Soul filling

One for the fondest memories from my childhood is my Grandma Rose. She was my anchor and often my care giver, always had time for me and taught me most of my life skills. She had large work worn hands and was simply one of the best cooks I ever have known…and I have had the luxury of many fine meals prepared by great chefs, famous cooks, in famous restaurants. She had a limited education, a limited circumstances and a limitless life force that continues long after her death. I miss her terribly. One of her prize possessions was an odd assortment of Nippon Lusterware from Japan which she kept above kitchen cupboards with all the odds & ends of vases and treasures given her by countless grandchildren, adoring children, families she cleaned and kept house for, neighbors, etc. She had a renown garden, vegetables (part of why her food was so good) and amazing flowers. Almost every inch of her Southern Minnesota yard was in some sort of flower bed, She created micro climates by manipulating cold frames, straw bales, wind breaks, burlap, any thing she could come up with to tame the -30 degree wind chills that were far too frequent in Minnesota and spring times far too reticent to coax delicate blooms from the frost encrusted ground. Sue Foster’s snow drops in the grey Noritake Lusterware vase returned me to my grandmother's swimming pool aqua kitchen: wooden table spread with a well ironed, well worn cloth, snow drops perched triumphantly in their delicate Nippon (the earlier name for Noritake) Lusterware vase. Her specialty was apricot kolatchies and although in late winter when the snow drops peeked out, we would have never had fresh apricots, the dried ones would have summoned these plumps fruits of Sue's like ghosts, to the table. Rose had found a theoretically hearty variety for her garden and although it never bore much fruit, they were considered a miracle for the Gurney Seed Catalog to have produced such a thing for her to coax into surviving the Arctic blasts which descended every winter. Sue’s painting evokes the smells of Rose's kitchen, the kolatchies fresh from the oven, apricot syrup bubbly and caramelized, snow drops nodding, silver glaze's soft grey reflections of my grandmother beaming as she watched us wolf down the still warm pastries, big glasses of fresh milk, re-energizing our lanky frames as we unbundled from the raw Minnesota spring air, ravenous from barn chores. I miss my grandmother, but when I gaze at Sue’s painting, she is back, larger than life, tucking a stray errant curl behind my ear, reminding me I had homework before bed. It is through Sue’s painting, the ravenous hunger in my soul's memory is filled, no longer empty from life’s barn of endless chores.

Dominic Avant painted our resident Homeless Man "Mikie" as he lounged under a shade tree this summer. Mikie suffers from fairly severe mental illness and has been a fixture downtown for many years. Urban legend is he was a boxer and is punch drunk; alternately he was brain injured by too many drugs; that he was abandoned by a well off father; etc. It is almost impossible to tell what the circumstances leading to Mikie's street based life are; he is usually not clear enough to tell you and when he does the story always changes. What is clear is he could be any one of us given the right circumstances. He is harmless to others, many of the downtown merchants feed him, give him cast off clothes, blankets, etc. More than once any one of us has dragged him out of the street, calmed him down, led him to a safe location. He continues to use and abuse substances as a way to self medicate his raging mind. As a society we do so badly by men like Mikie. He deserves a warm bed, medical care, a bath, clean clothes. He lives in a city where the amount of wealth is staggering. I have no answers for the Mikie's of our world. He would rage at any forced half way house residency...he is simply too crazy. So when I pass by him, I try and make eye contact, say hello, bring him lunch. He smells so bad it is hard to get too close. We can't invite him into the gallery, the body odor lingers for days after. In Dominic's painting Mikie appears blissful; and often he is very happy, chattering away, smiling. I am sure he will not live a long life based on the statistics for men in his circumstance. When I look at Dominic's painting of him it appears as if he has almost transitioned; as Dominic puts it "Almost Home". I am so delighted Dominic chose to paint him, commit him to our collective memory.

Maquereaux aux Petits Pois

Russell Gordon's magnificent painting of fish inspired me to cook the following recipe from Elizabeth David's Mediterranean Food published in 1950:


3 or 4 Mackerel fillets cut into serving size chunks
1 Chopped Onion
1 Tbsp. Olive Oil
1 Tbsp. Tomato Puree
2 Minced Cloves Garlic
1 Bay Leaf
A Mix of Chopped Fennel Tops,Thyme& Parsley
Pinch of Saffron
2 lbs. Peas (Frozen or Fresh)
2.5 cups Boiling Water
Salt & Pepper
Fat slices of Artisan bread

Saute onion in olive oil until golden, add tomato puree, stir, toss in garlic and herbs. Pour in boiling water, salt, pepper, saffron & peas if they are fresh. Allow to simmer until peas are cooked (if required) or simply until the flavors meld if using frozen peas (about 5 minutes). Add the mackerel and if using the frozen peas. Simmer until fish is firm & white. Place bread slice in the bottom of shallow soup bowls. Ladle fish, peas & broth. Enjoy!

The Gift of Low Tide

Katie Cundiff has been painting Sarasota and her surrounding landscape for 30 years. She epitomizes the best in plein aire landscape painters and has become an icon in the Sarasota Art Scene. Katie often paints from her kayak (scares the begeesus out of me) in gator infested waters or wiley salt marshes. She ventures solo to remote locales (we still have them here) and encounters manatees nursing their pups, rays of all description, old fishermen, giant turtles. We have had many years of vanishing wilderness here, caused by rampant careless development in a state with no income tax and a government tied economically to the development madness. The greed and self interest by all involved in the bubble had little regard for the reason people came in the first place: Sarasota is truly a Paradise with great natural beauty, abundant wild life both on land and at sea, clean air, sunshine, the ability to have a safe active lifestyle. The kool-aid we all drank was that the development provided prosperity and economic possiblities for all. Of course we all know that was nonsense. If you take a drive around the neighborhood, you see stretches of failed developments, stripped of their natural beauty, devasted by the bulldozers. The good news is Florida vegetation grows really quickly and already the traces of the mess are beginning to be vine covered. Florida also had negative population growth for the first time since the 30's. Instead of adding 1,100 people a day, the population actually declined by 1%. Our gallery depends on a robust economy. Katie, in order to sell her work and keep painting, depends on a robust economy. But the beauty Katie depicts is destoyed by the endless tracts of housing erected without regard or respect for the natural order of the lanscape or needs of the population of Florida. Typical development in Florida rips out all the trees, destroys the natural flow of water, installs great swaths of "nice grass" which require huge amounts of herbicide and pesticide in order to survive. Although the economic costs to many (including our family) have been mind numbingly hard there is a real opportunity to look at what has occurred, what drove the bus off the cliff and become more responsible stewards of our resources, both natural and economic. Low tides clean out, give pause, allow us to look at what lies beneath. As we begin our economic recovery, we should perhaps take time to insist on responsible growth, protect the pristine beauty which is our divine resource. Personally I want Katie to be able to paint for many more decades. I want her to have a wild Florida to capture and a stable economy with a responsible government without economic ties to special interest groups that destoyed our local economy and its natural resources. Katie's painting captures that moment of reflection: the boat is stranded, the sea floor exposed, the figure searching for options...and of course the tide about to return, start the process over again.

Russell Gordon's Message in a bottle stopped me dead in my tracks this morning when I arrived at the gallery. I had spent the entire flight back from Portsmouth reading Mark Helprin's new book, Digital Barbarians, which deals with copyright law and the hijacking of reason via rampant viral misrepresentation of facts and disregard for the rule of law. In Helprin's book, he talks about cherishing paper and pen & the tactile luxury of slower non-digital communication. I had viewed Russell Gordon's painting via electronic jpeg in very fine resolution on a good monitor. Nothing prepared me for how exquisite the original work is; the poetic symbolism of the paper rolled in the bottle, glowing back at me. I smiled as I realized the meaning behind the centuries old masterful technique employed by Russell, and how much joy it brought me. Then as I wandered about the gallery, I understood the meaning behind many of the works, the message in the bottle as it were, layers and layers of knowledge giving us the whole body of their learning through today's modern masters' employment of the techniques and understanding gleaned from thousands of years of art. I found it so ironic that the medium I share this with you is digital, the way I learned about Russell Gordon is digital, but the sheer joy of experiencing the painting in person, live, looking at all the layers of glaze refracting light and luminosity is the polar opposite of virtual. It is so real it makes you ache and lingers in your mind's eye for days. Come in and visit us soon if you can, enjoy these master works for your self. We are fortunate enough to have four of his wonderful paintings and a fifth on the way.

Clayton Beck captured these peaches so ripened they had developed a blue cast: a sure sign the are ready. All the road sides now have Georgia peaches for sale (along with boiled peanuts much to my puzzlement - does any one know what to do with boiled peanuts besides throw them out?) which are dead ripe and so full of juice it runs down your arm. So many peaches and so many options leads me to pairing peaches with dry cured pork jowl. Simply: Thinly slice guacinal i.e. dry-cured pork jowl. (Available on-line from http://www.heritagefoodsusa.com/ ) and saute over medium high heat with a great olive oil until lightly crisped. Drain on paper towels. In a cast iron pan or griddle over medium heat saute slices of yellow vidallia onions in butter until soft, add thick slices of peaches and sprinkle with brown sugar and fresh thyme leaves. Drizzle a little maple syrup and cook until the sugars carmelize and the peaches are soft, onions browning; turn frequently to avoid burning the sugars. Place on a bed of mixed greens, top with the guacinal and sprinkle with a bit of citrus vinegar, olive oil and grind pepper over the whole thing. This dish pairs well with cold tomato based soups. A baguette along side slathered in sweet cream butter and sea salt accompanied by ice cold Tio Pepe dry sherry with a twist of lemon peel makes for a simple but wonderful summer lunch. Enjoy! Maggie Kruger