They say that there are Neanderthals amongst us; that Homo Sapiens commingled with the
less ‘sparky’ northerners around France, thousands of years ago (the high browed, large
boned ‘brutes’ seemed to have lacked the ability to, for instance, fashion new types of
stone tools; stayed with the same ole’ designs for millenia). When I was growing up we
were taught that they were a different, now extinct, species altogether. When I say they
‘commingled’, just to be clear, I mean they made love and had children. The proof is in the
genetic analysis. What is ‘news’ is that I am one! Just found out. I always thought they
would look entirely different from me. Of course, there are the long arms, the big bones and
brow (my mother always said I had a good looking brow; her only personal body compliment
that I can remember; always made me feel a little like the kid only its mother could love and,
of course, us Neanderthals are known for our brows…..). I do not think I have a lot of
less ‘sparky’ northerners around France, thousands of years ago (the high browed, large
boned ‘brutes’ seemed to have lacked the ability to, for instance, fashion new types of
stone tools; stayed with the same ole’ designs for millenia). When I was growing up we
were taught that they were a different, now extinct, species altogether. When I say they
‘commingled’, just to be clear, I mean they made love and had children. The proof is in the
genetic analysis. What is ‘news’ is that I am one! Just found out. I always thought they
would look entirely different from me. Of course, there are the long arms, the big bones and
brow (my mother always said I had a good looking brow; her only personal body compliment
that I can remember; always made me feel a little like the kid only its mother could love and,
of course, us Neanderthals are known for our brows…..). I do not think I have a lot of
them in me, because I design and make different things almost every day of my life. But,
then again, I have always felt like an ‘outsider’ and officially ‘came out’ as one when I turned
60 or so, some years ago now. And, though, of course, I remember what my dental hygienist
told me a few years ago; “Yeah, my husband is a Swede and you can tell a Swede……….
absolutely nothing!!”. So there is that, too….but I think I do have that Homo ‘spark’ and am
proud of it and make no bones about my bricoleur status (bricoleurs are very highly developed
handy people; making things from the objects around them, solving problems that way).
And of course I have often called myself a ‘rustic’ artist, for lack of a better tag, but yesterday,
as I was cruising across our high desert by-ways and back roads with a very long, over 20 feet,
dried and debarked cottonwood tree I had collected and saved for a possible handrail, with its
very tip (I just hated to cut the tree short; it looked so….cool…) extending way in front of my old
red work truck, wiggling and wobbling and dancing along, acting like an organic seismic needle
to test the smoothness of the road or even the subtle shuddering of my drive train, like a lie
detector for the road, ready to possibly break by going too far in it’s frenetic dance, any week
now, and I love the buffalo gourd (I bet a nickel they will save the world, being edible and
extraordinarily hardy, for instance)... I expoxied to the very tip of the tree, still greenish and
looking official, somehow….I have often called myself a rustic artist because of these types
of ‘displays’ and proof of my type of art and then it came to me; I have always felt uneasy
with the ‘rustic’ title because it suggests just sort of old, paint peeling crudeness and just
not a great fit; it came to me that I should call myself a ‘natural artist’ from
then again, I have always felt like an ‘outsider’ and officially ‘came out’ as one when I turned
60 or so, some years ago now. And, though, of course, I remember what my dental hygienist
told me a few years ago; “Yeah, my husband is a Swede and you can tell a Swede……….
absolutely nothing!!”. So there is that, too….but I think I do have that Homo ‘spark’ and am
proud of it and make no bones about my bricoleur status (bricoleurs are very highly developed
handy people; making things from the objects around them, solving problems that way).
And of course I have often called myself a ‘rustic’ artist, for lack of a better tag, but yesterday,
as I was cruising across our high desert by-ways and back roads with a very long, over 20 feet,
dried and debarked cottonwood tree I had collected and saved for a possible handrail, with its
very tip (I just hated to cut the tree short; it looked so….cool…) extending way in front of my old
red work truck, wiggling and wobbling and dancing along, acting like an organic seismic needle
to test the smoothness of the road or even the subtle shuddering of my drive train, like a lie
detector for the road, ready to possibly break by going too far in it’s frenetic dance, any week
now, and I love the buffalo gourd (I bet a nickel they will save the world, being edible and
extraordinarily hardy, for instance)... I expoxied to the very tip of the tree, still greenish and
looking official, somehow….I have often called myself a rustic artist because of these types
of ‘displays’ and proof of my type of art and then it came to me; I have always felt uneasy
with the ‘rustic’ title because it suggests just sort of old, paint peeling crudeness and just
not a great fit; it came to me that I should call myself a ‘natural artist’ from
now on, thanks to my bouncing gourd dancing at the end of the jiggling stick. ‘Progress At All
Costs’, we natural artists like to say. Happy Progressing, you homos…...
