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the other blog

"House at Asperger's Corner" is now up, with several posts... a tentative beginning, I hope to follow up with more entries to the "Captain's Log." It can be viewed at houseataspergerscorner.blogspot.ca

When You Run Out

Go get some dreams

                There’s nothing left

                                It’s empty

                                                All the way down to the bottom

Go out now

                Make a list

                                Dress warm

                                                And walk down to the corner

Go get some dreams

The House at Asperger's Corner

I have felt my heart breaking since first hearing of the shootings in Connecticut, breaking yet icing over as well. Since the first queasy suspicion in my own gut about the boy and his mind, his diagnosis or lack of diagnosis. Ice thickening and hardening against the political posturing of the NRA over the dead bodies of children. The sharp splinters of my heart warding off the words of each slick, over-funded lobby group that appropriates the grief of families everywhere, even as we clutch our as-yet warm and breathing children closer, tighter.

There's so much to say. This little word balloon is too small and light to contain it all. It's not as brave and adventurous as the balloon in "Up," which carried a whole house off on a fantastic journey. The House at Asperger's Corner is too big and heavy for that. And it doesn't like change, it likes to stay where it is. But my word balloon can't be happy with its string tied to the doorknob, anchored to the House at Asperger's Corner; it needs to drift along, light as air. And so it shall. I will feed it with my breath, when I have breath to spare. Poems, stories, meditations, artworks. Air.

The House at Asperger's Corner needs its own dedicated blog; returning to the concept of a web-log, like a ship's log, a record of progress, discovery, storms, uncharted desert isles, projects, meetings with strangers both hostile and friendly, inventory, passenger lists, troubles, triumphs, and did I mention progress? Please, progress? I'm not sure what to call it: These are the voyages of the Starship Asperger's... or The House at Asperger's Corner... or just, Dear Emma.

DIARY OF A BAD HOUSEWIFE - Part II *Not to be confused with the "Diary of a Bad Housewife" Blog by punk feminist Alice Bag WHICH I TOTALLY DIG!!*

All I can say is my little plastic dustpan has cracked under the strain. I've looked everywhere but can't seem to find one of those old-fashioned METAL dustpans. I don't want to keep spending money over and over again on cheap plastic housecleaning equipment. There should be good ones out there.

Actually, I can say one more thing. After my daughter's crispy toasted bagel crumbs were joined on the floor today by rich dark earth scattered out of the plant in the corner, I suddenly remembered why I resisted getting a cat for so long.

DIARY OF A BAD HOUSEWIFE - Part I*Not to be confused with the "Diary of a Bad Housewife" Blog by punk feminist Alice Bag WHICH I TOTALLY DIG!!*

Have got my cute little checklists all printed and posted up in appropriate places in the house. Thought I might get a jump start on that old devil "Spring Cleaning" but it looks like my tulips have beat me to the punch. Have also got a new pet in the house, a very stinky young ginger cat, and he has joined the conspiracy of my dog, my child and my husband to keep our house messy no matter what I do, or how many times I do it.

So I'm contemplating the role of the broom and of the act of sweeping in the life of, um, contemplation.

Like those monks, you know? Always sweeping the steps of the temple? It's a purely meditative state for them, and that's because there is no actual dirt to sweep. Just the rhythmic swish, swish of the broom across the ancient stone. The cleaning lady has already been through the temple with her vaccuum cleaner and assorted Swiffer products, and has gone home to do her laundry, clean her own house, put a yak in to roast, and play some Mah-jong with the girls.

At my house, as soon as I've cleared a space in which to place some small Zen-like meditative object, my husband comes in and empties his pockets. I suppose that's why I'm so attracted to the big cataclysmic overhaul that I mean when I say "Spring Cleaning." Just trying to keep on top of the clutter is not good enough. I want everything to change drastically, and forever, no going back to the dark (and dusty) ages.

Brooms, buckets, mops, dusters, fancy techno-cloth scrubbers, vinegar and baking soda, and so much more. I'll let you know how it goes.

Sciuridae, Charles “Chucky” Sr.

A shadow falls over our hearts as we announce the sudden passing of our beloved patriarch, at work, early on February 2, 2012. A dedicated seasonal forecaster and long-time supporter of the United Beavers and Land Beavers Workers’ Collective, Chucky Sr. was preparing to present his annual forecast when tragedy struck. Well respected in his professional field and meadow, Chucky also won acclaim in our community for his active role in the Royal Order of Rodentia.

Survived by Nibbles, loving wife of 32 days, and predeceased by wives Mellow, Cuddles, Daisy, BonBon, Eartha and Pudge; survived by doting children Charles Jr., Bella, Bonny, Woody, Bucky, Buddy, Carlson, Iggy, Rosie, Marmy, Alfred, Digger and Beatrix, as well as numerous grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

An intimate family gathering will be held at The Burrow. In lieu of alfalfa and berries, donations to Research for Seasonal Affective Disorder will be gratefully accepted.

Star Trek vs. Space 1999

Star Trek: The Swinging Sixties
Space 1999: The Suck-a-delic Seventies

That's basically what it comes down to. The original Star Trek series may be a giant intergalactic ham and cheese sandwich, but it's fun, colourful, made by people who know how to do T.V. Space 1999 is kind of like Shaft Goes To Outer Space, Loses his Sense of Fashion, His Sense of Humour, His Mojo, and Everything Else Worth Having. He puts on his beige jumpsuit and platform shoes and heads straight to the nearest disco, where he collapses on a biege sofa in the sterile lounge of the Moon-base Alfalfa Sprout. Ladies with feathered hair and bad lip-gloss look on blandly from the computer display screen. Captain Kirk's mascara would be running right down into his snarling teeth.

Space 1999 is dull, beige, and made by people who do not know how to do T.V.... perhaps the British. It's hard to tell, nobody speaks clearly enough to have a discernible accent.

Ahh, yes, feels good to have the first rant of 2012 out of my system. Stay tuned for my next post, which will feature a FREE STORY originally appearing in Writer's Digest Holiday Story Exchange 2011. The stories exchanged were posted in a private blog open only to those who participated, so that we could guess who wrote which story, and to keep everybody's stuff private. But I'm very pleased with my story and want to share it. Is my self-satisfaction merited? Only you, my faithful reader(s) can say.

La Galerie Kenmore presents Turkeys and Ancestors



Installation View

  The installation view above shows a lively landscape with turkeys by my daughter. For some time, I had this painting/collage which includes sequins, hanging upside down on her wall. I had not realized those were turkeys, and thought it was a sort of stormy sky with two suns beaming down... or something. This piece is displayed together with my linocut image of water buffalo with skinny stick-figure primitive huntresses because both use strong, basic colour, both have a dark energy, and both feature bold, graphic animal shapes. The French class worksheet, La Chat et la Lune also happened to be on the fridge, because I love the cartoon drawings she did for this school assignment.

Hunting with the Ancestors, Linocut by Lori Gilbert

 I continue to be interested in goddess-type, ancient-looking female imagery, but these would be the skinniest I've ever drawn. This linocut was successful for me because everything worked well together and the registration for the three different colours was probably the best I managed to do, or will be likely to manage in the future.

Turkeys in a Landscape, mixed media by Emma Maki

La Chat et la Lune, school worksheet, Emma Maki

Note the details, such as the moon looking in the direction of the action in each scene, the expressiveness of the cat's tail, the double-head of the cat indicated that it is looking all around as the dog says, "What's happening?"

Hope you enjoy La Galerie Kenmore's latest exhibition. In my next post, I'm thinking of doing a rant about why Space: 1999 was such a dogawful show.

Follow that Link

I would like to take the time to draw attention to some of the blogs I follow, and to recommend that you check them out. My favourites are Slushpile Hell, Pub Rants, Motivation for Creation and Iron Bess of the East.

Iron Bess is an old friend of mine, who has recently moved from western Canada to the east coast, and she is chronicling the adventures of home-building, road-building, renovating, and much much more. She writes opinion essays as well, often with a lot of passion and humour, but what I like best are the glimpses into her new life out east. It's almost like a pioneer woman's journal, only more high-tech and smart-assed. It's also incredibly inspiring to witness just how much Iron Bess and her handyman husband accomplish when they get to work. Nothing is going to slow down this hard working pair.

Motivation for Creation is a blog for writers, but I think it has applications for any artist or craftsperson, anyone putting their hand to "creative" work. She often poses questions that help you sort out your own creative issues, and thus creates an interactive blog with lots of discussion among writers and artists. This blog also features a beautiful layout and a really nice little fishtank where you can feed the colourful fish by clicking your mouse button. Try it, it's fun and relaxing.

Pub Rants is a literary agent's blog, and there is a lot to like about it. She is smart, funny, honest, to the point, but always, as she says "a nice Midwestern girl." Meaning respectful and polite. The blog features numerous agent links and resources for writers, and insight into the mysterious world of successful query-letter writing.

Slushpile Hell is a jewel. It is an anonymous blog by a literary agent venting his/her rage and frustration at the stupendously dumbassed queries that show up in the "slush pile" of his/her agency. I'm assuming the blogger is a man from certain statements appearing in past postings, but I'm not committing to that. In any case, it's one of the funniest things I get to see on the internet. Better than Awkward Family Photos. Recently I was going through a depressed phase, and couldn't stop crying and moping. Then I opened up Slushpile Hell and just started scrolling through all the old posts, until I ended up laughing so hard my cheek muscles were like rocks and I almost peed. So there you go, one man's misery is another person's remedy.

Enjoy these blogs while they last, people! And hope you enjoy mine as well.

What's So Great About Eye Contact, Anyway?

Avoiding eye contact is disrespectful. It shows dishonesty. It shows respect. It’s polite. It is defiance of authority. It respects authority, and expresses an appropriate submissive attitude toward authority. Direct eye contact is honest and open, shows you have nothing to hide. It’s aggressive, a challenge to authority, invasive, impolite, a threat.

These statements about eye contact are contradictory because there are so many different things that can be communicated through eye contact, and there are so many different cultural/natural responses to eye contact. For numerous human cultures and animals from baboons to polar bears, direct eye contact is a display of aggression and/or disrespect.

How do you feel when someone is staring at you for a long time, and not trying to hide it? Do you interpret their stare as aggressive, hostile, defiant, invasive, or disrespectful? Or is the person caressing you or adoring you with their eyes? Romantic poetry and pop songs are full of the imagery of drowning in the lover’s eyes, getting lost in his or her gaze. The intimacy of the gaze or stare may be appropriate or inappropriate; neurotypical people seem to have an inborn ability to make that distinction.

There is a point of view that suggests that people with autism are not deficient in empathy but are in fact flooded and overwhelmed with it. It’s too much, and they have to turn away from others, and shut out the barrage of information and emotion. To look into someone’s eyes is far too personal and intense; not only the long, penetrating gaze, but the brief, day-to-day forms of eye contact. Many people on the autism spectrum can learn to tolerate some direct eye contact, which is essential in certain situations such as job interviews. But the interpretation of eye contact is subjective, and most people with autism or Asperger’s Syndrome are not keen on subjectivity; there are no grey areas, just black or white.

With my daughter, I’ve certainly seen a lot of stormy weather around the issue of subjectivity, and we talk a lot about “fact” versus “opinion.” She takes pride in having the skill to point out that something is an opinion rather than a fact. We talk about eye contact as a social skill, a part of good manners, something we use along with other tools like a nice tone of voice or a smile or polite words. It’s something to be learned and practised, but really only used in a limited way. We know it doesn’t come naturally, as for neurotypical kids, and we know it’s uncomfortable. The need to take in and interpret “eye” information also seems to distract from processing verbal information. By insisting that a child look at you when you are speaking, you may actually be shutting off their ability to hear you.

The neurotypical world assumes so much about a person and about the nature of the interaction, based on a narrow view of “eye contact.” Fortunately we live in a diverse culture that demands tolerance and acceptance of difference; and families affected by autism are at the forefront of challenging narrow views about thought processes, communication, and relationships.

Boo!

Fridge installation view

Elephant Shopping

Pencil drawing by Emma Maki

Kissed Off

mixed media collage by Lori Gilbert

(india ink, pencil, lipstick, acrylic paint on paper)

Kissed Off

detail

Just in time for Halloween, La Galerie Kenmore presents drawing-based works that combine the treat with the trick. "Kissed Off" was originally an artist's bookwork, which I later took apart and culled down to the best pages. It features lipstick kisses on translucent paper, concealing hostile mouths in black ink on white paper. I remember applying lipstick and creating 32 different imprints, then drawing a small mouth image in ink to complement the shape of each lip-print. Then I produced ANOTHER 32 lip prints on pastel-coloured lined notebook paper. Then I wrote little personal, diary-like statements in and around the lip prints on lined paper. I bound the bookwork so that the prints on coloured paper were facing or "kissing" the prints on translucent paper. Each print on translucent paper was laid over an ink drawing of a nasty mouth, so that you could lift the "kiss" and see the teeth or sneer or venomous tongue underneath. It was all about passive-aggressive hostility of course, but I really dug the whole process, you know?

My daughter's drawing of an elephant shopping for clothes needs little explanation. I'm sure we've all felt a similar frustration when stampeding into a dimly lit fitting room with a dozen hangers full of garments clutched in our trunks.

La Galerie Kenmore Goes All Goddess-y

Art on the fridge today focuses primarily on figures rendered in Prismacolour pencil, and modelled on  primitive goddess images morphing into insect-like creatures. This is an ongoing theme in my artwork, there may be more to come at La Galerie Kenmore. Also currently on display, a black and white drawing by my daughter, illustrating the activities of Fairies in the landscape. These hard-working, feminine spirits of nature should be familiar to anyone with a girl in the ten-and-under age group. They are responsible for our rainbows, sunrises, blooming of wild flowers, the addition of sparkliness to the landscape, and many other woodland tasks. I think these little cuties should be unionized.

 

Slipping out of the nursery now, my etching and aquatint piece "Spider Moon" hints at the dark and swollen underbelly of female spirituality. I see this small piece as the visual baby sister of such Robyn Hitchcock songs as "Madonna of the Wasps" and "Antwoman."

http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/r/robyn_hitchcock/antwoman.html for lyrics to "Antwoman"  ... with her audrey hepburn feelers, indeed.

http://youtu.be/QzMchIA6WQI for performance of "Madonna of the Wasps"

Asperger's Corner

I feel a long and disjointed rant bubbling beneath the surface lately. What's inciting my outrage and indignation these days, is the horrible, depressing, violence-inducing topic of children's birthday parties. My kid will be turning 10 in December; I suppose I should be feeling joy and delight as I attempt to plan some sort of social gathering to celebrate the event.

For the past several years, we've gone in for the currently popular practise of booking a venue such as a swimming pool or indoor play-park, which in itself provides the entertainment and eases the kids into their social interactions. Other examples might be a party at a bowling alley, or a McDonald's that has one of those "play-places." I help my kid do up the invitations, and encourage her to invite this one and that one, and do up the loot bags, and buy all kinds of snacks. If it's at a pool, I squeeze myself into my *!#$ bathing suit and supervise the little splashers for 2 hours or whatever it is.

This is all well and good, and it would absolutely be worth all the time and expense, IF any of my child's party guests had the good graces to return the favour. Last year, she invited 5 or 6 kids, 3 of them attended, and NOT ONE invited her to their birthday party as the year unfolded. I don't blame the kids, I blame the parents. Why aren't they teaching appropriate social skills? or just plain manners? How can I manage to smile my way through another one of these nightmares, providing an afternoon of child care, cake and entertainment and thanking them all as they leave, knowing that my daughter won't be bringing any invitations home in her backpack?

That's my rant. Next time on Asperger's Corner: What's so great about eye contact anyway?

Goals, Goalies, Getting One in the Net

This year, I set a couple of goals for myself (well, more than a couple actually). To start submitting short stories to contests and publications. To become more involved in the local writers' community. To learn to drive. Two out of three ain't bad. I am driving around now with a driving instructor, or my husband as a co-driver when I'm not taking a lesson. It's coming along very well, and my instructor says the road test should be no problem. So the driving goal may actually be achieved before my fifty-first birthday this year. I've submitted stories to the Writer's Digest Annual Competition. This is my second attempt at submitting work, and my short story "Lights Out" actually squeaked under the line and made it into the top one hundred for the Genre category. Very pleased with myself about this; at the rate I'm going, I might even make money in this racket by my eleventy-first birthday.

Now, about the getting-more-involved goal... maybe I just don't do "social." Shamefully, I continue to miss meetings of the local Writer's Circle, would like to get out to events but can't be bothered to arrange child care, and so on.... But I'm not quite giving up on that one yet.

In terms of setting and achieving goals, you may notice a theme of "late bloomer" in my life. Learning to drive and just beginning to submit stories at the age of fifty and so on. I'm also a middle-aged woman with a pre-teen child. Not that there wasn't the opportunity; babies and parenthood were early desires of mine, yet I remained childless throughout a lengthy common-law relationship. When that was over, and I found myself single in the big city, the goal of parenthood waited on the shelf until I reached about 37 or 38. Then, the baby hunger hit hard, and I ruthlessly strategized to get pregnant. But no matter how hard I played, I never scored. Finally, I gave up the game and took to enjoying warm summer evenings on the porch with a glass of red wine and Bridget Jones.

Just as I was about to turn forty, I found myself in a relationship with a guy my age who liked a lot of the same things. We had a lot of fun, you might say. I remember warning him one night (or was it morning?) that if we continued  to play without a goalie, we were bound to get one in the net eventually. He gave me his sly smile and said "Better keep working on my slapshot." And so, shortly after my forty-first birthday, and on the exact date of his forty-first birthday, our daughter was born.

When we set goals for ourselves, we plan all the steps leading up to their accomplishment. But I think the most important step is to look for the goalie blocking our way. Whoever, or whatever, that goalie is, you need to remove him from the game. Then, just take your best shot.

Swimming Across the Page

Installation view, several fish in various media

Happy Fish, mixed media, Emma Maki

Trout, aquatint/etching, Lori Gilbert

Jackfish, pencil drawing, Lori Gilbert

Welcome to another fridge-opening reception at La Galerie Kenmore. As you can see, there are a number of fish involved. Generally, my daughter and I tend to have our fish swimming from left to right, and I think this is an expression of our nature(s) as extremely avid readers. I grew up with my nose in a book, and never thought I'd be telling my kid to "Put that book down! Stop reading!" Yet it happens all the time. So, the directional movement of most other activities will naturally follow the course of the left-to-right flow of our primary characteristic activity. Why swim against the current?

You'll note the trout gliding through a set of quotation marks. This was an ongoing theme of mine for several years; I just loved quotation marks, and explored that curvy shape in all its permutations as paisley, leaves, flames, snails, embryos, ripe fruit, and so on. The open-and-close quotes are in the correct position for reading left to right, but notice the fish appears to be moving in the wrong direction (for an embodiment of the physicality of reading). I was puzzled by this today, but then realized I didn't reverse my original drawing when transfering it to the etching plate. Printmaking is like that, you have to think backwards, like Alice through the looking glass.

The jackfish drawing is very simple, but I think I succeeded in capturing the fishy shape of its body as it curves toward the viewer on its way through the water. The jackfish, or pike as it is also known, is swimming cautiously into the picture plane from the left. The trout would have been just entering the image from the left as well, in the original drawing. This contrasts with the placement of my daughter Emma's fish, which has joyfully motored across the page without a care in the world, and is swimming eagerly toward the edge of the page. This compositional difference in the placement of fish in our artworks points to differences in our reading styles and in our motivation for reading. I enjoy a good page-turner as much as anyone, but I especially like a book I can wade into gradually, going over paragraphs several times to make sure I'm absorbing everything the author intends. My kid, on the other hand, likes to jump right in with a big splash, and zoom forward in a straight line toward whatever is going to happen next.

Please enjoy these pictures and words, and help yourself to some wine & cheese. It's on the house.

La Galerie Kenmore presents.....

Remember La Galerie Kenmore? Our last exhibition featured black and white pencil drawings by unofficial domestic artists Lori Gilbert and Emma Maki, a mother-daughter team to watch out for. Currently on view, "Mama's Garden" a work in markers by Ms. Maki circa 2005; and a silkscreen Goddess image by Lori Gilbert from some time in the mid-nineties.

It's the time of year to really start enjoying the rewards of summer's toil. If only my garden were really that neat and tidy. There's more to come in future posts, plus I promise more wine and cheese next time.

Fridge magnets not for sale.

Asperger's Corner

Just a quick post here. My computer is in the shop for god knows how long, but have to share an important bit of information and outrage.

"Talk about discrimination. Immigration Canada turns down an application for permanent residency for a 20-year-old because he has Asperger Syndrome. They figure that he will be a $7,000 annual burden to the healthcare system. I encourage you to comment on this story.

Immigration says son with Asperger’s ‘inadmissible’ to Canada - thestar.com

www.thestar.com

Chris Reynolds wants to stay in Canada with his dad and brother. But the only way his family’s application for permanent residency will be approved is if he’s not on it."

 

This sucks because they are refusing a family entry to Canada based on a young adult's mild disability. It's unlikely that a 20 year old with Asperger's is ready to live on his own, without family support. The reason given is that Immigration sees him as a $7000/year burden on the healthcare system. I would call this an investment. If these kids get adequate support and resources to help them through the school years, they can often become very productive members of society due to their intelligence, unique perspective, and intense focus on work that they are passionate about.

 

As well, the father is a university professor who has been living, working, and paying taxes in Canada for some time now. If this young man can't get residency on his family's application now, he will not be able to get it on his own after age 22, which will leave the family no option but to move back to the states. The pragmatic and ideological implications of this decision are both completely offensive to me, as a mother raising a child with Asperger's Syndrome.

June 14 at 10:05pm · · ·

OPENING RECEPTION: LA GALERIE KENMORE

La Galerie Kenmore: Where art on the fringe meets art on the fridge.
Please excuse poor lighting; this is a kitchen and there is some glare off the sparkling white surface of my fridge. As well, some wine & cheese had already been consumed...

installation view, pencil drawings by Lori Gilbert and Emma Maki. (magnets not available for sale)

Portrait of Child by Lori Gilbert, pencil drawing  (2011)

Fairies at Work in the Landscape by Emma Maki, pencil drawing (2010)

Two Cats by Emma Maki, pencil drawing (circa 2007)

Artist/Curator's statement:

The refrigerator door, with its convenient location and size, becomes the receptacle for documents and images that describe our lives. School calendars, appointments, family photos, news clippings, garbage collection schedules, phone numbers, and of course children's drawings and school work all vie for space and attention here at the heart of the home. We may begin with the intention of organization, everything lined up just so; this is going to be a kind of family communications centre. But clutter and confusion prevail in the end. A stack of expired coupons and old to-do lists provides evidence of this ongoing slide from order into chaos.

To celebrate our activity as (unofficial) artists, and to share work both old and new, I claim this surface as a domestic/alternative/intergenerational/happening kind of place for art. Thank you for coming to view this first modest exhibition featuring black & white pencil drawings by mother and daughter. Colour will be prominent in the next showing.

Enjoy your wine & cheese!

Junk Drawer

This is one of our family junk drawers. An assortment of batteries, tools, lint brushes, pens, stray receipts, keys, Canadian Tire money, and so much more! (I hope I remembered to wipe off the handle before taking the photo...)

 

We have about five or six drawers like this around the house, containing different varieties of junk. One or two of them are exclusively designated for my husband's junk. Some of his junk has recently attained antique status. None of his junk may be touched, lifted, tidied, straightened up, rearranged or in any way tampered with. My art supplies junk drawer has a bottle of india ink, sketchbooks, a tin box holding all my Prismacolour pencils, pictures cut out of magazines, numerous European stamps that I collected when I worked at the LCBO, pens, erasers, and an old rolled-up drawing.

What's in your junk drawer? Do you have several, like we do? Or are you one of those people who would never have such a thing in your house? Please feel free to share the secrets of your junk drawer in the comments section.

Speaking of art supplies, and thus art, you are invited to my next post

featuring a gala opening reception for

La Galerie Kenmore

Photographic refreshments will be served

 and of course you are welcome to bring your own wine & cheese