As a fine artist, I believe in displaying pictures in good frames. Recently, my cousin Titus gave me a photograph of my mother at a Steinway piano. I already have a similar one from the same shoot of her facing the keyboard. In the one Titus gave me, she is facing the camera, and she signed it!
My mother at the Steinway
I picked out a light brown mat board and a black frame for it.
Secondly, I mounted and framed the well-known ahupuaʻa poster for yesterday’s Earth Day [ka Lā Hōnua] event at the Bishop Museum.
The frame is brown to match the land in the picture.
Ahupuaʻa land division in Hawaiʻi, from the mountains to the sea
Many thanks to Kyle, Melinda,
Letitia, and Jim at Sunshine Arts in Kahaluʻu, Oʻahu, for taking care of my framing needs.
Wildfires this past Tuesday have destroyed most of Lahaina on the Island of Maui. I am writing this brief message to let you know that we at the studio, here on the different island of Oʻahu, are safe and saddened.
How can we help if we are not physically there? Our family chose to donate to favorite charities such as the World Central Kitchen and the American Red Cross. We filled a sturdy bag with usable supplies, and DH dropped it off this morning at the Hawaii Capitol in Honolulu from where it will be sent to Maui.
In emergencies like this, look for the helpers, and pray for the helpers. So much has been lost.
As our island state opens up, the last one from COVID, I sense, a feeling of craziness out there on the roads away from our familiar bubble of home. We have forgotten how to act. For example, yesterday morning I attended the memorial service for my friend Piʻikea. We had waited two years to celebrate her life.
It did not occur to me to mingle as Pete and I looked about and then went to our car in the shade to partake of the lunch.
I am sure Piʻikea would forgive us, while saying, ”Dummy!”
The painting pictured is of Piʻikea’s taro garden. She was a high school special education teacher and used the loʻi as her outdoor classroom to help her students learn about life, the land, and growing their own food. Eia ka maia a ke kalo mai Luluku mai no Lono.
It was time to move my office and study hall from the dining table, so I spent the better part of yesterday tidying. I dusted, cleaned, and stacked shelves of books floor to ceiling, stopping periodically to remember old friends.
Ted has been around a long time; he was my father-in-law Walter’s bear, I’m told.
Then this photo of Haunani-Kay Trask, Al Piʻikea Miyamoto and me from about 30 years ago turned up. Both girl friends have passed over, but I/we remember them dearly.
Ted
Haunani-Kay, Piʻikea and Rebekah
Be well, dear reader. I am thankful for you. ~ Rebekah
I had a lovely conversation yesterday with a man, an M.D., at the art reception. He was the spouse of one of my painting students. He admired the hand-dyed tissue-paper collages and seemed intrigued as I explained our art group’s process of creating unique paintings with this medium.
Was I always an artist? he asked. That question made me pause. I had to think back to so long ago.
I’m a writer, I said, starting my career as a general assignment reporter for the daily news, then magazines, then university relations. I am a pen woman. The National League of American Pen Women is made up of women in letters (writing and editing), arts, and/or music (e.g., composition and arranging). What we have in common is that we all start with a blank page or canvas. When I became a Letters member, I met artists and I thought they were “cool.” I wanted to be one of them, so I took lessons.
The music element caught his ear, so to speak. What kind of music do you write? he asked. Love songs, I said. They come from my heart, and I have to be in the mood. I can’t just crank them out. This man had a gentle way of coaxing out information.
He was understanding when I told him I had developed a wrist injury from holding a paintbrush overhand for more than 30 years—the reason I switched to tissue collage. Assembling collages is quite different from painting outdoors in the landscape.
Do you still paint? he asked. Ahh, now I’m teaching painting!
This morning has been refreshing with both a humble harvest of calamansi fruit from the garden and the ceremonies of the inauguration of United States President Joseph R. Biden, Jr., and Vice President Kamala Harris. Our family watched the event on live television in Hawai’i. Please pardon the juxtaposition.
It’s Christmas Eve at the studio, and there are presents under the tree. DH asked me, when shall we open them? I can tell he’s excited, but we haven’t hung up our stockings yet, and it’s still daylight in the Islands. He asks, maybe one?
Some families attend Christmas Eve midnight service and open gifts after they return home from church.
Some folks wait until Christmas morning, you know, to see what Santa Claus brought. Remember to leave him a treat.
Our granddaughters are allowed to open one each at 5:30 on Christmas morning, and then they have to wait until the rest of the family gets up to open the rest.
When I was a kid, my father would count the presents under the tree addressed to him and open one a day starting that many days before Christmas Day. So, if there were five, he would start opening on December 21. Clever guy, my dad. Who’s the kid, now?
Whenever you open your presents, remember that a gift isn’t a gift until it is received. Receive with gladness and acknowledge the reason for the season.
Wishing everyone a Merry Christmas! Or, as we say in Hawaiian, Mele Kalikimaka! May all your dreams come true.
This Rebekah’s Studio is the blog created by the Rebekah who lives in the small village of Kaaawa on the island of Oahu. A journalist, artist, and healer by training, I invite you on any part of my journey shared here. I use a full palette, so come along, let’s see what unfolds together!
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