Brother butt is it art?

Flopside COmics
Art Class

I remember one day waiting for the stores to open. I was parked in-front of an Art Store. I knew the joint was closed but watched a guy go up to the door and pull on it. Before he did this he tossed his cigarette butt to the ground. Once he found out the place was closed he went looking for it on the dirty asphalt jungle street. I watched as he looked for it, found it and picked it up. It was still hot and he walked away smoking it. This image is inspired by the man and the cigarette butt…glory hallelujah!!

Butt is it art?
Butt is it art?

comic relief…

Unicursal Hexagram


The pentagram is the emblem of the divine Feminine. In the instance the star secreted with the rose balances an inverted pentagram that can imply the superiority of matter over spirit or, the need to be able to face the darkness in order to understand the light.

~ The Element Encyclopedia of Secret Signs and Symbols by Adele Nozedar  Pg. 132

Built by the Knights Templar


It is always interesting when a symbolic painting painted from years ago comes forward to reveal itself. I remember what the Swiss psychiatrist Carl Jung said,

“…that when creating art from an unconscious or spiritual place one should share it with others or the public…”

Yet, I do because as Jung  points out, that when one does it can touch someone else and affect a chain of events that has meaning.

The Temple  By Hudley 1991

Last night while watching the History 2 channel.  I came upon a TV series. In general it is about an unearthed structure that may have been built during the medieval period on American soil. It is a very interesting topic to me. As I watched the program a special moment happened. I call them synchronicity moments. This structure seemed familiar to me. As many ancient buildings, it seems to be in tune with the four directions and with the sun, moon and stars in the night sky. The Knights Templar focus was on the divine feminine and for them it was the star Venus and also the symbol of the egg.

On this particular structure on American soil there is an egg shape stone that lights up as a certain time by the sun. This holds great meaning symbolically when understanding the Goddess.
As I was viewing this program I looked at the clock below the TV screen and noticed the time was 11:11.

Numerologists believe that events linked to the time 11:11 appear more often than can be explained by chance or coincidence. This belief being based on the concept of synchronicity. Some authors claim that seeing 11:11 on a clock is an auspicious sign. Others claim that 11:11 signals a spirit presence.

Knowing this I had to listen to what I was watching with more intent. Then the image of a watercolor painting I did years ago came to my mind. At the time when I created the painting it was based on my inspiration. I was working with the American Indian Medicine wheel that is based on the four directions: North, East, South and West. I also placed a triangle shape over the threshold of the building of my watercolor. The building I imagined was also built of stone like the structure in the history channel.

At the time I created this simple water-color I was thinking of it as a holy place that I would like to build on a large piece of land in a natural setting.
I am now content to share this story. To think about it and this new experience of what it is saying to me now. What is saying to you the reader?
So be it, I shared my story Mr. Jung!!

They help me to understand…

The mature Praying Mantis
The mature Praying Mantis

I have never had a real person out-there mentor. My mentors have always been from books published by people long ago demised as William Blake or Carl Jung. When I read their work, it is not in a way as if to own it or to be an expert about their works. When I read their works, and see the images they have created, it is if they are here with me, beyond space and time showing me things.


They help me to affirm what I know and support my experiences. They are my mentors in this life. They show me the big picture and they teach me, they still do, about how to live in this world. They show me how to use my imagination and to share what I have created. They help me understand power, strength, and insight. I have learned to love contradiction, humor, and metaphor. I have found bliss in creating mandalas, water-colors and grasping the hands of nature.

They help me to befriend the fears of my shadow, and so far, have always led me back to the light. I love them and I am not alone in this sometimes strange and dangerous world. The most important thing that they both have in common is that Blake and Jung show me that to be unique is brilliance. Also, we as humans shouldn’t strive for this without its complementary and sometimes contrary opposite, which is to learn to be alike and the same as the most common and mundane.

Ember, the continuity of an image

This got me thinking about the continuity of an image. An image can fly around through many cultures and not really be understood, even though it sometimes carries great meaning, wisdom and insight.

As an older woman I find nothing in my current culture to affirm what I am going through, which is menopause. I look to the celebrities and they all practice yoga and get plastic surgery.  Most of them all look the same. When I look at ancient or archaic cultures I see women statues of big bosoms and round behinds. Some are smiling like  Sheela-na-gig while holding  their vulva’s open  for all to see. I get confused. I cannot talk to my mom because she is dead. My sister raced through menopause due to chemotherapy, so she does not really have to play the waiting game; something a woman goes through, wondering, what in the hell is going on? (I must say in retrospection that both my Mom and sister had their own suffering and waiting to attend to with what they went is different . I don’t know if either of them wondered about menopause like I do now ?) All my grandmothers are pretty much dead or beyond reproach.  I do not have a real tradition passed down to me. No old women sitting around the camp fire telling me their wisdom women stories. So I went looking.

My education is rich and I have studied many cultures. Mostly it is  the great erect patriarchs, histories and mythologies,  that are floating around in my brain. Occasionally a matriarch pushes a couple of men out-of-the-way like Cleopatra or Inanna  the Sumerians Goddess; but this is rare. The Thirteen Grandmothers of the ancient Native American culture are very helpful, yet not really something that has overwhelmingly screamed to my ovaries.

I have found that it is a bird that has come to initiate me into my lost women mysteries. The owl has been with me all of my life, even when I was growing up on a wild hill in Woodland Hills. I remember hearing hooting of the owl at night. I recall seeing a white owl in my twenties in Whittier while taking a walk on Easter day. I remember the two owls perched on a tree at the medicine wheel gathering in Santa Rosa. The medicine man told me not to look at them.

“I would not look up at them very long, they are very powerful beings.”

Their eyes were as molten lava. Their image burned in my brain.

At home I have a plastic owl on the tallest metal racks in the kitchen. The kind of owl you see in gardens or on tall buildings to keep the others birds from pooping on someone’s property. The owl is looking outside. At night I can see it’s reflection on the widow looking inside at me.

I have been studying the Eleusinian mysteries for many years trying to understand them.  Yes, this mythology is a good one. The archaeology is fab and it is as old and ancient as women. It isn’t telling its real mysteries to a patriarchal culture. I am only finding out now that the owl does have a story to tell by these  mysteries.

I have learned that in part of the  Eleusinian mysteries women would wear large coins on their heads. They would tie them on their heads and drink fermented drinks as part of the initiation. The image on some of these coins is the owl. I studied this ancient image and then I rendered this image on paper with my own hand.

This got me thinking about  the continuity of an image. An image can fly around through many cultures and not really be understood, even though it sometimes carries great meaning, wisdom and insight.

Who first saw this owl? They saw it, drew it from their imagination, and then a coin was created by casting the metal into a mold.  This is the process of seeing, imagining and creating.

Is it by chance that this image has flown from antiquity onto my wrists as tattoos?

Is there a place where the old women still meet around an ancient fire?

Is the continuity of an image as an owl, the ancient symbol of female initiation,  my participation in this waiting game known as menopause? Is an ember of the fire sill warm and are the ancient women telling me now their stories …if I take the time to listen?  Or am I only melting into goo on the floor, that will soon petrify and with time fly away into dust?

One of my best watercolors…

I keep this in my bedroom… art is meditation for me… and I try to grasp the essence of what the flower projects to me.. and then at my skill level I draw and paint… this one gives me great joy!!! My goal is to someday make my own frames for all of my water colors… Paper Mache frames maybe?