Play-pen App

Blogging 101 has me living across new worlds… even eating sweet, baked ‘black’ bananas… well… I am 1/2 Fruitarian.

Elle Kae published a list of iPhone apps to enhance blogging posts.  ‘ABM; A Beautiful Mess’ sounded invaluable and I spent $1.19 to buy it.

In well-connected Collage Circles I am known as; “The Particle Princess”.  This is my beautifull mess:  in photo essay form, because last week’s assignment (post in a style you don’t usually do) hasn’t been done.

©2015 Nicole Rigets

©2015 Nicole Rigets

 

 

These first two were made using Collage layouts and my Photographs.

 

 

©2015 Nicole Rigets

 

This one is created using my ‘In-Camera Collage’ and ‘ABM’ Borders; chevrons, shocking pink dots, and ribbon-like script.

 

©2015 Nicole Rigets

 

Three iPhone Photos captured on Denman Street, in Vancouver’s West End, were set into the Collage Layout.  I then added an ‘ABM’ doodle and chose ‘Lorinda’ text to type the word:  What!

 

©2015 Nicole Rigets

 

 

Made completely with ‘ABM’ Collage Features. Later I loaded this image into Instagram, vignetted it a bit, and added a Caption: “PLaYgrOunD”

 

Here is a link to Elle Kae and the article:  http://ellekae.com/2015/01/22/top-iphone-app-roundup/

©2015 Nicole Rigets

Paper Hearts along the Sill

Happiest of times

before they kissed you goodbye

never grew long roots.

"Impressions IV"
“Impressions IV”
"Impressions VI"
“Impressions VI”
"Impressions V"
“Impressions V”

A Document of Light and Expression.  My camera is a buffer:  a shield;  it sits close to my heart.

©2015 Nicole Rigets

The Old Lady’s Red Velvet Opera Coat

I’ve collected another twenty-five Things I Love!

  1. Hanging laundry outdoors to dry.
  2. Browning leaves collecting in the corners of stairways.
  3. Small birds exploding from the treetops when the train comes down the tracks.
  4. Home-made butter.
  5. Dreams that support the life you want to live.
  6. A visit to a friend’s studio.
  7. Found money:  the penny you pick up for luck.
  8. Paying bills early.
  9. Finding a parking space downtown.
  10. Postcards from New York.
  11. Little dogs with big shadows.
  12. A train whistle far in the distance.
  13. Yellow roses with their petals curling back.
  14. A simple old-fashioned rose reminding me of an old lady’s red velvet opera coat.
  15. A black and yellow Bumble Bee peering into a flower.
  16. Old stepladders; better yet when splotched with paint stains.
  17. Ikebana; Japanese flower arranging.
  18. Scaling paint on walls or furniture.
  19. Dog portraits.
  20. Dorothy Draper interiors.
  21. Wisps of smoke lingering in the outdoor air.
  22. The new “Sea to Sky” Highway on the way to Whistler, B.C.
  23. A ‘hurricane’ of crows.
  24. The transition between Summer and Fall.
  25. Discovering precious pieces of etched glass while beach-combing.

Copyright © 2010 Nicole Rigets

Paper and Wood

“Paper White”

I’m paper, I’m wood,

Others say I’m not good.

I bleed & I boil

In Millenium toil.

Sambuca’s my nitro,

I don’t have a right to,

Fame, Fortune, Gain or Reward.

My mind’s going crazy,

My future is hazy,

My Love’s pierced my heart with his sword.

50 years of days being a good little girl,

Have led me to places where others are cruel,

Welfare to West Van, I saw the way,

To escape all oppression, and brighten each day,

It worked for awhile,

then life wore me down,

and the man that I love

changed his smile

to a frown.

I’ve let my hair down,

I want to be me,

excited and wanton

and explicitly free,

Mysterious nights, Sirocco days,

Love in my heart,

my thighs, and my ways.

I’m going to control me,

I’m going to be thin,

let others in

To my world carved from life.

Copyright © 2010 Nicole Rigets

Saturday Night on “The Drive”

October 31/November 1, 1997.

PASSING A DARK

CHOCOLATE DIPPED

GINGER SPEAR PAST

MY LIPS, I INHALE

THE MYSTERIOUS

PERFUME OF CIGAR

SMOKE.  IT GIVES A

RICH & EXOTIC FLAVOUR

TO THE SUGARY

CHOCOLATE PASSING

BETWEEN MY LIPS

AND TEETH.

UP ANOTHER GROOVY

BLOCK, A NON-

INDIVIDUAL CON-

CENTRATES HARD

OVER A SMALL CRUMB

OF COCAINE.  ROCK,

SO MINISCULE, KNIFE

OVERPOWERS, BEADS

OF SWEAT FROZEN

ABOVE BROW, NOW!

TOO HARD AND IT WILL

SKID INTO FINITE

SPACE, REALITY

STOPPED TOO SMALL

TO MAKE A DIFFER-

ENCE, TOO INSIGNIFICANT

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

UP ANOTHER CHAOTIC

BLOCK, NOISE FUELS

THE SPACE, FILLS THE

HEAD.  T.V. SATELLITE,

BOOMING JUNKERS,

VOICES, LOUD.  ALL

TONES, ALL PITCHES,

LANGUAGES, MENTALITIES

EMOTIONS, DRAMA,

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

I’M IN A MOVIE,

SILENT CAMERAS.

FILMING NEVER

CEASES, FILLS EACH

NERVE, EVERY BRAIN

CELL, COMPLETING

SENSES.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

SHOUTING, THE

GLOBE REVEALS

ITSELF ON 5 SCREENS

PLAYING SIMULTANEOUSLY

INCESSANTLY,

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

SEARCH FOR SIGNIFICANCE.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~  ~~ ~~ ~~

PIERCING SHRIEKS,

PIERCING EARS,

PIERCING NOSES, NOISES

AND ALL OTHER

BODY PARTS.  TATTOO

YOU.

SHARP PENETRATION

OF MEN’S COLOGNE

ADAMANTLY AND

REPEATEDLY,

VOCALLY

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

SUDDENLY,

HE CAME!

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

FUSING BEAUTY

& HEAVY METAL

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

MESHING

Copyright © 2010 Nicole Rigets

Social Misperception and the “Greying of Your Spirit”

Stopping by the Newsstand before leaving Park Royal South and leafing through some Women’s Magazines:

“As we age we fall apart.” – Bullsh_t!!  As we age we stop learning at school, stop working out or playing sports.  We keep eating out… and drinking beer, wine, juice, and lattes, all laden with calories.  The preservatives laced into conventional foods bulge the middle outward.  No exercise leaves the muscles painful and the bones in poor condition.  No new ideas result in a flabby brain and slowed thinking or forgetfulness.

Stop believing the bull in women’s magazines about aging; the mags with the ads for all your body, mind, and spirit pains.  The articles are written primarily to promote the advertisements that fill you with unnecessary fears and tell you you need manufactured pills, medications or surgery.  Take action!! Keep your mind, body, and spirit healthy by avoiding the behaviors that harm them. Take responsibility for your life by following nature and nurture.  Avoid conventional stores and commercial products and tune out old wives tales… enjoy the freedom of being your own boss and running your own life.  I dare you to throw out your television and newspapers if you will.  I overhear more people talking about these as an absolute waste of time and invasion into their free time to think, read, paint, socialize, walk/run… take photographs, choose a new pet, phone a friend.  Your choices are unlimited… try some new ones.

I shake off the negativity from the “media salad” and start across the tiny bridge that connects the parking lot with the playing fields.  Walking home past the fields with a view to the ocean, I like seeing the beaver’s bare-stick igloo, and the way it displaces the water, causing new patterns of mud to form along the edge of the creek.

While visiting the mall I was keen to study a young Iranian woman in Artigiano early today.  She had it!!  Voice, power, posture, flash, tan, probably much cash; and she had only a few accessories that differed from mine.  Lime green richly hued T-shirt, white leather belt, her shirt was tucked in; hot heels, jeans, wavy, glossy black hair, attitude, cellular, dazzling teeth!  We both had designer sunglasses and my jeans are the cool Acne brand.  I could try a colored T-shirt, white belt (later I bought a red patent one made in Germany), high heels, and better handbag.  My hair is dramatic in the opposite way  and I’m fine with it.  I don’t like cell phones and don’t use one.  I could be taller with heels but she’s taller than my 5’6″. Stunning woman teaches me a lesson:  Shut up and Show Off !!

I had caught sight of myself in a plate glass window with a mean-spirit behind it and it threw me a reflection of my expression sagging.  I fell into disbelief and hurriedly turned my head and thoughts back to the soft pink lighting of the powder room at home and the mercifully flattering reflections emitted from a 1960’s mirror.  The mirrors in the make-up and clothing departments in stores are cuttingly cruel; a tired, worn, dark, expressionless face appears out of my stare and I’m forced to try on new colors and styles to become the mannequins  and the women on posters surrounding me.  Once in the door at home, I tried on the black capri-length tights and top I bought…  up-to-date and sexy.  I needed these.

"Oh My... perhaps I should have added this too!"

Grateful for hairpins to keep my hair out of my face, off the back of my neck, and above the bathwater.

Copyright © 2010 Nicole Rigets


In with the Fruit Peels when I Die

We’re here and gone.  We’re in and out.

The swell of the waves makes my thighs quiver and my lower body feels sensations taking in the movement of the sea.  The Shangri-La thrusts above the headland.

A deep pink geranium sits pretty in the black cast iron urn near my feet silently dropping her petals as she too admires the whitecaps. A dainty sophisticate, the geranium has an oriental lily pad leaf anchoring an English flower and bud with small petals, fanning out a saturated hue against clouds swollen with shadows leaning along the sky in layers.

The icy wind is bending tree branches and whirring the stalks of shrubs into a frenzy. The Seawalkers keep their collars up and kleenex under their noses as they brace their steps for the next burst of cold air breaking over them.  Long scarves twirl and leap outward in a scatter-brained dance.

The train tracks creak, dogs yip and howl.

My feet are cold, as is my tea, and yet it is mesmerizing to sit in the midst of it all.  A lone gull is being blown blocks out of his way by the next forceful blow of the wind.  He’s drawn across roof and tree tops and sent soaring away from the water toward the hard blue mountains.

A steady grumble makes its way through the leaky windows and the canvas awnings flap furiously against the current.

Without warning leaves are blown inside out revealing their naked light side.  The logs sitting atop the giant granite boulders lining the walk thunk, thunk, in repetition.  All is divine as blue sky and tips of sunlight foreshadow a heavenly day.

Now the sun comes out to spoil me warming my bare feet resting on the tile floor.  The rays are blinding as they reflect off the water and the surface of the sea glitters in madcap fashion. Sunlight is pulled back and in ten breaths I see only a glare as the seagulls wail mournfully.  The sun is back, in the completion of a sentence, playing hide and seek with me.  I have to squint hard against it.

More people are out walking now.  The path becomes a medley of color:  mauve, red, blue, pink, white, gold, black, navy, tan:  the colors of our clothing, our cars, and our floral arrangements.

The walk has emptied, my tea is drained, I leave the solarium in peace having read a few more pages from Louise Erdrich’s book, “The Blue Jay’s Dance.”  A Birth Year.  Exquisite, lyrical prose by a Best-Selling Author, Mother, Observer of Nature and Poet.  These little vignettes are “unpredictable and unforgettable.”  The mundane of everyday life is rendered marvelous!

Once back in the kitchen I look out and see the arbutus tree waving wildly in the wind. My concern is for the crow who built her nest in a strong fork of one of the branches.  I can see vaguely through the blossoms that she’s home by a small glimpse of her shiny black feathers.  The tree  is caught up in a baby hurricane and I think of the bird mother having morning sickness in the dizzying gale. If the eggs aren’t scrambled by the time the wind ceases the birdlings will be born remembering this psychedelic drama in their incubation. All day I fret over whether the nest will weather the storm.

I had watched the nest being built and the crow had a mate helping to weave each thoughtfully chosen strand of material into a new home. Many trips were made carrying puffs of something white and fluffy. Normally the nest rests in utopia almost hidden by the thick and lavish white flowers and green leaves of the arbutus tree; a floral-lined loft.  By sunset the scene turned calm, the five-hour power outage was repaired, and I had the kettle back on. I was extremely grateful for electricity, a safe nest, and all the energetic forces of Mother Nature purifying the air we breathe.  The electric heat is back on, the fridge is cold again, and the food didn’t spoil.  So what if the computer wouldn’t work, I got this written anyway… by hand and heart.

Crow Nursery constructed in the boughs of the red-trunked Arbutus Tree

Copyright © 2010 Nicole Rigets

Peace By Piece and Amor Fati

"Psyche's Pieces"

Susanna Ruebsaat, my Art Therapy teacher, reads a paragraph from “Wisdom of the Psyche,” by Ginette Paris who was one of her teachers at Pacifica Graduate Institute in Santa Barbara, California.  Paris wrote this after recovering from a very serious head injury.

“Love of One’s Fate: Amor Fati; a love of one’s story.

I’m a participant in my own drama!  A love of what is.

Even my messes are my own.  I’m able to feel.”

A love of what is and a love of what is becoming.

Know the form in which one’s destiny unfolds.

This form of psychological creativity eventually leads to what the ancients call: Amor fati.

Dionysian attitude:  A desire to know the specific form in which one’s destiny unfolds.

Loving Your Life: “How could it be other-wise.” (N.R. Rigets)

Susanna refers to my clay sculptures and mentions how my first was so rough and my second was so smooth.  Yes, there is an amazing contrast (and contract) between the 2 female forms.

I respond with, “Life is rough and as I practice life it becomes smoother.”

Friedrich Nietzsche

Acceptance of what is and love of what it is becoming.

"Before I Lost my Head by Dionysian Forces"

A link to Dionysian and Apollonian dichotomies and philosophies on Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Apollonian_and_Dionysian

Copyright © 2010 Nicole Rigets

The Eagle and the Ego

Today was of the special variety that I experience randomly and want to add more of to my life.  It’s a day when nothing can ruffle me; I sail along with no fears, no worries, no upsets. I didn’t have any concrete plans made in advance so I didn’t have to get snarly when life moved impulsively into my morning.  Instead of writing this post at 2 p.m., as I intended, I got together with a friend who rang just to see if we could meet for coffee in my neighborhood.  Painting the day with flexibility keeps me happy.  There is no need to routinely cross off the must-do’s on the list in any special order. What doesn’t get finished today can be added to tomorrow’s list.  Was I blissful because nothing went sideways throughout the day? Or was it my fresh attitude and faith in life itself that brought unequivocal and dynamic energy into my realm, in perfect synch with others, rewarding me with the wonderful feelings I attracted.

I was careful to watch my thoughts today and keep them supported upward.  Being negative never allows me to fulfill my dreams or handle risk taking.  Rather than resisting intrusions I make the decision to embrace them and redesign the day.  The recapture of energy by not forcing my will on on the clock is abundant.  If, however, I keep repeating I’m too busy and can’t fit anything in, guess what happens:  exactly what I’ve told myself and the world returns what I’ve told it to.  I give the Universe a chance to understand I am communicating to receive positive vibes and outcomes.  It sounds corny yet I was amazed that what I had read about does work perfectly well.

I started off out the door of our building to see my friend Sonny and as I approached the intersection I looked up into the sky to identify a bird flying in slow circles.  Too big to be a crow, I realized it was a baby eagle.   The circles he was making were small, baby circles. Even birds show a respect for the young as they left him alone to practice learning his flight patterns. Adult eagles get verbally blasted and dive-bombed by crows and seagulls in our area but this little guy was left in peace.

I was early to meet Sonny and I remembered a conversation yesterday with one of my very close friends.  They mentioned taking things slow because they did not want to miss a step or mis-step; or worse, make a mis-take as they proceeded along a new path.  I was surprised.  I’m a risk taker so I am impulsive; quite the opposite of this person.  But like the baby eagle, if I think I can fly I will try it.  If I lose a few feathers or make other birds laugh I don’t mind.  I might get a little red in the face but I’m living and alive!!

What if baby birds wouldn’t try to fly because they were afraid of falling or failing.  What if they would only fly if they could form perfect circles.  It’s not in our nature to be perfect; it’s something that is learned and practiced once we leave childhood and compete and work in an ego-based outside world.  A world outside of ourselves where we may have to compensate for shaky self-esteem.  It’s not healthy to thwart ourselves when we can blast off and get to the core of our quest.

I told my friend that holding back didn’t make sense; that it’s ego talking.  Ego that thinks everyone is watching us, waiting for us to make a faux pas, and then ridicule us.  Yet everyone fails their way to success.  Even rocks, as steady as they are, will take a fall at some point in their stony life.  The  last thing we need is to stay in one spot and never move because we’ve let our ego fill our minds with nonsense.

At Art School no one tells you how to do things.  There will be a short talk, and if you’re lucky a demonstration, but no one can do it for you because they don’t have your mind, body , and spirit.  Only you can make the finished work by experimenting.  Marcus Bowcott, my painting teacher says, “You’ve gotta’ break a few eggs to make an omelet!” Go ahead and scramble into something new. Don’t listen to your head, listen to your heart. The heart holds only love:  no fear. Never pull back when the momentum takes you on a roll to a passion for what you were meant to do.

I just tore a week off the calendar and in a sweep of the arm the week was gone.  It woke me up with the thought that every moment must be loved:  have, think, and do only what you love! Be the little eagle who loves to fly.

Copyright © 2010 Nicole Rigets