Sunday, July 22, 2012

Rock Hound



My step dad said he was a geologist. But he might have been just an avid rock collector. No matter. Actually I think they called him a Rock Hound.
We had rocks everywhere - lining the long dirt road of a driveway, benches made of obsidian, jars of agates. But it's not like he ever talked about where he went to school. In fact I don't remember him being much of a breadwinner at all. Later on, Mom gave me all kinds of stories about him, some of which are probably not true. You just believe your parent, the one you rely on for everything but later on realize that they tell impossible tales.

So even though I loved this man, who died when I was twelve, I don't know who he is. I've decided it doesn't matter. 

This piece I will always associate with Southern Oregon. On recent visits beautiful young New Agers sold crystals on the main street and told me their own tales. Anonymous Woman No. 51 is another sort of self portrait. The crystals I stashed for one collage, for one face. For a couple weeks I had fun just floating them around.

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