As a teacher I spent my life as an agent of change. Moving students from lethargy to curiosity, leading to a life of positive action. I was a motivational speaker for an active mind and living an active life. It was, in a word, exhausting. I do not believe that those frenetic years led to my multiple myeloma, but I have decided that it is time to pass my "agent of change cape" to a younger generation, and put on the more relaxing garb of an “agent of calm.” This blog explores that new role.
Friday, October 30, 2020
The Unexpected Inhalation
Tuesday, October 27, 2020
How Many Last Times?
I returned my last stash of university owned technology to the office today. Of course it was no longer my office, hadn’t been for several months now. First retirement, then Covid closed that door, then opened it again for “moving out." But as I drove away I wondered how many more times I would leave campus for the "last time?" It seems to have changed rather dramatically every time I have ventured here over the last several months. But peeking through the new buildings and the wandering new students I caught glimpses of the campus I had first glimpsed in the fall of 1981. What is that 30 years ago? Another indication of my lack of facility with math. My calculator says 39 years. Yikes! It shouldn’t be that easy to lose a decade, but it is what it is.
Thursday, October 22, 2020
The Creative Life
Saturday, October 17, 2020
Schrag PPP Loggia Update
.As Facebook taught the world to say, “It’s complicated.” My old iPad died mid sentence on my latest Libby book. One of my credit cards was compromised. Apple doesn’t recognize my ID. I fly back to Raleigh in a couple days and the zipper on my suitcase broke. Other than that . . .
Sunday, October 11, 2020
Touching Perfection
Tuesday, September 29, 2020
Schrag Wall: Phil and Beth Kominski - Like Walls Around Your Heart
Hello All -
Most often these posts are primarily the work of my own hand. I’m going to make an exception.
Out there among you on the Wall is my oldest friend. Some of you have heard the story of how Dan and I were born 7 days apart back in November of 1948 when our parents occupied the 2 sides of a duplex in Springfield, Ohio. I often remind him of how much I learned in that week before he was born. I will not go into the fascinating parallels that have followed us through the subsequent seven decades. Let this one suffice.
Dan’s daughter Elizabeth, who has considerable musical skills in her own right, married a musician named Phil Kominski who got a degree in music and has pursued a variety of musical endeavors as a musician, composer, organizer. etc.,etc. Well, Phil has a cd being released even as I write this post. If Dan asked me to share that information with you here, I would. But he didn’t, but I asked him if I could, and assuming Phil and Beth have no objections, I am delighted to share this song with you.
Like Walls Around Your Heart could be a theme song for Foster Harmony. No wonder I love it. Phil does all things musical, and Beth created the exceptional video.
Enjoy!
Friday, September 25, 2020
Schrag PPP: Chains- step 2
Chains: Step 2
The second step is to blank out the places that will then be filled in with drawn designs. This image has the blanks, but the interior designs have yet to be completed.
Tuesday, September 22, 2020
Schrag Wall: Moments of Connection
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One reads about defining moments in a life. Those experiential sparks that start us down that path that will become our life. I suppose, if I worked at it, I could create a narrative that would read that way. But it would be an artificial construction. Perhaps a long enough time with an excellent therapist might lead to a moment where she would declare, “There, don’t you see? That was the moment! That was the existential spark that leads to now! And here are the issues we should address.” And, in the name of Fostering Harmony, I would produce my insurance card, say “Thank you!” and head off down the road into another quantum branching that led elsewhere. Because I really don’t see it that way at all.
Mind you, I have nothing against the idea of a defining moment in a life. My objection is with the notion that there is just that one. The clouds part, a rainbow arches overhead, and the path to wealth, fame, a Pulitzer or a Nobel prize is suddenly clear. Cue the orchestra. Finish the curtain call. Bring up the house lights. Strike the set. Head for the cast party. Call it a life.
If that is how it is supposed to work, I have done something wrong, or the awards committee lost my address. Rather, I am becoming more convinced that our lives are shaped by plural moments of significant connections; individuals and events that do bump us down one of the variety of quantum worlds that we share with the shifting cast of characters who define our shared reality. Which, in part, explains the words of that great philosopher Yogi Berra who once opined “Deja vu all over again!”
But seriously, while I simply cannot point to any single time or event that “cast the die” in my life, I can easily point to multiple individuals and events that, either as “one-time” or “first-time” experiences or as continuing relationships, initiate or maintain significant influences over my worldview. Therapists love parental models, and probably with good cause. My father was a university professor and my mother was among the most gentle people I have ever known. One need not spend a few hundred dollars an hour on a couch of questionable quality to discover the importance of those connections in my life.
More interesting to me are those connections that are less obvious but perhaps of equal influence in my journey through life. And this might be a good place to point out - particularly in these mediated days of CV19 - that influential connections can be fictional and/or historical as well as real-live-sharing-your-space people. For example, I can trace a series of fictional anthropomorphized critters whose gentle presence has always been important in my life. Beginning with Thornton Burgess’s Tales of Mother West Wind, and Peter Cottentail, through Kenneth Grahame’s Wind in the Willows, and of course A.A. Milne’s Winnie The Pooh, these very human animals bounced along beside me for much longer than I would have easily admitted to my more sophisticated peers who were already flirting with Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys.
More important, naturally, then and now, are the connections we maintain with experiences that we share with real live people. These connections are scattered throughout our lives and it is the ways in which they influence and inform each other that creates the richness and beauty of our existence. Let us look at a couple of relevant examples from material science. Yeah, I love it when I get to pull “relevant examples” from fields in which I have no training!
Consider glass blowing. I love glass art. But even more than the shimmering perfection of lead crystal, I am captured by the constructions of Dale Chihuly and others that feature swirls of colors blending like a frozen sunset or field of tulips. Those blended swirls of color are created, I understand, by a series of “gathers” wherein the artist repeatedly inserts the piece being created into the furnace and “gathers” multiple layers of glass of different colors onto the tube and blows and spins the piece out into the psychedelic constructs for which the art form is renowned. No single gather, no single experience or connection, can duplicate the depth and complexity of multiple gathers. [Editor’s aside: In the course of writing this post I came across a sort of tangentially related beautiful YouTube video that I simply must post https://youtu.be/PeMGRMwarKI.]
Or consider the katana, the Japanese samurai sword. Or actually any finely crafted sword or knife. None of them are created by hammering a single thickness of steel into the shape of a blade. To simplify the process terribly, you keep folding the steel into layers that you reheat, reforge, and hammer together to create a sort of steel Big Mac - 2 all beef paddies, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles onions on a sesame seed bun in steel - compressed over and over to create a blade of exceptional strength, flexibility and beauty.
Life is a lot like that. No one moment, no one experience, no one person or relationship is “all there is.” As Peggy Lee sang back in 1969, “If that’s all there is . . .Let’s keep dancing. Break out the booze.” But fortunately, as I just said, that is never all there is. There is always another existential “gather“ in the glass sculpture of our lives, another fold and reforge to give our living, evolving, katana greater strength, flexibility and beauty.
Thinking about the multiple layers created by the many experiences and connections in our lives makes me wonder about the possibility of existential wormholes. Quantum mechanics often raises the notion of physical wormholes in the universe, places where the universe folds back upon itself in a way that makes it possible to - in one small step for man (and woman) - sort of instantaneously slip across vast reaches of space and time, leaving the limiting notion of the speed of light tattered in our wake. Well, can we do the same thing in the multilayered construction of our existential experience? And is that the real nature of dreaming? Do those sometimes rather real, mundane even, nocturnal narratives spring from the same space as their frenetic, almost psychotic, hallucinatory cousins? And is that incubating space the folded, multi-gathered realm created by our ever evolving life experiences? I just finished my almost daily walk while listening to the Pandora channel “Hits of the 50s, 60s, and 70s” Oh my! What faces, places and memory traces inhabit that space. And can we wander around in that space via “dreamholes”? And then can we draw, paint, sing, compose, sculpt, choreograph, our memories of those voyages? Whew. Maybe. There are, after all, “more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”
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Sunday, September 20, 2020
PPP Chains
For a number of years during “growing up time” we would travel from our suburban home in central Ohio to the exciting world of Schrag Shorthorn Farms in southeastern South Dakota, where my father and his 6 brothers and two sisters were born and raised. Our experiences there were, I realized in retrospect, probably as unusually for our country cousins as they were for us town kids. But I can only hope they had as much fun. We made quite the horde when our Chicago kin descended over those magical summer times - all told there must have been close to 20 of us cousins - town and country.
I have a wealth of images in a couple of files called Dakota Diaries. No doubt my much more responsible sister has an equal number of earlier images saved in actual photo albums. Perhaps a compilation lurks somewhere in the future as Christine and I nudge towards “moving house” to the Chicago area. At least the odds increase that we will intersect with Margaret and William between their trips to their kids in Florida.
Ansel Adams talks about the magic of the very small and the wonder of the very large, both of which are clearly reflected in his glorious chronicling of the America West. Our thoughts turn that way here in the summer and fall of 2020 as fires ravage the wild and wonderful vistas of that coast. Strangely, South Dakota, perched about as far as you can get from either coast, provided similar glimpses of the magic of the very small and the wonder of the very large. I can clearly remember perching up on the ridgepole of the barn with my cousin Doug, who was my “go to” guy for all things “farmish.” We would peer off across the seemingly endless prairie to the west while he assessed the chances of the distant thunderheads sweeping over our fields that, seemingly, always needed rain. The wonder of the very large.
The PPP image I am working on now comes from the other end of the spectrum, the magic of the very small. When I walked into our modest garage in central Ohio, I would encounter a few bicycles, a “push-it-yourself” power mower with which I would occasionally try to earn some root beer money. Maybe some random boards, baseball bats and basketballs. But that was about it. Walking into any of a number of the outbuildings scattered around the Schrag farms was, to me, like walking into the dwarves workshops in Middle Earth. Mysterious tools, gadgets and gizmos were scattered across counters and benches. Mechanical devices, large and small, lay about in various stages - I assumed - of completion. None of the objects which adorned the walls were intended as decor. But I found them enchanting, and equally important, recognizable. Hence, this starting point for a PPP image called quite simply: Chains:
Friday, September 18, 2020
Schrag Image: PP Muse
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All right, if you were paying attention you noticed that there are only 2 Ps in the title of this post. That is because it is not a PPP, ping pong painting. It is a PP - podcast painting: PP Muse. The face below is actually a composite of 8 separate drawings I created back in about 2003 for a course called Digital Expression. In that composition the image would fade into a blank screen over a musical bed, staring with just the eyes and then fading in piece by piece until the image was complete - then it would screen would fade back to nothing.
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Thursday, September 10, 2020
PPP: Sticking My Neck Out on The Loggia.
Monday, September 7, 2020
Beauty Among the Spaces
Tuesday, September 1, 2020
The Harvest
And the rising of the moon.
Are We There Yet?
But both versions fall far short of a man for whom gentility and harmony are important concerns. Loyalty to “ Trump the man seems to guide his polices. Nowhere is this more obvious than his political appointments - a head of the EPA who isn’t sure that climate change is real or that the environment can’t just heal itself. A head of the Post Office who is looking for ways to shut it down. A head of education looking for ways to advantage private schools at the expense of public education. It doesn’t stop there, but even if it did, that would be, for me, enough to disqualify any support for the current administration on the basis of goodness of fit with Foster Harmony - there isn’t any. The man’s consistent advocacy of violence and force to solve complex issues further affirms his inability to move even slightly within the boundaries of the first penultimate tenet - Foster Harmony.
But as we soon learn, it isn’t really that simple. Who is shooting whom and why gets much more complicated on the ground. Shooting, it seems, puts everyone in danger: protestors with legitimate issues, police striving to serve and protect, youngsters caught up in what seemed to be a lark, and yes, perhaps you get a couple of thugs and hate mongers. But does that justify letting the “law of the bully on playground” drive public policy? Probably not. These violent and discordant actions, which seem to often be the President’s first choices, should be seen as repugnant actions considered only when all discussions aimed at fostering harmony have been throughly explored.
So are we there yet? Depends on what you mean by there. When I read the daily gloom and doom on my various screens, I rarely encounter a “there” where I would choose to spend my time. But when the pictures of the great photographers and artists take their place. When the lovely music of just about any age tumbles out of my speakers. When the silly and enchanting images of the family claim the screen. Yeah. We are, if not there, then we are getting close. So for me, my Roadmap for Life demands that I spend my remaining years fostering harmony and enabling beauty through the works of my own hands and sharing them with you, and attending to those harmonic moments you choose to share with me.











