May 2025
I can do this
Acrylic on a simple canvas. Created with memories and thoughts of the spirit of friendship by Melinda d'Ouville while she enjoys the bounty and diversity of eastern Washington's many cultures.
Days pass. At all levels of life and physical beingness I feel relentlessly assaulted. Lambasted is my new word for what I am experiencing. Minute by minute, second by second, drip, drip, drip, the “cacophony of entropy”. This is my description of today's environment. It gives one a sense of depletion and relinquishment. Inevitability. I read once that cockroaches were here when mankind first made an entrance and they will be here when we make our exit. I’m not sure what that says about these creatures, but I know most people find the insects quite distasteful, even though there are cultures that roast them as delicacies.One person's "ick" is another's delight. Diversity gives so much and asks so little. Therefore, in spite of the assault, like a cockroach I will remember I was here before chaos started and I will be here when it exits.
This particular cockroach, or “la cucaracha”, is a gift for a friend. She spends a good portion of her time at rallies, protests, and carrying a torch for the republic up and down the east coast of our great country. The original cucaracha was a surprise mural that captured mine and my two friends attention on a trip to Mexico several years ago. It was a gift on a wall that we found as we strolled through flower laden neighborhoods. One of my friends fell in love with the cockroach. She asked if I could paint it for her. I have put off doing the painting for several years. At one point I suggested she might need better friends if she was expecting that painting any time soon. However, the time has come. It is now. My respect for her commitment to our country had me tackle the painting for her. It is finished. It will be shipped soon. I can’t fix the chaos and I can’t stop entropy, but I can paint a cockroach for a friend. I can do this.
Melinda d’Ouville: “A racist joke by my father is a powerful memory. It was the 1950’s, I was in fifth grade. The punchline included a bus, a cliff, and dead people. I started to laugh, because it was my dad. I stopped. The joke wasn’t funny. Years of friendships, acquaintances and travel have given me an evolving perspective of our shared humanity. Through pieces of art I work to share my journey of appreciation for our humanness.”
April 2025
This drawing was made July 11, 2020, amidst a coagulation of several events. Covid-19 was spreading rapidly, filling hospitals across the world past capacity. In the U.S.A., shootings in Chicago, Atlanta, and Washington DC left 3 children under 12 dead, among many others killed and injured by mass shootings and gun-violence around the country. Black Lives Matter protests and marches were active across the nation. Meanwhile, Trump held a July 4th rally at Mt. Rushmore where masking was actively discouraged. In his speech, he stated, "In our schools, our newsrooms, even our corporate boardrooms, there is a new far-left fascism that demands absolute allegiance. If you do not speak its language, perform its rituals, recite its mantras, and follow its commandments, then you will be censored, banished, blacklisted, persecuted, and punished." But he followed this statement by saying, "...I am deploying federal law enforcement to protect our monuments, arrest the rioters, and prosecute offenders to the fullest extent of the law...Under the executive order I signed last week — pertaining to the Veterans’ Memorial Preservation and Recognition Act and other laws — people who damage or deface federal statues or monuments will get a minimum of 10 years in prison," revealing his true desire: the totalitarian domination which he had just stated was fascist and anti-American. 5 years later, we see that continues to be his desire. This drawing was made to invoke the idea that such domination can only last so long. I hope by using the Black Power fist and the image of one of the great African mammals, the lion, I invoke, in particular, the mission of the Black Lives Matter and Black Power movements. Nature will eventually break free.
Zachary Charles (they/he) is a poet who currently lives near Alki Beach, West Seattle with their partner, cat, and dog. They teach Spanish on Vashon Island. Their poetry practice consists of a few pieces: portraits, conversations, and an ongoing effort to compose 10,000 haiku. They are a member of the Cascadia Poetics Lab Youth Committee and Poetry Postcard Fest Project Board. In addition to poetry, they spend creative time on multimedia collage and paintings, and love combining visual art with language art.
March 2025
The collaborative poem in this week’s post emerged as I talked on the phone with Millie Renfrow when she was in seclusion during the pandemic. She said she wasn’t writing much poetry, and I asked her to tell me about her days of what she called nothing, and I started jotting down what she was saying and arranged them in a poem. I shared the poem with her daughter who sent me some pictures of the sketches that Millie had made. This is one of those sketches
The poem does speak of being alone and keeping yourself occupied. But those times aren’t so different as they are now. Trump has created a pandemic and if we get depressed, we are in danger of hibernation. We were staying home back then and now there will be more staycations because of national Park closures, due to staffing shortages. You know, all that money we wasted on people to clean bathrooms at national parks, and search and rescue, and taking entry fees, and shockingly on educating the public!
Mary Ellen Talley
(See post below titled A Long Time of Nothing)
This is one of three sketches drawn by Millie Renfrow during her seclusion during the pandemic. They are untitled.
February 2025
“Is it Raining in Vegas” a question of hope for our planet; our social compact; our empathy; our humanity. Mixed media acrylic, ink on paper. Artist: Melinda d’Ouville, who has expectations of herself, her government, and her fellow blue marble companions.
This painting is a result of my experience watching the news coverage of the fires in Los Angeles as it burned away the lives, homes, and history of so many people. It was painful to see this tragedy playing out. But the added reverberating social media and political condemnations of blame, with direct overtones of racism, and homophobia was horrific. Using diversity, equality and inclusion as a political power maneuver while lives are being lost…there are no words.
To redirect my thoughts, I pulled out my art supplies and started painting. As I painted, I asked myself, what is the source of all this hateful language and blame seeking when my family, my friends, and people I’ve never met are suffering. While messing around with paints and brushes, I recalled my days in Las Vegas and Chicago. For me, these cities were an abundance of the variety around us that contrasts dramatically with the current rehtoric surrounding the fires. They were, and are, filled with a richness that contributes to my view of the world and my life to this day. To share a bit of my backstory, I think my recognition of the value of diversity was the privilege of meeting Dick Gregory. He came with friends to my mother’s home for a barbecue and music gathering. To this day I can see him and hear him. He and his friends, who sold popcorn, hot dogs and drinks at Comiskey Park, were laughing and telling stories all day. I had caught pieces of his life as he fought in his way against racism. We didn’t have google search then, but I asked my mother and her other friends all about him. He knew that humor in the face of racism was a force to raise awareness and to be reckoned with. He was an artist. In Las Vegas I was struck by the menagerie of talent and everyday life. As I walked a downtown street one sunny Vegas morning, I ran into our mayor, a vibrant character in and of himself. He stopped to chat. At the same time a black man in drag, an asian in their cultural dress, and a family with six children walked by. What a world we have. These cities gave me gifts in terms of art, music, dance, work, collaboration, and friends. They exposed me to the abundance of diversity delivered through the passions of others.
So, back to this painting. When you live in Vegas you are always asking “is it raining in Vegas”. The clouds fly by, the rain appears to shower down, the hope for relief from heat and possible fires is in the air. When I was finished processing the LA fires, the hateful blame game, and the tragic implications for the victims of the fire, this painting emerged. Virga is the term for rain that falls from the sky by never hits the ground. “Is it raining in LA?” Can the fires be stopped? It is the question I asked each morning when I got out of bed. The fires are past, but the hate continues. And now, I ask this about our country. Is it raining - kindness, generosity, inclusiveness, equality - in the United States of America? If not now, when?
Melinda d’Ouville: A racist joke by my father is a powerful memory. It was the 1950’s, I was in fifth grade. The punchline included a bus, a cliff, and dead people. I started to laugh, because it was my dad. I stopped. The joke wasn’t funny. Years of friendships, acquaintances and travel have given me an evolving perspective of our shared humanity. Through pieces of art I work to share my journey of appreciation for our humanness.
January 2025
This painting is called Flowers for Palestine. It is acrylic ink, acrylic paint and markers on canvas.
I painted it after the killing of Ezgi Eygi, the American Turkish young activist, on the West Bank by an Israeli soldier. I knew her intimately. Her family is still waiting to hear any condolences from our government.
Dorothy Lemoult is a French-American multi-disciplinary artist and expressive arts therapist. West Seattle has been home since 2011. She was featured reader at Poetry Bridge several times. Her writing has appeared in “City Arts”, on King County buses and her poem “Source” was recently published in the anthology “Voices of the Grieving Heart”.