Episode Nine    Lighthouses

    "Do you want to step out for an early dinner, DiStefano's maybe, for Angel Hair Marinara?"
    "No, I'm really tired.  I'd rather stay home.  Let's cook."
    “Okay.”  They went into the kitchen.  Sam thought it was the most beautiful, well-designed well thought-out kitchen she’d ever seen in her life, complete with stainless steel appliances, white marble countertops, whitewashed cabinetry, and grey tiled floor and backsplash.  Crisp.  Clean.  Modern.  Laid out for maximum flow and efficiency, but yet still beachy.
    “We have frozen vegetables,” he said as he looked in the freezer.
    “We have rotini pasta,” she said looking in the pantry.  “How about Pasta Primavera?”
    “Sure.  Here’s the veg.  I’ll put the water on for the pasta.”
    “Jaks, what’s that?”  She pointed to the attachment on the faucet.
    “It’s a special water purifier.  We’ve got them all over, sinks, shower, we even take them with us when we travel.  I have water issues, My Darling.”  She nodded, accepting it without question.
Samantha was busy making a sauce for the vegetables.  Jakson picked out a bottle of wine for dinner, set the table, and soon they were sitting down next to each other having dinner.
    “Sam, this is very good!”
    “Thanks, Jaks.  I’m glad you like it.  This is a wonderful kitchen.  I just love it.  It’s so well planned.  Great flow.  And it’s so beautiful.”
    “Well, you planned it and you picked everything out.  I’m glad you still like it.  Honey, does anything seem familiar yet?”
    “Yes.  The little lighthouses in the bathroom,” she said.  “I remember them.”
    “What do you remember?”  He held his breath.
    “I remember buying some of them on vacation a long time ago.  I remember walking into a little shop on the boardwalk and picking one up, marveling at the beautiful intricate detailed work and how much it looked like the lighthouse we just visited.”
    “Do you remember, uh, me… right there with you?”
    “No, not exactly you, just that somebody was with me.  Sorry.”  He put his head down.
    “That’s okay.  But I was there.  I was right there next to you, my legs still aching from all those steps up to the top of the lighthouse and back down.  But the view was breathtaking.  Worth it.”  She nodded, not because she remembered, but to soothe him.
    “And I remember you bringing me one back every time you had to go away without me.”
    “Yes!  Yes!  That’s right.  Oh, thank God!  You remember me, ME bringing you one home from any trip I ever had to take without you?”  She nodded, but really didn’t remember anything else.  “You usually come with me when I travel.  I never leave you home alone unless I’m going into a dangerous place, but sometimes it happens.  I was hoping once I got you home, and you could relax, your memory would start to return.  Who would have thought the little lighthouses would do it!” He jumped up and hugged her, picking her up and twirling her around, kissing her head, her cheek, her ear.  “I love you.  And I know you’re going to be just fine!”
    “Lighthouses light your way when you are lost,” she said.  “Sometimes people who feel lost or alone or frightened find comfort and solace in lighthouses, with their beacons of light to guide one’s way back home.  How long have I collected lighthouses?”
    “You had a few when we met.  Let me think, you had one from Cape Hatteras, one from Cape Cod, one from Cape May, and one from someplace on Lake Erie.  You bought those yourself while traveling.  You had them in the living room at your apartment.  On top of a bookcase,” he nodded.         “Sam, do you feel lost or alone or frightened?”

CHARMING DECEPTION

Episode Eight  In the Gulf of Mexico

    They walked a short way down the shore to the water's edge.  The beach was deserted.  She kicked off her shoes and picked them up, letting the water lap her toes.  They strolled silently, listening to the calming sounds of the ocean.
    “I’m going in.  Are you coming?” she said.
    “No.  I’ll take your things and wait for you on that chair right over there, see it?”
    “Why don’t you want to go in the water?”
    “It’s wet.  And it bur… oh, I just hate the water.”
    “Brr!  You HATE the water,” she stifled a giggle, “and we bought a condo on the beach?  Why on earth?” she laughed out loud.
    “Yes, why on Earth.  Because you love it here.  And you love the water.  And I… I love you.”
    “Jakson Blake, you are too good to be true!”
    “No, Babe.  I’m not.”   He looked at her with a deep sadness in his eyes for a moment, and then it was gone.  “Go!  Swim a little.  But don’t go out too far.  I’ll get some sun.  I do like the sun!  Look for me in the chair over there, so you don’t drift off too far south, okay?  There’s a bit of a current today.”
She nodded and handed him her shoes and cover up.  Again she saw the sadness in his eyes once more just as she turned away to run into the water.
    “You okay?” he shouted to her as she bobbed around, only her head showing.
    “Yes, I’m fine.  Don’t worry about me.”
    “Is it cold?”
    “No!  Not at all.  It’s almost like bath water.  It feels wonderful!  Are you SURE you won’t come in and join me?”
    “Only to save your life, My Love, would I brave that water and come in there!  Have a good swim.  Be careful.  Watch my chair.  I’ll wave.  You wave back.  You shout if you need me.  But try not to, Love.”
    “I’ll be fine, Jaks,” she laughed.  “Quit fussing!”  Samantha bobbed around for a little longer.  She swam up toward the public beach, then back swam down the other way.  Every now and then she looked for Jakson and waved to him.  He waved back, ever watchful.
    She loved being in the water.  It took all her cares away.  It gave her a layer of insolation from the real and hurtful world.  It strengthened her, made her feel stronger, so she was better able to deal with whatever the hell life threw at her.  It made all those very frightening dreams she had seem less real, less threatening.  She slowed down in the water, like her life was a slow motion movie, in this case a very lovely but completely unfamiliar one.  This place was so beautiful.  The weather was perfect.  The condo was gorgeous, furnished and decorated to suit her taste.  Her closet with filled with beautiful clothing and accessories.  Jakson was handsome, sweet, and attentive.  He seemed genuinely concerned about her and was very romantic.  But she couldn’t shake the feeling that all this was some elaborate set-up.  But why?  And by whom?  About an hour passed.
    “Sam, are you ready to come out yet?”  Jakson stood and shouted at her.  “I’m starving, and you have to be getting all water-wrinkly by now!”
    “Okay,” she laughed, swam toward him, and walked up from the beach.  He held out a towel and helped dry her off.  He helped her on with her blouse as she slipped on her shoes.  They headed back upstairs, hand in hand, in silence.

  

IMPRESSIONISM

IMPRESSIONISM   is a painting style characterized by very fine, but visible brush strokes, open composition,  common subject matter, pure, bright, colors and a highly accentuated play of light.

As with Fauvism, Impressionism also had it's beginings in Paris during the 1870's and 1880's.  The style was highly criticized by the traditional French art community because it broke the rules of academic painting.  Contrary to the status quo where realistic scenes, landscapes, and portraits were painted in studios, the Impressionists worked outdoors capturing the effects of sunlight and acheiving a sense of movement to their art.

I'm a huge fan of MAXFIELD PARRISH, an  awe-inspiring American Impressionist artist and illustrator. (July 25, 1870 - March 30, 1966)    His works featured intense hues  (Parrish Blue) and dazzling luminosity.  You can find some interesting examples of Parrish's talent in the background of Elton John's  "Caribou"  album cover and also a variation of Parrish's  painting "Daybreak",  on the cover of the Moody Blues album titled "The Present".

Pictured above is "Ecstasy, 1930"  by Maxfield Parrish.  Note the intense blue sky contrasted with the subtle eroticism of the female figure.

Episode Seven    Very Healthy and Extremely Neat

    "Are you hungry?" Jakson asked.
    "No"
    "Okay.  Then, how about we go for a little walk on the beach?  That usually makes you feel better.  Want to change just in case you get the urge for a little dip?"
    The idea sounded wonderful to her.  She nodded.  He took her hand and led her into their bedroom, pulling open a drawer and pulling out a pair of white swim trunks with navy and red piping down the sides.  She looked around.  The calming beiges and taupes of the bedroom reminded her of sand and shoreline.  It was set off dramatically by the classic dark cherry Queen Anne furniture and a bit of English country garden influence.  It was warm, inviting, and restful.  And everything was very neat.
    "Jaks, I..."  He anticipated her question and pulled open a drawer in the adjacent dresser.
    "You keep your bathing suits and coverups in here.  Water shoes are in the bottom of the closet.  I'll get them and some towels while you change."  He went into the master bathroom.  She walked around the very large comfortable room.  She opened a door, surprised to find a large, perfectly organized closet full of beautiful clothes and shoes.  She checked the labels.  Size ten.  If I'm married to sweet, handsome HIM and I live HERE is this gorgeous tropical paradise, and all this beautiful high-end stuff is MINE, then why am I not skipping around doing the 'I'm the luckiest woman in the world' happy dance?  Why do I have this nasty, dark, suspicious, paranoid streak as wide as Cleveland?  He came out, looking very good in his swim trunks, with towels for them both.  He pulled a navy shirt out of his closet.
    “Is my sweetheart suddenly shy?  Want to change in the bathroom?”  She nodded, went in, and closed the door. The bathroom was a beautiful, restful oasis with its sea green glass tiles and seafoam green shower curtain.  More odd-looking water filters.  White shutters adorned the window, and there were some shelves on both sides of the window displaying little lighthouses from around the world.  She recognized them.  She bought some of them herself on vacation when she was in college.  Look! Lake Erie and Cape May.  And my husband brought me one every time he had to go away on a business trip without me.  She touched them to make sure they were real.  They were.  She pulled off her clothes and stepped into a one piece, one shoulder black swimsuit.  Very nice.  Expensive.  She looked in the mirror.  It fit her.  It fit her WELL.  In fact, she looked damn good.  She slipped a black lace blouse over her suit, but didn’t button it.
    She quietly opened the medicine cabinet and poked around, looking for something else to jar her memory.  First-aid items, alcohol, peroxide.  Dental care necessities.  Aspirin, shaving items.  Nothing out of the ordinary.  According to the contents of this medicine cabinet, they were two very healthy and extremely neat people.
    “Sam?  Honey?  Everything okay in there, Babe?  Need help?”
    “No, Jaks.  I’m fine.  Be right out.”  She quietly closed the cabinet door and came out of the bathroom.
    “Ah!  There she is!  The irresistible woman who stole my heart!”  He stood there and looked at her for a moment, as if he expected her to say something.  She didn’t.  “I have our water shoes and some towels.  Let’s go.”  He reached for her hand and they walked toward the back of the building, entering a tall, gleaming, glass elevator.  He pushed some buttons and the elevator began its slow descent while she took in the breathtaking, paradise-like view.  This was the most beautiful place she had ever seen.  And, yes, it did feel like home.

Episode Six      Going Home

    They drove down toward the Gulf coast, crossing the Tampa Bay Causeway.
   “Oh, this is so lovely!  I’d forgotten how truly beautiful it is here.”
   “You love it here.  You said this was your favorite place in the world.  That’s why we bought the condo here on the beach.  Remember?”  She didn’t answer.  What she was remembering was nothing like what Jakson and Dr. Reynolds told her.
   “Dr. Reynolds gave me a prescription for my allergy medicine.  I’m almost out.  I’ll probably have to pick it up soon.”
   “How long has Dr. Reynolds been my doctor?  I swear I never saw the man before today.”
   “For about a year now.”
   “Since we’ve been married then?”
   “Yes”
   “What about before that?  Who was my doctor?”
   “You didn’t have one, Honey.  That’s why I took you to my doctor.”
   “So, I have no family.  I have no doctor.  I love things, and I do some kind of fluff job for, who?”
   “You work for the Pendleton Markson Corporation, PenMark, and its not fluff.  You make a real difference in the lives of the children we work with, in health care, educational programs for mothers and children.  Vaccinations.  Sanitation.  Preventive medicine.  Food.”
   “Oh.”  She remained unimpressed.
   “And you love me, very much,” he nodded with just the tiniest smile.  She eyed him suspiciously, but then smiled at him.  It’s going to be impossible not to, she thought.
   The area grew more beautiful with every passing mile and soon they pulled into the parking lot of a very tall, white condominium complex.
   “Well, this is it, we’re home!  Let me take you up stairs and get you settled.  Then I’ll come back down for our things.”
   “Nonsense!  I’ll grab my bag and you take yours.  Don’t fuss, Jaks, it makes me think that I’m  terminal or fragile or ready to fall apart or something.  Don’t worry.  I’m not.  Let’s go.”
   “Hi, Sam!  Hi, Mr. Blake.  How are you?” said a waving, bubbly young girl in the lobby.  Sam smiled at her and said hi, but did not recognize her.
   “Hello, Shay,” said Jakson.  “We’re fine.  How are you?”  They got in the elevator and went up to the seventh floor.  He pulled out his keys and opened the door to 702.
   “Here we are, Love.  We’re home.  Does anything look familiar?”  She nodded.  Yes, she’d seen it before.  The condo was beautiful.  Whites and light blues dominated the living room with a pop of peach accents.  White sheer curtains pulled back allowing the breath-taking view to spill into the room.  From the doorway she could see the Gulf of Mexico.  The sky was a brilliant shade of blue, but it was the clouds that were most impressive.  There were great big white fluffy ones high up, and thin wispy ones moving quickly underneath them.  The gulf water was calm and a lovely milky blue color.  The view from the balcony was panoramic, with expansive white sandy beaches up and down the shoreline and palm trees dotting the landscape.  Floral shrubs lined the property in shades of pink, from pale to fuchsia.  White deck furniture set in small groups accented the grounds in lovely little vignettes with cushions, potted palm trees, and flowering shrubs.
   “Jaks, this place is gorgeous!”
   “Our place, Baby, yours and mine.  And, yes, it is.”

Episode Five     So Who Am I?

   "Tell me about myself," she asked.  Dr. Reynolds picked up her file and sat back in the chair.
   "You are Samantha Kay Hannery Blake," he read from her chart.  "You were born February 22, 1985, in Fulton Valley, Ohio.  You graduated from Youngstown State University with a degree in early childhood education.  You are employed by PennMark, have been for the last three years, working to improve children's health and educational programs, nationwide and internationally.  You started out doing relief work for the Red Cross when a devastating tornado hit your hometown.  Last year on your birthday, you married Jakson Allan Blake in Clearwater at a beachside wedding ceremony.  I was there.  You were a stunning bride.  And Jakson, well, I’ve never seen him so happy in his whole life.  You two live on the beach in a condo on Gulfview Drive, just across the bay on the coast.”
   “Do I have any family?”
   “Parents are deceased.  No siblings.  But you have Jakson.”  Again, how convenient, she thought.  
   "Okay.  Tell me about Jakson."
   "Jakson Allan Blake.  Parents are wealthy diplomats in Great Britain. Jack and Miriam.  Wonderful people, they’re good friends of mine.  And they’re crazy about you.  They claim you brought their son back to life.  Jackson was born on May 4, 1980 in London, educated at Oxford.  He’s a worldwide problem solver, a peacemaker, and an international miracle worker.  Brilliant!  Speaks seven languages.  By occupation, he’s a binding arbitration mediator.  And he gets fantastic results.  He’s in very high demand all over the world."
   "And he married ME?"
   "You two are a perfect match!”  Dr. Reynolds laughed heartily.  “And I must say... he loves you, Samantha.  He’s been so worried about you.  In the hospital, he never left her side, even though I told him you didn't even know he was there.  He sat with you and held your hand and kept telling you everything was going to be all right.  He's devoted to you."
   Samantha walked to the window.  None of this was familiar.  She remembered a small, lonely life.  She remembered paperwork and maps and trucks and truck routes, a headful of numbers and formulas.  She remembered huge manuals with state regulations.  She remembered bad office coffee and good cheese Danish from the corner coffee shop.  She remembered a small, quiet, dusty, colorless town.
   “Any other questions?”
   “Prognosis?”
   “Complete recovery.  You can go home.  Call me if you have any strong or unusual head pain.  Jakson has medication for you if you, so tell him if you need it.  But call me immediately if you have head pain, or a blinding migraine, or nausea.  Make an appointment in three weeks for bloodwork, and I’ll see you in a month, here, okay?”  He handed her an appointment card.
   “Okay.  Home.  It sounds wonderful,” she nodded.  “Thank you, Doctor.”
   Dr. Reynolds left.  She saw him talking to Jakson outside, Jakson nodding, looking very concerned.  She read his lips.  He said ‘yes, she’ll do it.’  Then the doctor left and Jakson came in.  Do what, she wondered.
   “I hear we’re going home!  Great news, yes?”  She nodded as she packed.  Soon they were ready to leave.
   “Let’s go, Sweetheart.  You’re going to feel so much better once we get home.  Familiar surroundings, with all your things, the things you love.”

FAUVISM

Art that steps outside the realm of realism has always excited and inspired me.  Artists whose works depict the world as it "isn't" have served as the impetus for a number of my own endeavors.  Some of those styles include, cubism, fauvism, and expressionism.  Today's brief focus is on Fauvism.

FAUVISM   A short-lived style of painting from early 20th century France.  It is recognizable by its bold, clashing, arbitrary colors - hues that would not appear in objects in the natural world.  The word "fauve" is French for " wild beast".

Les Fauves,  was a small group of modern artists that produced works boasting strong colors - colors characteristic of Impressionist paintings.  The movement originated with Gustave Moreau, well known for being a controversial professor of art in Paris.   Moreau taught the likes of Matisse, Marquat, and Rouault.  Henri Matisse was the most noted of the fauvist students.

Pictured here is "Woman With A Hat" from 1905 by Henri Matisse.

FANTASY ART

I thought for my inaugural post, I would briefly introduce you to one of my favorite forms of art.  FANTASTIC or FANTASY ART, is a genre that has intrigued me from my childhood days of daydreaming and sketching.  Some of you may know it as dream art  and others may associate it with surrealism.

In it's beginnings it was mainly found in comic books and cover art, consisting mostly of paintings and illustrations.  Modern day fantasy artists now employ photography in their work.  This genre is rooted in many subjects, for example, science fiction, the occult, and mythology.  A great deal of this category of expression stems from fantasy literature, such as the writings of J R R Tolkien and Ray Bradbury.

I have been profoundly influenced and inspired by the likes of science fiction/fantasy artists Vincent Di Fate and Frank Frazetta.

Pictured here, "Fantasy", a piece that I created after rereading  "The Martian Chronicles", a collection of short stories by Ray Bradbury written in the 1940's.

Fantasy  by  Parker Kaufman  2012

Episode Four    Enter the Doctor

    There was a knock at the door.
    “Remember, Babe, calm,” he cautioned her quietly.  Jakson answered the door.  He and the doctor whispered for a moment before the doctor entered the room.
    "Well!  You’re looking very well today, Samantha.  How are you feeling?”
    "Fine, thank you, Doctor," Sam smiled.  The doctor shot Jakson a happy look.
    "Yes, Doc, she feels much better today.  She’s herself this morning.  I think we're ready to go home."
    "I’m happy to hear that.  If you didn't improve soon, I was going to have to start medicating Jakson."  He laughed.
    "He's kidding, Sweetheart.  Don’t scare her, Doc.  I'm fine.  Just seasonal allergies."
    "He's been very worried about you.  You've got yourself a good one here, Samantha.”  She looked at Jakson uncomfortably.  Why did she feel she was being manipulated?  She nodded.
    "So, you’re feeling better?"
    "Yes, Doctor, I feel fine."
    "Jakson, any hostility today?"
    "No.  She is her old sweet self."
    "Doctor, what happened to me?"
    "We’re not quite sure.  A virus, we suspect.  It disrupted your memories.  They'll come back.  But you’re not very patient with yourself."
    "A virus?  A virus took away my memories?  But I can still speak and walk and tie my shoes?  Did anyone else contract this selective memory-destroying virus?”
    “No.”   How convenient, she thought.
    “And you’re sure it's not Alzheimer’s or some other form of dementia?"
    "No dementia of any form.”"
    "Are my oxygen levels within the normal range?”
    “Yes”
    “And is my bloodwork normal?”
    “Yes, bloodwork is good.”
    “Any drugs in my system, like... oh, say, Rohypnol?"
    "No date rape drugs in your system.  And you haven't been out of control?"  He shot Jakson an alarmed look.
    "You'll have to ask Jaks!" she smiled.
    "No, Doc, she's been fine.  A little confused about her situation, of course, but that’s to be expected, isn’t it?  Could you give her a little background information on herself?  I'll go for a little walk, so that you two can have some private doctor-patient time," he said.  Then in a soft whisper to her he added,         "Ask him anything about me, anything at all.  I want you to trust me again, okay?"  He left the room and went outside.
    "What can I help you with, Samantha?" the doctor asked.
    “First of all, where am I?”
     “At our private clinic.  For my private patients.  In Tampa, Florida.  Head injuries, brain trauma, and memory problems.  My partner and I own and operate the clinic and we try our best to make it as comfortable and homelike as possible for our patients and their spouses.”

Episode Three     Jaks

     "So.  Who the hell am I?" she asked coldly.
     "You are Samantha Blake.  Samantha Hannery Blake.  You are my wife."
     "Bullshit!" she shouted at him.  "If I were married to you, I'd know it!"
     "Okay, now calm down.  Our doctor is coming to check you out.  He should be here soon.  Maybe he can explain it to you better than I can.  Come on, Babe, try to relax.  You want to be calm when he gets here.  Calm.  So we can go home.  Okay?  Wait a minute!  Was there a veiled compliment in there somewhere?  I think there was!"  He smiled at her shyly, blushing a little.  She smiled back.  "Aha!  I knew it," he teased.  "You rather like me, don't you?  Come on, admit it!  A little bit?  Maybe?"  She giggled.  He brought her a robe and helped her on with it, and held her gently in his arms.  "Everything's going to be okay.  I promise you."  He kissed the top of her head loudly and piloted her to the table and chairs near the window.
     “Please try to remember, I’m on your side.  I am not the enemy."  They sat and drank their coffee looking out at the courtyard in silence for a moment.  "I’m here for you, Sam, no matter what.  I know this is scary for you, but you’re not alone.  You have me.  And I love you.  I’m in this with you, one hundred percent, no matter what.  Okay?
     Now, it might be a good idea if we shower, so we can go home as soon as the doctor releases you.”  He went into the bathroom and turned the shower on.  “Well, come on.”
     “Together?”
     “Yes, yes.  We always shower together.  Come on.”  She followed him into the bathroom.  He adjusted the water temperature.
     “Ah, hot, just like you like it!”  He helped her into the tub and pulled the shower curtain closed.            “Now I really think he’ll release you today.  But you have to be calm, or at least pretend to be calm, just until we get out of here.  Okay?”
     "Okay.  What do I call you?"
     "Jaks.  It's Jakson Blake, but you’ve always called me Jaks.  You are, by the way, the only one who calls me Jaks.”
     “And what does everyone else call you, Jaks?”
     “Everybody else calls me Mr. Blake,” he said haughtily, but with a grin.
     "Thank you, Jaks. I'll try to behave myself.”
     "Oh, that'll be the day!"  He clutched his chest and laughed.  "You don’t need to behave yourself for me.  I like you just the way you are.  All I want is for you to feel better."
    "Jaks, how long have we been together?"
    "Long or short version?"
    "Short, please."
    "We will be married one year this February.  We were together for six months before that.  We’ve been together since the day we met.  We just... clicked.  Whenever you feel up to it, I’ll give you the long, convoluted version with, oh let me see, parallel worlds, and dimensional doorways, doppelgangers, a nasty vicious king…”
     “Stop!  I’ve heard enough craziness for one day,” she laughed.  “But… is there a love story in there somewhere?”
     “Oh, yes, a very good one,” he nodded.  She smiled.
     They dried off and dressed.  She pulled her hair up in a chignon, applied a bit of make up, and put on the earrings she found on the dresser.  She thought she looked presentable.  And calm.