Day 4998: A Canadian Memory & After-hours Learning.

"Suburbs": junk collage, digital.

                                                                       

  

Want music?

    Click: Aretha Franklin, Natural Woman.

2GN2S

A Canadian Memory.

I had the tv on but was working on something else when I heard them mention the Aurora Borealis. And it reminded me of one of my trips to Canada, I was lucky to stay with Marian and Cam Steuart, and their two huge German Shepherds. I kept asking about seeing the "northern lights" as I was only there three nights and I really wanted to see the amazing lights. Some of the Canadians told me if I did, to be sure and whistle so the lights would dance! 

I slept on the couch and on the last night as I was listening to the news they mentioned the aurora made good watching that night. It was almost midnight and the whole house was asleep. I threw on a robe, and took the dogs for a walk. We went out into the adjacent field and the news was right it really was spectacular. Then I remembered and started whistling. I will never forget the look those two dogs gave me! I had never before, or since felt so stupid. 

I love the Canadians.

After Hours Learning

A teacher in South Africa keeps her classroom open long after the final bell rings, offering a quiet, well-lit space for students who don’t have electricity at home. Instead of ending the day when lessons finish, she extends it — turning the room into a place where children can complete homework, read, and prepare for the next day.

As evening settles, the classroom fills again, not with formal instruction but with focused silence and shared purpose. Desks that were busy during the day now hold books and notebooks under steady light, giving students the chance to learn without interruption.

It’s a simple decision, yet it carries lasting impact. By opening the door a little longer, she creates opportunity where it’s often limited — showing how one space, used differently, can support growth far beyond school hours.

  

 

A 1+  minute video, Eagle, Murphy,  here.

 

 

Just because ...

Geelvink Fruit-Dove

Friday's Smiles ... 

 

Hoping you see all the good things in your day.

  

 

 

Day 4997: Artist, Rachel Mentzer & TBT & Kenya's Tsavo landscape.

"Sleeping angel": collage, digital.

   

                                                                       

  

Want music?

    Click: Charlie Puth, If You Leave Me Now.

2GN2S

Rachel Mentzer Transforms Discarded Cartons into Dusky Collagraphs

“Where Powerlines Sing.”

One of the most common sights in cities is birds perched on power lines, although it rarely elicits a second look. Starlings chortle, pigeons coo, and the occasional hawk perches on a pole to scan the ground for its next meal. And yet, as normal as this seems, there’s nothing natural about it. Instead of trees, these feathered creatures rely on whatever infrastructure is around them, from wires and pylons to fences and rooftops.

“At the Flats”

For Ohio-based artist Rachel Mentzer, nature’s resilience is central to a practice focused on sustainability and environmental renewal. Her work “invites viewers to reflect on the interplay between human activity and the natural world, emphasizing the adaptability and fragility of nature,” says a statement.

“Pylon Birds”

Mentzer’s practice emphasizes collagraphy, an intaglio printmaking technique in which flattened materials—especially paper and card but also other items like leaves or acrylic surfaces—can be used to create a plate from which to make prints. She meticulously carves the delicate surfaces of found cartons with motifs of birds, trees, and energy infrastructure, then brushes them in polyurethane to preserve and prepare them for printing. Occasionally, she also employs chine collé, which uses delicate papers, to add colorful backgrounds.

“Golden Eagles”

The artist then coats the design with ink, wipes off the excess, and places the damp substrate into an etching press to transfer the image to a larger sheet of paper, producing the final piece. Thanks to the pressure of the transfer and the way the ink seeps into every handmade and incidental mark, the final print reveals a textural composition with crisp outlines. Birds and urban details alike are inextricable from the silhouette of a material that may have otherwise been destined for the landfill, summoning a constant reminder of the relationship between humans and nature.

“Still Standing”

   Mentzer’s work was recently included in the Manhattan Graphics Center’s community print studio exhibition, and this summer, she’s looking forward to participating in the Suzanne Wilson Artist-in-Residence Program at Glen Arbor Arts Center in Michigan. See the artist’s process on her website, where you can also check if she will be at an art fair in your area throughout the spring and summer. See more on Instagram.

“Magnolia Warbler”

“Skybound Over Steel”

Demura Sensei's OCC Tournament, 1985, with John Yamasaki

  

This pattern looks planned, but no human designed it. In Tsavo National Park, Kenya, one lone acacia tree became the center of a natural traffic system traced by wildlife over time.

From above, the ground appears stitched with lines running outward in every direction. These are animal paths, created gradually by repeated footsteps pressing vegetation and soil into visible tracks. What seems artistic is actually practical.

In semi-arid ecosystems, an isolated tree can be unusually valuable. It offers shade during extreme heat, edible leaves and pods, resting cover, and a landmark easy to spot across open terrain. For animals moving long distances, that matters.

Elephants may strip bark or browse branches. Giraffes feed high in the canopy. Antelope and zebras may pause nearby where temperatures are lower and visibility remains open. Smaller species also benefit from insects, seeds, and shelter linked to the tree.

Ecologists often describe places like this as resource nodes, locations that attract repeated movement and shape behavior across a wider landscape. Many species making independent choices can still produce one shared pattern.

So the real story is larger than a tree. It shows how survival decisions, repeated for years, can redraw the land itself until the earth begins to reveal where life depends most.

 

  

 

The best 1+ minute video, Father-Son Conversation, here.

 

 

Just because ...

Scarlet-faced liocichla

Thursday's Smiles ... 

 

Hoping you see all the good things in your day.

  

 

 

Day 4996: Gallery Visits & Old Dongola, Sudan Tombs.

"Redhead": jink collage, ink, watercolor.

 

                                                                       

  

Want music?

    Click: Roberta Flack, Until It's Time for You to Go

2GN2S

People Matching Artworks

 France-based photographer Stefan Draschan,  camping in galleries for days, waiting for visitors who perfectly match the artworks they observe.

His photo series is called “People matching artworks,” and seeing it at first you might get an impression that it’s all staged. But the artist reassures that these perfect shots are actually achieved using patience. I picked 24 of his original 50 but you can see all here.

   

  This tomb looks simple until you realize it was never meant to disappear. In Old Dongola, Sudan, these beehive-shaped graves have survived for more than a thousand years beside the ruins of a forgotten capital.

Old Dongola stood on the east bank of the Nile and became the political center of Makuria, a major medieval Nubian kingdom. For centuries, Makuria controlled trade routes, defended its territory, and developed a distinct Christian culture in northeastern Africa.

The tombs are built from mud brick, a material many assume is temporary. Yet in dry climates, well-made earthen structures can endure for astonishing lengths of time. Their survival challenges modern assumptions about what lasts.

Archaeologists have identified around twenty of these domed graves in the area. Their size, placement, and careful construction suggest they were likely intended for respected or high-ranking individuals.

What remains uncertain is why this specific beehive form was chosen. It may have reflected status, local symbolism, practical engineering, or a blend of traditions now only partly understood.

That uncertainty gives the site its power. Kingdoms collapse, names vanish, and texts are lost, yet one shaped mound of brick can still announce that someone here mattered enough to be remembered.

 

  

 

A 3+ minute video, Sheep Miracle,  here.

 

 

Just because ...

Purple Finch

Wednesday's Smiles ... 

 

   

   

Hoping you see all the good things in your day.