my walking sticks and photographs at my local farmer's market last Saturday. Had very few sales but I met some very nice people, mostly the other vendors and a few shoppers. And of course, like my other Open Art Studio type events over the years, I had the odd person who said really weird things to me (I'll leave it at that). I may come back in the Fall after my radiation, when I have more energy. The people were quite sweet, but this really isn't my crowd where my art will sell, I'm afraid. People are there for the fruits and vegetables, not the rocking chair photos and high end walking sticks. But they were still very nice people. 

"Grimsley High School Graduation, Greensboro Coliseum, North Carolina" (c) 2022 Stu Jenks. 

4) I went to my nephew Will's high school graduation a few weeks back. It was a hoot. I hadn't been to a high school graduation since I graduated from Sanderson High School in 1973. Got a couple of good shots with the long lens. So much fun. Congrats Will McIntyre, and good luck in the fall as you attend the University of Tennessee in Knoxville. 

"DC-10 Fighting A Fire, Dragoon Mountains, Arizona" (c) 2016, 2022 Stu Jenks. 

"Stu and Stuart Sleeping, Mothershead Neck, Richmond County, Virginia" (c) 2001, 2022 Stu Jenks. 

"Harriet Tubman by Arron Douglas, Ackland Art Museum, Chapel Hill, NC" (Image capture by Stu Jenks 2022)

5) I've been to some fine local art shows lately, and I'm still trying to get into other art shows, here and in Tucson, but it's been slow going. Both having a bad leg that's not healing very quickly, and this fatiguing oncology radiation and I'm a bit hobbled. I'm not liking it at all. But it is what it is and it ain't what it ain't. Acceptance is the key and all that good shit. Keep me in your thoughts and prayers, to heal up from this cancer and this torn leg muscle, and that I sell more art, music and books so I can continue to keep the wolves away from the door. Love you all. Stu. P.S. Alexa says hey. 

"Mothershead Neck Flame Spiral, Virginia" & "My Ghost Likes To Travel Hoop Dance, Arizona" (c) 2022 Stu Jenks. 

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

"Rain Approaching, Blue Ridge Parkway, Virginia" (c) 2022 Stu Jenks. 

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. 

"The Painted Desert Project, Gray Mountain, Arizona" (c) 2022 #vyalone and many more. Image capture by me. 

"Saguaro near Topowa, T.O. Reservation, Arizona" (c) 2022 Stu Jenks. 

"The Virgin Mary near Kitt Peak, T.O. Reservation, Arizona" (c) 2022 Stu Jenks. 

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.

"Great Aunt Bertie's Grave, Richmond, Virginia" (c) 2022 Stu Jenks. 

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. 

"Me at Stagsville Plantation, North Carolina" (c) 2022 photo taken by another visitor to this historical site. 

"North Topsail Beach at Desk, North Carolina" (c) 2022 Stu Jenks. 

Circles and Spirals: Stu Jenks' Newsletter #5: 5/23/2022

"Coalmine Canyon East, Navajo Rez, Arizona" (c) 2022 Stu Jenks. 

1) First things first. I got COVID, probably on the plane coming back from Arizona. Yeah, shit. Thank God for the anti-viral medication Paxlovid and having been vaxxed four times. Still was a rough 4 days, fever, chills, coughing, really bad sinus headaches, but today I still have a bit of brain fog, some congestion, a little bit of a cough and a mild headache. Really glad I'm not in the hospital. Really glad I'm not dead. 

2) Went to visit Tucson on the 4th of May. Came back on the 12th. It was wonderful, to see old friends and to simply walk the land I know so well. Went to Coalmine Canyon at sunset, a personal spiritual place I've visited for over 35 years. It's changed some with many tourists now, many meaning any. (Back in the day, I would see no one at all.) That day, I ran into a pair of irritated German tourists who didn't know how to behave, and selfishly had to get their shoots right away, ignoring the fact that there was a guy right there, me, who might have given them some history and some warnings about the place (There are wild dogs there from time to time that will tear you up), but I didn't let them ruin the moment too bad (OK. A little). I took my shots and then I just soaked in the space. It's an amazing space. Feel free to visit, just be respectful. Included here are a few of the best shots I took. By the way, the tall massive hoodoo in the distance is called The Ghost. The place is haunted, say both the Hopi and the Navajo and me. Over the years I have felt the spirits and it's no joke. They are mostly friendly ghosts. Mostly. 

3) I miss my home in the desert. A lot. From the baked eggs at The Cup Cafe to the tortillas at Le Estrella Bakery. But mostly I miss the people, my art community and my recovery community and my friends. All the above. Here in Greensboro, I'm getting to know a few people, but I lived in Tucson for over 35 years. You make a lot of friends in that time, if you're not a jerk. I can be a bit much at times but I'm not a jerk. Thanks everyone who showed me such love and kindness during my time in Tucson. Means the world. Hope to be back soon. 

"La Estrella Bakery, South 12th Avenue, Tucson, AZ" (c) 2022 Mural by Ruben Moreno, image capture by Stu Jenks. 

"  "Old MLK Apartments, Downtown Tucson, AZ" (c) 2022 Mural by Ignacio Garcia, image capture by Stu Jenks. 

4) I still have a bad left leg but I was able to walk a bit in Arizona. Walking the flats near the Mustang Mountains south of Tucson was a joy. Hiking up Cathy's Fault, north of town, just hurt like a son of a bitch, but I had to go up it anyway. At the Mustangs, I drew an spiral on an anthill, for me sure, but also for two people I know who are dying of cancer, and for their friends and family. One has died, the other close to passing. It's very sad. Both are way too young. Both are way too sweet. I'm not praying for their souls. No need. In my belief system, everyone is going to Heaven or a Heaven of sorts. But I do pray for their loved ones who are left behind, grieving, sad. May all of you feel held by God, by me and by all who love you. 

"Spiral for Kris and Al, Mustang Mountains, Arizona" (c) 2022 Stu Jenks. 

5) One of the most memorable moments of my trip was when I was sleeping in my car on the Hopi Rez, along the side of the road one night. It's not a big thing. No one will bother you if you nap in your car. Just lock your doors. Anyway, in the middle of the night I got up for a minute and went outside. I gazed to the south and saw the Milky Way. Not unusual to see it if you are out in the boonies, but what made me say 'wow' out loud, was seeing our galaxy stretch all the way from the Southern horizon, almost all the way to the Northern horizon. I had never seen it stretch that far north. The sky seemed both close enough to touch and a billion miles away. Marvelous. The next morning I thought of dropping in on my Hopi friends but it was way too early to do that. I took an image of their village instead. The Youvella and Kinale families and all the others, may your days be blessed. Hug the kids for me. 

"Polacca and Nipple Butte In The Distance, First Mesa, Hopi Rez, Arizona" (c) 2022 Stu Jenks

6) Again, got back from Tucson, safe but not sound. Pretty sure I got COVID on the plane when I sat next to someone who I believe may have been sick. Frankly 2/3 of the plane were unmasked. WTF. Anyway, I'm out and about again. Took a pic of Pamela's Baby Rocking Chair along a little-traveled train track in rural North Carolina. Went up to the Blue Ridge Parkway, to get my fix of looking-far-into-the-distance. It's good to be home in NC. It's a little odd to feel at home in two places, one in Arizona and another in North Carolina, but it's certainly better than not feeling at home at all. A lot of people are homeless too you know, and just as bad, many people don't feel like they have a home even though they have a place to live. Alexa and I am truly blessed. 

"Pamela's Baby Rocking Chair, Beaver Dam Branch, North Carolina" (c) 2022 Stu Jenks. 

7) Alexa got the COVID too, from me don't you know, but she is much better now too. We are both grateful that we didn't get that sick. She says hey.

"Pink Dogwood On Our Street, Greensboro, NC" (c) 2022 Stu Jenks. 

8) So that's it for now. Thank all of you who sent prayers and good wishes on the social medias, texts, IMs and phone calls during our illnesses. Alexa and I are very happy to be on the mend. One last thing: Alexa's dad, Norman Smith, lives just down the street. Over the past week, he has dropped off fresh strawberries from his garden. As the wise man said, that does not suck. Alexa and I do live in a lovely part of the world. I know I may be overusing this word today, but we feel truly blessed. And you too. Have a blessed day. Saying that doesn't mean you are religious. It just means you are grateful. 

Love, light and luck, 

Stu

"The Road East, Coalmine Mesa, Navajo Rez, Arizona" (c) 2022 Stu Jenks. 

 

Circles and Spirals: Stu Jenks' Newsletter #4: 5/3/22

"Pamela's Baby Rocking Chair, Art Lab Building, Chapel Hill, North Carolina: Then and Now" (c) 1978, 2022 Stu Jenks. 

 

Hello, y'all, 

1) Pictured here is my sister's chair at the UNC Art Lab Building. If you want to read the Fatal Figures book for free, click here. Long story. Short version? In 1978, I found out where all the fatal traffic accidents had occurred in Chapel Hill from 1970 to the present. Then I painted Fatal Figures on those spots as an artistic statement to make people drive more cautiously. Didn't work out as I planned. Huh. Again, check out the book, if you haven't already.

After a so-so experience at the Cat's Cradle, seeing some old semi-famous Carolina classmates perform music (Chris Stamey and Peter Holsapple. They played sweetly. The headliner? Not so much.), I was driving home to Greensboro and I decided I swung by the Art Lab Building. Yep. The Fatal Figure was still on the wall. 

I thought two things: 1) what audacity I had to spray paint on the wall back in 1978. I was full of myself back then. Yeah. and 2) Pamela's chair hasn't been photographed there, as a square. I had the chair. I had the 70-200mm. Here's that image. 

That project defined my senior year in art school at UNC. It doesn't define me now, but it ain't nothing. Still surprised that no faculty member had sandblasted it away in the past 40 plus years.

2) Went to the races a couple of weeks ago. Bowman Grey Stadium racing. 1/4 mile paved. Very old track. Racing around an old football field. Enjoyed the roar of the engines. Enjoyed seeing some people of color there too. Back in the day, this was strictly white-man-land. Now, women, blacks and hispanics are allowed to enjoy racing. Somethings do change. A little. The walk to and from my car about killed me, with my left leg strain that I've had for almost 6 months, but it was fun. Do I need to go back anytime soon? Nope. But it was a hoot. 

"Bowman Grey Stadium Racing, Winston-Salem, North Carolina" (c) 2022 Stu Jenks. 

3) Tomorrow, I fly out to Tucson for 8 days. Get my teeth cleaned in Nogales, Sonora. Visit with some good friends. Eat Picacho Nachos at The Cup at the Hotel Congress. Visit Lipan Point at the Grand Canyon. And many other things. This trip is really costing me money I can't really afford to spend. Nevertheless, I hope to return to Arizona, every year or 18 months or so, no matter the cost. I need to hug a saguaro, eat a fresh flour tortilla and breathe in that hot, dry, desert air. And see some good friends. Pray that my leg doesn't hold me back too much. I got a doctor's note so I can bring my walking stick on the plane, for support. Getting old truly sucks, but as my father used to say, "It beats the alternative." Those of you in Arizona, I hope I get a chance to see some of you. 

"Pamela's Baby Rocking Chair, Lipan Point, Grand Canyon, Arizona" (c) 2022 Stu Jenks. 

"Pamela's Baby Rocking Chair, Abandoned Bowling Alley, Bedford, Virginia" (c) 2022 Stu Jenks. 

4) We will have a lot of time to talk about the recent Supreme Court leak/revelation. If this doesn't get the 70% of women in this county who are pro-choice to get out and vote in the fall, I don't know what will. Shameful. Sexist. Men doing more bad things to women. Nothing new, but it still makes me mad and sad every time women and poor people are treated like shit.

5) But there is still art.

There is still music.

There are still friends and family.

There is still love.

It's a dark world now, from the streets of Kiev and the backroads of Ukraine, to the Planned Parenthood building just down the street. But there is still light and love and goodness in most of us. Most of us. I need to remember that. 

Pray that my left leg holds up on this trip. I need that leg.

6) And Alexa is very good, working hard, both at work and on her tan. 

Love you guys, 

Stu

"Morning Mist" by Claude Monet. At the North Carolina Museum of Art, Raleigh, North Carolina. Image capture by Stu Jenks in 2022. Painting by Monet in 1897. 

 

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.