The Comet Magazine - September 2021

everything will be fine

EVERYTHING WILL BE FINE

COMET HEADQUARTERS

Yes. I had to take a picture to commemorate wearing clothes that don’t stretch (on purpose), and for having a reason to don said clothes, as I pulled out of my driveway to head toward a whole weekend of events (Hot August Nights at the PAC, Voices of The Valley poetry reading at PYBUS and Family Feud at Wenatchee Valley Museum And Cultural Center - where the Radar Dames made it to the final round but lost to the lovely folks from The Yogi Grind). This felt like attending three months of events all at once. In a good way.

And while the certainty of events is still iffy now, and for the immediate future, it was pretty magical to be reintroduced to my community at large. In person and face (masked, but still) to face. No Facebook or Twitter arguing, no calling folks sheep, and honestly… very little Covid talk. We were all too giddy to be out seeing our pals doing what they love. It was much needed. On so many levels.

But the one that keeps resonating with me is the reminder I got that we ARE a community. It was easy to forget that after more than a year apart. And it’s clearly something I’d taken for granted. There was always theatre. Until there wasn’t. There was always an open mic poetry reading somewhere. Until there wasn’t. These past couple of years have given us all some major wake up calls, again - on so many levels. And even though we are still zigging and zagging back toward normal, it does feel like the “other side” of this miserable era is keeping within sight. I’m thankful these events were organized by folks who had safety in mind which made them easier to attend with low anxiety (and guilt). It was the recharging my batteries desperately needed.

Now let’s do everything we can to snuff this motherfucker out for good so we can fully get back to all the things we have taken for granted.

But first…someone help me back outta these trousers.

Happy Trails, Ron Evans Editor of The Comet

Pants that don’t stretch (on purpose) and a night of doings ahead.

CORY CALHOUN'S PUZZLE CORNER

Crosswords & more made exclusively for The Comet

Enterfor a chance to win a cool mystery prize by solving 2021's 4th meta crossword! HOW TO ENTER: 1. Solve the crossword below. 2. Solve its meta puzzle (instructions at tinyurl.com/corymetas). 3. Email just themetapuzzleanswer for the hint (don't sendthesolvedgrid!) to cscxwords@gmail.com by12amPT, September 24, 2021 (One submission per entrant, please.) We'll randomly pick a winner from the correct entries, and announce the winner and puzzleanswers in the next issue. Good luck!

THE 4TH META CROSSWORD CONTEST of 2021! " CROSSOVEREVENTS

HINT: Themeta an swer is a 5-letterverb .

ACROSS

1. Life know it 5. Go (for)

Half- (coffee orderoption)

Birds feather connector

Japanese superhero

54. Strike ___ (vogue)

55. Apply liberally, as charm 57. Gossip tidbit

10. Hairdos with stylish bangs

11. "If You Leave" 80s band

12. ___ Schwarz (toy company)

13. Life of Pi director Lee

15. Type of station (ahem)

16. City-related term after sub-

17. Extra ingredient

24. Aunt in Acapulco

25. -Wan Kenobi

26. SE Asia-grown sweetener source

28. Crowd noise

29. Novelist Leighwhose 1st name anagrams into a Guthrie

30. Do great, in modern lingo

31. Limit

32. Bases ofoperation: Abbr.

34. Freudian subjectsof study

37. Losing line in Tic-Tac-Toe

40. Arguingvehemently

43. Hit 1999 TLC song

44. Apple product

1. Performs

3. Removes

4. Bard'snightfall

5. Willow twig

6. Earn,as a yearly salary

7. Vandalizesa yard,say

8. MelissaJoanHart's 90s-era

Nickelodeoncharacter

9. Taking one's turn to swing

45. Amscrayed

46. Jacques of "Mon Oncle"

47. Neat as ____ (tidy)

48. The C in NCAA: Abbr.

49. Paints like Pollock 50. Cat, e.g.

51. Caribbean island namesake

Gym unit

Facebookexchanges, briefly

Speedwagon

ANACROSTIC CHALLENGE

57. Birth control option, for short 60. Louvre locale 62. San Fran footballer, briefly 64. Bakery offerings

CLUES: ANSWERS: CLUES (cont'd): ANSWERS (cont'd):

Swing-eradanceLiteraturegenre

282012713548129585495524471862

WatchfulNotforsale

Positiveattributes

8445016532257463826665275945

2160681070543143637149346919

LikeunwashedhairPulverize

405261632171351

"Thanks,I'mgood"Longtimefriend

11332541566374339

Footnoteindicator

QUOTE: 262336715643042

1234567891011121314151617181920212223

242526272829303132333435363738394041424344

66. Double curve 69. Himalayan legend

Once, once 71. Big fuss

72. Monopoly has four: Abbr. 73. "Whatevs"

74. Neighbor of Fin. and Nor.

75. Greek letters

SOLUTION TO LAST ISSUE'SCROSSWORD

NASDAQ RESIZED OPTIMAL OXIDIZE SAYNOTO SINATRA

HRE RAWMATERIAL PERMA SSE

WHOA OTB TGI

.

454647484950515253545556575859606162636465666768697071

I CRAVE FEEDBACK! Thoughts? Suggestions? Lemme have it. CSCXWORDS@GMAIL.COM

"

FEATURING:@_fernbeds_

Nicomi Nix Turner

FAVORITE MOVIE: Anything Lynch or Cronenburg.

FAVORITE BAND: Tie between Burzum and the Melvins.

FAVORITE BOOK: The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka.

FAVORITE ARTIST: Willem van Aelst.

FAVORITE DESTINATION: Prague. Hands Down. I could run away to Prague.

by holly thorpe

September workshop: Writing Historicals with Louise Marley

This September, Write on the River is excited to host a workshop by novelist Louise Marley on historical fiction.

Marley is a former opera singer with the Seattle Opera and the Seattle Symphony, among her many credits. Her fantasy novels have garnered her critical acclaim, and she has twice won the Endeavour Award and has been shortlisted for the Nebula, the Campbell, and the Tiptree awards. She lives in the Pacific Northwest with her family.

The workshop, “Writing Historicals: Balancing Fact and Fiction” will be held Saturday, Sept. 18 virtually on Zoom. Registration information will be made available at writeontheriver.org, or check our Facebook page for updates at face-

book.com/WriteontheRiver.

The workshop will examine some of the expectations of readers of historical fiction, and discuss how much history and how much fiction might go into a historical novel, as well as some techniques for researching the period and the setting for a story. For some hands-on work, Louise will critique a few short manuscripts of 500-1000 words. Learn more about Louise at louisemarley.com.

We spoke with Louise in anticipation of her upcoming workshop. We discussed how music, writing, history and magic all come together in her works.

You were trained and performed as an opera singer before you became a published author. How did that experience inspire and inform your writing?

The two careers are not dissimilar. Both are artistic, and both require a blend of hubris and talent! Being a singer taught me the value of discipline and practice,

and also—thanks to that touch of hubris—helped me develop a certain thickness to my skin, so that reviews and critiques—which can be painful—don’t go too deeply into my psyche. I learned early to be resilient, and to let some things slide off me without leaving a mark!

On the creative side, being a musician, and in particular a singer, inspires a shape and rhythm to my prose. The written word can be very musical in its own way, and after decades of performing music and listening to it, I “hear” my sentences and paragraphs in that context. Further, opera gave me a sense of drama, of the build of tension and its resolution, and gave me an instinctive sense of pace. I’m not a writer who plans out every act of a book, so that sense of pacing is a great help.

Your latest book, “The Age of Witches,” combines history and magic. How did you become interested in witches, magic and the fantastical?

I always have trouble identifying the sources of my ideas. My first witch book, A Secret History of Witches, came about just because I wanted to write about women of power. I had been writing historicals for a while, and witches and historicals were a good match. Witches and witchcraft provide an almost infinite number of stories, and developing a magic system has always been an interest of mine. All my work has had a touch of the fantastical, no doubt because I grew up reading fantasy and science fiction. Now, my agent and I agree, I’m writing “historical with weird,” and it suits me. I’d love to tell you writing about witches was a savvy career choice, but the truth is that I’ve just been lucky that so many readers crave witch stories!

Who is your audience? Have you been surprised by any part of the following you’ve developed?

My audience seems as diverse as my

witches! It includes women, girls, a few men, lots of fantasy readers, not a few actual covens, some of whom I got to meet in person before the plague closed us all up in our homes. The surprise to me is, as I mentioned, how many people want to read about witches. It seems there are thousands of people as fascinated as I am by women with power.

When did you start writing with the goal of finishing and publishing a book?

I was still singing when I began my first novel, in 1991. That book was published in 1995, and it was a great learning experience. I’ve made a few mistakes, but I’ve managed to stay in print, and continue to sell books, ever since. Ultimately I retired from music to focus on writing, and happily for me, that has worked out well.

What advice do you have for writers just getting started?

Write, read, write, study, write, learn, write. Sense a pattern here? The most important thing a writer can do, just as it is for a musician, is to practice—to write on a regular schedule. I write every day, as a rule, but some writers work five days a week and take two days off. A writer has to find her own process, build her own schedule, and get those words on paper.

Every writer I know started while they were still working at other jobs, and lots of them continue working other jobs. They find the time somehow. For me, in the beginning my writing time was early in the morning, before going off to teach at Cornish College. For some, the writing happens in the evening, after work. It doesn’t require eight hours a day, usually, just a regular, dependable practice. The creative brain responds to that, whether it’s writing, or music, or ballet, or baseball.

What is your biggest weakness or

greatest struggle as a writer?

Eliminating distractions is the thing that I find hardest. In these days of constant internet and television, of a cell phone that can pull me away from my keyboard, I have to make a conscious effort to protect my writing time. It takes time to get into the zone, and it doesn’t take much to break me out of it! For me, no music, no television, no internet when I’m writing.

Sometimes it’s hard to know when to put a project to bed - how do you know when you’ve finished something?

I say, thank goodness for deadlines! If I didn’t have to turn in something, I might polish it to death. (I’m an inveterate reviser.) Sometimes it’s terribly difficult to part with a project I love, and sometimes it’s just hard to know if I’ve done enough. I rely a lot on my critique group and on my editor.

What are you reading these days?

I’ve been reading a lot of thrillers, because it’s one genre I don’t write in, and I can enjoy it without feeling critical. I read lots of magical books, because it’s important to have a sense for what other people are doing. I read a few literary novels (I love Elizabeth Strout) and I read lots of Golden Age mysteries. Mary Stewart was brilliant, and I often re-read her books to see how she draws the reader into a story, and to admire how much description she gets away with. My guiding principle is that I should always be able to read for fun, because if I don’t, I won’t write for fun, and my readers will know it.

Coming up next...

Sept. 15: WOTR and NCW Libraries

NCW Writers Group

Every third Wednesday, 4-5 p.m.

Join NCW Libraries and Write on the

River for an inclusive writers’ club for writers of all ages, skill levels, genres and interests. The NCW Writers’ Club is a virtual writing community created by local writers, for local writers. This club is designed to connect people and artists, discuss the craft, ask for advice and share resources. Meetings are every third Wednesday from 4-5 p.m., with an optional social hour afterward.

Wenatchee librarian Nik Penny and Write on the River board member Holly Thorpe will host the club virtually on Zoom. In-person options may be added in the future. All NCW Libraries virtual

events are free and open to the public. Meetings will be held through the zoom meeting platform. Find more information at ncwlibraries.org

To learn more about Write on the River, become a member, or register for events, visit writeontheriver.org. Membership is $35 per year, and offers free or discounted access to all WOTR events. Questions? Contact info@ writeontheriver.org. C

WOTR Adult Writing Competition 2021

SECOND PLACE WINNER

“CANDY” by John Taylor

She is sleeping now. She sleeps too much.

And when she’s awake, I’m not sure how much she really knows …

It’s a sunny Sunday in the Wenatchee Valley. Gonna be a hot one – maybe 105, the radio says.

Candy doesn’t mind, though. She hurries through breakfast, helps her mom with the dishes, then skedaddles for the back fence, where Tucker is standing hip-shot, dozing in the shade. She slips him a carrot and giggles as his fuzzy, rubbery prehensile lips nibble it from her hand.

Candy tells her 14-year-old quarter horse everything – the easygoing gelding and the lanky, auburn-haired girl are the same age, and he keeps secrets that her friends don’t. Today she tells him they’ll have a day to themselves, and Tucker doesn’t resist as Candy slides the saddle on his back and cinches it up.

Within a few minutes, they’re loping into the parched hills southwest of town.

“Take your time, Tuck,” Candy tells him as the dusty, weedy trail climbs gently higher. Tucker is oblivious to the nasty goat-head vines and sends a five-foot grass snake shimmying for cover in the rocks as they crest the ridge that overlooks Wenatchee.

Candy feels safer here in the saddle than anywhere on Earth. She’s taller, out of reach. She can see the whole world.

It’s nearly noon before I hear her stir. The halting, hesitant steps as she makes her way down the hall. Picking the next hand-hold. Her stooped posture bending her nearly in half. I ask her if she’s hungry, but she doesn’t answer.

Washington State’s pre-vet program isn’t really for co-eds, but Candy – now a sophomore — doesn’t care. Her three older brothers have always treated her like their youngest brother, so the raw language, dirty jokes and jostling never faze her. She’s heard it all before.

Today, the husbandry class is meeting in one of the vo-ag barns for a hands-on demonstration: They’re going to watch the castration of a young bull.

The guys guffaw loudly, but nervously, as the instructor leads the animal to a stall and asks if everyone can see.

“Any volunteers to help me?” he asks.

Two guys shove their friend forward, but he quickly retreats, wanting no part of it.

“This’ll be a routine operation for any of you who become veterinarians,” the in-

structor says, sterner now. “Last chance.”

From the far side of the group, Candy’s hand goes up. “I’ll do it,” she says brightly.

The instructor grins. “OK, then …”

The boys fall quiet as Candy makes her way into the stall. The instructor holds the halter and hands her the snips.

Ten minutes later, as Candy staunches the bleeding and the instructor drops the limp, bloody testicles into a metal bucket, the sound of vomiting issues from the back of the cluster of students.

Candy smiles to herself.

Too hot for her exercises today, so she gives up on what the physical therapists always tell her to do and naps in her chair again. Clutches her little Yorkie terrier like a teddy bear. “Can I have a smoothie and some chicken nuggets?” she mumbles. If she didn’t ask the same thing every day, I wouldn’t be able to understand what she’s saying.

The early press run for the next day’s classified ad pages is done by 3:30, and Candy is ready to leave the newspaper for the afternoon. But if she goes home now, she’ll only sit on the patio and drink wine until Doug gets off work, and then they’ll fight again. Last time, she threw her wine glass at him and it shattered into a thousand pieces on the concrete – like their marriage.

So she wanders upstairs to the newsroom, asks the young copy editor if he’s game for a beer at the tavern down the alley.

They talk work, politics, music, broken relationships. She doesn’t ever look away. By 11 p.m., they’ve had three pitchers and her soft, brown eyes, smooth skin and tousled auburn hair are too much. She touches his hand gently and he doesn’t move.

She leaves his apartment before dawn. Doug won’t even be worried – he doesn’t care anymore, she assures the copy editor.

The impatient E.R. doctor’s words still gnaw at me. “Of COURSE it’s serious. She’s had a brain hemorrhage. We’re not sure you’ll even have a wife by tomorrow.”

Candy is up with the sun again. Their time in Portugal is running short, and she wants to get in another ride along the beach before the vacation is over. Her husband is still dozing as she sneaks out of the condo and out to the corrals. The owner, Emilio, waves cheerily and helps her open the gate for Pango, her favorite mount. Emilio speaks little English, but he and Candy communicate perfectly through gestures and

their love of horses.

As she climbs aboard Pango, she feels the wind pick up. It’s the early autumn season, just chilly enough for sweatshirts.

She can see rain clouds miles away, building up over the blue-gray horizon and she breathes it all in as she feels her horse’s powerful muscles working beneath her.

The day is splendid, perfect, heartbreaking.

She’s led so many lives.

The breakers roll in, foaming at Pango’s hooves and Candy feels the surge she always feels when she’s riding: Nothing can touch her, nothing can stop her.

She is awake for a moment as I head out the back door for the barn. “Do the horses have water?” she asks from her chair. “Yes,” I say. “They’re fine.”

“Everything will be just as you left it, and they’ll be ready to ride.” C

Season 45

A.J. Croce performs Croce Plays Croce: a special night of music featuring a complete set of classics by his late father Jim Croce, his own tunes, and songs that influenced them both.

The Art of Book Covers (1820–1914)

Inspired by rising literacy rates and advancing technologies, the nineteenth century saw the book transform from a largely hand-made object to a mass-produced product. In this new environment the book cover took on added importance: it was no longer merely a functional protection for the pages but instead became a key platform through which to communicate and sell the book. Prior to this covers had — bar a smattering of highly bespoke one-off creations (e.g. embroidered covers for personal libraries) — mostly been plain leather bound affairs. From the 1820s, with the rise of mechanical bookbinding, these leather covers of old gave way to new cloth coverings which, in addition to being inexpensive, were now also printable. A wide variety of cover printing

techniques were employed over the decades: from embossing to gilt to multi-colour lithography. A totally new artistic space was opened up. As you can see in our highlights below it was one in which illustrators and designers flourished, producing a range of covers as eclectic in aesthetic approach as the myriad contents they fronted.

This article was originally published in The Public Domain Review under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0. If you wish to reuse it please see: https://publicdomainreview.org/legal/

Felix Schloemp. Das unheimliche Buch. Munich: Georg Mueller, 1914 John Lord Peck. Dress and Care of the Feet. New York: Fowler & Wells, 187 Charles Lamb. A Masque of Days. London: Cassell and Co., 1901

Ignatius Donnelly. Ragnarok: The Age of Fire and Gravel. New York, D. Appleton and Company, 1883

Lord Dunsany. The Book of Wonder. London: William Heinemann, 1912

Montague Browne. Practical Taxidermy. London: ‘The Bazaar’ Office, 1878

Evelyn Sharp. Wymps. New York & London: John Lane, 1897

Friedrich Christian Accum. A Treatise on Adulteration of Food and Culinary Poisons. London, Longman, 1822

Edward J. Goodman. Too Curious. London; Guildford: Bentley & Son, 1888

Max Wolf. Die Milchstrasse. Leipzig : Johann Ambrosius Barth, 1908 Walter Crane. A Floral Fantasy in an Old English Garden. London: Harper, 1899

Richard Bowdler Sharpe. Sketch-Book of British Birds. London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge,1898

Frederic Ingham. Ten Time One is Ten. Boston: Roberts Brothers, 1871Mr. Sweet Potatoes and Other Stories. New York: Werner, 1899 Charles Kingsley. The Water Babies. London: Macmillan and Co., 1886

Thomas Smith and J.H. Osborne. Successful Advertising: It’s Secrets Explained. London: Smith’s Printing, Publishing and Advertising Agency, 1897

Moses Wolcott Redding. Standard Ahiman Rezon and Blue Lodge Guide. New York : Redding & Co., 1889

Antal Radó. Költők Albuma. Budapest: Robert Lampel, 1904 Frances Trego Montgomery. On a Lark to the Planets. Akron: The Saalfield Publishing Co., 1904

Jules Verne. From the Earth to the Moon. London, Sampson Low, Marston, Low, and Searle, 1873

Cordelia Harris Turner. The Floral Kingdom. Chicago: M. Warren,1877

Andrew Lang. The Book of Dreams and Ghosts. London ; New York ; Bombay : Longmans, Green, 1897

W. T. Horton. A Book of Images. London: The Unicorn Press, 1898E. A. Bowles. My Garden in Spring. London: T. C. & E. C. Jack, 1914

“WHETHER or not one regards Christina Rossetti’s poem ‘’Goblin Market’’ as a fairy tale for children or a psychosexual plunge into the repressed Victorian heart, there is no denying the forbiddenfruit fascination that it continues to have for the reader - of whatever age, or whichever sex.” - The New York Times

Morning and evening

Maids heard the goblins cry: “Come buy our orchard fruits, Come buy, come buy: Apples and quinces, Lemons and oranges, Plump unpeck’d cherries, Melons and raspberries, Bloom-down-cheek’d peaches, Swart-headed mulberries, Wild free-born cranberries, Crab-apples, dewberries, Pine-apples, blackberries, Apricots, strawberries;— All ripe together

In summer weather,— Morns that pass by, Fair eves that fly; Come buy, come buy: Our grapes fresh from the vine, Pomegranates full and fine, Dates and sharp bullaces, Rare pears and greengages, Damsons and bilberries, Taste them and try: Currants and gooseberries, Bright-fire-like barberries, Figs to fill your mouth, Citrons from the South, Sweet to tongue and sound to eye; Come buy, come buy.”

Evening by evening

Among the brookside rushes, Laura bow’d her head to hear, Lizzie veil’d her blushes: Crouching close together In the cooling weather, With clasping arms and cautioning lips, With tingling cheeks and finger tips. “Lie close,” Laura said, Pricking up her golden head: “We must not look at goblin men, We must not buy their fruits: Who knows upon what soil they fed Their hungry thirsty roots?”

“Come buy,” call the goblins Hobbling down the glen.

“Oh,” cried Lizzie, “Laura, Laura, You should not peep at goblin men.” Lizzie cover’d up her eyes, Cover’d close lest they should look; Laura rear’d her glossy head, And whisper’d like the restless brook:

“Look, Lizzie, look, Lizzie, Down the glen tramp little men. One hauls a basket, One bears a plate, One lugs a golden dish Of many pounds weight.

How fair the vine must grow Whose grapes are so luscious;

How warm the wind must blow Through those fruit bushes.”

“No,” said Lizzie, “No, no, no; Their offers should not charm us, Their evil gifts would harm us.” She thrust a dimpled finger In each ear, shut eyes and ran: Curious Laura chose to linger Wondering at each merchant man. One had a cat’s face, One whisk’d a tail, One tramp’d at a rat’s pace, One crawl’d like a snail, One like a wombat prowl’d obtuse and furry,

One like a ratel tumbled hurry skurry. She heard a voice like voice of doves Cooing all together: They sounded kind and full of loves In the pleasant weather.

Laura stretch’d her gleaming neck Like a rush-imbedded swan, Like a lily from the beck, Like a moonlit poplar branch, Like a vessel at the launch When its last restraint is gone.

Backwards up the mossy glen Turn’d and troop’d the goblin men, With their shrill repeated cry, “Come buy, come buy.”

When they reach’d where Laura was They stood stock still upon the moss, Leering at each other, Brother with queer brother; Signalling each other, Brother with sly brother. One set his basket down, One rear’d his plate; One began to weave a crown Of tendrils, leaves, and rough nuts brown (Men sell not such in any town); One heav’d the golden weight Of dish and fruit to offer her: “Come buy, come buy,” was still their cry.

Laura stared but did not stir, Long’d but had no money: The whisk-tail’d merchant bade her taste In tones as smooth as honey, The cat-faced purr’d, The rat-faced spoke a word Of welcome, and the snail-paced even was heard;

One parrot-voiced and jolly Cried “Pretty Goblin” still for “Pretty Polly;”—

One whistled like a bird.

But sweet-tooth Laura spoke in haste: “Good folk, I have no coin; To take were to purloin:

I have no copper in my purse, I have no silver either, And all my gold is on the furze

That shakes in windy weather

Above the rusty heather.”

“You have much gold upon your head,” They answer’d all together:

“Buy from us with a golden curl.”

She clipp’d a precious golden lock, She dropp’d a tear more rare than pearl, Then suck’d their fruit globes fair or red: Sweeter than honey from the rock, Stronger than man-rejoicing wine, Clearer than water flow’d that juice; She never tasted such before, How should it cloy with length of use?

She suck’d and suck’d and suck’d the more

Fruits which that unknown orchard bore; She suck’d until her lips were sore; Then flung the emptied rinds away

But gather’d up one kernel stone, And knew not was it night or day

As she turn’d home alone.

Lizzie met her at the gate

Full of wise upbraidings:

“Dear, you should not stay so late, Twilight is not good for maidens; Should not loiter in the glen

In the haunts of goblin men.

Do you not remember Jeanie, How she met them in the moonlight, Took their gifts both choice and many, Ate their fruits and wore their flowers

Pluck’d from bowers

Where summer ripens at all hours?

But ever in the noonlight

She pined and pined away; Sought them by night and day, Found them no more, but dwindled and grew grey;

Then fell with the first snow, While to this day no grass will grow

Where she lies low:

I planted daisies there a year ago

That never blow.

You should not loiter so.”

“Nay, hush,” said Laura:

“Nay, hush, my sister:

I ate and ate my fill,

Yet my mouth waters still;

To-morrow night I will

Buy more;” and kiss’d her:

“Have done with sorrow;

I’ll bring you plums to-morrow

Fresh on their mother twigs, Cherries worth getting;

You cannot think what figs

My teeth have met in, What melons icy-cold

Piled on a dish of gold

Too huge for me to hold, What peaches with a velvet nap,

Pellucid grapes without one seed: Odorous indeed must be the mead Whereon they grow, and pure the wave they drink With lilies at the brink, And sugar-sweet their sap.”

Golden head by golden head, Like two pigeons in one nest Folded in each other’s wings, They lay down in their curtain’d bed: Like two blossoms on one stem, Like two flakes of new-fall’n snow, Like two wands of ivory Tipp’d with gold for awful kings. Moon and stars gaz’d in at them, Wind sang to them lullaby, Lumbering owls forbore to fly, Not a bat flapp’d to and fro Round their rest: Cheek to cheek and breast to breast Lock’d together in one nest.

Early in the morning

When the first cock crow’d his warning, Neat like bees, as sweet and busy, Laura rose with Lizzie: Fetch’d in honey, milk’d the cows, Air’d and set to rights the house, Kneaded cakes of whitest wheat, Cakes for dainty mouths to eat, Next churn’d butter, whipp’d up cream, Fed their poultry, sat and sew’d; Talk’d as modest maidens should: Lizzie with an open heart, Laura in an absent dream, One content, one sick in part; One warbling for the mere bright day’s delight, One longing for the night.

At length slow evening came: They went with pitchers to the reedy brook;

Lizzie most placid in her look, Laura most like a leaping flame. They drew the gurgling water from its deep;

Lizzie pluck’d purple and rich golden flags,

Then turning homeward said: “The sunset flushes

Those furthest loftiest crags; Come, Laura, not another maiden lags. No wilful squirrel wags, The beasts and birds are fast asleep.”

But Laura loiter’d still among the rushes And said the bank was steep.

And said the hour was early still The dew not fall’n, the wind not chill; Listening ever, but not catching The customary cry, “Come buy, come buy,”

With its iterated jingle Of sugar-baited words: Not for all her watching Once discerning even one goblin Racing, whisking, tumbling, hobbling; Let alone the herds

That used to tramp along the glen, In groups or single, Of brisk fruit-merchant men.

Till Lizzie urged, “O Laura, come; I hear the fruit-call but I dare not look: You should not loiter longer at this brook: Come with me home.

The stars rise, the moon bends her arc, Each glowworm winks her spark, Let us get home before the night grows dark:

For clouds may gather Though this is summer weather, Put out the lights and drench us through; Then if we lost our way what should we do?”

Laura turn’d cold as stone

To find her sister heard that cry alone, That goblin cry, “Come buy our fruits, come buy.” Must she then buy no more such dainty fruit?

Must she no more such succous pasture find, Gone deaf and blind?

Her tree of life droop’d from the root: She said not one word in her heart’s sore ache;

But peering thro’ the dimness, nought discerning, Trudg’d home, her pitcher dripping all the way;

So crept to bed, and lay Silent till Lizzie slept; Then sat up in a passionate yearning, And gnash’d her teeth for baulk’d desire, and wept As if her heart would break.

Day after day, night after night, Laura kept watch in vain

In sullen silence of exceeding pain. She never caught again the goblin cry: “Come buy, come buy;”—

She never spied the goblin men Hawking their fruits along the glen: But when the noon wax’d bright Her hair grew thin and grey; She dwindled, as the fair full moon doth turn

To swift decay and burn Her fire away.

One day remembering her kernel-stone She set it by a wall that faced the south; Dew’d it with tears, hoped for a root,

Watch’d for a waxing shoot, But there came none;

It never saw the sun,

It never felt the trickling moisture run: While with sunk eyes and faded mouth She dream’d of melons, as a traveller sees False waves in desert drouth With shade of leaf-crown’d trees, And burns the thirstier in the sandful breeze.

She no more swept the house, Tended the fowls or cows, Fetch’d honey, kneaded cakes of wheat, Brought water from the brook: But sat down listless in the chimney-nook And would not eat.

Tender Lizzie could not bear

To watch her sister’s cankerous care Yet not to share.

She night and morning

Caught the goblins’ cry:

“Come buy our orchard fruits, Come buy, come buy;”—

Beside the brook, along the glen, She heard the tramp of goblin men, The yoke and stir

Poor Laura could not hear; Long’d to buy fruit to comfort her, But fear’d to pay too dear.

She thought of Jeanie in her grave, Who should have been a bride; But who for joys brides hope to have Fell sick and died

In her gay prime, In earliest winter time With the first glazing rime, With the first snow-fall of crisp winter time.

Till Laura dwindling

Seem’d knocking at Death’s door: Then Lizzie weigh’d no more Better and worse;

But put a silver penny in her purse, Kiss’d Laura, cross’d the heath with clumps of furze

At twilight, halted by the brook: And for the first time in her life Began to listen and look.

Laugh’d every goblin

When they spied her peeping: Came towards her hobbling, Flying, running, leaping, Puffing and blowing, Chuckling, clapping, crowing, Clucking and gobbling, Mopping and mowing, Full of airs and graces, Pulling wry faces, Demure grimaces, Cat-like and rat-like,

Ratel- and wombat-like, Snail-paced in a hurry, Parrot-voiced and whistler, Helter skelter, hurry skurry, Chattering like magpies, Fluttering like pigeons, Gliding like fishes,—

Hugg’d her and kiss’d her: Squeez’d and caress’d her: Stretch’d up their dishes, Panniers, and plates:

“Look at our apples

Russet and dun, Bob at our cherries, Bite at our peaches, Citrons and dates, Grapes for the asking, Pears red with basking Out in the sun, Plums on their twigs; Pluck them and suck them, Pomegranates, figs.”—

“Good folk,” said Lizzie, Mindful of Jeanie:

“Give me much and many: —

Held out her apron, Toss’d them her penny.

“Nay, take a seat with us, Honour and eat with us,”

They answer’d grinning:

“Our feast is but beginning. Night yet is early, Warm and dew-pearly, Wakeful and starry: Such fruits as these

No man can carry:

Half their bloom would fly, Half their dew would dry, Half their flavour would pass by.

Sit down and feast with us, Be welcome guest with us, Cheer you and rest with us.”—

“Thank you,” said Lizzie: “But one waits At home alone for me: So without further parleying, If you will not sell me any

Of your fruits though much and many, Give me back my silver penny

I toss’d you for a fee.”—

They began to scratch their pates, No longer wagging, purring, But visibly demurring, Grunting and snarling.

One call’d her proud, Cross-grain’d, uncivil; Their tones wax’d loud, Their looks were evil.

Lashing their tails

They trod and hustled her, Elbow’d and jostled her, Claw’d with their nails, Barking, mewing, hissing, mocking,

Tore her gown and soil’d her stocking, Twitch’d her hair out by the roots, Stamp’d upon her tender feet, Held her hands and squeez’d their fruits Against her mouth to make her eat.

White and golden Lizzie stood, Like a lily in a flood,—

Like a rock of blue-vein’d stone

Lash’d by tides obstreperously,—

Like a beacon left alone

In a hoary roaring sea, Sending up a golden fire,— Like a fruit-crown’d orange-tree White with blossoms honey-sweet Sore beset by wasp and bee,—

Like a royal virgin town Topp’d with gilded dome and spire Close beleaguer’d by a fleet Mad to tug her standard down.

One may lead a horse to water, Twenty cannot make him drink. Though the goblins cuff’d and caught her, Coax’d and fought her, Bullied and besought her, Scratch’d her, pinch’d her black as ink, Kick’d and knock’d her, Maul’d and mock’d her, Lizzie utter’d not a word; Would not open lip from lip Lest they should cram a mouthful in: But laugh’d in heart to feel the drip Of juice that syrupp’d all her face, And lodg’d in dimples of her chin, And streak’d her neck which quaked like curd.

At last the evil people, Worn out by her resistance, Flung back her penny, kick’d their fruit Along whichever road they took, Not leaving root or stone or shoot; Some writh’d into the ground, Some div’d into the brook With ring and ripple, Some scudded on the gale without a sound, Some vanish’d in the distance.

In a smart, ache, tingle, Lizzie went her way; Knew not was it night or day; Sprang up the bank, tore thro’ the furze, Threaded copse and dingle, And heard her penny jingle Bouncing in her purse,— Its bounce was music to her ear. She ran and ran

As if she fear’d some goblin man Dogg’d her with gibe or curse

Or something worse:

But not one goblin scurried after, Nor was she prick’d by fear;

The kind heart made her windy-paced That urged her home quite out of breath with haste

And inward laughter.

She cried, “Laura,” up the garden, “Did you miss me? Come and kiss me.

Never mind my bruises, Hug me, kiss me, suck my juices Squeez’d from goblin fruits for you, Goblin pulp and goblin dew. Eat me, drink me, love me; Laura, make much of me; For your sake I have braved the glen And had to do with goblin merchant men.”

Laura started from her chair, Flung her arms up in the air, Clutch’d her hair:

“Lizzie, Lizzie, have you tasted For my sake the fruit forbidden? Must your light like mine be hidden, Your young life like mine be wasted, Undone in mine undoing, And ruin’d in my ruin, Thirsty, canker’d, goblin-ridden?”— She clung about her sister, Kiss’d and kiss’d and kiss’d her: Tears once again Refresh’d her shrunken eyes, Dropping like rain After long sultry drouth; Shaking with aguish fear, and pain, She kiss’d and kiss’d her with a hungry mouth.

Her lips began to scorch, That juice was wormwood to her tongue, She loath’d the feast: Writhing as one possess’d she leap’d and sung, Rent all her robe, and wrung Her hands in lamentable haste, And beat her breast. Her locks stream’d like the torch Borne by a racer at full speed, Or like the mane of horses in their flight, Or like an eagle when she stems the light Straight toward the sun, Or like a caged thing freed, Or like a flying flag when armies run.

Swift fire spread through her veins, knock’d at her heart, Met the fire smouldering there And overbore its lesser flame; She gorged on bitterness without a name: Ah! fool, to choose such part Of soul-consuming care! Sense fail’d in the mortal strife: Like the watch-tower of a town

Which an earthquake shatters down, Like a lightning-stricken mast, Like a wind-uprooted tree Spun about, Like a foam-topp’d waterspout Cast down headlong in the sea, She fell at last; Pleasure past and anguish past, Is it death or is it life?

Life out of death.

That night long Lizzie watch’d by her, Counted her pulse’s flagging stir, Felt for her breath, Held water to her lips, and cool’d her face With tears and fanning leaves: But when the first birds chirp’d about their eaves, And early reapers plodded to the place Of golden sheaves, And dew-wet grass

Bow’d in the morning winds so brisk to pass,

And new buds with new day

Open’d of cup-like lilies on the stream, Laura awoke as from a dream, Laugh’d in the innocent old way, Hugg’d Lizzie but not twice or thrice; Her gleaming locks show’d not one thread of grey, Her breath was sweet as May And light danced in her eyes.

Days, weeks, months, years

Afterwards, when both were wives With children of their own; Their mother-hearts beset with fears, Their lives bound up in tender lives; Laura would call the little ones And tell them of her early prime, Those pleasant days long gone Of not-returning time:

Would talk about the haunted glen, The wicked, quaint fruit-merchant men, Their fruits like honey to the throat But poison in the blood; (Men sell not such in any town): Would tell them how her sister stood In deadly peril to do her good, And win the fiery antidote: Then joining hands to little hands Would bid them cling together, “For there is no friend like a sister In calm or stormy weather; To cheer one on the tedious way, To fetch one if one goes astray, To lift one if one totters down, To strengthen whilst one stands.”

transition 220 group SHOW opens friday

by ron evans

This First Friday, Wenatchee’s 220 Group premieres their new exhibit at Collapse Gallery. Five members of the group (Niki Stewart, Lindsay Breidenthal, Claudia Mullek, Sheryl Smith and Alessandra Piro) will be showing new works on the theme of Transition.

Artist and 220 member/organizer Niki Stewart shares some details about the show and the group itself.

“The 220 Group formed after (our members) had taken Scott Bailey’s 220 class. One person has left, and one has been added so there are 9 total in the group - we like the number 9! Some of us have taken Scott’s class many times. We help critique each other’s work, building up a bond of trust; yes, we learn each other’s biases, but that seems to help us even more. If we do solo exhibits, we know we have sisters who can help us hang, or come and support on opening night. Before Covid, we met monthly and showed our work in this safe group environment and this has encouraged us to be productive and to have work ready to critique. I’m sure we have different perspectives. Mine is that the exhibitions we have are a wonderful addition to our group, and something we can work towards. For

others it may be that exhibiting is the main reason for the group; I don’t think it matters, as long as we work together. Each show we pick a new theme. We’ve had White and Black, Patterns, and painting a chosen poem-the opposite of ekphrastic poetry (the poem was ‘Flashpoint’ by Cynthia Neely). Last year was hard for us to work as a group, so it was the only year without a theme. The theme for the show this September is, ‘Transition.’ We thought it fairly flexible for everyone, and seems appropriate in this transitional time of apocalyptic chaos to the Golden Age! Each artist will interpret it in her own way.

Covid has me creatively in a slump. The only way I could start painting was to “paint a prayer for the world,” with vedic chanting, incense and sacred ash as I worked. Then the Delta virus hit. Each week I heard of another friend’s death in India. My work turned into a ‘prayer for India.’ At first it seemed like therapy, as I oozed paint on, then vigorously scratched it off-leaving wounds and scars on my canvas. Then some of my sacred prayer flags from India became wrapped around my pergola outside, so I carefully untangled them, and with great ritual, I hung the flags on my canvas, hiding some of the scarring, and suggesting “Hope with the power of prayer and Love.”

Claudia Mullek

Lindsay Breidenthal

Notes from other members of the group on their works for this show:

Alessandra Piro - Beeswax, resin, pigment and heat combine to create the ancient Greek medium of encaustic painting. I use this sculptural process to scrape, incise, torch and burnish through multiple layers creating depth with a luminous and translucent quality. The resulting subtle, and sometimes unpredictable, textures invite discovery with each layer.

Lindsay Breidenthal - Years ago I saw an old, black & white photo from the early 1900’s of three young women all decked out in goddess attire, standing in an orchard, holding apples and a serpent. It looked like a promotional photo for the early Apple Blossom festivals but the caption said something about the Faire Hesperides. Thinking that this was an earlier, earthier version of the Apple Blossom festival, I googled it. Turns out, the Faire Hesperides was held in October and predates the AB festival by several years. The mythical garden of Hesperides is where the golden apples of immortality grew and was located near the Atlas Mountains in Africa. Three nymphs (Hesperides) and a serpent were sent to guard the golden apples, they get stolen, and the story goes on & on. Like many older traditions, the practices

were co opted and sanitized to appeal to a wider audience and snuff out anything non Christian. Basically, I painted a version of that garden with the nymphs of twilight taking the form of an owl, a serpent, and impossibly blue flowers. I like to imagine what that garden looks like and what our festival would look like if it were still connected to its roots.

Sheryl Smith: My pieces focus on the heaviness of the world. The idea of trudging through mud while trying to keep my mind focused on the hope of what’s to come and the beauty of each day’s transitions of sunrise and sunset. Sheryl’s medium is oil paint and cold wax.

Claudia Mullek: Last year I found it difficult to focus on basketry. It took a long time for me to be creative again. As I started planning my new work, I decided to try some new ideas, and allow my work to move in a new direction, a transformation. “Open and Emerge,” is a suspended piece that gives a nod to Oregon artist Charrissa Brock, whose work I admire.

Opening reception: Collapse Gallery

115 S. Wenatchee Ave from 4-9pm c

Alessandra Piro

Niki Stewart

Sheryl Smith

ode to luna: the earliest

By Ron Evans

As long as humans have been developed enough to push a little dirt around with a stick we have been drawing the moon. There’s little mystery why we have never really lost that fascination with the mystical satellite, nor is it hard to understand why we are obsessed with drawing, painting, sculpting, photographing and writing about the moon.

I collected some of the earliest known examples of these lunar tributes I could find - while gazing out at a full moon! The next time you are running dry creatively, look up and find thousands of years of inspiration, faithfully floating there like a pristine and patient muse shining down.

At least until we began projecting massive adverts onto its surface. Yes. That’s an actual thing a group of assholes are working tirelessly to make a reality. Look up Moonvertising for a deeper, depressing look into that plan. It’s only a matter of time, so enjoy her while we can.

France’s Cave at Lascaux featuring what’s thought to be the earliest lunar calendar (to the right of the horse) estimated to be over 15,000 years old.

Lunar eclipses, MS Français 574, detail fol. 99r, in Gossuin de Metz, Image du Monde, 1320, watercolor on parchment.

depictions of the moon

Nebra Sky Disc - thought to be the oldest depiction of the universe. Found in present-day Germany, the disc is dated to the first millenium BCE.

The Crucifixion is a 1440-50 oil on panel painting usually attributed to the workshop of Jan van Eyck and thought to be the first painting/drawing fearturing the moon. For hundreds of years it was believed the drawings of the moon by Leonardo DaVinci were the oldest. But no sir.

Ideal Lunar Landscape by James Nasmyth, ca. 1873. Plaster casting of how Nasmyth imagined the surface of the moon.

Étienne Léopold, Mare Humorum, from The Trouvelot Astronomical Drawings Manual, 1881–1882, chromolithograph.

Johannes Hevelius, Topographical lunar map, from Selenographia (Gedansk, country Typis Hünefeldianis, 1647), engraving.

Philippe de Champaigne, The Vision of St. Juliana of Mont Cornillon, c. 1645–1650, oil on canvas.

Philippe de Champaigne, The Vision of St. Juliana of Mont Cornillon, c. 1645–1650, oil on canvas.

Michael Ostendorfer, Lunar eclipse from Peter Apian, Astronomicum Caesareum (Ingosltadt, Germany Petrus Appianus 1540), Hand-colored woodcut.

Sebastiano del Piombo, Pieta, 1514–1517, oil on panel Museo Civico, Viterbo (cropped).

Galileo Galilei, Sketches of the Moon, Ms. Gal. 48, fol. 28r and v (with horoscope), 1609, brown ink and wash on paper.

Giotto di Bondone, Detail of the Last Judgment, c. 1301–1306, fresco. Scrovegni Chapel, Padua. Web Gallery of Art.

SEP 15-18 AT 7:30pm

SEP 22-25 AT 7:30pm

SEP 19, SEP25 AT 2:00pm

The story-telling magic of ABBA’s timeless songs propels this enchanting tale of love, laughter and friendship, creating an unforgettable show. A mother. A daughter. Three possible dads. And a trip down the aisle you’ll never forget!

Audience members will be required to be vaccinated for all performances and public events held indoors. Beginning September 1, Numerica Performing Arts Center will require proof of COVID-19 vaccination (or proof of a negative COVID-19 test for exempted persons) for audience members at all events. Children under 12 and people with a medical condition or closely held religious belief that prevents vaccination must provide proof of a negative COVID-19 PCR test taken within 72 hours of the performance start time, or a negative COVID-19 antigen test taken within 12 hours of the performance start time. Fully vaccinated means more that your final vaccination was more than 14 days prior to the date of your performance. Self-reported vaccination records that are not verified by a health care provider cannot be accepted. Self-reported negative test results that are not from a test provider, a laboratory, or a health care provider cannot be accepted. Masks are required to be worn at all times while not actively eating or drinking. Go to NumericaPAC.org/covid-safety-protocols/ for more info on our Covid-19 protocols.

September 2 (THU) 7pm: Environmental Film & Speaker Series: Living with Wildfire - Free at the Wenatchee Valley Museum & Cultural Center. Limited in-person viewing in the Museum’s Community Space and a live webinar streaming option.

September 2 (THU) 6:30pm: Derek Sheffield, Jack Johnson, & friends LIVE poetry readings @ Ski Hill Lodge in Leavenworth. Free event.

September 4 (SAT) 6pm: The Skiffs (outlaw country & rockabilly) at Wenatchee Valley Brewing Company.

September 12 (SUN) 10am - 3 pm: NCW Juried Art Show: Artists Submission At the Wenatchee Valley Museum & Cultural Center. All art submitted must be original, for sale, and not more than two years old, finished and ready to hang safely or install.

September 15-18, 22-25 at 7:30 pm & September 19, 25 at 2:00 pm: 2021 Apple Blossom Musical “Mama Mia” at Numerica PAC. Tix@ numericapac.org

September 16 (THU) 9pm: The Pine Hearts at The Old Barn Drinkery at The Sunshine Ranch Wedding and Event Venue.

in the valley of grace

by ron evans

Local (by way of Russia) painter

Sasha Syssoeva can often be spotted out in the wild, skillfully and purposefully painting local landscapes, churches, urban settings and just about any scene where she finds beauty, dramatic lighting and texture, “and sometimes melancholy atmosphere.” All with an unwaivering connectivity to her spirituality and faith. Syssoeva will be premiering her new collection titled “In The Valley Of Grace” this coming Friday at Mela in downtown Wenatchee. I reached out to the artist to talk about this show and to learn about her style and inspiration to pursue a higher calling through her work.

Talk about your progression through the art world . Was your path always steered toward painting for the most part? And did you zig and zag your way to your current style, or was this what you set out to do all along?

When I was 6 years old, my mother noticed that I was always doodling something. She took me to a kids’ art school in my Russian hometown, but they said I was too young. Not taking “no” for an answer, my mother promised the teacher that she would stay with me in class and supervise. This convinced the teacher to allow me to stay. Later on, I enrolled into a City Art School where I was fortunate to study under a very accomplished painter and sculptor, Israel Ginsburg. My art education was based on the traditional curriculum with many hours of drawing human bodies, anatomical casts, architectural studies and plein air work.

Throughout my life, I was fortunate to travel and visit the most famous Art

Museums in Moscow and Saint Petersburg where I observed and studied works of not only many Russian Masters but also the most influential masterpieces by Italian Renaissance, Flemish and French painters, from Raphael to Monet. In recent years, I saw the renowned art collections of the Metropolitan Museum in NY, as well as Chicago’s and Washington DC’s galleries. After taking a break from painting in my 20s to go to a law school and to build my new life in the United States, I came back to my passion for art a few years ago with a new vision and increased commitment.

Tell us about your upcoming show at Mela?

My new art show is called

“In The Valley of Grace”. The name is a takeoff from the documentary titled “In The Valley of Sin” that described harrowing claims of child abuse in Wenatchee from over 20 years ago. I’m presenting several new paintings finished over the last year and a half that mostly reflect life in the Valley, joys and struggles of the pandemic.

Many of these pieces combine elements of nature along with rustic buildings, dormant factories and bridges. Is there a concerted aim to play with those juxtapositions or has that happened more organically?

As a traditional painter, I would always gravitate to the traditional subjects, but I do not choose random objects or scenery. Every subject matter is selected carefully and designed with a meaning or a story behind it. In my two recent paintings of the Wenatchee Valley with the Confluence Health Hospital in the center and the Red Apple Wildfire I express my grati-

“I felt the need to resort to the stylistic expression more appropriate to this very different temperament of the times.”

Sasha Syssoeva in her element. Photo by Tyler Hale.

the art of sasha syssoeva

tude and prayer for the local health care workers, first responders and firefighters.

When you set out to paint a scene, do you mostly paint exactly what you see? Or do you allow yourself to significantly modify things as it suits you?

Actually, a lot of work on a painting starts way before a brush touches the canvas. The process starts with an idea or a story and my visualization of it, then I will do several sketches, color studies on location, research on the subject and talk to the people who are familiar with the history of a location or the subject. I may use my artistic license to change or omit certain objects to create a better composition and bring clarity to the message I want to convey with my work. My goal is not to capture places and events in a photographic manner, but rather use my artistic skills to bring God’s beautiful creations and glory into a sharper focus, edify myself and others.

Your paintings often have pleasant, quiet and serene elements, and yet I get a bit of a pensive brooding feeling from many of them. Maybe from the dark tones of the palette, or certain textures in the brushwork. Does this resonate with you - or am I just pensive and brooding?

That’s a very good observation on your part, Ron. I do, indeed, try to create a soulful, moody, and sometimes melancholy atmosphere in my paintings. During the last year of this pandemic (and still ongoing), people here and abroad have reason to feel anxious and unsettled. In this context, I felt the need to resort to the stylistic expression more appropriate to this very different temperament of the times. My landscapes, including local churches, provide a haven for the weary mind with the soothing softness, delicate colors, the subdued hours of twilight and romantic light of a new day. These are places where one could retreat from the anxieties and physi-

cal stresses of the outside world of 2021.

You refer to yourself as a Christian painter, and much of your work involves churches or otherwise religious-forward themes. Many of your paintings don’t. Talk about how your faith plays into your work overall, and what you hope to convey to someone standing in front of your paintings?

I try to put my Christian faith into the reason I create my paintings. I think I was blessed by God with the persistent desire to learn this craft so I can create for His glory. Some of my work is my visions of Biblical stories and messages. I painted the walk on water with Jesus and Peter, and Jesus’ First Miracle turning water into wine at a Wedding at Cana. It’s my way of praying and speaking out loud about Christianity. I recently heard that the person, a nonbeliever, who purchased my Wedding at Cana painting started contemplating about Christianity and God. I’m currently working on a new Biblical painting about the Samaritan woman who met Jesus, from the Gospel of John. Even though the tale hap-

pened thousands of years ago, people of our times can relate to it. It is a rich example of God’s love and acceptance, breaking racial barriers and old battles, and uniting people in faith.

Aside from the connection to your faith, what is it about churches you enjoy capturing in paint?

I visited several local churches during the shutdown last year in Spring. They looked lifeless and abandoned. I wanted to say “we are not forgetting you, we’ll come back.” Since the founding of churches by Jesus and His disciples, the church has survived barbarian hoarders, modern tyrants and the powers of sophisticated ideologies. It will survive the pandemic too.

Religion of course can be quite polarizing in any situation but I’m curious if you’ve been met with any resistance or exclusion in the fine art community based on these themes in your work?

I find our Valley’s art community diverse and very friendly. I always feel welcomed. I enjoy occasional art talk and constructive

criticism from Brad Brisbine, Scott Bailey and others... Most people I have met in the Valley are believers. Even though many people do not talk about their Christian faith at social gatherings, the United States is the country with the largest Christian population. Many famous artists of the past, including Rembrandt, Vincent Van Gogh, Levitan and many others, were Christians. We, contemporary artists, stand on the shoulders of the Old Masters, therefore we cannot deny their faith and the role it played in their work.

One thing we should certainly all be able to agree on is offering help to those in need in our own community. Lighthouse Ministries has been doing just that for decades in the valley, and you are donating a large portion of your profits from this show to that ministry. Tell us what personally speaks to you concerning this organization.

I learned about Lighthouse Ministries from my girlfriends in a Bible study group a couple of years ago. This is a local organization in downtown Wenatchee that

provides comprehensive services and ongoing support to the most vulnerable members of our community. People not only get help with the basic daily needs, such as meals, clothing and shelter, but also educational, mentoring & spiritual support. Lighthouse’s mission provides for people described by Christ “the least of these,” no conditions, no expectations. To me, it’s a model on how to live and be God’s agent of His saving grace.

You often paint on location with a little portable easel - is this how you work most of the time or are you in the studio more often?

Thanks to the long summers of North Central Washington, I paint and sketch outside more often than when I lived in rainy King County. I enjoyed a guided tour of the Wenatchee Heights area with a local photographer John Applegate, getting lost in the orchards on Stemilt Hill, and walking the hills along the Columbia River. Working outside can be challenging with outdoor distractions, but it’s the best way to hone one’s observation skills and catch

atmospheric changes in nature.

Are you a sketcher and pre-planner? Or do you prefer to just put brushes to canvas and see where it goes on the spot?

I improvise and I plan too. Both approaches require mental focus and attention, and both are equally valuable in growing in your craft.

What is your stance on reproductions? Do you sell prints or replicas of your work in any way?

Currently, I don’t offer prints of my work. I will try in the future after I learn more about how to make high quality prints that are affordable.

Has social media been a major means for selling your work? Where do you predominantly display/sell your paintings?

Definitely during the pandemic - social media became a very valuable tool to share my art and communicate with potential buyers. I’m also very thankful to the

local community, especially to the Facebook Group called “Love My Hometown Wenatchee” and my local friends for sharing their stories and giving me interesting historical facts about the Valley. These interactions help me see the subject matter from a more personal perspective. I prefer showing my paintings in person, especially locally, and you can see my artwork hanging at the Ohme Gardens, Two Rivers Gallery and other local venues.

Any shows or events down the road you have coming up? And where can people follow your art doin’s online?

My showing in Café Mela in September is the last one of the year. Next year in February people can see my artwork at the local fundraiser event, Taste & See, at Pybus Market to support Life Choices Ministry that cares for local pregnant women and mothers. People can always check out what I’m up to on my FB page Sasha S Artist, Instagram and my art website Sashasyssoeva.com

“in the valley of grace” opens on the evening of friday, september 3rd at mela - cider and wine available from 5-8pm. The show will be on exhibit throughout september.

September Quarantinescopes

Thank god for Virgo season. Ground us out sweet virgin and save us from ourselves.

Aries - Stop being so judgy, it’s hurtful dude.

Taurus - Watch out for Uranus, it’s going retrograde… also, butt stuff.

Gemini - Surprise, you’ve got a million creative projects in the works and you won’t shut up about them.

Cancer - Suck it up buttercup.

Leo - Your blind optimism is inspiring if not downright annoying.

Virgo - Happy birthday Virgo! This month is all about surrendering and being flexible. Your favorite!

Libra - Mercury is going retrograde in your sign Libra… you know what that means.

Scorpio - Try not to sabotage yourself and/or everyone else around you this month. Best of luck.

Sagittarius - You’re faking it but you’re definitely not quite making it.

Capricorn - Chill out bro.

Aquarius - It’s cute how you overthink about overthinking. Stop that.

Pisces - Maybe don’t practice willful ignorance this month. Maybe?

1) The much talked about (lately) album cover for Nirvana’s Nevermind was a concept planned by Kurt... But his initial vision of the album cover was actually for this:

A) A baby swimming with a shark

B) A mother giving birth under water

C) A baby swimming in a sea of fire

D) An undead baby skeleton swimming in a fish tank

2) A couple of months ago, a Nevada woman was arrested for breaking into her old place of employment, which was a dental office, to steal a bunch of shit. During her interview with police, she confessed that she has also previously done THIS while at the dental office she used to work at, which ended up making her criminal punishment even worse:

A) Started shooting onlyfans pornography in the dental chairs during office hours

B) Would clock off to sit in a breakroom and huff laughing gas for hours at a time

C) Stole a collection of children’s abstracted teeth which she turned into sellable jewelry

D) Pulled nearly a dozen teeth from an unwilling patient that was under anesthetic

3) Back in May, Elon Musk announced that the new model of the Tesla Roadster premium electric car coming out this year will feature a “SpaceX” package. What does the SpaceX package add to the car?

A) A screen the size of a business card that will show updates images of unexplored space beamed down from his satellites

B) A spaceX hood ornament in the shape of a rocket

C) 10 small SpaceX rocket thrusters that will take you from 0-60 in 1.1 seconds

D) All of the fucking above

4) Skater Tony Hawk has just announced a partnership with Liquid Death water. Tony is going to be releasing a very special limited edition line of skateboard decks. They only made 100 decks, and even at the price point of $500, they sold out instantly. What was special about the skateboard decks, though?

A) They were each infused with Tony Hawk’s blood

B) Every single deck had been reclaimed and refurbished from Tony’s personally used skateboards

C) The hardwood maple used in each deck was grown by Tony on his own property

D) Tony designed each skateboard deck individually using a red sharpie and a black sharpie

5) Back in June, Google Trends released a bunch of state by state statistics about search terms. Currently, for Washington state, what is our most misspelled word?

A) Theirs B) Affected

C) Definitely

D) Quarantine

6) There’s no question that as the Marvel Cinematic Universe continued to unfold, some genuine movie stars were born. But it’s a bit shocking to learn just how much more Robert Downey Jr. made on his later films in the MCU vs the earlier ones. In fact, RDJ made this much more on Iron Man

3 than he made on Iron Man 1:

A) 5 times more

B) 10 times more

C) 20 times more

D) 100 times more

ANSWERS: 1) B: A mother giving birth under water. 2) D: Pulled nearly a dozen teeth from an unwilling patient that was under anesthetic. 3) C: 10 small SpaceX rocket thrusters that will take you from 0-60 in 1.1 seconds. 4) A: They were each infused with Tony Hawk’s blood. 5) D: Quarantine. 6) D: 100 times more (500k to 50 mil)

BY LINDSAY BREIDENTHAL

We are excited to say that the first steps towards a new Alliance for the Arts in the region are underway. After strong interest was shown in last month’s survey, a steering committee has been formed and we have begun the logistics and planning process, already making progress with legal foundations and conversations with regional peers. The committee looks to keep everyone updated as we work to build the structure for the new entity on behalf of you, the greater community.

To everyone who participated in the survey last month regarding arts and culture in our area, THANK YOU! If you missed it, that’s okay! You didn’t actually miss it! We are still accepting responses. Just go to the link at the end of this article and get on it.

It is clear from the survey responses that we have an abundance of creativity and culture. There are many local creative orgs, businesses, and artists out there! What’s missing is a centralized hub of information about events, classes and important news. Survey respondents want to see us bring a greater variety of artistic voices and mediums to the area, emphasizing inclusion and representation, connectivity, support for makers, and integration of creative perspective with city planning.

Besides the survey, the committee is getting started with establishing a legal foundation and looking to build a strong plan for the startup. The committee is made up of seven representatives from the local community. This handful of people have been meeting with a non profit consultant whose specialty is helping creative organizations get started and/or re-structure.

As a part of this planning, we have held conversations with other NCW arts entities such as Methow Arts (Twisp), Icicle Fund (Leavenworth) and Gallery One (Ellensburg). They are helping us figure out what is already established, what is working, and what they are changing.

We are excited and we hope you are too. More zooms with rad folks are planned. People are stepping forward with administrative and legal skills as well as offers for other types of support.

The time is nnnnooowwww (that’s a slow-motion now) and the momentum is strong for an arts-driven effort toward greater connectivity!

So please don’t feel overlooked as you hear bits and pieces of information. The thing doesn’t even have a name yet and it’s very much a work in progress. Work is being done on the (dull, legal, operational) aspects of forming a structure that is strong enough to handle what this community has to offer...which is a lot.