Northern California on my mind



I found these pieces at the Fine Eye Gallery in my hometown, Sutter Creek, California. Laura Faye Mah indeed has a fine eye. She captures the essence of the Sierra foothills, the colors, the serenity and pace of life. These are, ironically, all of the things I hated so much growing up here. Guess it took middle age to appreciate it. Now I miss it terribly. Especially this time of year when the hills are a glorious green and the air is crisp. Saturday afternoons browsing in antique stores with JJ. In search of nothing in particular, but often discovering objects that channel my grandmother and her mother. Franciscan Rose china, roses and little birds on everything, the Flamingo mirror, cigarette holders, pink glass ashtrays that weighed 10 pounds. A passing glance at a material object and one is pulled into the past. That musty smell of 1960's damask upholstery acts as a time tunnel to Christmas 1962. Or 1972, for that matter. The orange Bauer pitcher that collected dust in the kitchen; the one my grandmother promised to me and, unbeknownst to me, apparently every other child and grandchild in the family. I love that my uncle ended up with it and that JJ was so concerned I'd be upset, that she got me one just like it. And just like that, a connection is made with the past. Because its not about the object. It's about the memory the object evokes; even if that memory is a little different for my uncle, for JJ and for me. And that's a beautiful thing.
Wow. Talk about going off on a tangent. Guess I'm a bit homesick.