They Walk Among Us

/ Pam Goode / 7 Comments

What is it about stalkers? What makes them feel so entitled?

It could be loneliness, but they tend not to reach out. They’re not looking for love — they’ve already been down that path and turned to something darker. It’s not a good thing.

Sometimes he pretends to be all fun and games; other times he slumps into his seat almost hidden, perhaps thinking he can watch from a place I can’t see. Meanwhile I keep my eyes down, my focus on work, and make friends with those who work near me. So much of me wants to leave. I can leave. But I’m determined not to give up my writing sessions.

He doesn’t write. I don’t know why he’s here except to engage others with stories and jubilant laughter that makes him seem easy-going and raucously jovial. We all want to know people like that, don’t we? We all want to be a person like that, don’t we? But not everyone understands the difference between friendliness and danger. I worry about those who are young or naive, and especially for those who are lonely.

And then the best thing that can happen right now actually happens: children are coming in with their moms and brothers and friends and smiles and safety — one of my favorite words.

Such a big part of me wants to kneel at their level and tell them not to smile, not to talk, not to trust . . . but that’s not the route. The route is learning to put yourself and your intuition first, to learn the difference between kindness and inhumanity, and to teach it to others.

Sadly, women have to be vigilant for a lifetime. And yes, I could say that it’s an incredibly sad way to look at life, but in truth, it IS life.

Little Moments

/ Pam Goode / 4 Comments

To be honest, I have very little recall of most Fourth of July festivities. I don’t dislike the day — I’m just ambivalent. Actually, wait . . . . . . . okay, maybe I’m not ambivalent at all.

The best thing I remember about the fourth of July is children. I love seeing their bright faces, watching to see which balloon figurine they’ll choose and then stand in eye-popping awe as a masterfully (and surely exhausted) moustachioed man (or woman) twists and turns and blows and wiggles his way into the skinny balloons until THWACK! And suddenly the child is magically holding a pretty darn good replica of a dog/spaceship/tuba/baby girl/….. And mind you, this is all AFTER we’ve stood in the forever-line for tiny-tot-face-painting.

The saving grace, of course, is the look in their eyes and the glee lighting the entire night sky.

So yeah … I LOVE the Fourth. Don’t you?

SeeSaw

/ Pam Goode / 7 Comments

You are the plank.
You are an even-hewn and sanded length
that reaches end to end, your hand upon
my temperamental arc.
You are diameter aimed clean
into the heart of me.
I turn as on a spit of steel
(your steel)
except that
I am flame and meat at once the same.
You are the planet firm in heaven’s sea,
and I the tempest-tossing test
of earth’s humanity.
You are the moon.
I am the tides that pout and turn and then return
in love’s remembered ache.
You are the balance
and I am
the dance.

Pam Goode

Women’s International Mosaic Project

/ Pam Goode / 6 Comments

Don’t ask me why, but something popped into my head rather suddenly over the past month. And because our time on earth gets shorter by the day, I jumped on it. I’d love for you to jump in too.

I chose the name above because I want it to encompass the world. It won’t, of course, but that can still be my goal.

P.S. You do not need to be a woman to support women.

Details: My plan is to bring women of all ages, sizes, ethnicities and dreamers together. It seems to me that our lives as women are changing daily, and certainly our options are changing already. I won’t fixate on politics because I’ve never been that girl — though I’m beginning to realize that maybe I should be. We definitely have power, but can we control what’s going on now? — or what’s ahead?

What I do know is that we can always stand for peace and right.

Toward that end I hope to share these messages across the globe. And guess what — after one email blast and a couple of days, we already have women signed up from sea to sea in the the US, as well as multiple countries beyond. We need to use our strength. We need to be the women we are without keeping quiet. But most of all, we need to support and learn from each other. Nobody’s going to do this for us — especially now.

So far I’m mostly self-funding this women’s project because that’s my option, and that’s how much I want to bring us together. But as women, we’re inevitably strong, and our fierceness will get us farther into the future than we know.

So here’s what we need: Contact with each other; Appreciation for each other; Sharing with each other; Understanding and supporting each other as much as we can. And then movement: Saying yes, laughing together, brainstorming together, supporting each other. And yes, changing the world, even when it seems like what we do is the tiniest offering. We’re so much stronger than we know.

A Plan: We ALL need a plan, and so far we’re amazingly in sync. I’m good with a plan — I can do that — BUT I can also learn even more if I’m talking and brainstorming with others. Through this project, that’s exactly what we’re doing, no matter how closely or far apart we live, no matter our ethnicities, our shyness, or our uncertainties, we’re already doing it. It’s a pretty good start, and the most exciting part is that 99% of these women volunteered on the own.

Help We Can Use: Cutting templates from fiberglass mesh (perfect for you if you love cutting perfect 6-inch circles); mailing fiberglass mesh templates, talking up the project.

Mailing Templets: The cost to mail three 6″ circular fiberglass templates is variable but quite small across the US. Beyond the US, we’re currently working with women from Australia, Ireland, France, Italy, and Puerto Rico. I’d like to be able to help with the cost of mailing overseas.

Taking Part: If you’re interested, text me. We’ll be delighted to have you involved!

Touch of Fire

/ Pam Goode / 5 Comments

Sam has a touch of fire.
When we got to be almost friends he would put his hand
on my shoulder
when it was time to leaves the parties we both went to
and he said goodbye.

He would come up behind me
and there would be the hand,
and I would know it was Sam without even turning
because his touch was fire.

One night I went to a party and I wore a sundress
with no back.
When it was time I thought
he won’t touch me now.
not tonight.

But then we were leaving and there was the hand again,
On my bare shoulder this time
and it was fire.

Night after night always the same,
and when the hand came without stopping
I was hard pressed
to look him full-on when I said goodnight,
knowing the eyes would be there,
And I couldn’t tell yet what they were saying.

So I mumbled low at the floor,
not wanting to leave until I knew,
but needing the cool night air and the dark ride home
to keep his touch from showing plain.

Excerpt from Touch of Fire by Pam Goode

Paramour:

/ Pam Goode / 12 Comments


When he called to say he’d be home early, an hour away at most,
she hurriedly grabbed the signs of her weekend with passion:
the voluptuously hot-colored glass,
(a spontaneous deviation from her usual blues),
the achingly sharp tools …
the milky white adhesives,
the markers (you are MINE!),
the ubiquitous remnants of joy
left strewn across the table,
the chairs,
the floors,
her clothes…
the Tears for Fears,
the Prince,
the Elton.

Closet closed now,
the sweep of the vacuum,
the stash of memories
now buttoned up,
but only a wisp away
from tomorrow’s
studio time.

With Apologies if You Live in the Northeast

/ Pam Goode / 16 Comments
Cherry, Pamela Goode
Weeping Cherry
Screenshot

I don’t mean to gloat, but … IT’S SPRING!!!! IT’S SPRING!!!!

No more cold winter nights (we had TWO this year! Horrendous!) or clamoring around the house searching for a blanket — it was just hell, I tell you! HELL!

And now that every potential frost drop has high-tailed it under the cover of your chinny chin chin, we’ve been frolicking ALL over the place. Yes indeed — every hour of the day and night, and I’m like a whole new person now that the “winter” has passed in the south. I even waved to a stranger!

Here’s hoping with all my heart that your spring is hurtling toward you as we speak. And if it’s not your turn yet, it’s headed your way. I promise.

It Was A Dark and Stormy Night

/ Pam Goode / 21 Comments

Last night, and in fact smack in the middle of what’s often called Premium Sleep Time, a tree fell on our house.

First of all, yes, we’re okay. Secondly, while my husband leapt out of bed and examined every iota of the house inside and out until he knew we were safe for the night — I slept through it. While the occasional deep sleep is understandable if you’re, say, missing breakfast, but it’s more than disconcerting if your house has been ravaged by tree limbs during your slumber. It’s just not something we tend to prepare for, and the concept of sleeping through a major episode makes all my wires short out.

And yes, it was indeed a dark and stormy night. Lots of wind and lots of rain, but not so different from most nights … until the crash. And it’s probably no surprise that 1) it rattled me big time, and two, I can’t shake it.

Once we’d enlisted chainsaw and climbing help via my husband’s (seriously) knowledge of everything on the planet, I slipped away to the studio to work on a project. I calmed down a (tiny) bit after 20 minutes or so, and then there was a knock on the door of my studio/sanctuary.

“I just wanted to let you know that there’s a large gas leak and they’ve asked everyone to leave the building.” Okay, I’m sure there’s a silver lining in there somewhere, but it wasn’t meant for today.

All in all, the tree was about 60 feet tall, and we were lucky (really, really lucky) that it snapped instead of falling full force in all its glory across several backyards. We think it was one of those “surprise” miniature tornadoes. I hope it’s my last.

What’s that Tiny Bright Light in the Sky?

/ Pam Goode / Leave a comment

I’m guessing you’re all atwitter about hearing my Eclipse story, right?

It’s actually one of the truly bizarre incidents of my life, and I have absolutely no idea how it happened. Granted, the little quarter moon in my area was lovely, if lacking a bit of actual excitement. More than the excitement of a slow afternoon, and a whole lot less than the excitement of actually seeing the full eclipse. But lovely it was, and it put a great big smile on my face and that lasted the rest of the day.

My son, of course, went waaaaaaay more than the whole nine yards, and I admire him for it bigtime, especially with a 10 year old. Both, I have to say, were high-spirited for the many, many miles of driving, waiting, driving, waiting, driving AND more waiting. But they got the whole deal and it was amazing. And oh yes, they’re already made plans for Australia and New Zealand in 2028.

But back to THE STORY. Due to regularly unscheduled issues with my car, I fuss about it a good bit. The days running up to the show were no different, but hey, at least I had that beautiful eclipse experience to lighten my many sighs. And then work is over, the eclipse has cleansed me, and I climb happily (enough) into my car.

And guess what! MUSIC streams out of the car with a lovely tune …. not MY music of course, but music, and I think my troubles are over because the eclipse wiped all those hiccups away just for me, or maybe for everyone, but I can’t really speak for that many. And though I have no idea where the sudden mystical music came from, it sang for me heartily the rest of the way home. And of course I’m thinking the eclipse, indeed, has super powers.

When I woke up the next morning, the music was nowhere to be found. Haven’t heard a peep from it since. Clearly, the Eclipse has left the room.

Pamela Goode Mosaics, Set 2

/ Pam Goode / 7 Comments

Artwork Top to Bottom and Left to Right:

The Wishing Tree: SOLD, 8″ x 8″, Glass, Millefiori on Wedi Board.
Colorado Dawn: AVAILABLE, 7″H and 13″ W, Mexican Smalti, Mexican Smalti Tortillas, Chopped and Divoted.
Mirrored Wall: NOT AVAILABLE, 33″H x 15″W, Hand-Cut Mirror and Colored Mirror; Outdoor Installation for Ciel Gallery (now demolished).
Wasteland: SOLD, 18″ x 18″; Agate, Mirror, Stained Glass, Unglazed Porcelain, Aquarium Gravel, Pewter; This mosaic began with a dream. Because the image is so void-like, I included lines from T.S. Eliot’s Wasteland and The Hollow Men using small pewter beads that crash into the deep. The mirror-backed “void” reflects the viewer. From the center, spirals of poetry and blank human faces form a rough heart shape, balancing the sense of desolation with a touch of hope. From the central abyss, the tesserae become less defined and increasingly chaotic, until in some spots there are no tesserae at all, but only a gouged space remaining.
He Said, She Said: NOT AVAILABLE; 12″ x 7″ Drawing on Paper (created for a future project that didn’t happen).
Sunbather: NFS, 10″H x 10″W by 5″ Deep; Crystal, Beads, Agate, Glass, Shell, Copper on Stone.
Wild Hearts: SOLD, Unglazed Porcelain, Clay, Beads.
Sunflower Table: SOLD, 46″ rectangular mosaic partially shown, Glass.
The Boy with a Moon and Star: SOLD, Glass on Wedi Board.
Late Bloomer: AVAILABLE, 10″H x 36″L x 18″W; Selected by and displayed at the Society of American Mosaics 2010; Glass, Metal, Mineral, Shell, Beads, Carborundum, Wire, Hand-Carved Styrofoam base by me; Through art, I hope to capture and momentarily magnify archetypal awakenings that resonate with the human spirit. I’m drawn to create with mixed materials because I want, above all, to create as full an image as I can manage. Late Bloomer pulls from the miscellanea of life — sometimes messy, sometimes arbitrary, always fascinating, always more cluttered than we had imagined. The pruning and fitting together of disparate materials becomes a way to order my own thoughts, emotions, and priorities, allowing the finished piece to serve as a kind of talisman.