The March X ends today, and among the things accomplished: a new greenhouse kit was assembled at the back line of our yard. My thanks to Russ for his catalytic inspiration, Terie and Marty for their help, and Dana for her reliable support.
Happy Easter!
This past month was dominated by the earthly departure of my mother. The role she played in my becoming an artist and the approach I bring to my practice cannot, and should not, 
be understated. What a debt I owe to her, and to pay it forward will require that I live as long as she! I might’ve started “giving back” much earlier, if it had been my basic nature. I can be a quick study for most things, but it often takes me far too long to learn the rest, especially when it involves stepping beyond my own creative urge. Her life was a lesson in putting others before self. In order to support her parents’ household in a world at war, she turned down a full scholarship to the same University of Cincinnati that I would eventually attend. Decades later, in a nest recently emptied of seven children, and just as she was about to explore her own personal interests, she followed her family to a remote part of a rural Kentucky county. As a widow, she built an ethical foundation for a land-based legacy that is now set to endure for generations. When she faced a grim medical prognosis that would break the spirit of others, she maintained a zest for life, an obvious concern for how it might affect others, and an astonishing diligence to push back against it. The world of my youth had shouted, “Be cynical, or pessimistic, or both,” but she would always be my reliable source of optimism, like a spring which never dries up. 
I could’ve become a quitter early on, but she helped me to overcome discouragement born of self-doubt and to fulfill commitments. If something is worth doing, it’s worth doing well. Why not always do your very best? And then you will automatically get better. Along with my siblings, everything was done to provide the care she needed to continue living at home, until it became no longer possible. Those years — what could be mistakenly judged as sacrificial — strengthened our family bond in a way that will last us for the duration. To separate that from my activity as an artist was unnecessary at the time and foolhardy in hindsight. Above and beyond the value of artisanship, she taught me that a creative life without love for others is devoid of meaning. Of all the souls I have intimately known, hers is the most worthy of imitation.
“The shoe that fits one person pinches another;
there is no recipe for living that suits all cases.”
— Carl Jung
The distinctive singularity of an individual has been a profound feature of my awareness throughout life. Undoubtedly, it is the basis for much of what I have enjoyed doing most — from solving visual problems for unique entrepreneurs, or creating my own brand of illustrated portraits, and, of course, hand-crafting greeting cards with collage miniatures. I shall never tire of assembling a spontaneous composition with suitable ingredients to honor a particular person. Each collage, like every human being, is a one-of-a-kind creation, and the medium is ideal for personalized expressions. The artist has a remarkable opportunity to interpret the peculiar constellation of personality traits, proclivities, and associations that befit a fellow mortal. To put it simply: I love it!
Dwindling Nest
collage miniature by J A Dixon
collection of J Hellyer
“What is it that confers the noblest delight? What is that which swells a man’s breast with pride above that which any other experience can bring to him? Discovery!”
– Mark Twain
March is going out like a lion — no big surprise there. Meanwhile, the March Ex(clusion) is declared OVER. It has unwrapped itself in a way that I never could have predicted. This whole thing originated as a time-management experiment designed to re-calibrate a design practice that I didn’t realize was fated for demise, in transition to my true calling. 
I’m an artist now, belatedly but wholeheartedly, as I dreamed I’d be since childhood. The March ritual has become an internal, near-sacramental custom — more difficult to describe than ever. But that’s not the point of it. The 31-day string of blog posts is just a way to modulate my attention span and, perhaps, to crystalize as relics a few word clusters with the potential to re-animate various worthy insights at a later time. Would that I had the talent and capacity to write down the many intangible illuminations that peppered this month! That’s not my gift, any more than the ability to devise winning basketball plays under pressure (like my godfather) or to compose organ music in solitude (like my grandfather). Spring (who has sprung) points me to the open air. I am better prepared to answer her summons with another March under my belt (and, before long, to enter my eighth decade). April, here I come.
Today’s sight bite— His severe yet compassionate visage, with the ever-present verdigris patina, —c-l-i-c-k— that man on the Danville obelisk, seeming to acknowledge and endorse the success of a ritual that I’ve conducted in some guise for 16 years.
“There is no chance, and no anarchy, in the universe. All is system and gradation.”
– Ralph Waldo Emerson
It’s been a long time since I read through older posts at this site, but for some reason I came across the astonishing 6 Mombonian Updates from 2007, which document my mother’s heart surgery. I can’t believe how much time I used to spend blogging, compared to the present time frame, but I’m glad I did it, and even more glad that BCA preserves it at XORPH.com (although the few entries the Mombo made at her own subsection are no longer visible, as far as I can tell). It’s seems fitting today to turn the rest of this post over to Joan and her pleasant message after visiting The Grandview:
“Well, I was with Mombo for 2 1/2 hours this morning. It was a BVE (Best Visit Ever). Jerome is absolutely right. Now is the time to come visit. I got here at 8:30. She was in the dining room finishing up her breakfast. She had eaten a lot and was drinking apple juice out of a cup BY HERSELF. When I walked up she was trying to get it back on her tray without spilling it so I helped her. She said thank you and looked up at me. I said good morning and told her who I was (Joannie). She asked Joan Elaine Dixon? I knew right then we were going to have a BVE. She was more lucid that I have seen her in two years. Either spring has sprung in her brain or the covid fog has finally lifted. We sat in the dining room and had a long conversation. Then we went back to her room and she listened to music while I massaged her feet, legs, hands, and scalp. She complained about her legs hurting so I asked the nurse (James) about the supports for her wheelchair. They were not in her room but he tracked them down. I also asked Tina to let the helpers know that they should be put on if she is going to be in the wheelchair for any length of time. I tried to make some videos of parts of our conversations. Unfortunately the first ones are pretty lousy because I got my head in front of the phone so she could see me, and all you can see is my hair.”
Today’s sight bite— a-b-o-v-e-!-!
“Cain turns to Evil to obtain what Good denied him, and he does it voluntarily, self-consciously and with malice aforethought. Christ takes a different path. His sojourn in the desert is the dark night of the soul — a deeply human and universal human experience.”
– Jordan B Peterson“No tree can grow to Heaven unless its roots reach down to Hell.”
– Carl Gustav Jung
Yesterday was really something else, and, if I had to live it repeatedly, I could do much worse. Was the promise of this month’s endeavor fulfilled? Perhaps it even suggests a solution to my quandary of the twenty-third day. If I knew that tomorrow was going to be put on a loop, how would I prepare? How then would I live it? A balance of effort and non-effort? How does one avoid crossing a frontier into excessive introspection? How often should action be diluted with non-action? James emphasized to me the importance of cyclic illumination for seedlings, because a young plant grows more during darkness than it does during the period of light. Similarly, a plant can bend toward the sun only if the cells multiply faster on the opposite side. What can that awareness possibly offer to the contemplative? Is there a meaningful difference between negation and denial? What is the March Ex(clusion) hiding that has yet to be revealed?
Today’s sight bite— A tangle of roots, sod, and invasive ivy, —c-l-i-c-k— as the ground is broken for my new backyard berry patch.
“None of them [simulations] emphasized protecting public health by showing Americans how to bolster their immune systems, to eat well, to lose weight, to exercise, to maintain vitamin D levels, and to avoid chemical exposure. None of these focused on devising the vital communications infrastructures to link frontline doctors during a pandemic or to facilitate the development and refinement of optimal treatment protocols.”
– Robert F Kennedy, Jr
I’ve adopted the practice of “grounding” every morning, standing barefoot in my front yard. Although there are many published enumerations of the benefits, I can’t put into words the positive effect that I feel every time I do it, especially when I look up into the sky. Apparently the human organism is an electo-magnetically sensitive creature like other mammals. Last time I checked, none of them wear shoes. They typically dig in the dirt a lot, too, and I’ve been wanting to do that myself more and more. James is holding some black raspberries for me. Eventually, my whole backyard will probably end up as a crude urban farmstead.
Today’s sight bite— The stark metal structure extending out into the downtown parking lot, —c-l-i-c-k— its black hulk having swallowed what used to be a brewpub previously known as the Beer Engine.
“To plead the possibility of the merely possible, losing in the process all right to insist on the desirability of what would be better, is finally to lose even the possible.”
– Wendell Berry, That Distant Land
Spent most of the day on the Hoover job, and I realize how rusty my graphic production skills have become. I’m also fully aware of my meager attainment in the starting-vegetable-plants department, compared to how James has perfected his pre-garden methods. Faced with big decisions about my deadline for the Berea Learnshops (which were canceled two summers in a row because of infection concerns) and the Al Smith application. If you think about it, life is a four-period ball game. After coming of age, I spent the second quarter as a design professional and the third making a transition to collage artist. Well, I’m getting closer to entering the fourth quarter. Shouldn’t I have figured out by now what the essence of that will be about? (It has a heckuva lot more to do with the natural world. I know that much.)
Today’s sight bite— n o n e
“A recent bill that was introduced would ‘authorize the President of the United States to issue letters of marque and reprisal for the purpose of seizing the assets of certain Russian citizens.’ So, if the bill passes, children can once again legitimately dream of becoming a pirate when they grow up.”
– Simon Black
It occurred to me today that Dana and I started out together with our own natural lifestyles, and, over the years, we’ve evolved separately toward the mean. I’m not talking about our personalities, but the way we like to live each day. We actually were remarkably close to begin with, but then we mutually adapted to like each other’s groove a bit more over time. Hey, in other words, it worked out fine. Earlier today we had a busted mission to dig some freebie yard plants. I sowed some wildflowers instead. This morning brought good relations with Les J in England and Tammy in Lake City. That, plus a decent night’s sleep, made this one a keeper before noon.
Today’s sight bite— Flashing lights on the firetruck a stone’s throw away, —c-l-i-c-k— while the morning air filled with enough burnt-toast stink to coax me back inside.
“The universe rewards hustle.”
– Joe Rogan
Spring done sprang out there, but Dana and I had to spend most of our day putting the finishing touches on “Collage as: Painting in Papers,” my article submission for Contemporary Collage Magazine. Writing something decent always requires that I ask for her help. Mediocre is all I can manage on my own. As I mentioned to Marty, nothing at all might result from this, or it could be one of the most important things ever to come my way as an artist (probably something in between those two extremes). Man, did I want to be outside today! I’ll save that anticipation for tomorrow.
Today’s sight bite— n o n e
“Of all sources of wealth, farming is the best, the most agreeable, the most profitable, the most noble.”
– Cicero
I tied one on at Greystone with Marty, James, Nic, and Seth last night — great fun — and then it was another long work session inside the Blue Bank Hall today, patching and painting with our crew. I broke away later to continue my duties in the “orchard.” Seth and I scheduled the long-awaited transfer of the Legend Papers, and there’s no telling what might come of that.
Today’s sight bite— The near equinoctial sun, piercing through the upper branches of a venerable pear tree, —c-l-i-c-k— as I continued my annual pruning in the family cemetery.
“He and I hold some different views, which can be painfully stark these days; at the same time, I will always be a person shaped by his art, and by our love for one another.”
– B C Adkins
I stumbled upon Brendan’s gesture of sharing a link to my process video. His “rollover aside” both melts and pierces my heart. (Perhaps that’s as accurate a description of real love as I will ever come up with.)
Today’s sight bite— Searching through my little movie, frame by frame, —c-l-i-c-k— until I finally discover an image of me working outside that is probably better than all the other photos from the past five years.
“Some of us, like me, are addicted to truth, logic, and commonsense. We make those who’d rather turn away from the blazing fire of truth uncomfortable. So be it. Are you standing up for what you believe in on a daily basis? Are you looking evil in the eye and refusing to back down when it rears it’s ugly head? Are you a conduit of good? Are you in the asset column or the liability column for your loved ones and community? Do you protect or do you need protecting? Are you a warrior or a victim?”
– Ted Nugent
I spent almost five hours in a chair, wrestling paragraphs about my collage artwork into a first draft for Dana’s able editing. I don’t know what the publishers of Contemporary Collage Magazine are expecting, but I’ll be submitting a profile of myself as a landscape artist (and then we’ll go from there).
Today’s sight bite— A split-second flash of brilliant crimson, —c-l-i-c-k— as the male cardinal flees a nearly finished nest in my topiary yew.
“Plutarch states that Cato ‘undertook the service of the state as the proper business of an honest man.’”
– Thomas E Ricks, First Principles
When the belligerents are making overtures to de-escalate the conflict, why are many so-called leaders failing to soften their hawkish stance in favor of advocating for peace? When the president of Ukraine (still alive) invites a negotiated settlement based on the offered demands, why is the elite “influence class” pushing emotionalism and reckless militarism? Who will benefit from instability, destruction, bloodshed, and death in excess of what the Russians have factored into an achievable outcome? Another potential question: why didn’t Volodymyr Oleksandrovych Zelenskyy stop playing the NATO card long before his nation was ruined? Was he naive, complicit, or merely a dupe? What happens next is unknown, but, without a doubt, analysts will argue over all of this for the rest of my lifetime. The hellish suffering will forge new cadres of radicalized youth and hardened ideologues. Welcome to the ancient steppes of Eurasia.
We won’t go into what Iñigo Navarro says about seeing multiple crows.
Today’s sight bite— Five crows resting high in the “Simon Kenton” maple, —c-l-i-c-k— as they noisily greet number six and seven to the murder.
“You only regret the workouts you didn’t do.”
— Joe Rogan
Hoov wants me to get involved in his club-jersey project. This is a good reminder that there will always be unexpected things pop up, whenever I allow available time to contract unnecessarily. We had our aborted farm run this morning when Joan had a bad tire intervene south of Danville. My manual labor helped only so much, until Dana provided the brainpower to move us promptly to “best-case scenario.” If I don’t jump on this mild weather (and a bicycle, of course), I may not get in ride for a few days. It’s March. Where’s the commitment?
Today’s sight bite— As flat as a left-rear tire can get, —c-l-i-c-k— before the realization hits: if I can’t loosen these lugs, there isn’t much I can hope to do.
“If you believe that the West can craft sanctions that maximize pain for Russia, while minimizing financial stability risks in the West, you could also believe in unicorns.”
– Zoltan Pozsar
It was a full day that included our trip to Lexington with Marty, visiting the toy show and Kentucky Crafted Market, along with a couple of nice meals. The best part was seeing grandson and grandmother having such quality time together. I came away from the market more convinced that I wasn’t working hard enough, plus the idea that more “prepared papers” are the way to go. Shocked to learn that Joanne P also hadn’t sold a single piece through Artrepreneur. I grabbed a bit of my own quality time with Terie and Marty when I delivered the big lad home. Afterward: the season-four finale of “Mrs. M.” I was enthralled by Tony S’s brilliantly modulated acting and how integrated it was with his incredible breath control. What does any of this have to do with the March Ex? Very little. Tomorrow must be a day of dedicated re-calibration.
Today’s sight bite— After a fruitless search through the floor of tables at the Lexington Figure Fest, it appeared as though the site was devoid of vintage plastic men, ’til I spied a container of odds and ends, —c-l-i-c-k— with the only “oldies” to be found, including some Hong Kong soldiers, three China martial arts fighters, and one M.U.S.C.L.E.!
“The Fates find a way.”
– Virgil
Today is the 44th anniversary of our first date, a number that does not fail to gain one’s attention. Long ago, two much younger versions of ourselves transformed what could have been a day of utter dejection into our wellspring of loving companionship. Dana made venison chili while I toasted some blue corn, cheddar-jalapeno nachos. We opened a satisfying Cabernet made from “noble vines” and watched Spielberg’s West Side Story. Still sore from “checklist exercise” and yard activity, I’d done my best to neglect most of the daily duties so characteristic of March.
Today’s sight bite— The sprawling bush, shorn of last year’s tangle of outermost growth, —c-l-i-c-k— with thousands of tiny buds casting a mellow green tint across its bread-loaf shape.
“Disobedience is the true foundation of liberty.”
– Henry David Thoreau
Feeling a little sluggish this morning, having Ex(ceeded) my portion of coffee during our trip to Lexington yesterday. Then I drank from the can of KNOWLEDGE when we got home, which seemed like a good idea at the time, but, in retrospect, was clearly an unnecessary Ex(ception) to the Ex(clusion). Back to square one on day five. Today we’ll travel to the farm for Hall painting, garden planting, cemetery pruning, water hauling, and Marty “hangin.”
Today’s sight bite— The Blue Bank Hall, partially clad in its new metal protection, —c-l-i-c-k— as it prepares to make a “newenday” statement to reinforce our evolving farm identity.
Earlier this week, Dana and I traveled to Ohio with Terie to pay tribute to her grandmother, Jane. I like to point out that Dana found only one satisfactory mate in life, but she was blessed to have two first-class mothers-in-law. Saints, like all human beings, have imperfections, although they best emulate the only perfect example known to us, and show us how to live. Jane was that kind of person.
It was an emotional trip for another reason. Jane’s street-level funeral procession, from Moraine to North Dixie Highway, will stick with me for a long time. I can’t recall ever having seen such a disturbing progression of urban blight than what I witnessed from the back seat as Dana drove. We were all acutely aware of our surroundings. Every red light was bypassed within the supervision of local police. The steady, harrowing vision outside was that of a sad wreck — a city that I knew so well in the ’80s as Dayton, Ohio.
“Oh, the humanity . . .” (in the true spirit of the original lament)
