Construction no. 3

The inspiration for this construction comes from visualizing text in Savor: Mindful Eating, Mindful Life (Hanh & Cheung 2011).  The authors are centered on the Buddhist practice of mindfulness as “a guiding light that already exists inside every one of us,” (7) “a way of living that has been practiced over twenty-six hundred years by millions of people to help them transform their suffering into peace and joy” (34). The authors suggest a simple exercise that is particularly suited to living in the Pacific Northwest.  Their “Apple Meditation” exercise calls for mindfulness applied to eating an apple.  According to the Washington State Department of Agriculture (WSDA), Washington accounts for 60% of US apple production (http://agr.wa.gov/AgInWa/).  And serendipitously, the WSDA site offers a culinary agritourism Itinerary called .

So, lots of apples to taste, but the question raised by Hanh & Cheung is, “Are you Really Appreciating the Apple?”  The text in construction no. 3 offers the steps to really appreciating the act of eating an apple.  The apple is such a luscious fruit: color, crispness, sweetness and the promise of good health if one indulges every day is irresistible.  Good thing, since we have so many wonderful apples available to us, and mostly at reasonable cost.  When I was living in Japan for a time, apples were so expensive that it was never appropriate to munch a whole apple—no, in Japan, the practice is that an apple is cut into several pieces and the family group each takes one section as a dessert at the end of meal.

Last week I had the notion that a shadow image of myself would be a good starting point for the construction of images that might represent the steps of eating an apple with a sense of mindfulness and appreciation.  Students in my critique group took this on: a light source in a darkened room projected my profile on a wall, the shadow was traced on paper accordingly—but the image was large and not crisp enough.  Chantay, the eternal photographer that she is, offered to take a picture of my shadow and send it to me—digital ready.  Perfect.  The next weekend, a Portland friend stopped by after attending a workshop on fabric arts held in Port Townsend.  She walked me through the process of making fabric rigid enough to go through a standard home printer.  The idea emerged to use that technique to make pages for each step of savoring an apple.  Making the pages took hours of PhotoShopping, experimental printing on paper, and playing with sizing.  Then it was time to use the fabric sheets and six pages of shadow images and text were printed.  The favored part of this construction was designing the tiny fabric apples secured to each page.  My fabric scrap basket offered a profusion of possibilities—I started with leather and that remains my favorite—so smooth and rigid.

Construction no. 3

The inspiration for this construction comes from visualizing text in Savor: Mindful Eating, Mindful Life (Hanh & Cheung 2011).  The authors are centered on the Buddhist practice of mindfulness as “a guiding light that already exists inside every one of us,” (7) “a way of living that has been practiced over twenty-six hundred years by millions of people to help them transform their suffering into peace and joy” (34). The authors suggest a simple exercise that is particularly suited to living in the Pacific Northwest.  Their “Apple Meditation” exercise calls for mindfulness applied to eating an apple.  According to the Washington State Department of Agriculture (WSDA), Washington accounts for 60% of US apple production (http://agr.wa.gov/AgInWa/).  And serendipitously, the WSDA site offers a culinary agritourism Itinerary called .

So, lots of apples to taste, but the question raised by Hanh & Cheung is, “Are you Really Appreciating the Apple?”  The text in construction no. 3 offers the steps to really appreciating the act of eating an apple.  The apple is such a luscious fruit: color, crispness, sweetness and the promise of good health if one indulges every day is irresistible.  Good thing, since we have so many wonderful apples available to us, and mostly at reasonable cost.  When I was living in Japan for a time, apples were so expensive that it was never appropriate to munch a whole apple—no, in Japan, the practice is that an apple is cut into several pieces and the family group each takes one section as a dessert at the end of meal.

Last week I had the notion that a shadow image of myself would be a good starting point for the construction of images that might represent the steps of eating an apple with a sense of mindfulness and appreciation.  Students in my critique group took this on: a light source in a darkened room projected my profile on a wall, the shadow was traced on paper accordingly—but the image was large and not crisp enough.  Chantay, the eternal photographer that she is, offered to take a picture of my shadow and send it to me—digital ready.  Perfect.  The next weekend, a Portland friend stopped by after attending a workshop on fabric arts held in Port Townsend.  She walked me through the process of making fabric rigid enough to go through a standard home printer.  The idea emerged to use that technique to make pages for each step of savoring an apple.  Making the pages took hours of PhotoShopping, experimental printing on paper, and playing with sizing.  Then it was time to use the fabric sheets and six pages of shadow images and text were printed.  The favored part of this construction was designing the tiny fabric apples secured to each page.  My fabric scrap basket offered a profusion of possibilities—I started with leather and that remains my favorite—so smooth and rigid.

Construction no. 3

The inspiration for this construction comes from visualizing text in Savor: Mindful Eating, Mindful Life (Hanh & Cheung 2011).  The authors are centered on the Buddhist practice of mindfulness as “a guiding light that already exists inside every one of us,” (7) “a way of living that has been practiced over twenty-six hundred years by millions of people to help them transform their suffering into peace and joy” (34). The authors suggest a simple exercise that is particularly suited to living in the Pacific Northwest.  Their “Apple Meditation” exercise calls for mindfulness applied to eating an apple.  According to the Washington State Department of Agriculture (WSDA), Washington accounts for 60% of US apple production (http://agr.wa.gov/AgInWa/).  And serendipitously, the WSDA site offers a culinary agritourism Itinerary called .

So, lots of apples to taste, but the question raised by Hanh & Cheung is, “Are you Really Appreciating the Apple?”  The text in construction no. 3 offers the steps to really appreciating the act of eating an apple.  The apple is such a luscious fruit: color, crispness, sweetness and the promise of good health if one indulges every day is irresistible.  Good thing, since we have so many wonderful apples available to us, and mostly at reasonable cost.  When I was living in Japan for a time, apples were so expensive that it was never appropriate to munch a whole apple—no, in Japan, the practice is that an apple is cut into several pieces and the family group each takes one section as a dessert at the end of meal.

Last week I had the notion that a shadow image of myself would be a good starting point for the construction of images that might represent the steps of eating an apple with a sense of mindfulness and appreciation.  Students in my critique group took this on: a light source in a darkened room projected my profile on a wall, the shadow was traced on paper accordingly—but the image was large and not crisp enough.  Chantay, the eternal photographer that she is, offered to take a picture of my shadow and send it to me—digital ready.  Perfect.  The next weekend, a Portland friend stopped by after attending a workshop on fabric arts held in Port Townsend.  She walked me through the process of making fabric rigid enough to go through a standard home printer.  The idea emerged to use that technique to make pages for each step of savoring an apple.  Making the pages took hours of PhotoShopping, experimental printing on paper, and playing with sizing.  Then it was time to use the fabric sheets and six pages of shadow images and text were printed.  The favored part of this construction was designing the tiny fabric apples secured to each page.  My fabric scrap basket offered a profusion of possibilities—I started with leather and that remains my favorite—so smooth and rigid.

Construction no. 3

The inspiration for this construction comes from visualizing text in Savor: Mindful Eating, Mindful Life (Hanh & Cheung 2011).  The authors are centered on the Buddhist practice of mindfulness as “a guiding light that already exists inside every one of us,” (7) “a way of living that has been practiced over twenty-six hundred years by millions of people to help them transform their suffering into peace and joy” (34). The authors suggest a simple exercise that is particularly suited to living in the Pacific Northwest.  Their “Apple Meditation” exercise calls for mindfulness applied to eating an apple.  According to the Washington State Department of Agriculture (WSDA), Washington accounts for 60% of US apple production (http://agr.wa.gov/AgInWa/).  And serendipitously, the WSDA site offers a culinary agritourism Itinerary called .

So, lots of apples to taste, but the question raised by Hanh & Cheung is, “Are you Really Appreciating the Apple?”  The text in construction no. 3 offers the steps to really appreciating the act of eating an apple.  The apple is such a luscious fruit: color, crispness, sweetness and the promise of good health if one indulges every day is irresistible.  Good thing, since we have so many wonderful apples available to us, and mostly at reasonable cost.  When I was living in Japan for a time, apples were so expensive that it was never appropriate to munch a whole apple—no, in Japan, the practice is that an apple is cut into several pieces and the family group each takes one section as a dessert at the end of meal.

Last week I had the notion that a shadow image of myself would be a good starting point for the construction of images that might represent the steps of eating an apple with a sense of mindfulness and appreciation.  Students in my critique group took this on: a light source in a darkened room projected my profile on a wall, the shadow was traced on paper accordingly—but the image was large and not crisp enough.  Chantay, the eternal photographer that she is, offered to take a picture of my shadow and send it to me—digital ready.  Perfect.  The next weekend, a Portland friend stopped by after attending a workshop on fabric arts held in Port Townsend.  She walked me through the process of making fabric rigid enough to go through a standard home printer.  The idea emerged to use that technique to make pages for each step of savoring an apple.  Making the pages took hours of PhotoShopping, experimental printing on paper, and playing with sizing.  Then it was time to use the fabric sheets and six pages of shadow images and text were printed.  The favored part of this construction was designing the tiny fabric apples secured to each page.  My fabric scrap basket offered a profusion of possibilities—I started with leather and that remains my favorite—so smooth and rigid.

Construction no. 3

The inspiration for this construction comes from visualizing text in Savor: Mindful Eating, Mindful Life (Hanh & Cheung 2011).  The authors are centered on the Buddhist practice of mindfulness as “a guiding light that already exists inside every one of us,” (7) “a way of living that has been practiced over twenty-six hundred years by millions of people to help them transform their suffering into peace and joy” (34). The authors suggest a simple exercise that is particularly suited to living in the Pacific Northwest.  Their “Apple Meditation” exercise calls for mindfulness applied to eating an apple.  According to the Washington State Department of Agriculture (WSDA), Washington accounts for 60% of US apple production (http://agr.wa.gov/AgInWa/).  And serendipitously, the WSDA site offers a culinary agritourism Itinerary called .

So, lots of apples to taste, but the question raised by Hanh & Cheung is, “Are you Really Appreciating the Apple?”  The text in construction no. 3 offers the steps to really appreciating the act of eating an apple.  The apple is such a luscious fruit: color, crispness, sweetness and the promise of good health if one indulges every day is irresistible.  Good thing, since we have so many wonderful apples available to us, and mostly at reasonable cost.  When I was living in Japan for a time, apples were so expensive that it was never appropriate to munch a whole apple—no, in Japan, the practice is that an apple is cut into several pieces and the family group each takes one section as a dessert at the end of meal.

Last week I had the notion that a shadow image of myself would be a good starting point for the construction of images that might represent the steps of eating an apple with a sense of mindfulness and appreciation.  Students in my critique group took this on: a light source in a darkened room projected my profile on a wall, the shadow was traced on paper accordingly—but the image was large and not crisp enough.  Chantay, the eternal photographer that she is, offered to take a picture of my shadow and send it to me—digital ready.  Perfect.  The next weekend, a Portland friend stopped by after attending a workshop on fabric arts held in Port Townsend.  She walked me through the process of making fabric rigid enough to go through a standard home printer.  The idea emerged to use that technique to make pages for each step of savoring an apple.  Making the pages took hours of PhotoShopping, experimental printing on paper, and playing with sizing.  Then it was time to use the fabric sheets and six pages of shadow images and text were printed.  The favored part of this construction was designing the tiny fabric apples secured to each page.  My fabric scrap basket offered a profusion of possibilities—I started with leather and that remains my favorite—so smooth and rigid.

Construction no. 3

The inspiration for this construction comes from visualizing text in Savor: Mindful Eating, Mindful Life (Hanh & Cheung 2011).  The authors are centered on the Buddhist practice of mindfulness as “a guiding light that already exists inside every one of us,” (7) “a way of living that has been practiced over twenty-six hundred years by millions of people to help them transform their suffering into peace and joy” (34). The authors suggest a simple exercise that is particularly suited to living in the Pacific Northwest.  Their “Apple Meditation” exercise calls for mindfulness applied to eating an apple.  According to the Washington State Department of Agriculture (WSDA), Washington accounts for 60% of US apple production (http://agr.wa.gov/AgInWa/).  And serendipitously, the WSDA site offers a culinary agritourism Itinerary called .

So, lots of apples to taste, but the question raised by Hanh & Cheung is, “Are you Really Appreciating the Apple?”  The text in construction no. 3 offers the steps to really appreciating the act of eating an apple.  The apple is such a luscious fruit: color, crispness, sweetness and the promise of good health if one indulges every day is irresistible.  Good thing, since we have so many wonderful apples available to us, and mostly at reasonable cost.  When I was living in Japan for a time, apples were so expensive that it was never appropriate to munch a whole apple—no, in Japan, the practice is that an apple is cut into several pieces and the family group each takes one section as a dessert at the end of meal.

Last week I had the notion that a shadow image of myself would be a good starting point for the construction of images that might represent the steps of eating an apple with a sense of mindfulness and appreciation.  Students in my critique group took this on: a light source in a darkened room projected my profile on a wall, the shadow was traced on paper accordingly—but the image was large and not crisp enough.  Chantay, the eternal photographer that she is, offered to take a picture of my shadow and send it to me—digital ready.  Perfect.  The next weekend, a Portland friend stopped by after attending a workshop on fabric arts held in Port Townsend.  She walked me through the process of making fabric rigid enough to go through a standard home printer.  The idea emerged to use that technique to make pages for each step of savoring an apple.  Making the pages took hours of PhotoShopping, experimental printing on paper, and playing with sizing.  Then it was time to use the fabric sheets and six pages of shadow images and text were printed.  The favored part of this construction was designing the tiny fabric apples secured to each page.  My fabric scrap basket offered a profusion of possibilities—I started with leather and that remains my favorite—so smooth and rigid.

Construction no. 3

The inspiration for this construction comes from visualizing text in Savor: Mindful Eating, Mindful Life (Hanh & Cheung 2011).  The authors are centered on the Buddhist practice of mindfulness as “a guiding light that already exists inside every one of us,” (7) “a way of living that has been practiced over twenty-six hundred years by millions of people to help them transform their suffering into peace and joy” (34). The authors suggest a simple exercise that is particularly suited to living in the Pacific Northwest.  Their “Apple Meditation” exercise calls for mindfulness applied to eating an apple.  According to the Washington State Department of Agriculture (WSDA), Washington accounts for 60% of US apple production (http://agr.wa.gov/AgInWa/).  And serendipitously, the WSDA site offers a culinary agritourism Itinerary called .

So, lots of apples to taste, but the question raised by Hanh & Cheung is, “Are you Really Appreciating the Apple?”  The text in construction no. 3 offers the steps to really appreciating the act of eating an apple.  The apple is such a luscious fruit: color, crispness, sweetness and the promise of good health if one indulges every day is irresistible.  Good thing, since we have so many wonderful apples available to us, and mostly at reasonable cost.  When I was living in Japan for a time, apples were so expensive that it was never appropriate to munch a whole apple—no, in Japan, the practice is that an apple is cut into several pieces and the family group each takes one section as a dessert at the end of meal.

Last week I had the notion that a shadow image of myself would be a good starting point for the construction of images that might represent the steps of eating an apple with a sense of mindfulness and appreciation.  Students in my critique group took this on: a light source in a darkened room projected my profile on a wall, the shadow was traced on paper accordingly—but the image was large and not crisp enough.  Chantay, the eternal photographer that she is, offered to take a picture of my shadow and send it to me—digital ready.  Perfect.  The next weekend, a Portland friend stopped by after attending a workshop on fabric arts held in Port Townsend.  She walked me through the process of making fabric rigid enough to go through a standard home printer.  The idea emerged to use that technique to make pages for each step of savoring an apple.  Making the pages took hours of PhotoShopping, experimental printing on paper, and playing with sizing.  Then it was time to use the fabric sheets and six pages of shadow images and text were printed.  The favored part of this construction was designing the tiny fabric apples secured to each page.  My fabric scrap basket offered a profusion of possibilities—I started with leather and that remains my favorite—so smooth and rigid.

Construction no. 3

The inspiration for this construction comes from visualizing text in Savor: Mindful Eating, Mindful Life (Hanh & Cheung 2011).  The authors are centered on the Buddhist practice of mindfulness as “a guiding light that already exists inside every one of us,” (7) “a way of living that has been practiced over twenty-six hundred years by millions of people to help them transform their suffering into peace and joy” (34). The authors suggest a simple exercise that is particularly suited to living in the Pacific Northwest.  Their “Apple Meditation” exercise calls for mindfulness applied to eating an apple.  According to the Washington State Department of Agriculture (WSDA), Washington accounts for 60% of US apple production (http://agr.wa.gov/AgInWa/).  And serendipitously, the WSDA site offers a culinary agritourism Itinerary called .

So, lots of apples to taste, but the question raised by Hanh & Cheung is, “Are you Really Appreciating the Apple?”  The text in construction no. 3 offers the steps to really appreciating the act of eating an apple.  The apple is such a luscious fruit: color, crispness, sweetness and the promise of good health if one indulges every day is irresistible.  Good thing, since we have so many wonderful apples available to us, and mostly at reasonable cost.  When I was living in Japan for a time, apples were so expensive that it was never appropriate to munch a whole apple—no, in Japan, the practice is that an apple is cut into several pieces and the family group each takes one section as a dessert at the end of meal.

Last week I had the notion that a shadow image of myself would be a good starting point for the construction of images that might represent the steps of eating an apple with a sense of mindfulness and appreciation.  Students in my critique group took this on: a light source in a darkened room projected my profile on a wall, the shadow was traced on paper accordingly—but the image was large and not crisp enough.  Chantay, the eternal photographer that she is, offered to take a picture of my shadow and send it to me—digital ready.  Perfect.  The next weekend, a Portland friend stopped by after attending a workshop on fabric arts held in Port Townsend.  She walked me through the process of making fabric rigid enough to go through a standard home printer.  The idea emerged to use that technique to make pages for each step of savoring an apple.  Making the pages took hours of PhotoShopping, experimental printing on paper, and playing with sizing.  Then it was time to use the fabric sheets and six pages of shadow images and text were printed.  The favored part of this construction was designing the tiny fabric apples secured to each page.  My fabric scrap basket offered a profusion of possibilities—I started with leather and that remains my favorite—so smooth and rigid.

Adventures in Lighting

Construction no.2 is fitted with a tiny spotlight that shines on a set of beans made important in the essay “Beans and Me” by Jeremy Jackson from Alone in the Kitchen With an Eggplant: Confessions of Cooking for One and Dining Alone (ed. Ferrari-Adler 2008).  In the essay’s story, the author imagines an interaction among anthropomorphized pinto, lentil, black bean, and black-eyed pea—the latter bean is left out of the limelight in an imagined scene.

Constructing the scene required the coordination of box size and intensity of light for the spotlight.  There is, I discovered, a relationship between object and light that relates to the “inverse square law,” that is, that light falls off, inversely, with the square of the distance.  This “law” came to my attention after an adventure into Radio Shack for the electrical materials to create a spotlight for a very tiny space.  Radio Shack and electronics go together and I assumed that the local mall retailer and its staff would guide my adventure.  Not so.  After showing my box and quest to light it to who seemed to be the “manager,” she directed me toward a confusion of drawers with all sorts of wires, lights and other paraphernalia.  As she stepped away from me, she smugly said she had no idea how any of those elements worked together.  Well, how about the other teen aged employees?  The young man shyly smiled with an absent look on his face, and the young woman was “very busy” at the moment, but she dropped the hint that the tiny lights with their mysterious wires need to be connected to a battery source.  Of course I ought to know about the wonderful world of electronics, but at the moment any schooling on the subject was dim.  I messed around those drawers for more than a half hour with excursions to the battery section of the store attempting to match up lamps with battery holders with battery voltages.  I settled on a 6 volts mini lamp (a tiny light bulb with wiring) and a cool little plastic box with on/off switch that holds 4 “AA” batteries, each 1.5 volts to equal a corresponding 6 volts for the lamp.  I took the pile of items to the busy young woman and she offered a “this should work” assessment.  I didn’t spend much money but the self-education was priceless.  I’ve always been fond of Jean Piaget’s premise that “to understand is to invent,” and here I had the chance to “invent” a connection of materials that would potentially create a spotlight for my box construction.  Although my efforts of invention compare to a very elementary understanding of electronics, I experienced a sense of fulfillment as I left the store, clutching my Radio Shack parcel.  But the lack of staff help made me wonder about the health of this retailer.  A New York Times web search came up with the news that Radio Shack is in turmoil; last fall its chief executive stepped down following a 21 million dollar loss despite the retailer’s shift toward the smartphone market.  The Internet is surely a wicked competitor, but I bemoaned the fact that others will be denied the chance to mess around a drawer of paraphernalia in a brick and mortar “store” as I did and “invent” an electronic connection.  A tutorial on electric circuits like this one from Red River College offers post invention reflection:     http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b3XS4lAxvrc

There was elementary thrill in connecting wires and seeing the little light blink on.  I drilled a hole in back of the box to thread the wires through, glued the beans in place, and added call outs for the beans printed on vellum.  But, oh my, here is where the inverse square law came into play.  The tiny light was diffused across the bottom of the box and hardly spotlighted the trio of beans.  I contemplated, “spotlight, spotlight,” then google imaged the term.  Right, they have a lens tube that directs the light, limiting diffusion.  I sawed off the end of a common pen top to create a black tube, fitted it with electrical tape and, well, see the spotlight effect?

Adventures in Lighting

Construction no.2 is fitted with a tiny spotlight that shines on a set of beans made important in the essay “Beans and Me” by Jeremy Jackson from Alone in the Kitchen With an Eggplant: Confessions of Cooking for One and Dining Alone (ed. Ferrari-Adler 2008).  In the essay’s story, the author imagines an interaction among anthropomorphized pinto, lentil, black bean, and black-eyed pea—the latter bean is left out of the limelight in an imagined scene.

Constructing the scene required the coordination of box size and intensity of light for the spotlight.  There is, I discovered, a relationship between object and light that relates to the “inverse square law,” that is, that light falls off, inversely, with the square of the distance.  This “law” came to my attention after an adventure into Radio Shack for the electrical materials to create a spotlight for a very tiny space.  Radio Shack and electronics go together and I assumed that the local mall retailer and its staff would guide my adventure.  Not so.  After showing my box and quest to light it to who seemed to be the “manager,” she directed me toward a confusion of drawers with all sorts of wires, lights and other paraphernalia.  As she stepped away from me, she smugly said she had no idea how any of those elements worked together.  Well, how about the other teen aged employees?  The young man shyly smiled with an absent look on his face, and the young woman was “very busy” at the moment, but she dropped the hint that the tiny lights with their mysterious wires need to be connected to a battery source.  Of course I ought to know about the wonderful world of electronics, but at the moment any schooling on the subject was dim.  I messed around those drawers for more than a half hour with excursions to the battery section of the store attempting to match up lamps with battery holders with battery voltages.  I settled on a 6 volts mini lamp (a tiny light bulb with wiring) and a cool little plastic box with on/off switch that holds 4 “AA” batteries, each 1.5 volts to equal a corresponding 6 volts for the lamp.  I took the pile of items to the busy young woman and she offered a “this should work” assessment.  I didn’t spend much money but the self-education was priceless.  I’ve always been fond of Jean Piaget’s premise that “to understand is to invent,” and here I had the chance to “invent” a connection of materials that would potentially create a spotlight for my box construction.  Although my efforts of invention compare to a very elementary understanding of electronics, I experienced a sense of fulfillment as I left the store, clutching my Radio Shack parcel.  But the lack of staff help made me wonder about the health of this retailer.  A New York Times web search came up with the news that Radio Shack is in turmoil; last fall its chief executive stepped down following a 21 million dollar loss despite the retailer’s shift toward the smartphone market.  The Internet is surely a wicked competitor, but I bemoaned the fact that others will be denied the chance to mess around a drawer of paraphernalia in a brick and mortar “store” as I did and “invent” an electronic connection.  A tutorial on electric circuits like this one from Red River College offers post invention reflection:     http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b3XS4lAxvrc

There was elementary thrill in connecting wires and seeing the little light blink on.  I drilled a hole in back of the box to thread the wires through, glued the beans in place, and added call outs for the beans printed on vellum.  But, oh my, here is where the inverse square law came into play.  The tiny light was diffused across the bottom of the box and hardly spotlighted the trio of beans.  I contemplated, “spotlight, spotlight,” then google imaged the term.  Right, they have a lens tube that directs the light, limiting diffusion.  I sawed off the end of a common pen top to create a black tube, fitted it with electrical tape and, well, see the spotlight effect?