New Orleans
I have some postings to put up later regarding local happenings, and my journal is primarily here so I can talk about art. But I can't go on with the day until I say something about the worst natural disaster in U.S. history and the tiny connective thread I have to Louisiana.
I first went to Louisiana in 1979, when I was an exercise rider in the Thoroughbred horse racing business. I spent two long, hot summers in Shreveport, and one cold winter in New Orleans. I am a California native and it was the first time I had ever been to Louisiana or been exposed to the unique culture of the bayous. I love going places I haven't been and the horse racing business was my ticket to travel, as race meets last just a few months before you move on to another state or city.
I found New Orleans extremely interesting and surreal, I remember seeing the above-ground graves in the cemetarys and a lot of moss covered stuff everywhere. It truly was a city dug out of the swamps, with levys and pumps the only thing keeping the place dry. The food was excellent, the architecture and culture was fascinating. But even back then as a naive young person, I wondered how inevitable it was that the ocean would someday reclaim it's rightful place and New Orleans would be no more.
Some guy on TV yesterday said, "Why would anyone live there, knowing they are below sea level?" I think that person has never been to New Orleans, or else he would have seen the deep rooted culture there and the generations of Cajuns who know only the bayous.
A couple years ago, ebsq had a monthly online show with Cajun culture as the theme. I drew on my memories of New Orleans and did an imaginative painting of hot sauce, alligators, and trees covered in spanish moss. It was fun but it was the last time I visited that theme.
Today my only thread of a connection to Louisiana is through art. My connection starts through Susan Sarback, an artist/teacher in Sacramento. Her mentor was Henry Hensche, who's artistic lineage goes back to the original impressionist, Monet. Henry taught Susan, and Susan taught me (and many others) about light and shadow and seeing color. Henry is dead, but many of his original paintings are in a Louisiana museum collection and I have no idea how they fared in the wake of Katrina. I guess someday I will find out.
Caren
I first went to Louisiana in 1979, when I was an exercise rider in the Thoroughbred horse racing business. I spent two long, hot summers in Shreveport, and one cold winter in New Orleans. I am a California native and it was the first time I had ever been to Louisiana or been exposed to the unique culture of the bayous. I love going places I haven't been and the horse racing business was my ticket to travel, as race meets last just a few months before you move on to another state or city.
I found New Orleans extremely interesting and surreal, I remember seeing the above-ground graves in the cemetarys and a lot of moss covered stuff everywhere. It truly was a city dug out of the swamps, with levys and pumps the only thing keeping the place dry. The food was excellent, the architecture and culture was fascinating. But even back then as a naive young person, I wondered how inevitable it was that the ocean would someday reclaim it's rightful place and New Orleans would be no more.
Some guy on TV yesterday said, "Why would anyone live there, knowing they are below sea level?" I think that person has never been to New Orleans, or else he would have seen the deep rooted culture there and the generations of Cajuns who know only the bayous.
A couple years ago, ebsq had a monthly online show with Cajun culture as the theme. I drew on my memories of New Orleans and did an imaginative painting of hot sauce, alligators, and trees covered in spanish moss. It was fun but it was the last time I visited that theme.
Today my only thread of a connection to Louisiana is through art. My connection starts through Susan Sarback, an artist/teacher in Sacramento. Her mentor was Henry Hensche, who's artistic lineage goes back to the original impressionist, Monet. Henry taught Susan, and Susan taught me (and many others) about light and shadow and seeing color. Henry is dead, but many of his original paintings are in a Louisiana museum collection and I have no idea how they fared in the wake of Katrina. I guess someday I will find out.
Caren