Flowers in the Cracks

I did not forget

2010-09-11T00:20:00.001-07:00

I did not.

I will never forget.

2009-09-11T22:18:00.000-07:00

never will.

Valentine's Salvation

2009-02-14T12:54:00.001-08:00

Here’s a poem I wrote today. May you all enjoy St. Valentine’s Day.

-Peter.

Forestry of Hair

2009-02-14T12:10:00.000-08:00

The flowers have been neatly trimmed

Brown stems and more buds going grey
The hedgerow below has been severely cut back
Made pleasing again with a fair even level

The canopy supposed to keep the light dimmed
Has faded and thinned in foliage display
Yet sprouts here and there require a huge hack
Grown so random as to confuse even the devil

What a mess was my garden, and so overgrown!
Yet now it's been trimmed, raked and clipped
Weight of the undergrowth reduced by a ton
Trunks rescued from dangling debris

Fresh on my face is the winter wind blown
As stray weeds are gathered and snipped
The gardener tisking at the task so undone
At last pleased by the sight of the tree

This forestry of hair I submit to fair teasing
To be made dapper for decorative display
All done in hopes to make myself pleasing
For possible venture this Valentine's Day

Yet where is my truest gardener to tend me in life
Who would submit her lush flowers in becoming my wife?

12 February 2009

Copyright © 2009 Peter Corless

Music

2009-02-07T23:03:00.000-08:00

Music pumps in my blood

Quarter notes amongst the corpuscles
Driving beats of heart like drums
Feeling lyrics liquid in my muscles

Music floods in my ears
Whole songs parsed in manic minutes
Ballads muttered and bridge hums
Dancing irrationals and belting infinites

Music flows through my soul
Half-listened to and too much forgotten
Gaining interest with compound sums
Beautifully wrought or misbegotten

Chaos and beauty wrestle in my ears
Yet music remains after all these years

A Flower Bedtime Story

2009-01-21T08:42:00.000-08:00

Once upon a time

There were three little flowers.
A red rose,
A bluebell,
And a yellow marigold.
The red rose loved the bluebell.
They paid all sorts of attention to each other.
Yet this made the marigold feel left out.
Because the other two flowers ignored it.
Then came along a bee.
The bee couldn't get close to the rose or the bluebell
Because they were face-to-face with each other.
So the bee made friends only with the marigold.
The marigold was happy to have a bee for a friend.
In time, the marigold made more of its own kind.
Suddenly there were many, many little marigolds
To keep it company.
Yet the rose and the bluebell,
Because they ignored the bee
Had to wait a season
Before the bee came back
And became their friend too!

Rockaway in December

2008-12-11T09:46:00.000-08:00

Ilona posted a photograph on Facebook. Quite a stunning image. (Please let me know if you cannot see the Facebook link.)

-Peter.

Flowers for Barack

2008-11-05T12:11:00.000-08:00

The man of the moment
Who moved the stakes in the ground
The new face in a new race
Won the road to the White House

Radio filled with sagacious comment
Groundswell of support welled up all around
Now the nation has done a complete about-face
Moving forward again in grace without grouse

We, the majority minority vote
Sixty-three million united in strength
November night souls now each in full bloom
Brought together assembled to share without fear

Today is a day of historical note
For flowers to soak up the sun in full length
We are the blossoms overflowing the room
Enraptured and raising our faces in cheer

Yet for fifty-six million we also honor their voice
Those who chose different for various reasons
For these too are our brothers and sisters in nation
With whom we shall have to forge our new fates

Thus we celebrate everyone each in their own choice
Winners and also-rans waiting for their own seasons
America is a bouquet made of rich compilation
Of spirits united from all fifty states

Whether you’re from a red state or maybe a blue
When united we stand, all America wins
This achievement calls us all onto the field to play
To make further advance of human emancipation

We’ve traveled so far, yet have more to do
Today is the day when the future begins
So wherever you are this November day
Enjoy this multicultural celebration

Belonging

2008-10-16T12:31:00.000-07:00

I met Niloufar Talebi in Mountain View, California on 9 October 2008. She spoke at Books, Inc. that Thursday night. The night of Thor, god of thunder. Before going to Mountain View I had just met a used car salesman, a friendly and nice guy named Ali, at Saturn of Stevens Creek, who is Iranian by heritage, yet actually Christian. Though he is Christian, his parents had given him the Muslim name Ali as a child to avoid persecution in Iran. I suggested to Ali to drop by Books, Inc., and headed up to listen in.

I had also invite another Iranian acquaintance to the event, Monir. She was unable to make it. She is studying very hard at school and thus did not get my message until after the reading was concluded. Yet I was there for her. I bought an extra copy of Belonging, signed by Niloufar, for my friend Monir.

After the poetry reading was done, Niloufar, myself, and another Iranian gentleman went for Mongolian Barbeque. We spoke about her new life in New York City. How one cannot leave their door without spending $100 or more. Between taxis, cleaners, shopping, and so on. Some friends, she was saying, spend more like $500. I don’t doubt it. NYC can be very expensive. So can Mountain View. Any place in the country can now be expensive with gas somewhere between $4.50 - $5.00 a gallon.

Yet rather than focus on the typical issues of Iran—Muslim politics, the price of oil, and geopolitics—we shared stories far more personal. We spoke more of universal culture and arts that bind the peoples of the American and Iranian nations together commonly as humans. The emotions and experiences of love, of loss, of longing, of enlightenment, are true regardless of the languages we speak.

It was then a double-privilege of mine to go see Niloufar perform in ICARUS/RISE at the Red Poppy Art House, along with Bobak Salehi, Jeff Stott and a dashing Iranian “playboy of the western world,” whose face I can see yet whose name escapes me presently.

For various reasons, my mind was a mix of emotions, focused mostly on love and loss. The red poppy is the symbol of the dead of World War I. The symbol of Armistice Day. This will be the 90th Anniversary of the end of World War I on November 11, 2008.

Furthermore, I had just come away from a memorial service for my friend Jeff Tibbets, whose wife Stephanie Tibbets recently past away at the beginning of October.

So it was somewhat natural for me to shed some tears at the beautiful poetry. Filled with images of the Phoenix, references to flowers here and there. Lemons and oranges. Celebrating what was seen, or acknowledging being ignored. Yet this was not a night to be ignored! It was an awesome performance. Followed by a good late-night discussion at Cha-cha-cha late into the night.

I believe if we listened to the poets of the world more, we would have a far greater appreciation for the cultures we are currently fearful of. War would evaporate as an option if we saw the world through their eyes. For many in the Iranian international community long to see their homeland again. Intact. As beautiful as it was when they departed for foreign lands. As intact, or better off, as they reflect upon it today.

This poem is written in context for those who wish to reflect upon World War I. This, the upcoming 90th Anniversary of the end of the “War to End All Wars.” It is also in recognition of those who suffered on all sides in the horrific and costly Iran-Iraq War of 1980-1988, which, through its deadly use of chemical weapons and trench warfare, mirrored the older, prior war in far too many ways. It is in recognition of those who strive now to live in peace, and seek to make peace the norm of the Iranian experience. Above all, it is especially for my inspiring new sister-in-the-arts, Niloufar.

My sincere thanks for all the musicians and poets involved in the making of Icarus/Rise. It was a truly marvelous and moving experience for me.

The Red Poppy shed its life for the fallen flower of England
This San Francisco potted soil for fair English-speaking Persian
Music in the dark hole of soul plucked by passionate hand
Light combined with voices raised to forge fantastical immersion

Icarus climbed the sky
Upon his father's waxwork wings
The music groaned a birthing sigh
Bowed and plucked from strings

Then rise to join the souls aloft in aerobatic mirth
Landscapes of silky black and brown and hazelnut
Survey the skin and hair the hues of richest earth
Crestfall then at the news of Icarus' tragic scuttlebutt

Daedalus flew the middle way
Neither fully safe nor all endangered
Music sweet and bitter ended day
A love and longing deep engendered

Thus is how I came to be now an honored brother of Iran
When me, a man of Mountain View, shared imagery with a woman from Tehran

Onwards to adventure!

-Peter.

Out of the Darkness Community Walk

2008-09-17T09:53:00.000-07:00

Help support Peter’s walk Out of the Darkness

• Donate Now!
• Pete’s Calendar:

Out of the Darkness is helping people regain a sense of calm, levity, and normalcy for those at risk of suicide.

Sponsor Peter in the Walk!

September 27, 2008
Crissy Field, San Francisco, CA

• Check-in 8:45 AM
• Walk begins 10:00 AM

• VIP Speaker: Senator Tom Torlakson
• Emcee: John Sasaki, KTVU (Fox 2)
• Diamond Media Sponsor: KTVU (Fox 2)
• Sponsors: John Muir Behavioral Health, Palo Alto Medical Foundation, UCSF

Each year, people commit suicide when they lose all faith, all hope, all enthusiasm. Interests and cares do not drive them to greater things. They burden them down with such weight that every day is a struggle. Very little is simple, calming, content, sweet or joyful. Very little ameliorates the pains, angst, ennui or dissolution they feel. All is dark: life, themselves, their loved ones, their fellow beings, the world, the spiritual and divine, the mundane and daily. They feel lost, or they have lost everything that mattered, or the causes and purpose of their life have been lost or defeated.

Even then, there is hope.

Even then, there can be flowers in the cracks.

Even then, life, and the joy of life, can be restored and renewed.

This is the mystery of love, and the mystery of the human spirit.

Help me raise funds and awareness on behalf of the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention (AFSP), so we can lead others Out of the Darkness.

Help, by your donations, to lead others back to the light. Give so we can help restore that sense of a fruitful, content, productive existence, so they can eventually be once again filled with enthusiasm, joy and love.

“A friend in need is a friend indeed!”

Given the immediate and present crises around the world and here at home — especially during these economically and politically unstable days — it is vital that you give to this cause.

You may never know who is contemplating suicide:

• A family member.
• A relative.
• A friend.
• A neighbor.
• The person who sits next to you at school, at work, or at your place of worship.

Either that, or you do know someone. It may even be you, yourself.

Get help today!

• OutOfTheDarkness.org
• If you are in crisis, call 1-800-273-TALK (8255)

Flowers.

2008-09-16T22:27:00.001-07:00

Poppies, And The Flower of England

2008-09-16T11:09:00.000-07:00

I wrote a post for the Legio X Fretensis blog, “Poppies, And the Flower of England” which directly applies to the artistic themes of Flowers in the Cracks.

It also applies the Global Understanding movement, and the issues it wishes to address between 9/11 and 11/11 of this year, 2008.

More on that another time.

-Peter.

Marrakesh Mint Green Tea

2008-09-14T21:16:00.000-07:00

Server: Purnima
September 14, 2008
Done: 3:32 pm

One walks into Zucca and they are in Paris
Which is strange when one can see Mountain View beyond
The music curls around your body like a cat
Sleek and black and furry
When one dines here they dine a le monde

The mint and the pepper both burn as they soothe
The echoes of the kitchen provide percussion and clatter
The pluck of guitar and the clarinet smooth
Improvisationally accompanies the brunch on the platter

I sit here in bliss as I eat the sweet citrus
The waitstaff converse about both life and work
The siren in French sings with soft voice like a mistress
I’m a voyeur upon a grander life in which I merely lurk

The lovely Slavic princess calls me then
And I step back into the street
We talk about homecomings and make plans for when
We’ll have some time for leisure to once again meet

She’s been around the world while I’ve been just milling here
Sitting in Mountain View in the heart of the Valley
My mind whirling on the American Dream so dear
As I speak on the phone looking at trash cans in the alley

Then with gentle and laughing “Ciaos!” we part in mind
Her to her recuperation and me to my scrambled eggs
I return inside, my virtual Paris to find
“What is real, what simulation?” my confused heart begs.

They chat about true troubled psyches
As I sip my Marrakesh Mint Green Tea
About men and power like feminine Nikes
Victorious women fully independent and free

I hold in my fingers the tag of Mighty Leaf
The Green Knight alone at Zucca’s stone bar
And I reflect how the atmosphere in my heart steeps
Saturating my being like being bathed in a star

Light and pure, truly restoring my soul
Feeding more than belly already sated
Leaving me a bit closer to a sense of being whole
Pondering now what future is fated

The cars and the trees and pedestrians now
Reflect on to me the call of Outside
Yet the quietest conversations of waitresses somehow
Holds me fast to the place like a gravitational tide

Drifting in time as exotic music arabesques
Swirling around my ears as brunch disappears
Celebrating the world free of work tied to desks
Relaxing as women’s chatter flows past my ears

The time for all words is now nearing end
They are insufficient to capture the moment
The taste of the eggs and the beat of the drum send
Harmonic perfection beyond further comment

Copyright © 2008 Peter Corless

Lunch at Hobee’s 9/11/2008

2008-09-13T13:52:00.000-07:00

Three people by the window talk about town
The bicyclist in blue near the back
The delivery guy with the big box in brown
The beautiful music from small speakers in black

Today is 9/11, though you wouldn’t know it here
Mexicanos serve with a smile or shy grin
Sipping ice tea in comfort without worry or fear
To enjoy life again is natural, not sin

The patter of music and the soft pats of butter
The soup and the salad, the orange in slices
The bills and the thank yous, and do you want another?
The words and the tones and the light and the spices

“Hasta luego,’ mi amigas y amigos
Enjoy a new day unlike the ones prior
I am free to enjoy however the day goes
To raise my sights and to raise my prayers higher

To ceiling, where plants hang along with a banner
“Fast, fresh and friendly,” a motto for life
To consider a life lived in civilized manner
Enjoying a brunch without worry or strife

Crescendo the symphony in placid release
Then start a new movement in lyrical vein
Take a deep breath and now exhale in peace
Step into the sunlight o cross tracks for the train

May you all find a Hobee’s to nourish the heart
And a flower in the cracks to inspire your art.

Copyright © 2008 Peter Corless

Flowers in the Cracks / Global Understanding - Take Pictures on September 11, 2008

2008-09-10T16:08:00.000-07:00

A long post. A good post, I pray.

Peace be unto you all!

-Pete.

The American Dream

2008-09-04T09:21:00.000-07:00

This weekend, the first movie influenced by the Flowers in the Cracks will enter production: The American Dream.

Tune in to TheAmericanDreamMovie.blogspot.com to keep abreast of production developments. This short film will be comprised of an all-volunteer army of cast and crew.

Yes, it is happening.

Woot!

-Pete.

Flowers all over the place!

2008-09-03T17:45:00.001-07:00

I recently have been exposed to tons of flowers bounding out of the cracks.

The San Mateo County fair had oodles of them. An army of pretty, sedate, calming blooms and vases of Ikebana, specifically Ikenobo.

The College of San Mateo had a lecture of their particular flower arranging aesthetics. I sat on a bench in front of the Homeland Security booth advertising the services for agricultural import safety and customs inspection, and listened to a placid discussion on how to snip flowers in the crisp and precise way to please the eye and sooth the soul.

It was after this experience, that lovely day I wandered with Jodi Shepard & Son & Daughter at the County Fair, got a ticket for the Al Yankovic concert, and wrote my poem for our departed friend Terry Young, that life bloomed for me in so many ways.

Yet life was not being as fruitful for other friends of mine. The brother of a dear friend of mine had been, unbeknownst to me, suffering from cancer. I caught up with my friend and her family recently. This includes my friend, her son, her brother and his wife. A small family faced with a big challenge. Liver cancer.

It wasn't time for theoretical ideals any more. I knew this man. I know what this means to my friends. I can feel it in my own skin. I know what it felt like when my own mother was diagnosed with cancer, and we were facing the treatments. I had to take some days off before writing about this because this is serious.

Right now, I still await to hear word about the surgery my friend's brother, hence, my friend, was planned to undergo. If all went as planned, he's recovering. Yet it will take time to discover whether the cancer is in recession or not.

As it stood on those days after I first learned he was sufferering, I just knew two things: 1) people who have hope to survive stand a far better chance of pulling through and 2) I was going to give my friend every hope to hold on for the sake of his family. His loved ones.

Right now, my two Ree Slocum prints, the first of the brilliant orange California Poppies (with some dazzling azure flowers interspersed) and the second of the subtle purplish-to-blue Blue Peter, are on loan to my friend's family. They need these beautiful flowers more than I do. They can look down on my buddy, and say, “It's alright. You rest up. No need to water us. We're just pictures. We'll watch over you as you watch us."

Yet I also went to Fleurty, on Central Avenue, right next to Hobee's, to get some good flowers. Arranged. Tina and I considered the seriousness of the situation. I was near in tears at times. My voice caught and squeaked a bit.

I asked for the Gladiola (pl. gladioli, Latin). Because they are the “sword flower.” From the same Latin that we get gladius and gladiator from. Swords and swordsmen. Because the sword represents insight — cutting through to see what is inside. Like the doctor’s scalpel on his cancer. And because this guy is in for the fight of his life. I wanted the gladioli not to be funereal, as they sometimes are, but triumphant. A masculine return to their meaning.

Next was the rose. To represent love. Love of this man, my friend, even if I met less times in my life than there are fingers on one hand. Because I know how much he means to his sister. Because I know how much his sister means to me as a friend. And how close this family is to each other. This is the war of love over despair.

Finally, the chrysanthemum. These were light green-gold. Lighter green than limes. Somewhere between yellow lemons and lime green. Delicate, curled in on themselves. They symbolize a form of ever-blooming life: “optimism and joy.” I knew they were the symbol of a fictional imperial family, from Legend of the Five Rings. I did not know until I read this right now:

“A symbol of the sun, the Japanese consider the orderly unfolding of the chrysanthemum’s petals to represent perfection, and Confucius once suggested they be used as an object of meditation. It’s said that a single petal of this celebrated flower placed at the bottom of a wine glass will encourage a long and healthy life.”

If that's the case, I’ll get my friend some more of these precious pompom flowers!

If you’d like to get more flowers from Tina:

Fleurty
2320 Central Expressway
Mountain View, CA 94043
650-965-2121

Tell them “I read about you on Flowers in the Cracks.”

Balls of furry.

2008-08-28T23:58:00.000-07:00

Bees are furry little yellow balls full of energy. And I can prove it to you .

Black and white.

2008-08-23T00:41:00.000-07:00

Boston's Flower in the Crack

2008-08-22T14:23:00.000-07:00

The beginning

2008-08-21T01:44:00.000-07:00

Today is no different than any other day.

But are you sure of that?

What if today is the beginning of something constructive, something that can make not only a difference for you, but for everybody that surrounds you?

What if today is the second chance you have been waiting for your entire existence?

Would you believe me if I am telling you that everyday is a second chance?

How about meeting someone that sees every day as a second chance?

My name is Franklin, and I am this kind of guy.

I am now part of Flowers in the Cracks, an artistic movement that records the beauty of the so called “ordinary life”, because I am telling you, there is no such thing as an ugly flower.

It's because there are only people.

It's because you get only one life.

In some way or another, Flowers in the Cracks will make sure that you too will embrace this state of mind. It can be a photograph, a painting, a poem… You might never see it, but I can assure you that we will try hard to speak out how life can be generous and delicate in its own way.

As you can understand, today is no ordinary day.

Today is the beginning.

Franklin.

Une ligne droite est la promesse d'une courbe.

Renewal of Life and Light: A Single Light and Out of the Darkness

2008-08-18T00:00:00.000-07:00

See the blog for Peter Corless regarding my commitments for two non-profits.

Meetings Starting Afresh!

2008-08-11T00:55:00.000-07:00

Flowers in the Cracks is now meeting again. We met on August 2, for a walk around the Palo Alto Duck Pond, then again on August 7th.

The participants now include myself (Peter Corless), Tatiana (Tanya) Scutelnic, Franklin Pham, and Tri P. Le. (Yes, it spells "Triple.")

I have also been in touch recently with Vien Phuong Nguyen, a friend of Franklin's, who is interested in participating in the future.

Flowers in the Cracks is growing from a movement towards an organization.

Flowers in the Cracks as an artistic movement remains the same. We encourage everyone to explore and be conscious of the “flowers in the cracks” they encounter in the world around them in their own way.

Peter Corless, Founder, Flowers in the Cracks
Photograph by Franklin Pham

Meanwhile, we are also working towards preparing the paperwork to make Flowers in the Cracks Artists Alliance as a formal organization; specifically a 501(c)(3) non-profit corporation. That would allow us to do business for charitable and educational purposes. For instance, if we wanted to have an adult or students arts program, or an arts therapy program, or a concert/art show, or other programs for public benefit. Those are ambitious thoughts. For now, we're still just taking pictures!

I wanted to send my best wishes out to Ree Slocum, of Arcadian Images. She is quite busy this time of the year. She is going to be in the local area twice, at the Palo Alto Festival of the Arts (August 23-24) and also at the Mountain View Art and Wine Fair (September 6-7). Her site also says she is having a one-woman show at Bella Flora Gallery, Heritage House in Mendocino if you get out that way.

Rockaway Beach, Queens

2006-11-28T10:20:00.000-08:00

Slipper Orchid, New York 2006

2006-10-11T07:06:00.000-07:00

The Humblebee & Ree, Plus Other Flowers at the Faire

2006-05-16T00:51:00.000-07:00

Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote a poem about the Humblebee:

Insect lover of the sun,
Joy of thy dominion!
Sailor of the atmosphere,
Swimmer through the waves of air,
Voyager of light and noon,
Epicurean of June,
Wait I prithee, till I come
Within ear-shot of thy hum,—
All without is martyrdom.

This is not to be confused with Humblebee Records, who produce such sweet music as the Loveninjas and Apple Orchard ("A Hiding Smile" is particularly perfect for a lazy summery day).

I was reminded of the relation of bees to flowers when I saw Liz Hilderbrand of the Humble Gourmet at the Stanford Spring Faire this Mother's Day. She sold me a delightful jar of peppermint honey. It is very powerful stuff! She had never heard the name "humblebee" before. It is what the British name what we Americans call the "bumblebee." I prefer the term "humblebee," because it seems jollier and less insulting. The creatures do their work quite humbly and happily, regardless of whether they do seem to jostle and bump into things from time-to-time. I'd prefer to focus on their forte than their foible.

Liz and I spoke briefly about the virtue of humility. Many people think poorly of humbleness in modern America, and Liz lamented how she had to defend the very name of her enterprise from time-to-time.

So I told her about the medieval Christian belief: humility was a shield against the sin of pride. One of the seven virtues to defend against the seven vices. Was not humility one reason (the other being chastity) why Galahad was able to achieve the Grail? Indeed, Ector de Maris was barred from entry to the Grail Feast because he was (quite literally) on his high horse, and deemed too proud to enter.

The honey bee is a symbol of happy industry combined with humility, often associated with monastics. Therefore, I thought it quite appropriate for the Humble Gourmet to sell the sweet product of the bee.

The reason I was there in the first place was right across the way in the stall opposite the Humble Gourmet. Liz was working across from Ree Slocum, of Arcadian Images. I had met Ree the weekend before at the Mountain View street faire. On that day a week ago I met my friend Richard Henkus and we had wandered about chatting and shopping. After going our separate ways I wandered into Ree's booth, attracted like a bee to the flowers she had on display.

While I have been taking more images for the project since the beginning of 2006, Ree has been doing her work for years. I was in awe of her vision and aesthetic sense. I was glad to speak with her and helped her break down and pack up her booth at the end of the show. Goodness knows how many trade shows I've been to in my day—I know what those final hours can feel like! So I was glad to help her get all squared away. In return, she gifted me with a beautiful image of poppies with an accent of purple lupins.

I told her of the wonderful old Monty Python sketch about Dennis Moore. That was the first time I had ever heard of lupins. Ever since then I cannot help but chuckle at the thought of lupins and the distribution of wealth. I also keep thinking about the Existential Blues whenever someone mentions poppies. (...poppies ...poppies!) So it was an honor and a quirk of fate and humor that I received an image of poppies and lupins in thanks from Ree.

• See Carrizo Plain Poppies, Ree Slocum, Arcadian Images

This last week I also brought a friend with me to meet Ree. My fellow Flowers in the Cracks colleague, Tatiana (Emma) Scutelnic. She was utterly fascinated by the 35th Annual Stanford Powwow at the Eucalyptus Grove at Stanford, held the same day. The Native American dancers from so many tribes had utterly enthralled her: their songs, their costumes, their dance. As I was making my way over I gave her a cell phone call. She excitedly spoke about how she had always wanted to see such things herself. Tatiana was amazed at it all.

After spending a fair deal of time there, meeting a pair of Tatiana's friends and witnessing the panopoly of dancers, and also stopping in to look at the jewelry of Nathan Lefthand (being left-handed I was quite interested to see what he had for sale) we made our way to Ree's booth at the other side of the Stanford campus. It was two completely separate faires. Three, actually. There was also a sports-oriented faire where we saw a band performing near the swimming pool. The band was great. I had passed by and heard the Stanford band playing on the way over to see Tatiana. We stopped to listen to their funky music briefly before heading on our way towards the Spring Faire by the campus bookstore.

I was utterly pleased to put Ree and Tatiana in touch with each other. For now, it was a simple introduction. We'll see if anything more comes of it in the course of time.

Tatiana was also struck with the beauty of Ree's images. And they are! I still love the image of the calla lily.

Tatiana had to depart early to say farewell to some friends leaving the country. I also did not want to crowd Ree's booth and chase away her patrons. So alone I wandered about the faire to explore and speak to other people. A second photographer in particular struck me: Youssef Ismail, the principal at Organic Light Photography.

Youssef's images are silent hymns. Prayers of light. He is a deeply spiritual man who remains bouyant and filled with positive faith. His family is Shi'ite. He himself is Sunni Muslim, with Sufi influences. Sufi? Yes, it turns out he knew my old Aikido sensei, who was also Sufi. We had a connection there.

Youssef also knew Ree's work, and admired it greatly. I told Youssef about my own project, Flowers in the Cracks, and offered that if there was any way we might all collaborate together, we might want to see what we could do. Maybe an art exhibition at a gallery or museum? Some consortia to better sell their images to individuals and businesses?

I also mentioned Youssef to Ree later, and she admired his work in turn. They were already in mutual admiration on a professional basis. It's all good stuff! The law of networking says that the power of a network is equal to its nodes squared. So the more of us working towards the same ends the better we can do if we support each other. All the flowers striving to help each other rise through our own cracks and establish ourselves in whatever places we seek to plant ourselves.

It was still at the stage of initial introductions and mutual exchange of business cards, handshakes, and ideas, but it was quite a tremendously positive feeling to speak to Youssef.

The other photographer I met at the faire was Marv Poulson of Imagedancer. His works are of organic shapes. Yet he can make stone look fluid, based on the wind and water-swept sandstone of the Utah wilderness. Ree introduced me to him. Marv was happy traveling with his three dogs, though a few of them are getting up in years. I spent the least time with him face-to-face of all the artists I met this weekend, yet I did more research and came across this quote:

The notion of quality naturally embraces subjectivity beyond most judgmentally derived concepts. For me, the idea of photographic quality begins with desire. This means love, passion, questing, striving . . . for making pictures. I believe when you really like to do something, it shows in the results.

As many of you know, I'm always in support of a fellow traveler on their quest! Best wishes to you wherever you are this day, Marv.

As the faire drew to a close, once again I helped Ree break down her booth, and we both helped a fellow jeweler we knew from the Mountain View show. Once again I received a print in kind regard for my assistance. In this case, it was the first print I took off the pile of those I had helped carefully pack away.

Little did I know at the time, but later I was to discover it was a variety of rhododendron called the Blue Peter. Though I wouldn't know one rhododenron from another I knew the vexilological reference. The Blue Peter is the maritime signal flag for the letter "P." Raised alone it is the symbol that you are all aboard and about to head to sea. It is also, as I have discovered, a popular British television show.

Returning to the themes of honey and discovery in a new light, there were many other photographers, artists and craftspersons at the show I did not get to meet, including Chris Honeysett. There were just too many to meet in one afternoon before the show had to pack up and move on. There are ever going to be more people to bring into a circle of friends and a network of contacts. Fortunately, as I was once taught by an Irishman, "The man who made time..." (here one pauses and nods knowingly and waits a while with a friendly smile) "...made plenty of it!" Hopefully we'll have time to explore more of these above-mentioned artists their works, and the works of others as Flowers in the Cracks blooms over the coming days.

Before I conclude tonight, there was one more organization that I ran into this Mother's Day I am thinking of quite a bit tonight. FuturesForChildren.org helps young Native American men and women through school and partners them with mentors. A few years ago for personal reasons, my friend Kathy and I drove out to the Zia Indian Reservation. I remember the starkness of the setting. Here were the people whose sun-symbol graces their own flag as it does the flag of New Mexico. It was a quiet place. Our trip was brief. We drove around, saw what it was like, then slipped away quietly on our trek to California. I wondered at the time what I might do to help.

Apparently this year I may have an answer. I have no children of my own to take care of. Yet now I may financially extend myself to aid others far away.

Now I feel like Jack Nicholson in About Schmidt. I'm not alone. Many people, it seems, are writing today to Dear Ndugu. Unlike the fictional child in Africa, I am hoping to support someone closer to home. Someone very real, who needs educational and fiscal support. Conversely, and quite humbly, I must admit there's something in my own spirit that needs support; that needs to do this just as much as someone else needs for me to do it. What little I may give in fiscal support is, in a way, a contribution to salve the pain in my own heart. For I'd love to have children of my own, and yet, I do not.

To support someone else's child is the least I can do until I have my own. It is a comfort to my own solitude to help children, any children, even if they are not my own biological progeny. This same sort of connection with the distant Ndugu seemed to help Schmidt in the movie to get his own feelings straightened out regarding his own estranged daughter and his life in general. Perhaps, if I give a little of myself, I might be able to straighten a few things out so I might be able to welcome whatever family will manifest itself in my own life in due time.

Santa Claus never had children of his own, yet he does well giving presents to the children of other people. I've been a game designer with the wistful hope that I might be considered one of Santa's Helpers. In a similar vein, I can perhaps give more pragmatic gifts to put a child through school.

I met the Futures for Children group when I was wandering through the Powwow with Tatiana. I had taken their information after speaking to them about Alpha Phi Omega, the National Service Fraternity. A long while ago, I took a life pledge to the principles of leadership, friendship, and service. It seemed to resonate with the same goals of Futures for Children, though the staffers had never heard of A-Phi-O before. I suggested they look them up to see if there was way to connect the two organizations.

So Sunday night I sat in a booth eating dinner at Fresh Choice, reading over the Futures For Children brochures and newsletters. I watched the families sitting down to eat together on Mother's Day. I thought about all that was on my own plate, both literally and figuratively. I said my prayers and was thankful for all that I had been given so far in life. In silence, I resolved to give back what I could, as I am able.

These are just a few of the people who touched my life this weekend. I hope their work touches your life as well, and through that touch, your soul is transformed. And through that spiritual transformation, your life leads to a manifestation. A new direction of growth. Some "Flower in the Crack" of your own life.

Finally, I also wanted to wish a happy Mother's Day to my own mother, Beatrice Corless, and to her mother, Olivia Conlon, who passed away this Epiphany, and my paternal grandmother Mary Corless, who passed away years before. Also to my sister Catherine, who has been a mother since late 2001, and to my sisters-in-law Cecilia and Judy, who are now new mothers for the first time this Mother's Day, 2006. And to all the mothers and grandmothers who made my life possible, and all our lives possible, back through the centuries to this day. And to my godmother, Jeanine Conlon, and to all the spiritual mothers of the world.

Here are some roses for you all. Enjoy!

Springtime

2006-05-01T11:11:00.000-07:00

Springtime in New York City, Jamaica Bay, Queens.

Printing Possibilities

2006-04-15T11:29:00.000-07:00

It is possible that I might be granted a 1-month beta of a new color printer. If that's possible, than we might put together small color books for Flowers in the Cracks pronto.

I am really hoping that the company offering the printer doesn't rescind the offer, and that we are approved for the beta. We met for brunch at Hobee's the other day, which is always a good way to begin a business possibility.

They liked my ideas for how the printer might be used even beyond Flowers in the Cracks. They initially called me because Green Knight Publishing was listed in the phone book. Yet I would like to see all the ways it could be used, especially to benefit this project.

It might evaporate, as the Rutles would say, "like dreams in the cold light of day." Yet for now, this is a great possibility to get works printed in a new and surprising way that I had not anticipated. Let's see what happens next!

-Peter.

Roadlife

2006-04-05T18:31:00.000-07:00

Roadlife is

Adventure unbridled
The infinity of the
Vanishing point

An eager new
perspective on
Your world

This is Emma's latest photograph for Flowers in the Cracks. Enjoy!

-Peter Corless.

Emma Scutelnic

2006-03-28T16:06:00.000-08:00

A Tree Grows in San Francisco, 2006

Today I'd like to introduce you to another member of Flowers in the Cracks: Emma Scutelnic. She is a photographer based in the San Francisco Bay Area. Specifically, Palo Alto. She lives not far from the first place I worked in California: the old corporate headquarters building of ComputerWare.

I met Emma the night of the 2006 Martin Luther King, Jr. Day Freedom Train. She was heading home, and smiled at me when I sang my little heart out at the San Francisco CalTrain station, as I am often wont to do. We struck up a conversation on the ride back home, and we've been good friends since. Emma came with me to the evening with Liz Perle at Books, Inc.

She is originally from Moldova, an Eastern European country bordered by the Prut and Dneister rivers, cozily nestled between Romania and Ukraine.

Since coming here, she has been using her camera to capture images of the San Francisco Bay Area. One of her favorite English expressions is "It is most beautiful." And Emma sees beauty almost everywhere she goes. In every nook and cranny she can see life, no matter how modest.

I'm sure she would laugh and assure me she often sees things that are not very beautiful! Yet still, she has the eyes of an aesthete, a mind and heart of an artist, and a good-natured soul.

Planet Planter, 2006

Seeing the World with Emma's Eyes

Walking sopping wet
Camera-laden grasshopper
Espies the western world
With curious delight

A tree grows in San Francisco
A gnarled vine grips fast to a fence
Clover comes up through the cracks
An ant's-eye view makes a planter immense

Wildly wind-tossed scarf
Whips against the trusty backpack
She explores the world
Capturing life in light

The night after we met, I found Emma's photos elsewhere on the Internet, so I emailed her to continue our friendship and conversation. From the first I was impressed by her artistic sense. One of her photographs is now the background image of my Macintosh desktop. When I first mentioned Flowers in the Cracks to her, she was curious. As we talked, it was soon clear to her this was a project she would like to participate in. Since then she has been going around the Bay Area with her camera in hand and her keen eye to frame the world she lives in.

In the Clover, 2006

These images are from February of 2006. They are part of a series she took for Flowers in the Cracks. Some are in rain and others were in sunshine. We sat together and agreed which of the many photographs we'd put up for this first presentation. For now, we will show those with the a cool, wet nature. The sort of weather that causes us to throw on a sweater and duck indoors. Yet Emma walked about in the elements, considering the theme of the project until she finally found these emergent jewels of light and shape.

Feature & Poem Copyright © 2006 Peter Corless
Images Copyright © 2006 Emma Scutelnic

Sands of Time

2006-03-17T11:07:00.000-08:00

Rockaway, NYC 2006

Nature images

2006-03-17T11:00:00.000-08:00

I am interested in exploring sublime beauty in nature. These images were taken in Springfield, MA January 1st of this year using a macro 50mm Canon lens on a Canon 5D camera.

A Big Day Yesterday

2006-03-08T10:27:00.000-08:00

Tobey Mathews Live!

First, yesterday Tobey and I got together. We really got together. We got it together.

It was a true bonding experience. Man-to-man. Person-to-person. Grins all around. One of the best experiences you could ever hope to have.

We drove around and spoke about John Steinbeck's The Acts of King Arthur and His Noble Knights. We spoke about his life, and his friends and his poetry and music, and I spoke a bit about mine.

We broke bread—quite literally by eating the soup bowls at Panera Bread in Cupertino.

We had lessons about microeconomics and business all afternoon. I told him about Vroom's Expectancy Theory, which I'm studying in graduate school for my MBA, and how that explains human motivation and personal drive. We went over inventory turns and theories of supply. (Demand and demand generation will come down the pike.) We worked on half-a-dozen things to make his life more professional, positive, presentable.

We celebrated the beginning of his own blog. His mother called and was delighted to hear about all we had accomplished in one day together.

We drove around listening—really listening—to Bob Marley's Legend album on the way home. We spoke about what the impact of the suicide of others meant to each of us. I invited him to come with me on The Overnight this summer. Other people can donate money. I thought it would be good for his soul if he wanted to walk on through the night. Especially after listening to "No Woman No Cry."

Good friends we have had, oh good friends we've lost along the way
In this bright future you can't forget your past
So dry your tears I say
...
My feet is my only carriage
So I've got to push on through
...
Ev'rything's gonna be alright
Ev'rything's gonna be alright
Ev'rything's gonna be alright
Ev'rything's gonna be alright
Ev'rything's gonna be alright
Ev'rything's gonna be alright
Ev'rything's gonna be alright
Ev'rything's gonna be alright

Amen, Bob!

We listened to those words, and many other words of Bob Marley and the Wailers. We talked about history and how vital those years of Bob Marley's life were in history. How Biblical his lyrics were. Now we were making history, and we knew it. We had great grins on our faces. Legend is a great CD. I lent it to Tobey, along with a few books on King Arthur.

We parted each other's company to the transforming and transcendental strains of Steve Miller's Fly Like an Eagle. (Gotta love KFOG.)

Emma & Pete & Liz Perle & Luis Ignatio Nava & Books, Inc.

After dropping off Tobey, I met with Tatiana Emma Scutelnic, a Bay Area photographer also participating in Flowers in the Cracks.

Together we saw Liz Perle talk about Money, A Memoir at Books, Inc. I'll get a review of that event posted in due time. I took copious notes on my Treo, and even snapped a few pictures.

Emma and I had dinner at Pasta? on Castro Street in Mountain View. During dinner we spoke about many things, from Adam Smith and Karl Marx, to the concepts of extended reciprocity. Emma spoke about her family. I shared some of my own personal history.

We considered Liz Perle's book some more. Liz Perle had saliently pointed out how important, and at the same time unimportant, thoughts about money are to women. (What was also important to us both at the time was dinner! I had the chicken. Emma the spaghetti. It was very good!)

After dinner we went back to Books, Inc. to go over photographs Emma has taken for the project. Before we settled down to work, the man at the next table introduced himself. I had spied a cover of The Economist he was reading, about the war: Iraq, At War With Itself.

We spoke about the article I wrote: No Dog Tags Allowed.

His name was Luis Ignacio Nava. A gymnastics coach. He was wearing an old faded jacket from the US Olympics Training Center. He spoke about his life in Mexico. He spoke about his past coaching at SJSU. He was passionate about Noam Chomsky and Howard Zinn, and showed me a DVD he had of them both and another speaker from 2003, just at the start of the US-Iraq war. I could tell there was a great deal of the story I hadn't heard about his past. He was very pro-peace. Yet here was a man who was alienated in some way. In a way I could tell he had no peace. He was searching for answers. He had answers he wanted others to hear. We shared email addresses, and maybe we'll cross paths again.

When we parted I bid him "Vaya con Dios!" And he smiled and chattered back in rapid-fire Spanish I couldn't catch. I just saw that broad grin.

Today, preparing writing this, I found out his nickname is "Nacho." Onwards to adventure, Nacho!

Emma and I got down to work. We huddled around my faithful Macintosh. We slipped in the CD of her photos. Up they came in Photoshop. They are simply beautiful! Trees! Vines! Grass! Algae! Clover! Bricks and fences! Grilles and hydrants! Pavement and asphalt! The organic and the inorganic was right there along with the rain and the sunshine and the human and natural elements of her experience.

In due time, we will present some here.

We spent the rest of the time until Books, Inc. stacked the chairs in the upstairs café and shuttered its doors talking about beauty and flowers and photography and Emma's vision and philosophy. In due time we will post that interview here too. Because Emma is Moldovan, and is still learning English, she is more comfortable speaking to me directly. For now, she will be my "eyes" with a camera, and I will be her "words" upon the page. Much the same way Ilona will be the project's "eyes" in New York City.

On our way to drop Emma off, we found we both like Bob Marley. We sang together Is This Love?

This project is about a renewal of life, good feelings and spirits. Yesterday was a banner day. A big day.

I hope you had a good one too. If it wasn't, as the Buddha would say, "This too shall pass." Remember Bob Marley's words of hope: "Everything's gonna be alright."

Introducing Tobey Mathews, Poet

2006-03-04T15:42:00.000-08:00

Tobey Mathews is a new, emerging San Francisco Bay Area poet. Today, on a pleasant Saturday morning, Tobey, his mother Vickie, and I met for brunch at Hobee's Restaurant in Mountain View. It was a great conversation that roved from poetry to business, the Internet, publishing, education and intellectual property law, to rap music and personal ethics. Tobey and I are going to work together over the coming months on a number of different projects, not least of which is getting his poetry published. For now, here's a poem from his own imagination. He wrote it as we sat and waited for our breakfast.

— Peter Corless, 4 March 2006

Crooked_Sidewalks

_{Cold, dry, traffic
Running through your cranium.
Sleepless, aware, lost
Wandering through the dark.
You're thinking about
That last resort.
About the consequences.
"Don't die tonight."

Pray up to heaven sky,
You're living dead.
You needed the spirit to
Walk with you,
Walk you through,
Caught in the middle of confusion.
Feels like the devil is doing
nothing but stalking you.

Outside it's cold
but pay no mind.
It's evil inside of
a man's mind.
Overcome my fear,
Overcome yourself,
Overcome his spear.

Champions envision victory
when others see defeat?
You dropped to the floor
soon as the cannon took you off your feet.

Head down tears falling
So scary so startling.
Throughout the whole demented nation
Your practice your indignation.

You threaten God with your
Questions about the situations?
It's all for a reason,
It's all for a reason.

Why?

"Lord, insanity is all that's come over me.
I spend my time premeditating
Demons in my sleep.
They keep a hold of me.
Protect my soul,
Protect my vicinity."

All in mind that this place is breaking me
So close to taking another's life for survival
101 enemies
200-something rivals.
Seems like that's how it is but
You're a champion
Living through the fire.

Copyright © 2006 Tarik "Tobey" Mathews}

Liz Perle in Mountain View, 7 March 2006

2006-03-04T15:40:00.000-08:00

Liz Perle will be in Mountain View, California at Book's Inc. on Castro Street this Tuesday, 7 March 2006.

I still have to do my report on Max Barry, who was also recently at Books, Inc. (That review will be over on my own personal blog, petercorless.blogspot.com site in due time).

My friend has been reading the copy of Liz' book I bought. With all the other stuff on my plate I'll only just be able to snag a look at it before Tuesday! Meanwhile, I've been hearing episodes from the story, plus my friend's interpretation and commentary. It's been curious to hear about Liz. It's delightful to think, "Ah! Here's an author I could meet on a Tuesday night."

Hopefully nothing will intercede with my schedule between now and then.

-Peter.

Update on Justice Divine

2006-02-27T18:17:00.000-08:00

Blog!

Justice Divine now has a blog, which is just a quick placeholder I set up for her. She's also been making progress on her book. Today we had a conversational lesson of how a "flower" may grow and thrive even in the hard stone of business reality.

Computer Needs a Modem & Appeal for Donations

We can use help by getting a donated external 56K modem for an old Macintosh so she could get access to the Internet. (It is presently running OS 9, but with an ancient 14.4K internal modem. Do any ISPs even support 14.4K dial-up any more?) If you'd like to donate other new or old computer equipment, Justice could use her own system (rather than borrowing the old computer from me). We also have another author that could use his own system. Contact me if you have a bona fide offer to donate (not sell) working old computer systems. We're not a non-profit corporation, such as a 501(c)3, nor are we a charity. Yet your generosity would certainly be appreciated by the burgeoning creative principals we have in our project.

Publishing 101

Justice and I spoke today about the microeconomics of printing and publishing and selling books. We spoke about Cost of Goods Sold (COGS) and what an International Standard Book Number (ISBN) means. The former is a requirement to calculate if you ever want to know your product's per-unit expenses. We definitely want to keep track of COGS, though, to make sure we're successful—thus ensuring we can do this again and again! The latter is a requirement if you ever want to sell the book through the channel of booksellers nationwide. We might do her first book as a limited edition, sold direct, which would mean that the latter is not a requirement for now.

With a call I got a price quote for a limited quantity of a short print run of books. From that, we spoke about price-per-unit and what we'd need to reasonably set as the product price to make back our costs. We also spoke about how the price might be similar or different for an e-download copy of the same product.

It was a good, up-front conversation early in the process. Many authors and artists only get educated regarding the economics and business aspects of creativity late in the process and are surprised in the final analysis of how money is involved in the final production of their work. So today we took a bit of time to speak about what it would take to e-publish, and how much it would take to small-print-run publish her work.

We also spoke about contracts, and retaining intellectual property rights (such as copyright) versus assigning rights as part of "Work-for-Hire." We are both agreed Justice will retain copyright and ownership of her own works in whatever relationship we move forward with. We'll work more on a revenue split model when we go forward than for me to "buy her out" as a publisher and own all her rights.

Justice is not a "softie" when it comes to protecting her work! She's quite eager to do a professional job and quite understanding of what it's going to take to be successful. She also is interested in making sure her work is properly valued.

While we are in close agreement on some ideas for initial packaging, publishing and pricing for a web-book sold over the Internet or small limited print run sold locally in the Bay Area, we have not made any formal decisions. Certainly we'd have to think quite a bit before we approach doing a full-scale print run or approached another publisher. It quite a dose of reality to deal with when you consider large-scale costs, inventory and channel management. We're still a way off from that conversation.

For today, there's a small new blossom: her very own first blog, which, admittedly, I set up on her behalf. Hopefully in the days ahead you'll be hearing more about her stories and her work process.

-Peter Corless.
petercorless | @ | mac.com
650-964-4276 (home office)

No Pity

2006-02-24T14:43:00.000-08:00

Jean Grewe is another hero of mine today!

Congratulations to Ilona!

2006-02-24T11:04:00.000-08:00

Ilona Leiberman just had a wondrous bouquet of success! Huzzah!

Here's her flowers in the cracks for the week: her photograph of actor Philip Seymour Hoffman just got printed in Time magazine (27 Feb 2006 issue; here's a link to the online article sans photograph.).

She's taken a good number of photos of the actor who starred in Capote, which you can find on MSN (including the one labelled "In Focus.") You can also see more Philip Seymour Hoffman at Ilona's own web site, IlonaLieberman.com.

Ilona's photo was used in an article on the Oscar®-nominated stars this year, and as we know, he was nominated for an Oscar for Actor in a Leading Role. My own favorite appearance of him was in the movie Almost Famous. A close second was in Cold Mountain.

I have to admit I did not see him in Capote. I have seen him in Next Stop Wonderland (a wonderful and modest film), Twister (where I was convinced he must have once attended a computer or networking or roleplaying convention based on his geekiness), Boogie Nights (which reminded me why the 1970s seemed so sad and depressing, even as a kid), and Scent of a Woman (where sadly, I cannot recall exactly what he did for the movie! I am sure true fans can remind me of the scenes he was in, or maybe I'll rent it again). He often seems to play sloppy or sleazy characters. Maybe Capote will be a watershed movie for him, opening up new types of roles, especially leading roles.

For now, this is great exposure for Ilona's work. She'll be focusing for now on her Time in the sun, as it were. Go Ilona, go!

Liz Perle — Good to See Her Smile

2006-02-10T10:28:00.000-08:00

Liz Perle, authoress of Money: A Memoir, was recently quoted in Oprah's February 2006 issue as saying, "My divorce left me homeless with a 4-year old in tow—I needed to figure out how I ended up there."

She confessed that she had married a man who liked to control the money. I must confess, I love to earn the money, but I am terrible at controlling it. I just always (so far) had more than what I owed, so I am living a rather debt-free existence. However, I am a terrible "money manager," in terms of microeconomics. I suppose there are some men and some women who love to balance the checkbook. I suppose I just like to earn X and spend Y, where Y is less than X by some nice Z value.

Liz Perle was guardedly smiling in her photo in "O" magazine. Her face was turned slightly to the side. She admitted later in the brief interview "Just the other day I bought a $350 coat. And when I showed it to my husband, I told him it cost $300. It was completely involuntary, and I just laughed."

First of all, congratulations Liz! Inferentially you weathered the homelessness and are now remarried. Huzzah! That's great! It should give some comfort to other women in such a predicament that there's hope for great things to come. Remarriage. Celebrating the flowers blooming again after seeing so much of the hard pavement.

When people ask me "What is Flowers in the Cracks?" it reminds me of the basic questions of aesthetics. What is beauty? And from that, what is art? Does art need to be beautiful?

Flowers in the cracks celebrates the renewal of organic growth, yet also recognizes the organic structures of the inorganic. Rocks crack in organic shapes from pressures of water and wind and temperature change from sunlight and snow. Flowers spring up through them.

Each of us is a Flower in the Crack. Today, I celebrate Liz Perle's flower blooming in the crack. Even if she seems set enough now to bloom in Bloomingdales! We should all be so lucky, yes?

Liz lives just north of here in San Francisco, California, according to her biography. She is working for the non-profit Common Sense Media where you are allowed to make family-friendly reviews for parents, and where you can read parenting tips. She is married and living with her two children. So things definitely have improved since she was homeless with one four-year-old child.

Liz' bio photo on her site still has a sideways glance to it. A bit of a coyness. Still the "Can you believe it?" implicit question. A wryness in the tilt of her head. It's softer than her crisp, wintery air photo in "O," and I am glad to see it. It is more relaxed. I like all the books behind her.

However Liz Perle manages to find her smile, that's great. That's the flower in the crack. The upward curl of her lips. For the other Liz Perles of life, I hope you find your own way to navigate through life and find that smile at the end of the day.

Let me introduce myself...

2006-02-08T07:45:00.000-08:00

Hello, my name is Ilona Lieberman, I am a photographer based in New York City. My interest in photography is the depiction of the human spirit and to capture moments in time honestly and poignantly. Recently, I have been exploring themes of decay and rebirth on the urban landscape in New York City. My aim, as a creative principal in Flowers In The Cracks, is to develop a visual style that will allow me to incorporate both my personal interest in beauty as well as the address themes of joy and renewal that are the core of this project.

Peter Corless and I have known each other for almost three decades. As our lives have crossed paths once again, I have come to both appreciate and respect Peter as an artist, philosopher and overall decent human being. I look forward to the continued growth of our project, Flowers In The Cracks, as well as working with you all in this artistic collaboration.

A Poem About My Death

2006-02-07T13:06:00.000-08:00

Here's today's creative contribution. Actually, it was from a few weeks ago. I just got to post it the other day on my own blog, and link to it from here:

Flowers in the Cracks, or My Death at the Feet of the Muses

The poem, though ostensibly about death, is truly about the death of ego, and the rebirth of the better self. I guess they'd call that superego. Yes, my psyche is capable of super powers! Yours is too.

Enjoy the day.

-Pete.

More Possible Contributors

2006-02-06T11:41:00.000-08:00

In the past weeks, I have begun relationships with a few other community and creative principles: Shanee Mimmitt of San Francisco, Justice Divine of Oakland, Tatiana Emma Scutelnic of Palo Alto and Jana Krezo of San Francisco, both photographers, and Toby Matthews, a poet in San Jose. There is also the sustaining and growing relationship between Ilona and myself.

Earthquakes, Great and Small

The cracks in the rocks snap, crackle and pop as the flowers spring up. The rock slowly gives way. Every once in a while there's an earthquake as the earth itself settles into a new equilibrium. I came out to California during the wake of the Loma Prieta Earthquake in 1989. We have them every once in a while. The buildings sway like an elevated subway station in New York when the train settles in with a lurch, or as a suspension bridge bobs up and down or sways side-to-side when you walk across it while the traffic races by.

Most people in a car, truck or in the train would not feel the yielding of the world, but such phenomena are quite observable if you are astute and aware of your surroundings, your feet firmly planted on the ground.

Some earthquakes are great in magnitude and terrible in toll, like the Indian Ocean Tsunami. Yet even a flower can cause the ground to quake, just a little. Just enough for life to spring up. You can actually watch time-elapse photos and see how a tendril leaves a plant bulb and quivers, leaving the earth rent in a minute way, searching for a path to the sunshine. Earthworms also aerate the soil, leaving their own organic fault lines and fractures in the dirt. Katie, a young girl I met at St. Timothy's this weekend, reminded me you need sun, water, earth and earthworms to make flowers. She showed me her drawing, and it was quite apparent she was right. I had forgotten about the earthworms until she reminded me. Of course! Earthworms. Stirring and creating tension in the dirt. Something has to break up the rocks so that there are cracks in which the flowers take root. Too much compression of the earth and you get lifeless, though maleable, clay. Dirt needs to be whipped like a frothy loam. Rocks need to be broken to make cracks for the flowers. If you measured the tension of soil with a tensiometer, you could even predict when it was appropriate to water the earth. Tiny floods and earthquakes.

Creative Principles in a Loose Confederation

All the creative principles I mentioned above are at various places of success and progress in their personal lives. The only commonality is that I have encountered them all at least once since the turn of this year. Not all face-to-face either.

They all want to create something, or are already creating in their own lives, and are looking to take their works to the next higher levels of success.

Toby is going to send me a poem of his for review. Shanee is working on her biography. Ilona is thinking about how to frame her thoughts, and very deeply about her contributions, being on the opposite coast in New York. Jana wants to hear more about the project. Tatiana and I have only just broached the topic.

There is no firm commitment from any of them. No formal contracts. Just thoughts. Ideas. Hopes. Vague feelings. We are in the stage of the project where seeds are being planted. This is more of an organic project than a business plan. There may be a business plan to follow. For now, it's too soon to try to put a container on the growth. Let's see what evolves.

The Phoenix of Evolution

The image of the Flower in the Cracks is the poetic trope around which we are milling over. A sort of garden of ideas. We are now in February. In California, that means we see cherry trees in full petal. Flowers in bloom. How unlike New York, or other places around the world which are still in deep winter!

Today I am just finishing my first course for my graduate degree, an Online MBA in Technology Management, which I am getting at the University of Phoenix. It is a day to celebrate the closure of the first class, and the birth of the next class, which begins tomorrow. Like the ashes rising from the death of the old Phoenix, for the birth of the new.

The Phoenix is the symbol of rebirth and renewal. It is the symbol of the Rememberer's Society in the fictional world of Castle Marrach, where I, in my fictional identity as Gareth Beaumains, headed the Rememberer's Society for a few real-world years. "To rise, and fall, to rise again." The image of the Phoenix.

It is related to the spirit of the ever-renewing Grail of medieval legend. To rennaisance and rebirth. Both spiritual and worldly.

Flowers in the Cracks is similarly a celebration of the ever-renewing spirit of life. The triumph of continued existence and flourishing.

Each person mentioned on this page is contributing to the theme of this project, even if their consciousness is not aware of this blog's existence, nor aware of the specific contents of each post. Each moment of their continued existence is part of the ever-renewing theme of Flowers in the Cracks, even if it is not a consciously-contributed effort. The same with you, and your life.

Each of us is a flower struggling against our own limited cracks in reality. Where we find purchase in our lives, either that feels as comfortable as soft loamy earth, or as brutal as wind-swept hard bedrock.

Each is a contributor of their existence to the world. Each of them therefore is a potential contributor to Flowers in the Cracks. Each has stories to tell you. Stories they told me, or have yet to tell me, but I can already percieve they have such stories to tell!

Ilona is asking me to make the project more concrete for her. What is it precisely? What is not part of this project is more to the point.

This project is not my entire life right now. Nor does it comprise the entirety of the creations of everyone who has a casual conversation with my about photopgraphy, writing, or existence in the universe.

Flowers in the Cracks, to me, is an artisitic collaboration project, or more properly, a movement, focused on the dynamic of the organic and inorganic, the continuous renewal of life and beauty, our quest for truth and love in our lives, the interplay within our own spirit and soul, and the triumph of joy and contentment upon maturation.

Flowers in the Cracks is yet a seedling of a movement.

The Wasteland

The memetic germ of this idea came to me when I felt that Silicon Valley was rapidly heading towards the Wasteland in the late 1990s. I knew that there was going to be a terrible retrenchment in the industry, and I would be powerless to stop it. The Dolorous Blow, for me, was my own lay-off in May 2001. The Dolorous Blow for the nation was struck on 9/11. Or at least, that was the most apparent strike of the blow.

Yet the rot in the state had begun before then. We would not have needed to have suffered a 9/11-scale tragedy if there were people in the world who were not bent on causing us harm. Where had the fury, the anger, the bitterness, the cancer, the poison, crept in? What had we been doing as a nation to have brought upon ourselves such an attack?

What had we been doing to have brought about the domestic wasteland where the rich were getting so very rich at the expense of so many very poor? What had we wrought around the world that caused such violent hatred to be directed towards our nation? Weren't we the same nation that had led the foundation of the United Nations for world peace? Had we not led humanity to landing on the moon and in the International Space Station? Had we not navigated through the Cold War without an exchange of nuclear destruction amongst the leading industrial nations of the world?

Somewhere we had fallen on the cold stone of bitterness. Somehow all our work was thrown back in our faces, and the icon of world trade, the World Trade Center, was demolished.

Yet rather than focus on that disaster, this project shall be like a photographic negative of that terribly negative event. In other words, a positive. And not just one positive, but many positives.

Finding The Grail

Since my lay-off in 2001, I have sought a way to be reborn as a creative principle. I have sought little online game community plans and I have postulated trillion-dollar ideas, some of which have been patented. Aside from all of this, yet connected to it all, is the Flowers in the Cracks. A small garden of thought. A movement for creativity and renewal. Something done for my generous spirit, my yearning soul and my vitality as a creative principle.

The Grail we seek is usually always beside us or within us. Something we overlook. It ever reminds us of what we could be doing if we were not beating ourselves up about not doing it. This is my garden of peace in the War of Art. A willing surrender to my creative process.

For me, elsewhere in my life I am picking up again on some of the technology work I put aside since leaving Cisco Systems, Inc., in 2001, and some of the creative work I have put down since graduating from Carnegie Mellon in 1986. In this year, 2006, and onwards for the next years of my life, there is a new synthesis I am hoping to find. A closer harmony with what the world wishes me to be doing. A right livelihood. A fortune of joy.

I am glad that these other contributors are considering working with me, whether as part of Flowers in the Cracks, or in some other possible collaboration. I can hardly wait to see what happens in coming days. Yet I know that flowers take time to grow. It's still early in the season. The sun and moon will shine many times before some of these flowers are ready to bloom.

For now, I am content. The Holy Grail is achieved in a way already. Soul-searching for now is done. Next begins the time of caretaking and celebrating. Hopefully that will last me for the rest of my life.

If you are interested in collaborating or contributing to Flowers in the Cracks, feel free to email me at petercorless{at}mac.com, or post your reply below.

Calling Ilona

2006-01-29T23:30:00.000-08:00

Today I spent a good few hours on the phone with Ilona. We have different visions for what we can do with the project. Ilona has a great vision for this to be a museum or gallery installation. I'd like to make it a fund-raising dinner with an art auction done by young people.

I also have to get my photographs from my Sprint Treo mobile phone onto this blog. Ilona is also trepidatious about this prospect. Being a professional photographer, she likes for images to be top-quality. Being a non-professional shutterbug, I am fine with grainy images, blurred and digitized raster graphics, and thumbnail "sketches" of phosphors.

I'm also encouraging Ilona to simply write for the blog. To not think about it. To just do it. She's up in her head on the process, planning and forethought. Which is good. I'm one for fighting from the front-line, scaling the battlements and revolution in the streets.

We probably need to tackle this from both a bottom-up and top-down approach. I also see it as a middle-in approach. Finding ourselves in the forest of possibilities, we can face each other and strike forth for a common ground somewhere in between.

Ilona and me are "buds." As in buddies, as well as blossoming, burgeoning persona dramatis. I'm also in contact with a few other creative principles. I'm hoping they see this project continuing on through the coming year and eventually may decide to participate.

In the meanwhile, there's plenty of my work-work and schoolwork to keep me busy-busy.

Night, night!

-Pete.

Justice Divine — The Minute I Say "I Do."

2006-01-20T12:15:00.000-08:00

Justice Divine
The Minute I Say "I Do."

The Ideal of Living
Money is very important for living
to live and survive
in the city
or on a ranch
if you could grow your own food
write for enjoyment
to get people's attention
like to write
love to write

Copyright © 2006 Justice Divine. Published with Permission by the Author.

Justice Divine, who was once known as Regina Jordan, is an authoress living in Oakland, CA. Her unpublished novel is The Minute I Say "I Do".

She called Green Knight Publishing this morning. Green Knight Publishing, which has sat back and laid fallow like an overgrown field buried under a jungle of spam. Like a castle hidden in the ivy. This book only has something to do with the world of King Arthur, Merlin, the Holy Grail and the Knights of the Round Table on a metaphysical basis, and on an ironic real basis that my number was still in the book. She called me, after trying a dozen other publishers.

So I took off my "Green Knight" hat, and I put on my "Flowers in the Cracks" thinking cap. I accepted to represent her as an editor, as an agent, and as an emmissary. For now, without charge. We can get to that element later. Right now, we have a deal. On a verbal agreement, a wing, and a prayer.

Justice Divine is a beautiful, self-selected name. She is a member of the Acts Full Gospel Church of Christ in God. Justice Divine owns no computer. No phone of her own. She just moved.

Justice Divine is a 36 year old woman in Oakland, California. A land of sheltering oak trees in the midst of the land of heat. An oasis of the spirit in the midst of the desert.

Justice Divine has already written this book, The Minute I Say "I Do." She just needs the possibility of publishing it. I know what's required, from R.R. Bowker listings to Amazon.com Affiliate set up. Yet her book ideas, her hopes, are so big that my humble talents and my capital resources are too small for it's true success. Perhaps we can find a proper place in the world for her book. That's what I'd like to do. To find it the best home.

Justice has bestowed upon me her consent to help get her book edited and properly prepared for publishing. For her and for myself I dropped into a few doors and made a call today. It's too early to speak of who or what, and I have my reasons why. It is merely a few possibilities I wish to check on. I need to do some other work for my daily bread too. Just a quick thought here and there for Justice. A flower in the crack in the blink of an eye. And then, on to the next moment.

Justice Divine. That's a name that sticks with you. So is The Minute I Say "I Do." To be honest, I have not read this book. I just heard about the thought of it. Just the title. It is about the thoughts of a woman (or I suppose ideally also a man) as they commit themselves to a relationship. A marriage is sacred under the eyes of God and legally binding before the laws of mankind. Of course, it made me think that all the moments of our lives could be lived that way.

I heard about her book. I accepted her call because I could hear good Justice implictly asking me for my assistance. I heard her proposition. When a call like that comes in, there's only one thing you can say at first:

"I do!"

Thinking about the possibilities, I said, "I will." I will help Justice get her book to readers. It is just one of many things I have on my plate in life. It is on the plate. I wish to commit through this project, "Flowers in the Cracks" to seeing it done.

I wish for the name Justice Divine to reach your ears. I wish you could hear her gentle voice. The poem above was not a conscious effort on her part. I simply listened to what she was saying to me. I was writing down notes, as I often do in a Silicon Valley meeting. From that came the poem. Her voice is lyrical. Hopeful. Filled with trepidation that it is really happening. Like at one's own wedding. The belief and the disbelief all at one time that she was getting a person who had published books to listen to her and saying, "I do."

When she had spoken nine lines of her hopes, her dreams, her most natural thoughts, I asked her to name her words.

The Ideal of Living.

I once learned the difference between involvement and commitment in terms of the breakfast table. The chicken is involved. It gives an egg. It sacrifices a thing of itself, but not itself directly. The pig? It's no chicken. Its puts its bacon on the line. So I sacrificed a bit of my time today, to at least involve myself with the possibility of Justice Divine's new book. It is the egg of the chicken. It is the egg in the incubator of thought.

In the musical 1776 there is the lyric:

You know it's quite bizarre
To think that here we are
Playing midwives to an egg

All:
We're waiting for the chirp, chirp, chirp
Of an eaglet being born
We're waiting for the chirp, chirp, chirp
On this humid Monday morning in this
Congressional incubator

Franklin:
God knows the temperature's hot enough
To hatch a stone, let alone an egg

We are caretaking the egg of her novel. Readying it to hatch out. Chirp! Chirp!

It was somewhat warm today in Mountain View, California. Yet the heat and humidity of those days leading up to July 4th in Philadelphia were far hotter. Instead, the heat was radiating from the ideas alone. My mind was ablaze. I had heard of this phenomenon before. I thought about the words of Henry Lloyd Garrison, as celebrated in Henry Mayer's book: "All on Fire!"

Mr. Garrison had an epiphany in his own way. He'd have been a blogger had he the same technology in the 19th Century. Copying articles from other "radical" liberation newspapers, scrawling all day and setting type by hand, and doing in any way he could to put forth the simple proposition that no one in the United States should be the slave of another.

In a way, I'd like to create a radical act of liberation. The property is expressional, intellectual, not human bodies. I'd like to help Justice Divine get her book published. To liberate her little egg of an idea. To make it available to the public. Yet as Justice points out, she would like to be paid for her creativity. If we try to get her work without paying her, if she is not volunteering it, she cannot thrive.

This is just Justice's first book. It will be a short one. It still needs to get from manuscript form to be input to a computer so we can get it (if necessary) edited, revised, perfected, and then ready for publishing. It may already be perfect as it is now. In a way it is. It is already. Regardless of the elbow grease, the proofreading notes, the discussions, the bills and the other work it needs to get into the printer's, the distribution systems, and the booksellers of the world — it is already perfect.

Reading over her poem above, I almost wanted to correct it. "or on a ranch, if you could grow your own food." You wouldn't need money then would you? Well, of course you do. A lot of it. Just to pay property taxes, if nothing else. We all require money at some level or other to live in these United States. Even if very little. And in point of fact, many ranches and farms are not cheap to maintain. All the farmers growing the food need to thrive too. So, yes. Justice, you had it right. As was once said by an entrant to the Edward Bullwer-Lytton contest decades ago, "If you want to eat, you've got to work, and at last I knew Pittsburgh."

If there are any sponsors out there who would wish to help see this book get to print, open your hearts and your minds and your third eyes and your wallets. If you have computer or an old phone to donate, or any funds you would like to grant to the project, we'd accept them. We'd find a way to make it work. Like stone soup. And we'd put some flowers in the pot to go with it.

Onwards to adventure!

In the Beginning...

2006-01-19T12:27:00.001-08:00

In the beginning there was the quiet.
God was at peace.
And it was good.
God then thought,
"What if I were to disturb the peace?"
And with the thought, the peace was disturbed.
This led to the creation of the Universe.

God realized immediately what He had done and smiled.
In fact, He knew what He was going to do already.
He knew exactly what He had wrought, and He was glad.
He could simply reestablish the peace and harmony of the quiet.
He could destroy the Universe with another thought.
He could destroy it all.
Yet He created something.
And it was good.

God reflected upon his Creation.
"What if I were to let it grow?"
And so, it grew. In a Big Bang!

God watched as it grew.
Wherever his eyes played across the void
Galaxies and stars blossomed.
Here was a puzzle to solve.
These fireballs could destroy and create.
Just as He could.

God thought,
"Here is my grand puzzle.
I already hold the solution.
Now I must create something to solve it also.
To please me that I could create such a clever thing
that it would seek My ultimate truths, and love, and beauty.
With consciousness, faith, wisdom and joy."
And so, all manner of life came into being in His Creation.

God thought,
"Whatever you reward, you will get more of."
So He rewarded each creature as He saw fit.
And those that He rewarded were fruitful and multiplied.
And those that were not rewarded withered and are no more.
Humans were rewarded nearly most of any creature on the planet.
Though God loves dogs and cats and horses and ants too.
Yet to humans fell the rulership of the world.
And to them fell the puzzle of the Universe.
To be solved.

The lifeless Earth was once entirely inorganic.
Then came life, and organic creatures flourished.
Flowers poked their petals up through the cracked stone.

Today, this often plays out as a literal human drama
As real flowers struggle to survive.
They peek out between paved-over asphalt jungle floors

It plays our metaphorically, as our hearts, hardened by pain
By misery and disappointment, turn into cold, hard stone.
And once in a while, our hearts are cracked open
By the hammer wielded by an Immortal Hand.

Life dies.
Yet life is reborn.
The deadly Ω (Omega) factor leads back to the A (Alpha) principle.
This is what people mean when they say they were "born again."
Or when we speak of rennaisance.
Or we speak of renewal.
When we laud the triumph of a luminous, levity-filled arsis
Over a heavy, dark thesis.
My mother used to sing to me the song,
"You've got to ac-cen-tu-ate the pos-i-tive. E-lim-in-ate the neg-a-tive."
Maybe if we had more songs ending on a high note, we'd have happier people.
Just a thought.

This is not the first post for "Flowers in the Cracks." There is no beginning. There is no end.

The flowers always were and always will be. There is now. There is the now in which you witness them. There is the now that you think of them.

And there is the then of when you recall them in your past. And the future when you wish to see and smell and touch the soft petals of them in the future. Yet the future and the past are summoned to the now by your imagination. It is all now.

The miracle of the flowers is that they grow at all.
The curiosity of them is why there are so many.
Each looks beautiful in its own way.
Even if they are sort of oddly shaped or smell horrid.
Even those are beautiful for their uniqueness,
Given the right perspective on the witness' part.
There are so many forms of beauty.

Joyous Thanks

My thanks to Gretel Ehrlich and other conscious and unconscious teachers of Aesthetics.
My thanks to those at PS 114. I'm sorry Mrs. Glaser. Thank you for the hug years later, even if I was such a stinker. I never forgot it. Thank you Mrs. Nova. You were my "Super Nova."
My thanks to those at JHS 180 and Beach Channel High School: Mr. Lazoff and Mrs. Renee Darvin and Mr. Bruce Degen and to Bernie Rattner.
My thanks to those who taught me at Carnegie Mellon.
My thanks to my mother for singing to me as a child.
And for pressing certain books in my hands, especially a good Dictionary now and then.
My thanks to my father and my grandfathers and grandmothers.
My aunts and cousins and all my kinfolk.
My thanks to my siblings, and their spouses and children.
My thanks to my friends, for helping me keep me grounded, sane, and whole.
My thanks to all those I have adventured with.
In the real world, in our roleplaying universes, or in the realm of spirit and dreams.
My thanks for the folks at Apple Computer, and Cisco Systems, and Microsoft and Intel and IBM and Sun and Oracle and the Free Software Foundation folks, and the W3C and the IETF and IEEE and ISO and Yahoo and Google and Amazon.com and Wikipedia and Blogger and Frappr, and everyone in every project around the world that is building this massive collective consciousness record and truly mass media.
My thanks to all those who have introduced me to the world of memes and mnemonics and semiotics.
My thanks to all those who have celebrated healthy, hospitable human religious worship and kept the faith, in whatever form.
My thanks to the artists, scientists, craftspeople and engineers of the world, the parents and pet owners and all those who have maintained a right livelihood, who have shared with me their light.
If you are reading this and say, "Hey! Where's my name?" Give me a comment below and say hello.
Finally, my thanks for Ilona Lieberman, who begins this next great journey with me.

Onwards to adventure!

-Peter Corless.