Nagoya

I am in Nagoya, Japan working, but an early morning walk through the streets was delightful as I discovered these manhole covers.  Only in Japan would utility covers be works of art!

A Joyful Return

The youngest Bao brother had a vision. Perhaps he would have a son, born at the tail end of the year of the Tiger but just before the Rabbit. Maybe he would be a strong and powerful boy with just a hint of tenderness.  It is upon this insight, that Exceeding Joy, Uncle Tu's often escaping song bird, decided to return. 


~Posting from Taipei after a long journey

A New Table Is Set

Ah Pu’s auntie gave him only one piece of advice on his wedding night and that was to make sure his new bride never went hungry. This would help them to have a long life together.

 For Phillip and Jennifer

Time To Go Home

After many months on the road and a journey that had many twists and turns,

the time had come to return home.

My Mama

My Mother was raised in India.  She went to school in the Himilayan Mountains. She was exotic and strange to me because I was raised in provinces of China.  We were of different cultures.  I spoke Mandarin and street Taiwanese, she Hindi and English with a slight hint of a British Accent.

Most of my life, in fact perhaps clear up until a few months ago, I didn't understand my mother and we had difficulty between us.  When I came to take care of her back in January, that changed.

My youngest brother Timothy is a wordsmith and the night she died he said it best...he had been flying through the night to reach me and my mother and while enroute was amazed as he looked down through his airplane window at how beautiful the Eastern seaboard is from 10,000 feet above.  He had always thought my Mother's life tragic and sad and that in recent years, things had not gone well for her, but then he saw her from 10,000 feet and saw everything about her differently and with a panoramic perspective.

Most of my life I saw my mother from her alleys, back doors, kitchens, septic systems and wiring panels, from a view so close as to render her landscape nothing but miswirings and faulty pipes.  It was only as she died, that I got that 10,000 foot aerial persepctive and saw for the first time what every single other person around her saw; her majesty, eloquence, wit, beauty and ability to tell the best story about the most mundane thing. It was right under my nose all the time.

Her memorial is tomorrow. My brothers, daughter and sisters- in -law have gathered beside me at my mother's old home in Williamsburg to make arrangments.  We have put right her house, sorted photos, written and cooked a good deal of food.  I have done everything but paint.

I also realized today, that every single record of paintings I have done, I have posted.  I am dry.  This is my last painting until I can start new.  I have so many planned and half done, but not a day at home in my studio in months.

Soon.

~the Four Children of Mrs. Bao gathered at the old family home. A new dynasty had begun and everything would be different.

My Mother Arrived

             Barbara Cattell Brantingham
              10 Dec 1935         25 May 2010

A Stop Along The Way

For several weeks now, my Mother has been talking about a trip she started some months ago. She has worried about her suitcase, whether the bus has enough gasoline in the tank and shown a good deal of anxiety as to whether or not she was at the right bus stop. Some days, she surveys a tall mountain and wonders aloud if a proper lorry can be secured to help her make the journey up the mountain to a place she calls Home. As I sit by her bedside, I have listened to these wild adventurous tales and thought she was hallucinating until a kindly Hospice nurse and Mother's wise Doctor informed me yesterday that this is her way of saying she is ready to make her greatest and most wonderful trip ever. To Heaven. So I got her ready.

My mother loves words and metaphors and she has been using them concisely and eloquently these past weeks, even in the midst of unbelievable, unbearable, and unmerciful pain.

And so this is to say, her ticket is bought, she is packed, and yesterday afternoon she let us know she was ready to board the bus for a journey that will take her through the plains of India, the majestic Himalayan peaks, the simple meeting houses of Ohio, over the lush verdant rice paddies of Taiwan, and on to the Purple Mountains of Nanking. Mother always said that the most dangerous and rutted roads lead through the most beautiful scenery. How long this trip will take, I can not be sure. But I guess it won't be long. The rest of this journey is up to my Mother and the Driver.

This is my send off.

Come Home

Eldest Sister sent  a message to her brothers and their children, "It is time to come home."





~posting from at my mother's bedside. 

Something Fishy

Shiao Wang took his fish to the Bei Tou Market and rented a small stall next to three ladies from the Chen family who had opened a shop selling knitting supplies and teaching housewives how to knit. They scolded him demanding that he move down a few stalls so that the odor of his trade would not scare off their customers.



~I am posting from Taiwan.  I have spent a restful and much needed relaxing weekend here with my brother and sister-in-law.  Yesterday Tamra and I explored the market in their new neighborhood where I bought knitting yarn for the long airplane ride home and a watermelon.

Travels of Little Bean

Shaio Dou Dou obediently chased  all of Granny Huang’s chicks safely to her gate. In truth it was not Granny’s chick’s that needed herding, but her grandson.  Ah Ma knew very well that  Little Bean would never come home in time for dinner unless given some impossibly difficult job to complete.

Many decades later, it surprised no one to see Dou Dou happily employed by the Forever Fortune Lotus Travel Agency as a tour guide leading gold toothed veterans and farmer’s wives with freshly permed hair through the coastal airports of Mainland China.

~ writing from Nagoya, Japan and passing through numerous  airports.

Lighting Candles

The youngest son of the Hau Family lit ancestral candles in the main hall to welcome home his Da Jye. He kept vigil late into the night, listening for some sound of her on the long winding road to their gate. When his older sister was home, all would be well.

~and this is true for our family too.  My daughter Leigh is home.

Tea Leaves

When Mrs. Wu called for her maid to come and refresh her tea, Liu Liu thought this might be a waste of hot water and time. It had been several months now that Wu Tai Tai’s hopes and dreams had been sinking like the wrung out and over-brewed leaves that sank to the bottom of her tea cup every morning . But Liu Liu poured more hot water for Mrs. Wu, knowing that after lunch when she cleaned her mistress’s brewing pots she would scoop out soggy handfuls of tea leaves to heap around the roots of her little persimmon tree in the back courtyard, encouraging and willing it to grow.

Fish Soup

Shaio Ge thought he could make himself a hearty and fragrant soup if he used only the smallest fish he had caught. The rest of his catch he would sell in the afternoon market.

~Back home

Calligraphy-Rededicated To Shaista

Many scrolls of calligraphy hung in Uncle Tu’s main halls. His maid, Deng Zi Mei, wondered how she could learn the meaning behind the beautiful lines and considered it a dream if someday she could surprise the kindly Uncle Tu by reciting all his poems as soulfully as he had written them.

~~Sometimes I paint something long ago and then I see it in a new light, under new circumstances, or through a new lens of experience.   I completed this painting over three years ago at a time when Deng Zi Mei, a real woman had inspired me.  She is a lowly clerk who works in the factory that produces my goods. She is dedicated to the smallest detail.  She does accounting not in yuans, but in tenths of yuans, in threads, in snaps, crumbs, loose grams of stuffing fuzz.  The smallest and most insignificant thing does not escape her eye in my factory.  It used to drive me crazy when she would ask if I preferred a new kind of thread because she thought she might be able to save me .0025 RMB per day in floss cost.

Then I learned this frugalness and thrift was her love language to me and the kindly Uncle Tu who owns the factory and for whom she tries so hard to please.  I have always sensed  hidden greatness in her.  It would not surpirze me to learn she had millions of dollars stashed away under her mats or had written an epic novel under a pen name or is the party secretary of our province. I have seen her single handedly take on government officials and customs bureaucrats to win some insignificant concession  for me. It is this spirit in her that reminds me of Shaista, my friend who fights Lupus and who brings forth from her long and surely tedious days the most amazing efficient poetry. Tiny and sparse words, like Miss Deng's pennies and loose threads, that knitted together are mighty and grand.

Now, during the Chinese New Year holiday, our factory is closed.  Only Miss Deng stops by daily to check that the gates are locked, and that the spent red fire cracker paper is swept up, and that no lights have been left on to burn wastefully.  She does this while she waits as the sole resident of our workshop for the return of Uncle Tu, our workers, and me at the end of our holidays. I have no doubt that as I write this post, she has written in her beautiful calligraphy, spring couplets on two strips of chalky red paper and pasted them on the doors to our factory. Her poetry, like Shaista's is short and to the point.  It will say something like, Hark! A New Year! Spring Comes. Work hard. Blessings Here.

And so it will be true.

Lupus In Flight---fly there now.

Tiger, Rabbit, Dragon

Lin Shaio Lan was running out of time. The Year of the Tiger was about to pounce upon her and still no baby.  Next year would be The Rabbit.  She was a Rabbit, timid to decide, but darting out of danger at the last possible moment. After that would be the year of the Dragon.  Shaio Lan thought, that at last a Dragon Baby would shut everyone up.   Maybe she should accept the standing offer to marry Mr. Wu. 

Mother Sees

Knit Together With Red Thread

For me, this is a piece of art.  My blind Mother knit this. Since her blindness settled in for good, she has not been able to complete a single knitting project.  It's been five or six years now. She took up knitting again 10 months ago but she has not successfully knitted more than three rows.  Her fingers would feel some small hole or mistake and she would rip it all out and re cast to begin over.  She could not sit and speak with you without picking up her needles and a few minutes later unraveling what she had done.  It was as if her own thoughts were unraveling. Her days were unwinding.  Her life was becoming a big knot. Knitting  symbolized her current life. 

I have been taking care of my mother for almost a month  marching steadily towards decline, ill health, and all kinds of trials and tribulations that make her blindness in comparison seem a small and trite thing. I have been pushing her to finish more than three rows and it was with great ceremony that last night we cast off this knitting.   This piece has much symbolism for me. Sure, there are holes.  At places, it is inside out.  It grows. It has many flaws.  Isn't this true of us all? I know it is of me.  But this is knit by my mother and so am I,  knit together with her hands and all her hopes. 

After I took a photo of this and told her I was about to share it with my scattered brothers in Asia, she lifted her head away from my voice and asked, "Do you have any thicker yarn in brighter colors?"

We cast a new piece tonight.

A Quick Bite

Li Li was very busy taking care of her Ah Ma.  Granny was blind and bedridden so all she could afford was a quick bite.

A Visit to Reconsider

Lee Yu Ming had been working in the big city for several years when word reached her that her mother was weak and cried out to see her daughter every night.  Reluctantly she rushed home, pulling her only son out of school. It would be her duty to step in and take over the care of her  mother and the management of her old courtyards. As soon as Yu-Ming stepped over the threshold the same confidence that had driven her from it doors ten years ago now flooded back. It dawned on her in that moment that she had only been a mediocre business woman while in the city and that her son had not thrived as she had imagined he would. Some small glimmer of hope came over her.

Dao's Daughter

Dao's daughter had many dreams for her future.  First, all cabbages needed to be cleaned and wrapped for market.  Then her brother's bicycle needed to be repaired. Finally, she must help her mother clean the Farang's house.  After that she might dream about school.

Washing Up The New Year

After Dao was certain that the family she now worked for had departed for their long journey home, the newly hired maid sighed with relief, happy to be alone in the house once again. She looked forward to the long and sunny days ahead where she would wash all the linens and clean up after the Blue Moon New Year. By the time her mistress returned, it would be time for the Chinese Lunar New Year. Dao wondered how many new years a family needed.

Blue Moon Over Pong Yaeng

Happy New Year!

Red Lanterns

It rained during Jia Li's wedding.  But her old uncle told her this was a good omen and that her married life would be lucky.  Her mother, certainly hoped this was true.


~posting from Chiang Mai where the newly weds have joined us. They are radiant.

My Daughter Weds

My daughter Leigh and her honey Scott the night before they wed. 

We are sending off our best wishes.

Koh Samui, Thailand

Dec. 19, 2009

My dear friends,

I have been so busy for the last few weeks getting ready for my daughter's wedding.  Friends and Family from all over the world have assembled here in Thailand to celebrate her marriage to Scott Powrie.  Today we are lounging around lazily and beginning to share photos.  My two sister in laws provided some of these. Tomorrow we head north to Chiang Mai where I hope to get my hands into some plaster and paint quickly.

                             Jeanne-ming

Gods and Generals At The Door

Li Li thought she had very good fortune to work at a residence where mighty gods and legendary generals stood at attention guarding her courtyard.  Even though they were painted on red paper and and then glued on with yesterday's left over rice paste, she felt protected.  She felt safe, even from Merchant Huang, who had made his intentions for her quite obvious.