“All Power to All People”

“All Power to All People.” Art installation by Hank Willis Thomas at Burning Man 2018. Photo by Christine B.

It’s time for another brief art lesson [and the crowd goes wild]!

The afro pick (or afro comb) installation above is the work of Hank Willis Thomas, a conceptual artist who works “primarily with themes related to perspective, identity, commodity, media, and popular culture” (Artist’s bio).

The work, entitled “All Power to All People,” was one of the many fantastic pieces on display [in 2018] at Burning Man a “temporary city” built annually in Black Rock Desert in Nevada. According to a New York Times article on the “monumental art” of Burning Man, Thomas’s 24×10 foot tall installation is on tour throughout the United States this year.

Popularized in the 1970’s, the afro comb has a long, long history that dates all the way back to Ancient Egypt and [also] has roots in West Africa. You can read about that here: Combs from Kemet.

The 1970s-style afro pick typically includes the “peace sign” and the “raised fist”–as seen in Thomas’s work.  It was–and still is–a symbol of Black unity, solidarity, collective identity, and Black empowerment.

The photo was shot by my pen friend Christine B, who participates in Burning Man every year. She surprised me last week with a few of these postcards and a very cool “Black Lives Matter” button. 🙂

I was not only happy to receive Christine’s postcards, but was elated that her photo led me to Hank Willis Thomas. A few summers ago, I photographed one of his other installations, but neglected to get the artist information [doh!]. Maybe, that work will be the subject of a blog post next week. Let’s see what time allows.

Be sure to tune in tomorrow for a bit of tree love.

Wild Silver!

How do you feel about another museum trip?

The Huntsville Museum of Art Buccellati: A Silver Menagerie is another must-see exhibit, and since you can’t be here, I’m bringing some of the pieces to you. I have fewer photographs than I had for last week’s visit showing of the American Studio Glass Exhibit, but the pieces are just as fascinating.

The exhibit features selections from the Museum’s permanent collection of  silver creations designed and fabricated in Italy by the luxury jewelry firm of Buccellati. They were donated by Betty Grisham of Huntsville, Alabama. According to the museum’s website, the Huntsville Museum of Art holds the world’s largest public collection of these unique works of art.

Each piece was designed by Italian jeweler, Gianmaria Buccellati.

Lion, 2000. 925 Sterling.

The present house of Buccellati was founded in 1919 in Milan, Italy and originated what is known as the Buccellati style, which combines Renaissance period techniques, luxury materials, and the extensive use of texture engraving to create objects of great beauty. This distinctive style won favor with a discriminating international clientele, including the Vatican as well as the Royal Houses of Italy, Spain, Belgium, England and Egypt. —Huntsville Museum of Art

Bear, 1997. 925 Sterling.

Gianmaria Buccellati carries on the family tradition today as an internationally renowned silversmith.  He has dedicated his life to creating extraordinary objects that exemplify fine Italian craftsmanship.  –Huntsville Museum of Art

Bear, 1997. 925 Sterling.

His signature silver animals replicate creatures from earth, sea, and sky in a highly realistic manner. Buccellati invented a new method of working in silver to capture fine detail like feathers, hair, or different types of skin, known as “lavorazione a pelo” or “hair-like workmanship.” —Huntsville Museum of Art

Giraffe, 1994. 800 Silver.

An animal reproduced “a pelo” is the result of welding countless silver filaments of varying length and thickness to give the actual appearance of the natural coat. It is a demanding method that requires the highest level of skill and an absolute mastery of soldering techniques. —Huntsville Museum of Art

Tortoise, 2006. 925 Silver.

Animals with the hair-like workmanship were originally produced in 800 silver, which is stronger but less pure than 925 sterling due to its higher alloy content. This was because the intense heat of soldering used in the creation of the animals would have melted the very thin filaments if they were sterling, but the Buccellati artisans were able to invent a new technique of soldering that allowed them to work within the heat tolerance of sterling silver. As a result, all animals produced since 1995 have been created in 925 sterling.  –Huntsville Museum of Art

Swan, 2000. 925 Silver.

Swan, 2000. 925 Silver.

Marine Centerpiece, 1997. 925 Sterling. Amethyst Geode.

I somehow missed photographing the flamingo, which, like the giraffe, is considered a highlight of the collection, but you can see it here on Flickr. [Tip: If you move backwards or forwards in the Flickr album, you’ll see other animals I did not photograph].

My favorites–you guessed it–are the lion and the bear. I just can’t wrap my mind around the exquisite crafting of the hair and fur! The giraffe is über cute and I’m intrigued by the sea creatures. The whole collection is mesmerizing–which is probably why I missed photographing some of the animals.

Do you have a favorite?

Blown Glass and Reflections

Since we are [hopefully] still “sheltering-in-place,” this [not so] #WordlessWednesday is a good time for a museum visit, so I’m sharing some shots from a trip to the Huntsville Museum of Art last summer.

I shared a few photographs from the A New Moon Rises exhibit and a photograph of Breathing from the American Studio Glass exhibit late last year.

Today, we’ll explore more pieces from the American Studio Glass exhibit which is on continuous view at the Huntsville Museum of Art.

Two galleries in the Davidson Wing provide the Museum a showcase for its outstanding holding of American Studio Glass. The collection was initiated in 1995 with the purchase of Cam Langley’s Three Flower Vase, and has grown to nearly four-dozen pieces. Several of the movement’s icons are represented in the collection, as well as nationally and regionally significant voices. The Collection encompasses a wide range of different techniques, including blowing, flame working, casting, and carving. Also included are works combining glass with other materials such as wood, rope, paint, gold and silver leaf, and manipulated imagery. The Museum is pleased to highlight the creativity and variety of the American Studio Glass movement with this exhibit.  –from Huntsville Museum of Art website.

The pieces, primarily made of glass, are all so fascinating that it was difficult to leave the gallery and nearly impossible to pick a favorite.

Keep in mind that I was photographing glass through glass, so obviously, there are a lot of reflections in the photos. Even though you can’t see the pure elegance of each piece, the reflections add a bit of interest to the photos.

Stephen Rolfe Powell (b. 1951, Birmingham, Alabama/d. 2019, Danville, KY). Bodacious Gasp Johnson, 1994.

Blown glass, 30x24x6 inches. Museum purchase in memory of Elinor “Nell” Francis, Paula Frederick, Jewel Halsey, Lieutenant Colonel LeRoy F. Lawson, Kay Ludwig, Loretta G. Och, Leonard Walker Peeler, Dorris Weems, Robert Wiggins, and Helen Yager.

Mary Van Cline (b. 1954, Dallas, TX/lives in Seattle, WA). The Healing Winds of Time, 1997. Photosensitive glass, cast black glass, copper patina.

John Littleton and Kate Vogel (JL b. 1957, Madison, WI; KV b. 1956, Cambridge, England/live in Bakersville, NC). Light Vessel, 2008.

John’s hands cast in amber glass, holding cut disk, interior red, ruby gold leaf with gold ring mica, purple ring and fiberglass painted with glass enamel. Museum purchase, funds provided by Alice Chang.

Thomas Farbanish (b. 1963, Endicott, NY/lives in Bellefonte, PA). Untitled, 1995. Blown glass, acid etched.

Dale Chihuly (b. 1941, Tacoma, WA/lives in Seattle, WA). Imperial Iris Persian Set with Chartreuse Lip, 1999. Blow glass (editioned).  Gift of Alice Chang in honor of Peter J. Baldaia.

Dale Chihuly (b. 1941, Tacoma, WA/lives in Seattle, WA). Red Amber Persian Pair, 2010. Blow glass (editioned).  Gift of Alice Chang in honor of David J. Reyes.

Dante Marioni (b. 1964, Mill Valley, CA/lives in Seattle, WA). Orange Trio, 1996. Blown glass.

Museum purchase, Gala Acquisition Fund.

Ginny Ruffner (b. Atlanta, GA/lives in Seattle, WA). Dancing Box, 2007.

Stainless steel and glass.

Gift of the artist in honor of the Women’s Guild of the Huntsville Museum of Art.

Cappy Thompson (b. 1952, Alexandria, VA/lives in Olympia, WA). Riding Fearless into the Future, 1994. Vitreous enamels on blown glass.

Museum purchase in memory of Harry Rhett, Jr.

Judith LaScola (b. 1955, Pittsburgh, PA/lives in Stamwood, WA). Slumped Series with Winter Bowl, 1996.

Blown, carved, and painted glass, gold leaf. Gift of Alice Chang.

Judith LaScola (b. 1955, Pittsburgh, PA/lives in Stamwood, WA). Yen Series/Gold and Midnight Blue, 1996.

Blown, carved, and painted glass, gold leaf.

Museum purchase, funds provided by Al and Marcy Haraway, the Boeing Company, and the Gala Acquisition Fund.

That’s it for my little taste of the collection. If you want to learn more about the collection, do visit the Huntsville Museum of Arts website.

Summer is always a good time to catch up on museums and galleries, and that doesn’t have to change because COVID-19 has forced museums worldwide to close. Many, many museums are offering virtual museum tours. Search using your favorite search engine or begin with the list of 75 museums offering virtual tours I stumbled on earlier today. That should fill your artsy cup to the brim.

Until next time…

Guest Post | “‘Naming’ Our Grief” by Chanté Enu

It is not unusual for artists to use their work as a platform against social injustice, so it is not surprising that we have seen a resurgence of social justice art since the beginning of the Black Lives Matter movement. Many artists have used Instagram to share their messages. 

My former student, Chanté Enu [formerly known as Chanté Marie]–singer, songwriter, and artist–contributes to the dialogue. Her social justice artwork, which she has begun to post on Instagram, reminds us to “say the names” of those who have succumbed to police violence.

For today’s post on living Black in the United States, she shares a piece from her series, Voices Mourning in Protest and a little about the motivation behind its creation. 


This piece is a tribute to the many Black individuals whose lives were taken by the police. I added names to the canvas in hopes that while viewing this composition people will say their names and remember:

George Floyd. Jamar Clark. Timothy Thomas. Danroy Henry Jr. Trayvon Martin. Eric Garner. Artago Damon Howard. Jeremy Lett. Lavall Hall. Thomas Allen. Charly Leundeu Keunang. Naeschylus Vinzant. Tony Robinson. Anthony Hill. Bobby Gross. Brandon Jones. Eric Harris. Walter Scott. Frank Shephard. William Chapman. David Felix. Brendon Glenn. Kris Jackson. Spencer McCain. Victor Emmanuel Larosa. Salvado Ellswood. Darrius Stewart . Albert Joseph Davis. Samuel DuBose. Christian Taylor. Asshams Pharoah Manley. India Kager. Keith Harrison McLeod. Junior Prosper. Anthony Ashford. Bennie Lee Tignor. Jamar Clark. Nathaniel Harris Pickett.

The list goes on.

The focal point of this piece is a black woman in mourning. She represents the heaviness of the grief and loss many of us feel.

My prayer is that we expel the monsters of apathy and disconnect that plague our nation and invoke genuine feelings of connectedness through our collective grief over the loss of these lives.

Through this piece, I hope people understand that it is our responsibility to speak up, to advocate, to say their names, to protest injustice, to deeply care about the injustices against Black lives.

#ThursdayTreeLove | TreeArt Part III: A Masterpiece

I’m back with my final TreeArt photo from a late May visit to Burritt on the Mountain.

A gorgeous tree stump arrested my attention just before we entered the “open-air museum,” as the park is described. It was behind a low fence near the entrance, so I walked around the fence to take a few shots. For my son, who is a stickler for rules, the fence meant “don’t go there.” so I had to be quick.

I was mesmerized by the patterns. It had recently rained, so the dampness gave the stump a smooth, polished texture. Isn’t it beautiful?

I’m convinced the “inside” of a tree is one of nature’s most magnificent masterpieces.


I am joining Parul Thakur for #ThursdayTreeLove every second and fourth Thursday of the month. If you would like to play along, post a picture of a tree on your blog and link it back to her latest #treelove post.

#ThursdayTreeLove | TreeArt Part II: Shadow and Light

We find beauty not in the thing itself but in the patterns of shadows, the light and the darkness, that one thing against another creates…Were it not for shadows, there would be no beauty.  –Junichiro Tanizaki, In Praise of Shadows, 1933

I don’t know about you, but I really need time to slow down a bit. How are we already at the end of June? I am trying to savor this summer, but it’s almost impossible since I really haven’t begun my summer break yet (meetings and tying up too many loose ends of a crazy COVID semester). I will have to work a lot of tree love into the remaining five weeks if I am to face a new academic year with at least a little sanity.

Anyway, I’m back, as promised, with the second installment of TreeArt. The photos aren’t spectacular, but I I was drawn to these particular shots because of the interplay of shadow and light.

I failed to mention in TreeArt Part I that the photos for this three-part series were shot at Burritt on the Mountain in Huntsville, Alabama.

If you want way more Burritt tree love [and autumn loveliness] you should check out my November 2016 post, Walk to the Cross.

Until next time…


I am joining Parul Thakur for #ThursdayTreeLove every second and fourth Thursday of the month. If you would like to play along, post a picture of a tree on your blog and link it back to her latest #treelove post.

#ThursdayTreeLove | TreeArt Part I: The Sculptor

The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a green thing that stands in the way. Some see nature all ridicule and deformity… and some scarce see nature at all. But to the eyes of the [wo]man of imagination, nature is imagination itself.  William Blake, Letters from William Blake to Dr. John Trusler (1799)

The guys and I finally had an opportunity to get in a bit of tree therapy a couple of weeks ago. After finding absolutely no parking at one mountain trail, we drove to another and found the parking lot empty. We had the whole trail to ourselves! [We kept our masks on anyway–just in case].

For this outing, I was drawn to the remains of trees, which add a bit of drama and art to the trails.

I didn’t take many shots, but I have nine or ten photos to share. Instead of throwing all in one post, I’m spreading them out over three [consecutive?] #ThursdayTreeLove posts.

Today I’m sharing tree sculptures. Nature does an amazing job of sculpting trees–from the initial “cut” to the shaping.

The one below is freshly “cut.” I wonder what shape it will take.

Apparently it was struck by lightning. Here’s the top:

I’ll be watching for how these transform [even more] over time.

Until next time…


I am joining Parul Thakur for #ThursdayTreeLove every second and fourth Thursday of the month. If you would like to play along, post a picture of a tree on your blog and link it back to her latest #treelove post.

“there is prayer in poem”

Sadly, we’ve reached the end of National Poetry Month. There are so many poets, so many beautiful words I wish I could share, but only 30 days in April.

Wait. That’s a good thing.

This month was crazy–all the end of the semester madness amplified by Zoom teaching, learning, meeting, and sheltering-in-place. Thankfully, I was able to find some time to think and write, and I wrote poetry almost every day.

I’ve enjoyed our daily excursions, and we end with the words of nayyirah waheed, whose book salt goes everywhere with me. The poem below is from nejma, her second collection of poetry.  It is appropriate for today.

(all i can do is rest.)
my body is the middle of a poem.

there is prayer in poem.

when i am writing
i am praying.

all the prayers that are too soft.
too young.
too old.
to say.

nayyirah waheed, from nejma

Thank you for taking this journey with me. Although we will move on to other matters, we will return to poetry often. For now, I hope you were inspired to pick up a book of poetry and savor the words or grab a pen to write your own. More importantly, I hope you are on the way to living your poem.


About the image: The postcard above features the artwork of Melissa Shutlz-Jones. It is entitled “Birmingham Summer.” The card was among those Irene Latham distributed to students when she visited our campus, and probably because of the sunflower, a student gave the postcard to me. 🙂

“I Am Looking at Music”

National Poetry Month is nearing an end and as I fretted [earlier today] over which poems I should share for the remaining three posts, I realized I haven’t shared a love poem. Gasp!

Love poems are tricky. There are many, many absolutely beautiful love poems, but I have a tendency to steer clear of  poems that overly romanticize love and ignore its complexity. If I am to enjoy the poem, the writer has to avoid cliche but still evoke some feeling and truth with which readers [or listeners] can identify.

I first heard the poem I’m sharing today as “Nina’s Song”–recited by Nia Long in the film Love Jones. The poem is actually the work of Louisiana’s first African American Poet Laureate, Pinkie Gordon Lane (1923-2008). Her skillful use of imagery–light, sound, color–to capture the subtle nuances of love is astounding.

I Am Looking at Music
Pinkie Gordon Lane

It is the color of light,
the shape of sound
high in the evergreens.

It lies suspended in hills,
a blue line in a red
sky.

I am looking at sound.
I am hearing the brightness
Of high bluffs and almond
trees. I am
tasting the wilderness of lakes,
rivers, and streams
caught in an angle
of song.

I am remembering water
that glows in the dawn,
and motion tumbled
in earth, life hidden in mounds.

I am dancing a bright
beam of light.

I am remembering love.


About the image: The image above is one of my own pieces. I crafted the original last summer with “leftover” paint. All the colors seem to pair well with Lane’s poem, so I’m sharing it today.

“Everything Is Waiting for You”

Last night I participated in a “Write Together” workshop with about 15 beautiful souls. The workshop was organized and hosted by Love Notes founder and coordinator, Jennifer Belthoff. I needed the time to write and think in the community of others, so I am grateful for Jennifer and her willingness and openness to offer the workshop during this challenging time.

After participants shared in response to one of the prompts, Jennifer read a poem by British poet David Whyte. I was not familiar with his work and I’ve had little time to process this poem, but it resonates with me.

Everything Is Waiting for You
David Whyte

Your great mistake is to act the drama
as if you were alone. As if life
were a progressive and cunning crime
with no witness to the tiny hidden
transgressions. To feel abandoned is to deny
the intimacy of your surroundings. Surely,
even you, at times, have felt the grand array;
the swelling presence, and the chorus, crowding
out your solo voice. You must note
the way the soap dish enables you,
or the window latch grants you freedom.
Alertness is the hidden discipline of familiarity.
The stairs are your mentor of things
to come, the doors have always been there
to frighten you and invite you,
and the tiny speaker in the phone
is your dream-ladder to divinity.

Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into the
conversation. The kettle is singing
even as it pours you a drink, the cooking pots
have left their arrogant aloofness and
seen the good in you at last. All the birds
and creatures of the world are unutterably
themselves. Everything is waiting for you.

Even though pretty much the entire world is going through the Corona Virus crisis together, we are disconnected from much of our normal. This might make us feel isolated and alone, particularly as we grapple–in our individual ways–with the toll this pandemic is taking on humanity.  I appreciate the invitation to tune in to everything [else] that is waiting.


About the image: The postcard above was sent to me by my swap-bot/book-lover friend Geraldine J (Nannydino). It is the work of Australian artist, Loui Jover. Needless to say, I love this piece, and am looking forward to learning more about the artist.