Thanks, Rick. This is the fourth piece involving my dad, and, as I'm obviously working through "stuff" with him by rewriting my memories, I'm beginning to believe that you're right. Maybe "I love you" is exactly what he meant. I appreciate your very helpful perspective.
…dude what a sick cieling art…good on you following your muse…i stared at the sky and got named cansafis…now i’m wondering if i misheard it and i either might be named canvas, or that skys might only know how to speak in words that start with c’s and end with s’s…
Sometimes a story’s weave carries you so effortlessly, leaving both a sigh and a smile. The image of that first design falling was beautiful, as was the being part of your father showing your work to guests. Giving into a creative impulse is a beautiful gift.
Thank you, Marie. Sometimes my dad would really surprise me, and the way he enjoyed showing this string design to folks was really gratifying. As for the time I took the old 1980 design down, that was kind of sad. My folks had owned that home for 45 years when my mom moved out, and seeing all that string sagging down as I removed the thumb tacks was like the end of an era. Anyway, I appreciate your comment!
"Ceiling is Believing". What a perfectly "Larry" title. What an amazing ceiling artist you were back then, and look what artistic skill you have now when you wield a pen.
Truth be told, doing a design like this is a LOT easier than writing. Sometimes engaging in the latter activity is a lot like digging ditches ... but it's ultimately gratifying.
I really enjoy both writing and the string art. And I must remind myself to do a design more often than only once every five years or so! I'm going to pursue this and see if folks may be interested in their own designs. Ya never know.
Larry, there's so much to love about this piece... not the least of which is your writing skill creating the scenes, the dialogue, the sense of time and place... love all of that. Then there's the evolving relationship with your dad that you're exploring in these essays... each time we get a new perspective on it.
And for me personally, I love how you touched on those parts of the creative process that transcends whatever medium a person uses.... the way ideas jump out at you, how you see it inside of you and have to bring that vision outward, the hours that fly by- in bliss, (and struggle sometimes too) , the amazement at the end that you really did it... thanks for all of this.
Thank you, Linda. Your comment really helps me to reflect on what I did, both in terms of the creative process involved in doing the string design, but the process of writing about it from different angles. By the way, this is now the fourth essay I've written on Substack that involves my father. I'm clearly working through some "stuff" related to my very complex relationship with him, and connecting with my friends on Write Hearted has been an essential part of this process. More to be revealed. On to the next essay!
It's been a long day traveling, but I hope to take a look at your draft, provided you haven't posted it to your Substack page. Thank you for understanding my delay in furnishing you with feedback. I really want to do that ... and I will.
This piece really touched me, Larry. The way that project awakened your own creative spark while also becoming a bridge to your father was so moving. To me, that’s what great art does, connecting us more deeply to ourselves and to others, often without needing words.
My favorite line was, “I removed the thumb tacks and all that string began to sag toward the floor, like a tired weeping willow.” What a gorgeous image. And those photos are incredible. No wonder your father was so impressed—I am too ◡̈
Honestly, to this day I attribute "my" idea to do a string design on the ceiling, of all places, to a download from That Big Artist in the Sky. Perhaps we humans are merely conduits to art and wisdom beyond our direct experience. (And who the heck really knows?)
And this experience did indeed reveal a softer, more accepting side to my father. It took me only 45 years to see this, thanks to the power of storytelling. Thank you for noticing, and for your ongoing support.
Norm, not being understood may be a sign that you're thinking out of the box ... and that's a good thing if you happen to be a creative soul. So their confusion (or refusal to understand as a conventional-thinking "normie") is a *good* thing.
Magic Johnson is personally responsible for the worst hangover of my entire life, a 12-hour chunk-blowing, jackhammer-to-the-skull-inducing marathon that cured me of drinking forever. After Magic lit the 76ers up in Game 6 of the '80 NBA finals, I and a few giddy friends hammered down pitcher after pitcher of beer at the local pub; then switched to vodka shots; then went back to the dorms to hammer on the bong pipe. (I wouldn't recommend that back then, since you were either a little toddler or perhaps even still a zygote.) Anyway, that remains one of the most thrilling, and the most horribly painful, event of my life. The only thing that comes close was when Magic and Kareem bitch-slapped the Celtics five years later. :)
Agreed. Most of my life philosophy comes back to Groucho, the bit about not wanting to be part of any club that would have me.
And, yeah, I was a toddler in 1980, but I remember watching the '85 finals with my cousin. It was sublime.
Fun fact: a friend of mine is Kareem's writing partner, and a week or so after my daughter was born, we attended a book signing for my friend, and Kareem was there. He saw the baby girl and beelined for her. Gentle, sweet, and so cool, he fawned over her, and remarked that she shared a birthday with Billie Holiday. It was a great moment.
Love the story... and love the ceiling art even more. You're a genius and these creations are truly mesmerizing. Thank you for sharing them here. Now I can visit them any time I want.
I really enjoy doing these crazy designs, and to that end I plan on doing more. The fine folks at Write Hearted are encouraging me to pursue this with more regularity, and I'm going to do just that.
I'll be returning to Prescott on Thursday. See you next time at the Raven or the Iris. And thanks again.
“Kid, I think you’re nuts.” I might be wrong, but I suspect this translates to, "I love you," in Larry dad language.
Thanks, Rick. This is the fourth piece involving my dad, and, as I'm obviously working through "stuff" with him by rewriting my memories, I'm beginning to believe that you're right. Maybe "I love you" is exactly what he meant. I appreciate your very helpful perspective.
I was thinking about this raking leaves today. It’s whole-brain thinking. Scientific art. Artful geometry. That’s what I love about it so much.
I’m thrilled to see the close-up photo to see just how many strands wrap around one tack.
We need a video of you at work.
Thank you, Kathy. (A belated thank you. I'm back east at a funeral and will be out of town until Thursday. But I brought along my trust laptop!)
And I love that term, "artful geometry." That really nails what it's all about.
Looking forward to your next essay!
…dude what a sick cieling art…good on you following your muse…i stared at the sky and got named cansafis…now i’m wondering if i misheard it and i either might be named canvas, or that skys might only know how to speak in words that start with c’s and end with s’s…
Thanks, CansaFis. These designs are really fun to create ... and it keeps me off the street!
By the way, how did you get your name? You mentioned staring up at the sky, but I bet there's an interesting story behind that.
https://cansafis.substack.com/p/to-be-your-self-you-must-name-your
Just read your essay.
Brilliant. I left a comment.
Keep doing this!
Sometimes a story’s weave carries you so effortlessly, leaving both a sigh and a smile. The image of that first design falling was beautiful, as was the being part of your father showing your work to guests. Giving into a creative impulse is a beautiful gift.
Thank you, Marie. Sometimes my dad would really surprise me, and the way he enjoyed showing this string design to folks was really gratifying. As for the time I took the old 1980 design down, that was kind of sad. My folks had owned that home for 45 years when my mom moved out, and seeing all that string sagging down as I removed the thumb tacks was like the end of an era. Anyway, I appreciate your comment!
"Ceiling is Believing". What a perfectly "Larry" title. What an amazing ceiling artist you were back then, and look what artistic skill you have now when you wield a pen.
Thank you, Flori.
Truth be told, doing a design like this is a LOT easier than writing. Sometimes engaging in the latter activity is a lot like digging ditches ... but it's ultimately gratifying.
So awesome! A living true work of creation. Can't wait to see what unfolds from here.
Thanks, Genie. I'm kind of curious where this will lead as well.
Looking forward to connecting in a few weeks!
With phrases like.
Bite me,” I said aloud.
And with that, the defense rested. And SPIROGRAPH!!!
Talk about throwback? I was right there with you.
Also you are a true artist - no the with pen and paper and tacks and yarn! Create on, my friend!
Thank you, Dana.
I really enjoy both writing and the string art. And I must remind myself to do a design more often than only once every five years or so! I'm going to pursue this and see if folks may be interested in their own designs. Ya never know.
Anyway, thanks again!
Larry, there's so much to love about this piece... not the least of which is your writing skill creating the scenes, the dialogue, the sense of time and place... love all of that. Then there's the evolving relationship with your dad that you're exploring in these essays... each time we get a new perspective on it.
And for me personally, I love how you touched on those parts of the creative process that transcends whatever medium a person uses.... the way ideas jump out at you, how you see it inside of you and have to bring that vision outward, the hours that fly by- in bliss, (and struggle sometimes too) , the amazement at the end that you really did it... thanks for all of this.
Thank you, Linda. Your comment really helps me to reflect on what I did, both in terms of the creative process involved in doing the string design, but the process of writing about it from different angles. By the way, this is now the fourth essay I've written on Substack that involves my father. I'm clearly working through some "stuff" related to my very complex relationship with him, and connecting with my friends on Write Hearted has been an essential part of this process. More to be revealed. On to the next essay!
It's been a long day traveling, but I hope to take a look at your draft, provided you haven't posted it to your Substack page. Thank you for understanding my delay in furnishing you with feedback. I really want to do that ... and I will.
I will appreciate your feedback whenever it's given! :-)
This…is unbelievable…and wondrously beautiful, Larry!
Thank you! 🙏
This piece really touched me, Larry. The way that project awakened your own creative spark while also becoming a bridge to your father was so moving. To me, that’s what great art does, connecting us more deeply to ourselves and to others, often without needing words.
My favorite line was, “I removed the thumb tacks and all that string began to sag toward the floor, like a tired weeping willow.” What a gorgeous image. And those photos are incredible. No wonder your father was so impressed—I am too ◡̈
Thank you, Rachel.
Honestly, to this day I attribute "my" idea to do a string design on the ceiling, of all places, to a download from That Big Artist in the Sky. Perhaps we humans are merely conduits to art and wisdom beyond our direct experience. (And who the heck really knows?)
And this experience did indeed reveal a softer, more accepting side to my father. It took me only 45 years to see this, thanks to the power of storytelling. Thank you for noticing, and for your ongoing support.
Awesome, with such passion your destined to go places.
Thank you, kind sir!
“I don’t understand, Larry.”
“Dad, neither do I.”
Swap Larry for Norm, Dad for most other people, and this is the story of my life.
Also, a Magic Johnson poster… it bares repeating—Larry, you’re my guy.
Norm, not being understood may be a sign that you're thinking out of the box ... and that's a good thing if you happen to be a creative soul. So their confusion (or refusal to understand as a conventional-thinking "normie") is a *good* thing.
Magic Johnson is personally responsible for the worst hangover of my entire life, a 12-hour chunk-blowing, jackhammer-to-the-skull-inducing marathon that cured me of drinking forever. After Magic lit the 76ers up in Game 6 of the '80 NBA finals, I and a few giddy friends hammered down pitcher after pitcher of beer at the local pub; then switched to vodka shots; then went back to the dorms to hammer on the bong pipe. (I wouldn't recommend that back then, since you were either a little toddler or perhaps even still a zygote.) Anyway, that remains one of the most thrilling, and the most horribly painful, event of my life. The only thing that comes close was when Magic and Kareem bitch-slapped the Celtics five years later. :)
Agreed. Most of my life philosophy comes back to Groucho, the bit about not wanting to be part of any club that would have me.
And, yeah, I was a toddler in 1980, but I remember watching the '85 finals with my cousin. It was sublime.
Fun fact: a friend of mine is Kareem's writing partner, and a week or so after my daughter was born, we attended a book signing for my friend, and Kareem was there. He saw the baby girl and beelined for her. Gentle, sweet, and so cool, he fawned over her, and remarked that she shared a birthday with Billie Holiday. It was a great moment.
'85 was the Year of Redemption, proof that there is a God, after all.
I've heard that Kareem is a gentle, soft-spoken soul. It must've been a thrill to meet him. Great athlete, and just as great as a wordsmith ...
Love the story... and love the ceiling art even more. You're a genius and these creations are truly mesmerizing. Thank you for sharing them here. Now I can visit them any time I want.
Thank you, Chris.
I really enjoy doing these crazy designs, and to that end I plan on doing more. The fine folks at Write Hearted are encouraging me to pursue this with more regularity, and I'm going to do just that.
I'll be returning to Prescott on Thursday. See you next time at the Raven or the Iris. And thanks again.