September 11th, 2012
Copyright Karyn Robinson, 2012
"High Country Autumn" by Karyn Robinson
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
I'll always remember what a perfectly beautiful day it was. A slight coolness in the air left no doubt Arizona's long awaited fall was finally on its way...and then we got the news.
Today is the eleventh anniversary of a day we'd all like to forget; a day we hardily wish had never happened. My memories, like yours I'm sure, are still quite clear. Like a deep wound that has healed but still aches, eleven years later there is still real pain.
I remember sitting down and trying to write a letter to my young son, not to be read on that day but to be placed in his treasure box and read when he was older. Something he might even share with his own child when the events of that day had passed from recent history and could be viewed with perspective; a luxury only the passage of time provides.
I wanted to tell him although the actions of a few were horrific I still chose to believe 'man is basically good' and the positive in life will always outweigh the negative. But on that day and even the weeks that followed, words failed me.
Art can do what words cannot. When words fail we often turn to images to convey grief, pain, sorrow...and hope.
In the days that followed the tragedy how many slide shows did you receive in your email? I know I cried many times and the world cried with me. That shared sorrow brought Americans together to mourn not only the dead but the passing of our collective innocence. Deep down inside we knew life would never be the same.
In the years that have passed much art has been created to memorialize that day; to mourn for the souls lost and honor the brave men and women who died in a heroic attempt to save lives.
Below is a link to a gallery of such art. The pieces have names like, "Chaos", "The Hero", and "Light and Memory".
I especially like a work titled, "Remembrance". Perhaps the original resides in a treasure box to one day remind a little boy who is today a man the world remains a beautiful place and 'man is still basically good.'
Copyright Karyn Robinson, 2012
September 7th, 2012
Friday, September 7, 2012
It's raining today. That's a big deal in Arizona.
I have to laugh at the news coverage rain garners here. You see, I grew up in the Midwest and rain was just something we took for granted. It spoiled picnics, but made the flowers grow, it meant we couldn't play outside, but the soft tapping of raindrops falling on your window would blissfully lull you to sleep at night. It was a nuisance and a necessity, but it was just...rain.
When it rains in Arizona television news organizations scramble reporters for "Team Coverage" of the storm. Now, granted, sometimes the weather is newsworthy, but often it's merely the same type of storm I took for granted growing up in Ohio.
Nevertheless, because it's such a rarity here in the desert, I have come to love the rain. Love isn't even a strong enough word. I take it in with all my senses. When it rains I open all the blinds and watch, I sit on my patio and listen and feel the mist in the cool air on my skin, and I inhale deeply the freshly ionized breezes and rejoice in the memories of my youth.
As much as I love the rain, our desert plants love it even more. Cacti are specially adapted to make the most of each precious drop of precipitation that falls, sucking the water up into their fleshy pulp and holding it through the long, unbroken stretches of blazing hot days. In Arizona's Sonoran desert It's not unusually to go months without seeing a single raindrop.
In a land so arid the abundance of desert life always amazes me. Cacti are unique, sculptural even, and it's that strange beauty that has captured my heart and which, through my art, I try to share with the rest of the world.
I hope that if you ever come to Arizona you'll find time to experience our desert trails and the natural beauty you'll find around every bend and just over each hill, and if you're really very lucky, maybe even a rainstorm or two.