barack the magic....

I have a habit of "going ostrich" whenever the subject of Rush Limbaugh comes up. The only time I have really paid attention was when he went after Michael J. Fox, which I considered not immoral--it was amoral. You have to wonder if the man has any compass at all, as in he's not psychotic--he's a psychopath.

This little ditty called "Barack the Magic Negro" is not Limbaugh's invention (that distinction belongs to Paul Shanklin), but Limbaugh promoted it on his show, and I don't ever intend to forget it. Furthermore, it's on a CD that was distributed with the intent of generating goodwill among (angry white) men as part of this year's Winter Shopping Festival. The giver was Chip Saltsman and the recipients were key members of the RNC/GOP, who were given a gentle seasonal reminder that Saltsman would like to be the group's next leader.

Atonal.

i love rain

We have lived in our funky, weird house on College Ave. for nearly 10 years now. Those 10 years correspond exactly with my love of rain.

Our house has a low-pitched roof, and the ceilings of each of the upstairs room mirrors the roof's pitch on the underside; each room is 1.5 stories with an angled ceiling. The insulation--if you can call it that--is thin. Which means that our house is cold in the winter and hot in the summer and that whenever it rains there is the most beautiful sound throughout the upstairs. Same thing with our main-level family room, and best of all--my ground-floor studio.

I could listen to the rain all day, every day. I drink coffee or wine or I paint or I read or nap or snuggle with Luna. And I try to be very quiet and not talk because I don't want anything to detract from that magical sound. When I get bored, I look out the window at the swollen creek that runs through our backyard.

Rain today and tomorrow. Even thunderstorms! Heaven.

the surge

Little Owl Who Lives in the Orchard
by Mary Oliver
(image: Joseph Cornell)

His beak could open a bottle,
and his eyes - when he lifts their soft lids -
go on reading something
just beyond your shoulder -
Blake, maybe,
or the Book of Revelation.

Never mind that he eats only
the black-smocked crickets,
and the dragonflies if they happen
to be out late over the ponds, and of course
the occasional festal mouse.
Never mind that he is only a memo
from the offices of fear -

it’s not size but surge that tells us
when we’re in touch with something real,
and when I hear him in the orchard
fluttering
down the little aluminum
ladder of his scream -
when I see his wings open, like two black ferns,

a flurry of palpitations
as cold as sleet
rackets across the marshlands
of my heart
like a wild spring day.

Somewhere in the universe,
in the gallery of important things,
the babyish owl, ruffled and rakish,
sits on its pedestal.
Dear, dark dapple of plush!
A message, reads the label,
from that mysterious conglomerate:
Oblivion and Co.
The hooked head stares
from its house of dark, feathery lace.
It could be a valentine.

used with admiration, but without permission

This just in!

Thanks to my good friend Sharon Bardonner for forwarding this to me under the subject line : Celebrate! =D

Anne's 5 greatest tennis moments of 2008 (as if anybody cares)

Let me start by saying that I don't get the Tennis Channel, and Indy's ATP tournament is waning in relevance, so I don't have many opportunities to see world-class tennis except when the Slams are on. Even then, the networks tend to focus only on Americans or the biggest stars. So if you want real insight into tennis check out Craig Hickman's Tennis Blog or Savannah's World.

But I do love the game, and I watch it as much as I can. Right now the men's tour far surpasses the women's in terms of competitiveness, interest, and all-around excellence of top tier players. (Pains me to say so, but it's true.) So my top moments are almost all about testosterone.

The countdown:

#5 Venus vs. Serena for the Wimbledon title
Long after everyone had stopped looking for a truly competitive match between these two (there always seemed to be complicated familial ambivalence about winning on both sides of the court) , they came at each other with everything they had and threw it down. And somewhat to my surprise, Venus came up the winner. Sure, Wimbledon is where Venus famously plays her best, and she was on pace. But I have seen enough of Serena to know that you can never count her out, even if she's down 1-6, 0-4--she's still going to win the match; you watch. But this time she didn't, and you can tell that she was, well...kinda pissed. But she recovered enough to go out later that day and take the ladies' doubles title with her sister, and an Olympic gold medal with the same partner later in the summer.


#4 Rafael Nadal vs. Roger Federer for the Roland Garros title
OK, this was sort of expected, because Rafa is the king of clay court tennis. He's played 22 matches at Roland Garros over a period of four years--and he's never lost. In fact, all the drama came from his perennial opponent, Roger Federer, but for the most unlikely reasons. Roger, who for years has beaten everyone on every surface--except for Rafa on clay--suddenly looked vulnerable. He is presumed to be the greatest player who ever lived, yet he is still chasing Borg's achievements and Sampras's Wimbledon record, and NOW the pundits are starting to say invincible Roger may be running out of time. (Please don't believe it.)

Rafa beat Roger, matching Bjorn Borg's record of winning four consecutive French Opens. But for the first time, I felt myself pulling for Roger a little. I don't like punishing dominance, which is what made it so hard for me to root for Roger in the past. Until 2008, the outcome of Roger vs. anybody-but-Rafa-at-Roland Garros was a forgone conclusion. Roger has the greatest game of all time, but I began to wonder...is he tanking? Is something in his head?


#3 Novak Djokovic vs. Everyone for the Australian title
The 20-year old Serbian phenom didn't drop a set on the way to the final, including his semifinal defeat of defending champion Roger Federer (this is when cracks in the Federer armor first appeared). It was closer than a straight set victory sounds: 7–5, 6–3, 7–6(5), which in my mind proves Djokovic's mettle. Then he defeated Jo-Wilifred Tsonga in a four-set final. A lot of people are annoyed by Djokovic and his interminable ball-bouncing and on-court antics; but I love his intensity. He reminds me of John McEnroe, which is a good thing. Djokovic's defeat of Federer meant it would be the first Grand Slam tournament won by someone other than Nadal or Federer since 2005, and the first in 10 straight Slams in which Federer did not appear in the final. So I had to thank Novak for giving me something new to look at. I stayed up all night to watch this tournament unfold live, night after night! BTW, the year ended as it began. Djokovic won the first Slam in January, and then he took the Master's Series in November. (Nadal and Federer both injured though.)



#2 Roger Federer vs. Rafael Nadal for the Wimbledon title
This has been called the greatest tennis match in history, and I agree. Even McEnroe said so (in fact, I think he was first in line to say so). It had everything: two players with contrasting styles and temperaments; two players who have faced each other over and over; two players who have proven themselves indomitable on specific surfaces--each trying to take away the other's turf (no pun intended). It was five sets long: 6-4, 6-4, 6-7 (5-7), 6-7 (8-10), and because the fifth set in a Slam cannot be decided by a tiebreaker, the final set went to 9-7. It was Rafel Nadal who prevailed, with Roger doing everything humanly possible to prevent it. It was eight hours of the best tennis ever played, nighttime when it ended, and the winner was tennis itself.

#1 Roger Federer vs. Andy Murray for the U.S. Open title
Heading into September 2008, Roger Federer had yet to win a Grand Slam tournament--something that hadn't happened since 2003. Nadal had yet to prove himself on a hard court (at least at a Slam), so there was a very open feeling to the Open. James Blake looked good, Novak Djokovic was my pick to win, and Andy Murray broke through convincingly. But in the end it was Federer who won it (for the fifth consecutive time), and for the first time, I was all smiles. I have always been in awe of the man's game, but exasperated by his dominance. The newly vulnerable Federer of 2008 changed my view. Now I want him to finish it out--to surpass Pete Sampras's 14 Grand Slam singles titles and 7 Wimbledon titles. He deserves it, and I hope he gets it. He has raised the standards of the game as much as any of the all-time greats. I hope 2009 brings great things for Roger.

could be me?

She might as well be me? Thank God, for her sake, that she is not much like me!

At left, my daughter Abigail Pearce Robinson. At right, I keep an eye on my son [James Elliot Robinson] . I am Anne Pearce Robinson (tap it 4 better detail).

Think we look alike? I have to admit, I do. But don't tell Abby.

Why should we care about what's being said in South Carolina?

Because my brother Fred lives there, that's why. C heck out his blog and its latest entry, on the tongue-twisting, dumbfounding affair now unfolding in Illinois. Also, Fred's blog has been added to my blogroll at left.

At right--taken yesterday--my son Elliot asks Santa for the open Senate seat in Illinois.

P.S. Thanks and love to my husband and the photographer, Steven William Robinson.

Love letters

It is not uncommon for artists to create works that are, pure and simple, love letters. There are many kinds of these love letters--not all of them romantic. Sometimes a work can be the expression of an artist in love with an idea or a persona--with something or someone remote, unattainable...impossible.

Joseph Cornell was the self-taught inventor of shadow-box collage as an art form [as opposed to overgrown Victorian gewgaw--its prior application] and no one has been able to match his vision since.

Cornell was mostly a loner. He spent his entire adult life caring for his widowed mother and his younger brother Robert, who was stricken with cerebral palsy and wheelchair-bound his entire life. The three of them spent most of their lives in a small bungalow in a neighborhood in Flushing, Queens; the address, famously, was 3708 Utopia Parkway--a serendipitous detail that seems to precisely describe the beauty, poignancy, and dream-like quality of his boxes.

The box at right is one named Untitled (Penny Arcade Portrait of Lauren Bacall), an homage to the actress--one of many gifted female performers whom he worshiped obsessively.




The traditional beadwork of the Zulu people of southern Africa includes a form of "love letters," which are neck pouches made by young women to send very specific messages to young men, perhaps encouraging them to come up with the bride wealth necessary for marriage to take place. The meaning is carried through the arrangement of beads--the color combinations, order and pattern arrangements all tell a tale, often a very private one understood only by the maker of the beadwork and the intended recipient. Young men, in turn, often ask their sisters to make beaded love letters in reply to young women.







I have made one object in my life that I know, unquestionably, is a love letter. It is my one and only red painting, titled Dream of a Friend. I made it about 1998, in reference to many personal losses. It is about loneliness, which is something one can feel at any time in any situation, even when you are surrounded by people--as the errors of the past weigh on one's conscience. These aren't really bad feelings--they can be very rich and full of energy, even if they are also a little sad, because they respond to that which is forever gone, including one's own abundance or potential.

stalking my backyard

What a beautiful thing.

This hawk stalks my small backyard in the near suburbs of Indianapolis...along Holly Creek at College and 81st, to be exact. She (we don't know, but we're sure nonetheless), SHE sits on rocks and squats on the ground and peers into the depths of our little creek in near wintertime hunting small birds or chipmunks or I don't know what. When she spreads her wings, I hold my breath for a moment.

She is, I think, Cooper's hawk. Thoughts?

Update: No, she is a Red Shouldered Hawk, buteo lineatus, a rare and threatened species in Marion County.