A warning to wicked women

Live a virtuous life or weasels will rip your flesh!

That's the lesson in an extraordinary painting from an exhibit called "Contested Visions in the Spanish Colonial World" that just closed at LACMA, the Los Angeles County Museum of Art.

A double-sided oil painted in the 18th Century in Colonial Mexico, it shows on one side the bland and simpering Virgin of the Immaculate Conception, as a model of goodness for all womanhood to aspire to. On the reverse, it shows the Allegory of the Confession of the Soul - the sinful woman, attended by snaggle-toothed demons and vicious twining creatures who bite and tear at her flesh, being pressed to confess her sins, or spend eternity in torment.

These paintings, probably commissioned by Jesuits to serve as a cautionary lesson to parishoners, were likely painted by a mixed-race Mesoamerican artist, a descendant of indigenous tribes forcibly converted to Christianity by their conquerers; their culture, aesthetics and beliefs shaped and evolved into a uniquely Colonial Mexican artistic style.

"Confiesa!" demands the demon, as his fellow cups his ear the better to hear her entreaty. "Ay!" cries the hapless, doomed sinner.

Although the painting is three centuries old, it is still alive and vivid. Her bulging eyes, her lush flesh, her horror-struck expression all have the crass, immediate quality that reminds me of pulp fiction paperback cover art from the 1940s or 1950s - she could be Velma Valento of "Farewell, My Lovely," twisting from the embrace of Moose Malloy, gun blazing, or the earthy, smoldering femme fatale Cora of James M. Cain's "The Postman Always Rings Twice," suffering the brutal carnality of her murderous lover Frank.


"Flim-flammed! I'll say I was! You and that lawyer!" - James M. Cain, The Postman Always Rings Twice

Like on the dime-store pulp covers, her semi-nudity is discreetly hidden, yet tantalizingly glimpsed, twined with the writhing snakes and lizards that torment her. Even her earrings and hair ornaments transform into vicious monsters and fanged insects, as she suffers the dark, inevitable fate that awaits all femmes fatales, whether they be hussies or gun-molls.

Brigid O'Shaughnessy: "I haven't led a good life, I've been bad, worse than you could know."

Sam Spade: "You know, that's good, because if you actually were as innocent as you pretend to be, we'd never get anywhere."  - "The Maltese Falcon" 1931

"Ay!" she cries, as she falters.

Watch it, ladies. Change your wicked ways!

Happy hour at the museum!

We enjoyed our visit to LACMA - the Los Angeles County Museum of Art - but - honestly - sometimes museums can be exhausting. We saw three exhibits that were all wonderful but all completely different from each other, and it was overwhelming to have that much swirling around in our heads. What to do?

Pig on dog

 Jack gets along pretty well with Henri.  We let them play together. I was careful to make sure Jack didn't overpower Henri.

But I don't think that's a problem.

 Henri can hold his own on the playground.

He wants to play with everyone, even YOU!

Jack, Henri, and Lola in a quieter moment.

Pig sitting

I'm pet sitting my neighbor's pig, Henri for a couple days. Henri is a teacup pig. He's a red-head, maybe twenty five pounds, and trots around on delicate cloven hooves.

Henri has breakfast in the morning, then he goes outside, where he likes to root around in the dirt all day.

There are lots of acorns in that soil. Henri roots and makes contented grunts and snorting noises.

At the end of the day, Henri comes inside for his dinner and bedtime.

It's a pig's life, isn't it, Henri?

Pink Saturday - Happy Wanderer

It's Pink Saturday - Beverly, at the blog "How Sweet the Sound" hosts Pink Saturday. Let the color pink inspire you.

This pretty, lavender flowering vine is growing on my neighbor Patty's fence. Its botanical name is Hardenbergia violacea, and it's a native of Australia. Here in the US, its commonly called Lilac Vine, or even Mexican Lilac Vine, but in Australia its common name is the much more charming "Happy Wanderer."

It's one of those plants that's sort of a shrub and sort of a vine. It twines itself loosely around supports and - overwhelmingly - other plants, and can cover a pergola or fence handily.

Its hard-to-remember botanical name is the fault of Austrian botanist Baron Carl Alexander Anselm Baron von Hügel, who undertook an expedition to Australia in 1833 - 1834, collecting plants and seeds. He named this pretty vine after his sister, Franziska Countess von Hardenberg.  There's no record whether she grew it herself or not.

Its narrow, evergreen leaves turn down attractively, and its tiny pea-like flowers bloom on long arching racemes in the early spring. The blooms are very delicate - the one you see here is no bigger than my fingernail. Hardenbergia is not for cold climates, sadly, but could be grown as a tender perennial.

Our spell of warm weather has brought flowers out nicely, and Patty's small garden is wreathed with blooming flowers.

"Happy Wanderer" is a perfect plant to grace the small cottage of my friend Patty, who herself has led a full, adventurous and well-traveled life - a Happy Wanderer indeed!

Road kill

Found on my morning walk. A lost bunny.

Here in a landscape where the coyotes howl beneath your windows at night, it's not unusual to find gruesome evidence of their nocturnal feasting.

But this is the first time I've found a toy bunny.

Daily journal

This is the sunset sky last night in Santa Monica.

Our weather is getting strange. At the beginning of the week, it was in the low 40s. I could see my breath when I walked Jack in the morning. I wore double layers to work, and a scarf around my neck, and my fingers were like ice on my keyboard in the office.

Today, right now it's 80 degrees in Santa Monica, and crystal clear. They're saying it might get up to the 90s tomorrow. Crazy.

Design for sunshine

The exhibition California Design, 1930–1965: "Living in a Modern Way" at the Lynda and Stuart Resnik Exhibition Pavilion at LACMA is part of Los Angeles' Pacific Standard Time, a collaboration of more than sixty cultural institutions in southern California celebrating the birth of the LA art scene.

This exhibition features mid-century modern design for living - the objects, graphics and structures that were part of everyday life. For people my age, these designs are not just art - they are part of our memory, because we lived them. As I walked through the displays, I was overcome at every turn by how familiar this was, personally, to me.

The show encourages these rushes of memory, as it includes not only fine works of design but also everyday things like kitchen utensils, record album covers, toys and even cars - a classic Avanti is among the many displays.

As soon as you enter the exhibition, you encounter a polished and gleaming Airstream trailer - the "Clipper," designed in 1936, its aerodynamic shape and construction inspired by the airplane industry.

Pink sky for morning

 I know I haven't been posting as frequently as usual, and I'm not sure why. Things just seem very busy. Yesterday it rained and was cold. It was pouring as I drove in, and when I walked to lunch although it was dry, there were dark rain clouds in the sky, threatening.

Both  [The Man I Love] and I have been battling this terrible cold or whatever it is that's going around. I feel like we've both had it twice, and never really got well in between. We're both so congested and hoarse that we keep clearing our throats all the time - he said a visitor to the house would think we were engaged in some kind of passive aggressive non-verbal communication - "Ah hhhhhemm!" "Hmmmph!" "Hmm, hmm Hemmmm!"

This cold also saps our energy, so we don't go adventuring, bur rather spend our time off at home, staying warm and resting - and suffering from cabin fever.

I'm also following with some sense of disbelief and horror, the Republican primary race. Dear God. What have we unleashed in this country?

This morning I was greeted by a pink sky over the mountains to the west - taking color from the rising sun I can't see yet, as its disk is still hidden by the mountains behind me to the east. It will be a good day.