Sarasota, Florida Market Update
September 27, 2007
The enigma of no tits at the Ritz
September 26, 2007
The Mermaids Return now swims with ambient music of indie film composer Conrad Praetzel. Suggestions for music poured in, but we heard the dolphin chatter and hints of gamelon in the deep blue and knew we were home.
Florida, surprisingly, aims to subvert decadent public displays by mermaids. (Guess they're easier to control than those pesky voting machines.) I have been told by a representative of the state arts commission that there is a no nipple law, that this series of magical mythical creatures are considered (deleteriously) to be nudes. I refuse to add the accoutrement of clamshell bras (ouch) or strategically placed locks (read that however you want), as suggested by an apologetic buyer for the Ritz Carlton, which has a "no breasts" rule. There we stood in the spa, where most, if not all, of the clientele either had breasts or had obviuosly purchased a pair (ahem, God doesn't start them at the throat) and the buyer said to me in the hushed voice of someone sharing secret wisdom, "You know, most of our clientele is from the midwest."
Just when you think you know about your own country, like thinking your vote counts or that your government representatives actually represent you, there's a moment of enlightenment. "Oh, I grew up in New England, I didn't know that midwesterens don't have breasts!" I blurted out. No wonder the current series is called Enigmatic Paradise.
Sarasota Waterfront Home For Sale
September 19, 2007
9 Reasons Why People Buy a Second Home in Sarasota, Florida
September 17, 2007
Efest as a Non-Profit
September 17, 2007
Efest Florida recently received it's 501c3, and is officially a not for profit organization dedicated to environmental awareness and education. Through government and sponsor support, Efest continues to remain a free event open to the public.
Great Testimonial
September 13, 2007
Tuscana Home Under Contract
September 10, 2007
Out of the Lion’s mouth
September 8, 2007
Even though I drew this, there are days when I can't tell if she's being swallowed, pushing herself out of the lion's mouth, or if it's all just an act.
In Balinese myth, a big moon faced ogre swallows the moon goddess each month until she's a sliver of light and hope, but he never succeeds entirely, because he only has a head. She always emerges, serene and beautiful, with a knowing little smile. It's something to aspire to--outwitting the ogres, knowing where the lions are-- don't you think?
Musical confluence--Wondering Where the Lions Are by brilliant Bruce Cockburn
The Mermaids Return by Beth Surdut
September 3, 2007
The Story of The Mermaid's Return
After seven years spent more on land than in the ocean, the mermaid’s scales had disappeared. Not only that, she thought miserably, staring at the feet at the end of her long legs, her tail was gone. The iridescent flash of turquoise and pale pink with emerald highlights had been replaced by human flesh tones.
The transformation was seemingly complete, but whenever she caught the scent of salt water coming off the marshes, her feet tingled and she would put them together and push downward with a quick hard motion, just as if she still had her tail to power her through the water.
As an artist she was adept at transforming stark white silk into jewel-toned paintings where viewers immersed themselves. Now she realized what she should do with that magical process. She picked up her brush, opened her mind and her bottles of dyes, and began to paint.
In the coldest of winters, where she watched her breath freeze and shatter, the mermaid drew upon her memory of her family of ocean creatures. She promised herself she would paint a magical dozen mermaids, one for every month of the year.
Exuberant adolescents were the first to appear, followed by wise seers and princesses. All emerged with watchful eyes in their tails. Most traveled with sea creatures—starfish, shells, seahorses and parrotfish. The first red-haired one came forward boldly in an emerald sea, palms flowing with sensual power. Next came the painter’s strong-willed Spirit Kin with starfish in her luminous hair.
And that is how the portraits began.
Come meet the mermaids who originally took shape on luminous silk before morphing into the finest of limited edition pigment prints on paper.
Gator Girl and the Prehistorics
September 3, 2007
"Don't be scared," said the guide as the alligator lunged towards my kayak, the huge prehistoric head right next to my hip. "I'm not scared," I said quietly, "I'm petrified," I whispered as the gator swam past us, gliding parallel to my little tub toy of a boat. The waters of the Myakka river, rightly designated wild and scenic, are a feast for gators and birds--I just didn't want to be the main course.
"Whew," said the guide, "I'm sure glad he didn't get scared and try to climb over our boats."
The next day at an orchid sale, I heard someone loudly calling, "Hey Gator Girl!" It was one of my newly met paddling buddies. My behavior on the river--shock masquerading as aplomb--earned me a new moniker.
That was my first time on the river. I came back to the studio to paint this piece Myakka: the subtlety of Gators. Most of the time, in the dark reflective waters, you can't see who's swimming under or beside you. Eyes head and nose dot the surface and often sink like submarines as we approach.
Myakka, unlike other aspects of Florida, never disappoints, always enchants. Herons abound--Great Blues, Whites, Tri-colored (my favorite), Green and more; heavy bodied woodstorks whose wings whoosh loudly as they loft, goofy and gorgeous roseate spoonbills, bold ospreys, and so many more birds.
I no longer go with a guide, most often with one boon paddling companion in a canoe--I admit that I like the higher sides, especially when a gator decides we're too close and lunges up out of the water, mouth agape. A rare occurrence, especially if its not mating season when the big boys bellow "Stella" in their own version of Streetcar Named Desire.
There have been days where I've seen the spectrum of life-- big eyed baby gators with striped tails and once, a 12 foot gator corpse being feasted upon by vultures who usually amuse with their hopping, dum-de-dump, de-dum-de dum gait.
Recently I counted 14 gator heads in the water around me, and stopped counting when I got to 48 vultures in the trees and on shore with no carrion in sight or scent. I just kept moving, in case they mistook me for dessert.
This piece is sold, and in a private collection of someone who lives in the northeast and has never been on the river.
See more from this series at http://www.bethsurdut.com/harmonics.htm
