Kim Hambric Art - Mixed Media and Fiber Collage
These new pieces, all small (8x8" or far less), are done on paper or on thin illustration board.
Since they are all experiments, I used whatever I had lying around for the base, giving no thought to how they might be mounted in the future. All I wanted to do was get ideas down as soon as possible and think as little as I could.
rain drops - magic in the water - left overs from a giant - a bears arms - hibernation - nothing is certain - shortfall - long run - windows all around - play the game by the rules even if it bends your judgment as they will do the same - they will teach you to be a bear and a shark - remember to be - when heart guides spirit - if it was finished there would be know question - it is finished
48" x 48" on wood acrylic, oil pastel, pencil, collage $4000.00
The Barber Shop, Edward Hopper
One of the gazillion beautiful Brooklyn Streets.
That stunning bridge!!! That godawful Verizon building in the background!!!
Thireteen years ago, on Labor Day weekend, I heard a cat crying repeatedly from my apartment window. I would go out onto the balcony and look down to see where the crying was coming from. Nothing. More crying. More looking down. Nothing. This went on all day long.
The hubby and I were celebrating our last weekend in our apartment before moving to our “new” home. On our way out to dinner, we took the back way out of our apartment building. Had we gone out the front, we never would have come across Chumley. We never made it to dinner, and we didn’t exactly “come across” Chumley. We walked under him.
As we passed under the tree that stood next to our balcony, I heard the crying again. We looked up and there he was, stuck in the tree. We tried to cajole him down. Nothing. Others came along and tried the same. One couple informed us that the cat had been up in the tree for at least two days. They had called the fire department and were “referred” to someone else. The hubby went in to call the fire department and informed them how long the cat had been up in the tree. They couldn’t leave the firehouse in case a real call for help came in. We tried some more cajoling. A crowd gathered.
Soon a group of young men, and one father, came along saying they were part of the Civil Air Patrol. They lived behind the apartments and had noticed a crowd gathering. They were glad to be of service. The father called out to his son, “Go to Grandma’s and get the ladder!” Soon the ladder arrived and climbers were up in the tree. The police had also arrived. The cat went up further (or is that farther). The men climbed higher. The cat went out on a branch. The crowd grew. A policewoman arrived.
“What we need now is a saw,” the hubby said. The Civil Air Patrol dad yelled down, “Go to Grandma’s and get the saw.” Soon a saw was raised by a rope far up into the tree. I’m assuming the firemen were still at the station washing their trucks and waiting for a real call. The saw glinted in the moonlight (how romantic). The branch began to sag. The policewoman removed her jacket. The branch and cat crashed slowly to the ground. Once the cat was on the ground, the policewoman tossed her jacket over him and then tossed him in the back of the police car.
Several people had risked great danger to help this cat who now stared like a criminal from the backseat. Calls were made, a place was found for the cat until a search could me made for his owner. Assumptions were made that the cat had been abandoned when the summer students went home. Snips were made. Shots were administered and a week later Chumley came to our “new” house with us.
Thirteen good years. A few sad weeks. Three upholstered chairs wrecked.
Now, I’ll have to tell all of my secrets and my artistic ideas to the dog, and he really doesn’t act as if he cares. The cat, however, always seemed interested.
So today I thank mama kitty, the Civil Air Patrol, policemen and policewomen, the vet who removed a malignant tumor from his back when he was three or four, my daughter who let him sleep on her bed until the end even though he could only look at her with one eye and drooled on her favorite blanket, and the hubby who let me take in another stray whom he knew was going to shred his favorite chair.
I love you Chumley, Puss E. Cat, fur face, fur buttski, fur friend, fat boy (old days), skinny boy, good boy, bad boy, you little son of a ___, sweet boy.
Looks like blue is part of the theme. Those birds are from Martha Stewart's line of punchies. Is that cheating? Sure it is. I don't seem to care.
Love those vinyl letters!
Love those rub-on letters!
I believe this one has an official name: "Where U At".
In olden times, a neighbor’s home caught fire and any able human ran for their buckets and formed a brigade from water source to the burning home. Either the fire was put out by the community or it got out of hand and the building was lost. The point is, those that could be of any help showed up and helped. Sure there was probably an asshole or two, leaning up against a fence and chuckling. Their standing in the community was probably lessened immediately. Perhaps they even sported a black eye the next day.
Afterward, the owner of the damaged or ruined property most likely wholeheartedly thanked the community. Hands were shaked and pies were baked. The community, worn out from the bucket brigade, probably went back the next day to help the family clean up and offered food, clothing or shelter.
Not anymore, baby! Now, the unconcerned can just stand around and watch the flames leap higher and higher. You gotta pay up front for your fire service. Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you’ve purchased your homeowner’s insurance. But that’s not gonna keep your house from bursting into flame. You’ve got to pay your firefighter's fee. Now, really, there’s nothing wrong with paying for your fire and police services upfront. It’s a method called taxation. And I believe that it works. But this mafia-like shakedown thing doesn’t appear to be working too well, does it?
I’m surprised that the fire department didn’t shoot Mr. Cranick the finger as they watched his house burn.
Is this what America is coming to? Is kicking people to the curb the new national sport? I’ve read a few articles about this incident, and am shocked to read about people supporting what the fire department has done. And with the mayor’s approval! Did any of the loitering firemen hear the dying howls of the animals that were trapped in the home or were they long dead before the fire department came to protect the neighbor’s fields?
When the idea of “pay to spray” was thought up a while back, was there a brainstorming session where folks could have brought up and discussed a few possible negatives? Did any one think that, should the fire department stand around and let someone’s home burn, that there might be some negative thoughts aimed at firefighters in general. I’m sure, that somewhere in this country, there would have been firefighters that would have just gone on and sprayed some water on Mr. Cranick’s burning house. They would have done what most of us would consider the brave and honorable thing. And now, we’re not going to look so highly at any firefighter thanks to those bad apples who stood by and did nothing.
There are a large and growing number of people in this country who would rather die than pay taxes. And now, they seem to be projecting this onto others. They hold rallies in the hopes of having our country dispense with collecting taxes. These taxes build and maintain roads, pay for Medicare, defend our country, and provide for fire and police services. This group would rather have everyone pay for themselves so they do not have to involve themselves with assisting others in any way.
This group I am referring to is also a group that is deeply conservative and religious. They ask God and Jesus’ counsel when times get tough. I keep thinking about that WWJD (what would Jesus do) line of thought. I don’t think any of the firefighters in this situation were thinking of this. If they were, they must have thought Jesus would go and get a bag of marshmallows and a long stick.
Several years ago, there was a house fire in my town. A man was driving by a burning house. He called for the fire department and left his car. He noticed animals in the home and broke into the home to attempt a rescue. He was able to save two out of three animals. Perhaps he could have saved the third at risk of his own life. I am glad he did not attempt to save the third. This man should live a long life knowing that he did what he could. He helped a neighbor. I don’t think he even knew the owners of the home. It doesn’t matter. He is still a neighbor. I’d like to think that if my own home were to burn, a neighbor would be there to help in some way.
I would also like to think that if a burglar showed up in my home that the police would come to help. If I were drowning that a lifeguard would swim out to help me. If I were to be raped, that a group of policemen wouldn’t just stand around and watch (unless they had up-front payment).
After this incident, I will never look at my fellow Americans the same way. I will always wonder if somebody would help me out of the goodness of their heart (or, perhaps, the requirements of their job). Should I walk down the street with wads of cash and hand it out to folks just in case I might need their help one day? Should I take a wheelbarrow of money into the hospital in case I might need urgent care? Should I hand out envelopes of cash to everyone that knows CPR in case one of them happens to be standing next to me if I choke? Should I write a check to every Boy Scout so that in my not-too-far-off old age that they might safely steer me across a busy intersection?
I can’t believe I even have to write the next sentence.
If there is a fire, I believe that firefighters should put it out.
Immediately.
Without debate.
Without up-front payment.
Good gravy, chicken and instant mashed potatoes
The Sages I, 9 x 9" © 2008 Kim Hambric
Spice Route III, 16 x 16" © 2008 Kim Hambric
Thanksgiving House III, 15 x 10", © 2009 Kim HambricMy daughter lost her 2nd top front tooth Sunday while at a friend’s house. We lovingly put it into a baggie and transferred it to a tooth-fairy-appropriate envelope when we got home.
In the past, when a tooth was lost, my daughter would place it in a hand-colored envelope and put it on her bedside table for the tooth fairy. A small pile of money in its place would greet her upon waking. Easy peasy for the “tooth fairy”.
Questions have been asked lately about the reality of the tooth fairy. We try to avoid lying at all costs in our house, but Santa and the tooth fairy still exist here. Barely.
This time the young one wanted to make it a bit difficult for the tooth fairy. She asked what would happen if she shoved the envelope down inside her pillowcase with her nightgown shoved in next to it to block the opening. We told her the tooth fairy might just not be strong enough to get to it.
Indeed not. The tooth fairy left a note, written in a lovely fairy hand, wondering where the tooth was. My daughter was disappointed.
Last night, she promised to put the tooth under her pillow. When I tucked her in, she had placed the envelope close to the left side of her pillow, and the note, with questions, (Where did you get the pen and paper? How does a fairy write? Does the tooth fairy like to be tricked?) close to the right side of her pillow.
At 10:00, tooth fairy A (me) goes in for the envelope and letter. They have now been shoved further under the pillow, right under her head. My small hand now feels like a meaty fist as it lifts and bobs her head with great ferocity. I grope and twist and wrench. Finally I have all the goods. Amazingly, the child does not stir.
I give the note to tooth fairy B (hubby) and he supplies the answers to the questions (downstairs, like this, no). He places the note and money on her bedside table.
This morning, I wake the child and pretend to check under her pillow (knowing full well that the loot and note are next to her bed). The money is under the pillow and the note is gone. Later, child looks under her covers at the bottom of her bed and pulls out the note. The sneaky beast is waiting for me to say that can't be right because Daddy has put it on her table.
I hope some stinkin’ kid at school tells her the truth about the tooth fairy. She’s got some interesting plans about where to hide the next tooth and I just can't deal with it.
The Moon Came Out, 7.0 x 5.5" ©2010 Kim Hambric
Travel Guide, 7.0 x 5.5" ©2010 Kim Hambric
Here to Live, 7.0 x 5.5" ©2010 Kim Hambric
Roswell I, 15 x 25" © 2007 K. Hambric
Roswell II, 22 x 28", © 2007 K. Hambric
