For Angie, who didn’t believe me.

;-)

Gosh, I never think, when filming Cecil, about how what I say to him is going to be part of what I post. Cringing…]

 
 
Cecil was a feral stray cat when he first appeared at Karen’s informal Cat Sanctuary, an ad hoc thing, which began with feeding a few strays and grew over the years to include a little house that Emery built — a veritable Cat Hotel — with rooms for 5 cats. It is a little house with a pitched roof (for the snow) with doors cut out of the front as circles like with a huge drill, and heavy plastic flaps covering each door for warmth and drafts. Inside each bedroom is a little comforter for each room and a light bulb for heat. As winter gets colder and colder, each cat’s room gets a brighter bulb — I wonder if the cats thus think of light as warmth, with the light bulbs as little bits of sun and being what most animals likely think of as warmth, and the dark nights being about their worst endurance?

Anywho, then she started wrapping tarps around the beam of the porch so snow could not get to their cat house and to keep out the winter winds. The cats get two meals of moist food per day, with each cat getting a separate dish. The meals are carried out on plastic lunch trays and arrayed on the ground strategically; some dishes are placed far away from the bulk of the food dishes, for the more shy cats, which the more aggressive cats (like Cecil) will move on to upon finishing their dishes.

Karen also washes all the twee comforters once a week and refreshes the unlimited dry and water daily, which the raccoon family also uses as dinner trough, water, and bathtub, respectively and in that order. I have seen this, and melted. Raccoon babies are CUTE! But, though I want to hug them, we stamp our feet and make loud noises if we happen to be on the porch when they come, so they will not mistakenly learn to trust humans, because not all humans have food on their decks in order to feed them.

About the day Cecil arrived Karen says, “We never thought he would make it. We have had some cats show up in really bad shape, but he was torn to bits and was just skin and bones. He looked like a pack of something had gotten a hold of him.” Indeed, a few of his scars are visible to this day, in this video. The first time I saw Cecil, from inside the kitchen, I said, “Who is the new cat? He is the ugliest cat I have ever seen.”, for he looked all puffy in the cheeks, and mean, and all cocky like the mean alley cat in the old Tom and Jerry cartoons. He looked mean in a cartoon way. He sat on the deck right outside the door and every time I, or anyone, went in or out, his paws started flying and he always ended up tangled in one’s socks, if one were lucky enough to be wearing socks, else he became tangled in ankle skin. He was a scrapper. And he had a huge pair. He would chase off the weaker cats and also chase any animal, of any size. I now think he was overcompensating out of fear. back then i thought he needed to be fixed, due to that huge pair, and that he had just gotten both used to andf sick of fending for his life in the scary outdoors.

Karen did trap him and have his pair reduced and then began the long and patience-necessitating, task of taking him. It took months before she could pet him and we still all had to be careful when going in or out the back door, “Walk very slowly! If you make sudden or fast movements he will attack”. When we had cookouts or visits on the back deck we even had to try to remember to move slowly if passing chips to another or uncrossing our legs too quickly for Cecil sprang to action. I’d never had a cat — all the kittens I’d snuck home as a child and tried to hide under my bed were inevitably returned, and I’d not made good on all aspects of my childhood swagger-induced promises of “eating cake and ice cream every day, and having 27 kittens. No, they will NOT grow up — I will get special kittens.” , though ice cream is often breakfast these days.

After months of patience and unconditional love Cecil did succumb to and then enjoy being petted by Karen, and then he became voracious for it, like a kid fascinated with a new toy. Emery, once, as we were gathered on the back deck, hilariously said, “I just pet the shit out of him for a few minutes and then he runs away”, when he noticed I had been trying to extricate myself for many minutes so as to “get going to meet a friend” as I’d mentioned a few times. Cecil “LOVES to be loved”, Karen would say, and she’d nailed it. This was a very new thing to him.

Soon he started sitting next to the back door for a new purpose; rather than swiping his claws at anything that moved on it’s way in or out, he was now trying desperately to get inside. Fall was coming to an end and he knew, as animals know, better than humans, what was coming next. He did not want to spend another winter outside. He’d successfully gotten in twice and though his path was thwarted by a few of the 5 inside cats, he evidently liked what he saw and felt and smelled inside.

Around this time he also developed new habits, one of them very disturbing but also to be prophetic.

TO BE CONTINUED…. CLIENTS CALL….

And of course these are complete strangers so, what then, of situations in which someone you know, and perhaps even care about, is behaving in a manner which is widely deemed as negative or humiliating? It is then good to jump in or does that label you a busybody? Are friends and loved ones in any way obligated to try to somehow, some way, save that person from themselves, from the repercussions of stumbling around a party or offending people with callous actions and/or remarks or behaving in any one of many socially offensive behaviors? Is that caring? Or is that also rude? Is one’s job in such situations to look the other way, or to step in somehow — at the moment, after the moment, in anticipation of an upcoming moment? For what does it mean in terms of implied obligatory response in situations where one suffers from second-hand embarrassment due to the actions of another, as exacerbated by side-eye glances and slightly arched eyebrows?

To jump in at any of those past, present or future moments can be a lose-lose proposition in that the self-appointed ‘hero’ can be perceived as an annoyance, groaned about in private, one who fails to mind their own business, or worse, but yet, in some situations the reverse is a possible outcome such as an alcohol-related arrest or much much worse.

I’d like to see a show about that, in which group social interactions are set up in order to see what unfolds; in which perhaps there is money, well-being, safety, respect of one’s peers, or social-standing, in the position to be gained or lost, at stake. Because quite honestly, in such situations I know what I would do (which would be directly dependent on whether or not this is someone I care about, or even love, or merely worry for), but I don’t exactly know what is the ‘right’ thing to do. Cameras or not, life is a stage of sorts and judgment can be swift and difficult to alter. One thing I do know is that if you care enough to act you are absolutely at risk and so you best have the stomach for gambling.

And, what would you want others to do for you in such situations? What is the truly kind thing to do and is the kind thing also the socially acceptable thing to do? Is it better to mind your own business and just avoid such situations in the future? I really want to know.

The prevalent medium in this installation, Corn, or Maize, is universally translated in most Native American languages as “That Which Sustains Us”, by which we may assume that corn may also act as metaphor, yet more than metaphor, as it has, and does, sustain legions of people and cultures in myriad ways.

As an artist working in paper, I find myself intrigued and motivated by this seemingly ubiquitous plant which grows to the height of a person, exhibits a peculiar beauty at each and every stage of growth and decay, and can be prepared as sustenance in unique and various ways. Its very fibers appear to simultaneously absorb and reflect light in ways both unique and astonishing, by way of its individual parts, which span from the filmy and translucent to the shiny and curved, all while displaying a grid-like geometry, as dependent upon perspective. While sunlight works its magic sustaining the plant during its period of growth, its positioning will affect the resulting paper, once brilliant, now sinister, as it undergoes the inevitability of its lifespan, a slow dance with aging and, inevitably, death.

Five years ago, upon being made a generous offering of corn from my neighbors’ garden, I found myself preferring the husks, returning as if called, to reflect upon the leaves, and ultimately asking for the stalks, for all that they promised to me by way of their potential, then cooking, cutting, and beating all these fibers into pulp for paper — paper for sculpture, clothing, envelopes, and artwork.

Upon stepping outside on a cloying, damp, humid day two years past whilst creating linen and mulberry papers, my vision immediately changed, became abstract, and my glasses fogged up in a flash. In this moist blur, I had a sense of the birds as fish, of my self and my environment as being under water, and of the air as a dense and thick being. Reminiscent of standing on a hill in Northampton and imagining Lake Hitchcock, or standing in the Corn Barn at Porter Phelps facing the river and envisioning the seasonal flooding of the fields, picturing the fish, and then the story, the story of this creation, this installation.

During the planning stages of this installation, Susan Lisk, director of the Porter Phelps Huntington Foundation shared with me a story of the Connecticut River flooding the cornfield in the early spring, such that there were dozens of carp somewhat trapped after the waters receded. She, accompanied by others, trekked down to where they lay imprisoned in an attempt to collect them in corn baskets to then drag or carry them back to the river so they could swim away, freed from their constraints, describing an image I found at once breathtaking and inspiring, for the work I had begun. For the relationship between corn and the Connecticut River is at once personal, historical, intense, and fascinating, dating back thousands of years. It then occurred to me that if one perceives time as an accordion, folding up on itself, creating threads of contact having more to do with sensory experience, one may well be reminded of other such sensory memories such as listening to a drum or a flute, planting corn kernels or seeds, tasting a cooked ear, smelling catfish frying, or grilling salmon, and thus my vision for this piece took on a more perceptible shape.

It is a long-held Mayan belief that people are made of and from corn. Today there are those whom consider themselves “people of corn” across North, Central and South America, because cultural beliefs color both group and individual perception. An individual’s broader perspective is a critical aspect of comprehension — of one’s self, one’s life, and all that one perceives. As such, the works in this exhibit require more than one point of view to fully appreciate the resulting work. This installation thus invites you to alter your position, perceive that the lighting is altered, take pains to alter it by your physical perspective, allow yourself to make a joyful and perhaps uninhibited sound, return for a fresh viewing on another day, in a different time of day or weather, savoring what you have just read or eaten, and allow yourself to be touched in a unique and personal manner by this work, which was created for such individual experiences of appreciation.

VIDEO BY MO RINGEY-GAREAU

more info (as in text) to come.

Click image to make it big and readable.

Pioneer Women at Jasper Rand Art Museum

The email that tipped it, went like this…

“Thank you for your reply ["Support" person at Groupon, who replied to the friend's inquiry]. I am ccing the friend (that’s me) who referred me to Groupon. She has in fact contacted Groupon directly, but has still not had anything resolved.

I would ask that if you access her account and do not find such a referral having been processed, that you seriously consider that the link may not work effectively, or that it may be all too easy to get wrong, for those of us who are new to Groupon. I certainly believe that I clicked on the referral link, but since it was not processed, I do wonder if there is a way to miss a step, so as to not complete the referral.

Other than this situation, I have had a very satisfactory history with Groupon. You folks have a cool thing going, and I do hope you correct what clearly is a serious skip in your system.

Signed, [One of my pals, who emailed Groupon to try to make it right]

But oh, all the lost credits. I worked in the software industry in Boston for 5 years. A lot of coding snafus get past QA. They eventually get rectified, but sometimes only after one person or important client makes a huge fuss, rarely with apology, appeased customers, or even admission that anything was amiss at all, ever. I feel somewhat satisfied. But not. because when a friend got a Groupon email in her account (as described below) yet addressed to me, that, to me, seemed hard core proof that our accounts were electronically linked, and that yet I had not been credited. I forwarded that email proof to Groupon about a dozen emails back. It got me nowhere. Nowhere. It took the effort of three pals to email Groupon and fairly demand (their emails varied in wording) that I be credited, and that they ABSOLUTELY HAD clicked the link — from the email I sent them — to sign up.

So what does that tell me? I am not exactly seeing unicorns and rainbows. Groupon is a for-profit corporation after all.  I sorta wish i could take all the emails back, to be totally honest.

IT’S ALL ABOUT THE PRINCIPLE.

I almost never forward emails, as most of you know, but I had heard about this Groupon thing from someone who saw a thing about it on some morning show, so, back in December I signed up.

This has nothing to do with my plight. It's just a cool picture I took in Switzerland.

I then received a welcome letter saying “Welcome!” and all that, and I then signed in and saw this “

Get $10 in Groupon Bucks when someone you invite gets their first Groupon. There’s no limit on how much you can earn!”

So I sent it to my list. the way it is supposed to work is that you click(ed) on the link in that email from me and like magic the code tells Groupon that i sent you and I get credited when you buy your first Groupon. But, as if I am cursed, a funny thing happened on the way to the forum, so they say, and I never got credited for ANYONE signing up by doing that clickety-click. A lot of you have since told me that you signed up because of that referral, from me to you. But something crazy happened  – I have never been credited a single credit. Many of those people who signed up because of me have since bought many groupons, but, still not a single credit.

Remember this guy? He comes to mind lately.

I have been emailing support and they have come back with every manner of excuse and “reasoning” why I have not been credited. I signed up with my moringey email address but under the name Mo Gareau, which, as many of you know, is my new last name, though my emails got out as Mo (Ringey) Gareau.

I told a few of my friends that this had happened so they emailed groupon at support@groupon.com saying, “I signed up via the email Mo Ringey Gareau  sent me and have since bought groupons and would like her to be credited”, but, still not a single credit.

I forget what this picture even is. But, if I get my credits, I promise to get back to writing funny posts again. Promise.

So one might think that maybe there was a programming error and that when they clicked through the link on the email I sent them, it did not take and was not logged as a referral from me. A plausible excuse, right? The software industry is the first industry I think of when I think of indutries in which there is no culpability and you can buy a product with glitches yet never get your money bac or get a replacement, yes?

BUT THEN, my friend Amy got a funny email from Groupon! She got an email sent to her email address, in her inbox, which said, “Mo Gareau, here is your daily deal for Springfield, MA”

AHA!

I took this picture of the floor in my studio years ago. I like it!

So, I sent this email to Groupon and said, “Look! This is proof that I AM electronically linked, via code and all that, to at least one of the people who signed up for Groupon by clicking through the link in the email I sent out to 100 something people. See!?”

Still nada. By my estimation I am owed a few credits.

So, if you signed up because of the email I sent to you inviting you (and thus, endorsing) Groupon, please email groupon at support@groupon.com with the following:

“Hi there! I signed up for Groupon by clicking through the link in the referral email Mo Ringey Gareau sent me so, in all fairness, I woudl love it if you would credit her account under moringey[at]gmail[dot]com, as she is my pal and she sent me and I clicked your possibly faulty link.”

My pal, Sandra Day O'Connor

Thanks. Yes, I am on my soapbox for the first time in years. I have been emailing back and forth with the non-eponymously-named “Support” people for weeks. I am not getting anywhere. It’s not me, it’s them. All I want is my credits. Is that so much to ask?

I love flowers. And, honesty. And don't love unfair and deceptive practices. That's a real legal term.

I figure if I never get the credits, I will start posting some of the hilarious (on my end) email exchanges, along with the non-hilarious replies, from “support”. Don’t worry, they won’t get you if you reiterate that you signed up because of the email I sent you. After all, all publicity is supposedly good publicity, yes?

And hey, if you haven’t yet signed up and yet plan to, try putting my name and email address in — I bet I still don’t get credited. Like sands through the hourglass, so go the days of my life. I am calling my pal Sandra Day O’Connor. ;-)

At 2-3 estimated years old, Cecil suddenly discovers that he has this tail thing, and doesn’t seem to realize that he is the one making it move, and tries to make it cooperate and stop moving. No sound. Well, not really. Any ideas for a good soundtrack? Dazed and Confused? They’re coming to take me away, ha ha? Feel free to insert your own background music.

I love when he sits like that.

So today I came home and Cecil immediately ran into the bathroom and started howling. I ran to see if he was locked in, and, forgot the camera! Cecil was sitting on the actual toilet seat looking down past his tummy at the water and howling at it to flush. So I ran and got the camera but he had jumped down. He did however pull a new stunt… (the story of Cecil, after the video)

Cecil does not like that mannequin chick, not one bit. he tells her exactly how he feels and it's LOUD.

Cecil has been a stray all his life. He lived in my biological mother’s back yard in a room at the Inn, at what I call “Kittywood”. She made a house for the strays with a little bedroom for each cat, heated by a light bulb and with heavy plastic strips for doors. he was a tough guy and looked like that alley cat tough guy in the old Tom and Jerry cartoons. I was afraid of him and he would swipe at me when I walked out onto the back deck, often getting tangled in my socks.

More Cecil pics:

Poser!

Then he was caught and fixed, which is why one ear is notched — and he became a nice guy and learned to love attention. he smiles all the time now so he doesn’t still look like that mean cartoon cat.  ;-)

The Cat Rescue Project snips an ear so others will know the cat has been fixed. Cecil got in a lot of fights. I think he was overcompensating.

Eventually, he SO overcompensated that he started chasing dogs in the neighborhood and picking fights with them. That’s when they knew they had to find a home for him.

Cecil eats from a little dish with monkies on it. I am not sure if he notices.

When I’d visit he’d come running like a dog and, flattered by that, I decided to take him in. He came with his little comforter and some food, tied in bandanna and hung from the end of a stick. He adjusted very quickly.

Cecil examines the Narcissus in the Narcissusarium.

The first night he followed me around and inevitably slept on my bed and that was his first time sleeping inside. For the next few days every time I walked in the direction of my room, he’d run past me and slide to a stop, and then run and jump on the bed and howl for me to go to bed so he could do this new snuggling thing.

Cecil gets ready for bed.

For the first few weeks he waited for me to wake up, staring at me intently, and only then would he start his campaign for breakfast. Not any more. I get head-butted starting with the sunrise. I have to close the shades to try to fool him, but he is very smart so he doesn’t fall for it.  And does he ever have a lot to say about everything, especially the toilet flushing!

Cecil looks good against the red backdrop. he sorta knows it, too.

The vet says he is maybe 2-3 years old. He knows a few words and still runs like a dog to greet me.

When I am lying down watching Tv Cecil sits on my stomach and stares at me.

I want to build him a little stand for his food and water and set it like a table. That would be cute. I would also make him a place-card with his name in calligraphy.

Cecil explores his new home on Day 1.

He sits on my lap when I type and sometimes rests his head on the keyboard, which is not conducive to coherent emails.

If I lie down with my arms out when watching tv, Cecil will wrap himself around one of them.

When I play his videos he jumps on the desk and inspects the speakers. I always miss when he runs around like mad pretending someone is chasing him. One day I will get him. I have to remember to bring my camera everywhere I go, especially to the bathroom. Sometimes he jumps in the tub, but he hasn’t done that when I am in it with bubbles.

Cecil smiles a lot. Sometimes he grins. And he is always talkin'

(to be continued when i get around to it. Since I am cutting down on sugar and don’t keep it in the house, I am spending a lot of time baking. heavy drama-filled sigh)