It was 1982...

 

From the 1982 archives...I was in college and working at a radio station. The first photo is marked April of 1982 and was taken by a fellow photography student. I was sitting in the University Center between classes. On the table in front of me are a cup (probably Coca Cola, as it would be a few years before I turned strictly to Diet Coke), a salt (or pepper) shaker, a couple of text books, and something dark which could've been my tripod. Without a doubt, my camera was just out of the frame and nearby. Of course early 80s hair, along with triple pierced earlobes (most of which have grown closed), and overalls of the era. Of course it's a black and white photo, but I remember those overalls very clearly. They were pink! I was probably wearing my pink Chuck Taylor Converse high tops to match.  I'm certain I had a sketch book with me, as well. This image pretty much defined me at the time. 

The second photograph is of the same timeframe although it isn't dated; however, the years coincide.  I'm in the production room of the radio station where I worked, and I've no idea what I was doing...maybe a VoiceOver for a commercial. Oh, to say...rising with a bullet on the Billboard Charts again. I suppose only radio people would understand that statement.

Finally, the songs below came out around 1982 and were definitely playing on that radio station. To remember the young girl in these photos listening to them at the time...nostalgia.

No Comments

 

A few years ago, I changed the comments setting on this blog. It had gotten to the point where the comments were either generally offensive, or were just random and had nothing to do with me or the post in question. Many were self-promoting in nature from people I didn't know, with links to click. So now I'm able to monitor every comment attempt... the inappropriate ones get deleted and are never visible in the comments section of my blog.

If you've ever read comments from the internet world, you're aware of how bad it can be. To my knowledge, Blogger won't allow me to completely deactivate the comments section, but I do control it. If I even get a notification that there's a pending comment (and most of the time I don't, so I miss them), I usually don't even allow the comments to be posted, anyway. Apologies if you've tried because I more than likely didn't see it. It has been nice not having to deal with most of it though. 

But if you'd like to still comment, please try. It'll go through filters. :) But if you're needing a quicker response, please go to my website and fill out the contact form there. That's not to say I haven't had 'garbage' there, too...I have. 

Thanks for continuing to read what I share.

Latest Photos...

 I'm trying to keep my photos updated on Fine Art America and Pixels. Below are screenshots of the latest ones. To see them and all of the photographs that I have to share, please visit my site at veronica-batterson.pixels.com

Appalachian Hands

 "They think it's strange to see a woman carve. A woman can do most anything she wants to...puts her mind to."  ~  Polly Page, in 2013, at age 94.

Aunt Polly (in her studio) with Dolly Parton 

My aunt, Polly (Pauline) Randolph Page, passed away in 2020. She was 101 years old. She was a well-known folk artist, whose wood carvings were in the Smithsonian Museum and in Folk Art Museums around the globe. In 2013, she was awarded the Tennessee Folklife Heritage Governor's Arts Award at the age of 93. I own some of her wonderful wood carvings.

She was a pioneer...independent, talented, opinionated, and (in my opinion) a feminist for her time. She believed that women could do anything they wanted if they worked for it. 

Sharing a poem that I wrote with her in mind. As always, copyright applies. 

Appalachian Hands

By Veronica Randolph Batterson 

©2022 Veronica Batterson

The hands speak volumes

As they cradle the wood

Gnarled and misshapen

Skin chapped, stained with blood.

The wood is their infant

Molded and created

Delicately balanced

Shaped between arthritic fingers.

The knife moves swiftly

Cedar shavings cover the floor

The slightest miss

Bears testament to scars she’s worn.

As life emerges

Directly from her palms,

Fingers move as if caressing

Breath from shapes appearing.

An artist carves her creation

With tenderness, with love

Never hesitating.

The knife and wood are one

Under nimble fingers they work,

Peeling layers away, skilled

Twisting, turning until

Forms of beauty are birthed.

The life of this master

Molding wood like clay,

Deftly she moves

Never flinching or pausing.

She works until finished

And carves shavings away,

Then as if releasing, a whisper

Touches graceful artistry in Appalachian hands.

Hiatus

     
      For ten years, this blog has been under a deadline. I made a commitment over a decade ago to approach posts at least monthly, and that’s a long time and a lot of dedication in finding words to share. It has also become a challenge that I can no longer maintain, so it is time for a change in direction.

For a while, I considered deleting the blog entirely after the start of this year. I reached a personal milestone of blogging for ten years, so shouldn’t that be enough? Time to move on, forget, and start something fresh? I’d grown tired physically and emotionally, with too many other things demanding my attention. And as I’ve written here before, the Internet World isn’t always a pleasant place to be. 

Then there is the “borrowing” that subtly (and often blatantly) occurs.  If you don’t know the meaning of the words Intellectual Property, then please look up the definition. Theft is theft, whether it’s the pick-up truck stolen from the owner’s driveway, or the photograph or story idea stolen from a person’s blog or website (or Facebook page). Copyright protects just like the lock on that truck, but things still get stolen. And for those who say I shouldn’t post something online if I don’t want it taken by someone, then I’d respond with perhaps you shouldn’t park that pick-up truck in your driveway, or on a public street or parking lot if you don’t want the same fate. 

When I was a kid, I learned the hard (and humiliating) way about plagiarism. I got “called out” for something I had made my own. Other than it being youthful stupidity on my part, there was no excuse for it. I’d been lazy and didn’t take it seriously at the time. I needed the embarrassment to learn a lesson, and it has stayed with me ever since. From that point on, I never claimed anyone else’s work as my own.  

In 2014, I published Daniel’s Esperanza and shared the book cover on my Facebook page. Within seconds, a Facebook friend shared the image. Done the right way, I would’ve been grateful and appreciative. But it wasn’t.  She had cropped the title and the byline out, and simply shared the image which was that of a wild horse, offering no explanation of where she got it, what it was for, or who took the photograph.  I owned the copyright to that image because I took the photo; it also came from a copyrighted book. She ignored all of my attempts at getting her to at least state where the image came from; eventually, she simply did the “unfriending” thing. I was shocked with the whole experience because it was someone I actually knew. 

Facebook forced her to remove the photo, but not until I proved the photo belonged to me. It was an inconvenient, time-consuming nuisance, and so unnecessary. It’s sort of like where the burden of proof falls in most cases. The years and work it takes to create, from idea to work to completion, not to mention your own personal cost, to simply have someone snatch it away and claim it. It’s discouraging when it happens. However, I appreciate it very much when people share what I’ve created while attributing it to me. There’s a difference.  Something similar happened with my book, Williamsburg Hill, but it dealt with the storyline and not the cover, and it wasn’t on Facebook, but with a literary agent.

As for the available content here: this is a public blog and it’s free.  Anyone can read the posts and no money is made on it.  Any references I’ve made to other artists’ work, I’ve given the appropriate credit to it.  I’ve never attempted to sell any of it.  While I’m not aware I’ve violated anyone’s copyrighted work, I won’t say my copyright has been honored in the same way.  It hasn’t been, and that’s the biggest obstacle in continuing this blog in the same manner it started. It’s also the greatest frustration. The content here isn’t up for grabs. Credit, appreciation, acknowledgment…do the right thing, sort of like that ‘do unto others’ thing. 

So instead of deleting the blog, at least for now, I’m posting when I feel like it. No deadlines. There won’t always be monthly posts, or there could be. Whatever happens is the new approach. Breathing room, a break, time off.  

As always, thanks to those readers…the loyal, regular ones, and those who drop in and visit every once in a while. It's appreciated. 

 

Inspiration and Influences

I

 

Shortly after the tragic supermarket events that occurred in Boulder, Colorado, I found it necessary to release some frustration, sadness and anger.  Sitting down in front of an easel, I painted.  It wasn’t the usual session, meaning that I lost track of time, painted without thinking about it, and blasted music from the speakers which were nearby.  Afterward, I felt better, and I suppose it’s the same feeling for others who would approach something difficult by choosing to work out or jog.  In that sense, it’s actually a release of pent-up energy which allows one to cope with things beyond her/his control.  For myself, being able to handle a situation while creating is a cathartic and healing experience.  It hasn’t changed the horrible events that unfolded, or what the families of the victims continue to face, but it was helpful to me.  Each person handles things differently. It was the events of that day that also influenced me to paint as I did.

As I’ve written many times during the nine years and counting that this blog has been going, I find the art of creating begins with inspiration and/or influence.  For myself, it’s a spark, a drop in my lap from the sky moment, or something I’ve planned for a while; it’s always initiated with something…music, reading, history, observing, nature, memories, travel, research, etc. I daydream.  It happens with something as simple as making dinner reservations, or going grocery shopping.  My imagination is easily stirred, and often takes off faster than I can keep up with it.  I always view it as therapeutic, too.  If a person has a story floating around in one’s head, the need to release 90,000+ words is pretty great.  Once those words escape, the intense feeling of accomplishment is unexplainable. However, authors, songwriters, and visual artists (all artists) understand the feeling.  Also, those who create are always influenced or inspired by something and/or someone, whether they admit it or not.

Reading posts that I’ve shared here over the years (and there is a lot of material), reflects the eclectic person that I am.  I shared several times how my book, Williamsburg Hill (published in 2018), came to be written with folklore playing the greatest role in its telling, even though historical fiction was the goal. I’ve written about visiting wild horse sanctuaries, among other research, to complete my novel, Daniel’s Esperanza (published in 2014).  Short stories were written about/around, and included lost love in Italy, and tossing coins in Trevi Fountain for wishes to come true (O Mio Babbino Caro, 7/29/2013); cowboys (multiple times, including Cowboy Ridge and Honor, 1/27/2016); witches  and a woman who was exiled (The Witch of County Down, 5/19/2016), ghosts (multiple times) and a woman trapped in time at a diner (The House at the End of the Road, 12/17/2020); a precipice (Precipice, 7/17/2019) which included a song by Taylor Swift (credit given) and was also not completely fiction; stardust (Stardust, 4/6/2017) and the backstory to a book that’s in the works about finding a lost love in Scotland; the history in short story form of Madame X (Madame X, 6/11/2015); a young man with disabilities being infatuated with a strange and selfish woman (Hang the Moon, Molly Byrd, 11/17/2014); ghosts and history regarding the Trail of Tears (Old Wauhatchie, 7/17/2014); a woman reflecting on her past and her grandmother (She Heard Her Heart, 3/17/2014); a dream sequence (Dance of the Blessed Spirits, 11/19/2013); a madwoman who was a former dancer (La Folie, 9/25/2013); a character encountering an historical figure through a time portal in London (Charing Cross, 4/9/2013); a new take on Jack the Ripper (Jack, 7/19/2012); a woman recovering from divorce (Boxed Life, 5/22/2012); a woman who was nothing but invisible her entire life (Invisible, 1/27/2014); and a man battling a storm and memories of his grandfather (Old Norse Gale, 3/1/2015), plus much more.

I’ve written about living in a haunted house, a wonderful amusement park of my childhood, fairytales, nostalgia, and dreams, soldiers going to war, Boxing Day, the weddings of my daughters, my dogs, my grandmother, music and a radio station of my youth, and poetry. Whimsy and the imagery of antique perfume bottles bearing the scent of past users, a man called to serve in WWII leaving a beautiful note and piece of jewelry for his wife - all words mentioned in Just in Case Uncle Sam Should Take Me (11/26/2012).  A couple of posts that were very personal for me include Overcoming Obstacles (4/20/2018), and Gratitude (2/13/2020). 

Words, places, and characters' names throughout this blog and/or my books: Dorothy, Barbara, Evelyn and Frederic, sweet tea, vintage, St. Louis, Grace, Daniel, antiques, historical fiction, fiction, short stories, New Mexico, Chicago, Jack, Cherokee Nation, Chief Wauhatchie, Native Americans, folk stories, folklore, history, suffragists, 19^th Amendment, photography, art, books, writing, pen pals, painting, cemeteries, travels, Ava, Gitta, Fiona, Ireland, Italy, John Singer Sargent, Paris, Molly Byrd, Harold Brown, angels, memories, Sophia, Penelope, collectibles, Billy and Junie, Sally, Rose and Robert, Edinburgh, snow, winter, Erastus, imagination, hockey, Dan Fogelberg, Eagles (band and birds), Gordon Lightfoot, bandits, Caledonia, William, sorceress, river, Wales, nomadic, horses, gypsies, Vikings, the Edmund Fitzgerald, old Irish cottage, Flanders Fields, Alaska, Nat King Cole…etc., on and on and on.  Coming up for air now. 

Nine years plus is a lot of ground to cover, and a lot of material. In no way have I summed up the total in this post either; it’s simply what I’ve noticed as I skimmed through everything. In doing so, I’ve discovered that some of my characters share the same name.  It wasn’t intentional, but just as in real life people do share the same names so I’ll give myself a pass for it.  

One last thing. If a person has been influenced or inspired by something and/or someone in creating his/her art, it’s kindness in acknowledging it and rewarding it.  Especially so if that person has found great success.  Just think of all the struggling artists who would benefit from that shout-out.  As always, many thanks to the loyal readers, and to the ones who drop in every now and then. 

 

Happy January

Work in Progress

We made it.  The year that started the pandemic in this country is behind us, in the rearview mirror and over our shoulder.  We don't have to look back or around, just forward we go with hope for better things and some kind of normalcy.  The new year doesn't mean, however, that we get careless. There are record numbers with the virus and it's important we still wear our masks, practice social distancing and stay at home as much as possible.  I look forward to getting the vaccine.

This month marks the 9th anniversary of this blog. Thank you to the readers who keep it going, who regularly visit the site and read what I share.  I'm amazed there's so much interest, and it's very encouraging for me to continue with it. If you read something here that you like, I would love to hear your thoughts on it.  Just reach out via the email address at the right on the home page.

I've updated a few links, too, deleted some old ones, and provided a list of the short stories and poetry links that are found here within the last nine years. Just scroll down on the home page until you see the list on the right. I think there are just under twenty short stories that I've published on this blog. 

Finally, book research and outlining continues, and I think I'm about ready to start the next one. I've also been painting a bit (acrylics on canvas). I'm sharing a photo of my latest work in progress.  I call her Emerging Face, but I think her official name will change once I'm finished.  Once again, I'll share my website if you're interested in looking at my work a little bit more:  www.veronicabatterson.com.

Thanks, again, and best wishes for a happy, and better new year!

Canceled - Mid-South Arts Against Hunger Food Drive

 Due to the pandemic, the Mid-South Arts Against Hunger Food Drive which benefits the Mid-South Food Bank in Memphis is canceled this year. If you're able, please consider a monetary donation to not only the food bank of your choice, but also any arts organization you frequent. The arts community and artists around the country are struggling a bit right now. Hopefully, we can see this resume again next year under more normal conditions. 

Face Masks

As the country takes steps to lift stay-at-home orders, it's difficult to believe that anything will ever be the same as we've known it. The future is about change and adjustment, compromise and being accommodating. Wearing face masks in public is the new normal, at least for the foreseeable future. 

Kudos to those who have made and donated masks; some of us are selling them, as well. Those provided via Pixels/Fine Art America are made from images created by artists on that site. All products are 100% satisfaction guaranteed. Below is a sampling of some of mine that are available; full resolution and the entire product line can be found at www.veronica-batterson.pixels.com. For masks, click on the apparel link at the top on the home page. 

Many thanks, as always, and please be safe, diligent, and kind. 

                                      

 

WKNO Gallery Ten Ninety-One

On Sunday, May 5^th, WKNO Gallery Ten Ninety-One hosted an artist's reception for me as the opening for my photography exhibit in its wonderful exhibition hall.  There are so many folks to thank, but I’d like to start with Amy McDaniel, who is the Special Events Coordinator for the station.  She was patient in answering my questions, accommodating for the installation, and made the gathering that afternoon run smoothly.  I appreciate all that she has done for me with respect to this.

Great appreciation goes to all of the people who took the time out of their busy day to stop by and say hello.  I had much competition for their time: Memphis in May and the Beale Street Music Festival, Cinco de Mayo celebrations, and one of the most beautiful afternoons with warm temperatures, clear skies and low humidity (who wanted to spend time indoors?).  So, thank you to all who did attend as it meant so much to me. 

Two of the greatest surprises of that afternoon: making sales and seeing an old friend (maybe I should put old in quotation marks).  My exhibit is up for the entire month of May, and I never expected to make one sale, but during the reception ten purchases were made.  Ten!  I’m still shocked, and so grateful; thank you very much to those who bought.  I hope you enjoy my art.  As for that “old” friend…Susan and I go back to freshman year of college, and she decided to make the drive from Nashville just for the afternoon to see my photos, without really telling me, of course.  To say I was gobsmacked (this is a great word, so I use it whenever I can) is an understatement.

My gratitude runs deeply.  So many thanks, again, to everyone who participated in making it a special day.  The exhibit contains forty-two images (prints on canvas, metal, acrylic, or framed) and is up until May 31 during regular business hours.

Art Exhibit - Gallery Ten Ninety-One

Edinburgh, Scotland (on display May 2019)

A short update: I will have my first art exhibit during the month of May.  My photographs will be available for viewing at WKNO's Gallery Ten Ninety-One.  For an example of the photographs that will be on display, please visit www.veronica-batterson.pixels.com; if you're in the Memphis or Mid-South area during that time, drop by and take a look.  I will share detailed information in a few weeks.  Thanks for continuing to read my blog...my latest book, Williamsburg Hill, is still available on Amazon and in select bookstores.

Madame X

A photograph of the original

John Singer Sargent, born to American parents in Florence, Italy (1856), was considered the leading portrait painter of his era.  In 1884, he exhibited in Paris what would eventually be considered a masterpiece; at the time, Paris society hated the painting and his reputation suffered.  He fled to London. 

Sargent named the portrait "Madame X" and the only thing that exists of the original as it hung in the Paris salon is a photograph.  The artist repainted the original (with right shoulder strap in place), which now hangs in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York.

The painting was viewed as scandalous, but seems very mild compared to today's standards for modesty and indecency.  I've written a flash fiction piece based on this...a very short story that I, too, call Madame X.  Thanks for reading, and if you're interested in more short stories, I've shared a few on this blog.  Just check out the links to the right.  As always, copyright applies (©Veronica Randolph Batterson).

Madame X

By Veronica Randolph Batterson

(©Veronica Randolph Batterson)

Virginie Amélie Avegno Gautreau.  Elle est un opportuniste. 

He fidgeted with his hands, pulling at the collar of his shirt as if doing so would loosen the tightness around his neck.  The room was warm and sweat formed at his hairline, the rivulets running down his face and into his eyes.  He patted his forehead with a handkerchief and thought he would be ill.  Soon there would be an audience.

Madame Pierre Gautreau, the artist’s dream, agreed to his request; she consented to sit for him.  A vision.  And he had painted her as such.   Sensual, regal, beautiful and unusual, her powdered skin and its lavender hue stood pasty and stark against the black dress.  The velvet bodice cut low over her breasts and held in place with two slim, jeweled straps.  He had been nervous at first.  Reflecting, perhaps that had lent to his displeasure and uncertainty of the painting.

Monsieur Sargent?  Will this work?

With her left hand she had gripped the velvet skirt while clutching the edge of a side table with the right one.  Her patrician profile exuded nobility; she was untouchable.  In an instant, it happened.  The slightest movement that changed everything.  The jeweled shoulder strap dropped suggestively from her right shoulder.  How do I look?  The little slip was painted into the portrait. 

Salle 31. 1884.

He waited for the unveiling as Paris society ambled into the salon, unforgiving and judgmental.  Champagne flowed amidst fluttery ladies on the arms of stodgy gentlemen.  A violinist performed but he could barely hear the music, so loud was the beat of his own heart.   He thought of leaving.  There his Madame X stood at eye level.  The Gautreau that everyone flocked to view.

John Singer Sargent.

The artist who painted a scandalous portrait of a difficile woman; it hadn’t been as he had hoped.  He knew the outcome of his folly and Amélie had known what she was doing, toying with him.  Feigning innocence.  Indolent.  How foolish he had been for following instincts instead of reason.  Now he would pay with his reputation.

Arriviste.  Ceci est scandaleux!

The gasps caught his attention.  Vulgaire.  Choquant.  Indécent.  The whispers grew as one voice, loud, biting and cruel.  They shouted his recklessness and relished his mistake, declaring the end for him in Paris while clucking at his foolishness.  L’artiste a échoué!  There was spiteful glee in his failure.  He was humiliated.  Some were repulsed by the pallor of her skin; most were shocked by the revealing décolletage.  Trop sensuelle.

He had exhibited at the Palais de Industrie for six years and was the preferred portrait artist of Paris.  The mocking confirmed it was over.   How could this happen, such fickleness?   Dejected, he felt he must retrieve the portrait before the Gautreau family obtained and destroyed it.  Then he would flee to London.  

Au revoir, Monsieur Sargent. 

He left.  Bitter, disappointed and angry.  To start over.  Optimiste.

©Veronica Randolph Batterson

 

Holiday and Christmas Lists...Shop Amazon and Local Businesses

Thanks to those who purchased a copy of my book, Daniel's Esperanza, on Cyber Monday. Amazon started a sale that day for the paperback and it is still running. The Kindle version is available, too, with a free app to those who don't own the device. You can find the direct link for my book on Amazon by clicking Daniel's Esperanza on Amazon. If you don't like clicking links, just do a Google search of my name on the Amazon site. My book can also be found on numerous other online retail shops.

My deepest gratitude to all who have bought the book and read it, thus far. Thanks also to those who have given me positive feedback. It is very encouraging to hear from readers. Too often, a writer spends years on a book only to hear crickets chirping once it is published. It's a lot of work, we love to hear from people who have read the book, especially if it is liked. Reviews help, too, along with giving shout-outs on social media and to your friends. Believe or not, all of this helps with potential sales.

Please remember to shop locally and frequent small businesses in your hometowns. However, please don't get caught up in the craze of boycotting Amazon. Some of us can only be found online, which includes Amazon. We're hard-working business people, too, trying to sell our work.  While I won't get into specifics as to the war between Amazon and booksellers (along with traditional publishers), if you boycott Amazon, it hurts us. Perhaps, I'll reserve all that drama for a future post.
 

Finally, I have to say the following. Self-published = self-produced = independently done. Independents can include authors, local businesses and bookstores, plus musicians, singers, actors, movie makers, dance companies, theatre companies (community theatre, too), museums, visual artists, photographers, etc.  If you buy the tickets, goods, CDs, paintings, photography, go to the shows and concerts, and give the business all in the name of supporting the indie (or local, or start-up, or unknown), why not buy the indie book?  If you go to an indie movie or promote an indie musician, do the same for an indie author. Don’t judge a book by its publisher. Art in any form is subjective…it shouldn’t matter how it comes to be.  

Happy Holidays to all.

July Orders on Fine Art America Come With a $100 Gift Certificate for Wine

I'm doing a quick blog post right now to let you know about Fine Art America's July promotion.  Any and all orders (it doesn't matter the amount you spend) will come with a $100 gift certificate for wine from NakedWines.com.  Of course, I'm including the link to my FAA page just in case anyone wishes to include some of my work in their orders and there are a lot of options from which to choose: canvas, acrylic, metal, poster/art (all framed or unframed and in any size) prints and greeting cards. Also, cell phone covers are available, too, in the artists' images.  There is an abundance of talent on this site, all with beautiful work to sell. I highly recommend any and all to check it out.

The link to my personal site is http://veronica-batterson.artistwebsites.com. I've included a few photos you'll see, but visit the site for greater resolution of these images and many more. Thanks for reading and for taking a look.

Simply An Incubator

My two daughters are young women now and when I look at where they are in their lives, I wonder how I was any part of their talents and accomplishments.  Of course, I’ve owned many titles over their lifetimes: nurturer, caregiver, homework enforcer, cab driver, lunch maker, bad guy who made rules and curfews and the volunteer-for-any-job-in-elementary-school-just-because role.  But I look for things they might have inherited from me, something genetic that could have contributed to what they do now.  And I struggle to find it.

My younger child has been offered a special opportunity to work toward her Master’s degree this fall.   Tuition free.  Her undergrad scholarships covered all of her tuition during those years.  She was a member of seven honor societies, graduated summa cum laude and her resumé reads as if she’s been in the work force for decades.  How is she my child? 

She is a visual artist, as well.  Her artistic abilities amaze me and while I love all of her work, my favorites will always be her cartoons.  She can create on paper, bringing to life all of these wonderful characters.  It’s certainly not anything I can do.

My older daughter is a musician.  She began playing the violin in first grade and took lessons until she graduated from high school.   The violin was chosen for two reasons:  1) we didn’t own a piano at the time and, 2) we had a neighbor who rented string instruments to schools for their orchestra programs.  We rented a tiny violin for our daughter and she took off, never looking back. 

Lessons via The Suzuki Method started and lasted for a few years.  By the way, if you don’t think it’s possible for young children to perform music by the classical composers such as Bach, Handel and Mozart, then find a Suzuki School recital and go to it.  You’ll be amazed.

Traditional lessons followed, as did concerts, youth orchestras, ensemble groups and fiddle instruction.  One of my fondest memories is when she played the role of “The Fiddler” in Fiddler on the Roof during her high school years.  She didn’t play from the orchestra pit; she was up on the rooftop on stage, dressed like a man (including beard).  And I loved it.  Today, she continues to play gigs around the Chicago area and I continue to marvel at her musical abilities, as she didn’t inherit them from me.

So I wonder.  I was a good student, but I had to study, and I was far from brilliant.  I started out as an art major in college and abandoned that career path due to an unfortunate experience.  Looking back, it was probably a sound decision, as I see the talent my youngest possesses…talent that eluded me.  As for the musical inability...I took classical guitar lessons for a while, regretting much later that I didn’t continue.  I felt it important that my daughter play an instrument, thus the music lessons.  But I have no talent for it. 

Perhaps I’ve been pursuing dreams through my kids…some people do it.  Although, my daughters have never been forced to do these things.  They continued along their paths because they chose to do so and they felt good about what they were doing.  And I continue along my own, wondering how in the world either one of them are a part of me.  The incubator idea is strong during these times. 

  

Fine Art America and Pinterest

I don't have a Pinterest page but I'm told a couple of photographs on my Fine Art America account have been "pinned" (admittedly, I really don't know what that means) several times.  Maybe I'm behind the times but if I can keep the social media requirements to a minimum I can get a little more accomplished, so I probably won't be joining Pinterest anytime soon.  I do, however, appreciate those who are sharing my work.  Photography is a hobby I enjoy, so I'm happy if others like the work in my FAA portfolio.  A couple of the images receiving Pinterest attention are below, with the links to them and to my Fine Art America artist account.

The direct link for the first image, "Hideout", is fineartamerica.com/featured/hideout-veronica-batterson.html, while the second image called "Big Guy" can be accessed at fineartamerica.com/featured/big-guy-veronica-batterson.html.  Finally, as I've posted before, please visit my Fine Art America page at veronica-batterson.artistwebsites.com.

As always, I appreciate all who read my blog, my fiction, poetry, books and those who look at my photographs. All work is copyright protected. 

Peace

May you have warmth in your igloo, oil in your lamp and peace in your heart. - Eskimo Proverb

This weekend, I saw the movie, The Book Thief, and my thoughts have been with it ever since...similar to how it is for me when I've finished a great book and can't get it out of my mind (of course, the movie was based on the book).  While I've seen many films set during the Holocaust and World War II era, this movie's message has stayed with me, perhaps for the meaning of hope, the importance of peace and how words factored into survival for the characters.

As a writer and someone who loves to read, I enjoy words that give me peace and make me think.  I especially appreciate poetry and lyrics which paint a picture of contemplation and expressiveness (think paint to canvas).  In my opinion, one of the great lyricists was the late Dan Fogelberg.  Ironically, today marks the anniversary of his passing six years ago and, while this post isn't meant as an homage to the late artist, I think it warrants a mention of how great a poet he was.  It's something special when lyrics read as poetry and have meaning.  While the music adds to the beauty, the words stand alone.  Dan Fogelberg had that gift of creativity.  Some of his lyrics follow this entry...forget why or how he wrote them and, for the time being, silence the music that accompanies them. Just read the words.

As I write this post, the snow is falling outside and my dog is resting at my feet...a peaceful scene.  In closing, I wish all a relaxing Christmas and holiday season. Share with all you love and find meaning and purpose in what you do with your lives.  Do well and be kind.  Peace to all.

"Shallow rivers run between us where a stone may never sink
Though we taste, we are left thirsty for a deep and soulful drink
Narrow channels, barely open, fraught with dangers out of view
In the current, we are helpless - still I cling to you..." - Shallow Rivers, Dan Fogelberg

"Stood out in the rain
Let it soak me down
Before I called you...I called you
Didn't see me there
Hidden by the rain beneath your window...but I saw you
Putting on your face before the mirror on the wall
Dreaming that the looking glass was me..." - Stars, Dan Fogelberg

"I was born by a river rolling past a town
Given no direction...just told to keep my head down
As I took my position, a man fired a gun
I was so steeped in tradition I could not run
I was raised by a river weaned upon the sky
And in the mirror of the waters I saw myself learn to cry
As the tears hit the surface I saw what had been done
I gave feet to my freedom and I did run..." - The River, Dan Fogelberg 


"I saw you running
Ahead of the crowd
I chased but never thought
I'd catch you.
You said you loved me
But you had to be free
And I let you.
Why did I let you?
We walked together
Through the gardens and graves
I watched you grow
To be a woman.
Living on promises 
That nobody gave
To no one.
They were given to no one..." - The Last Nail, Dan Fogelberg