CHAPTER #21 Master and Apprentice: PART II Thank you MEDIUM Readers, “Under the Hood” is a weekly one-page, chronological, work in progress. Clicking the keys is sharing the who, what, and why journey of a childhood curiosity to adult quest in becoming an artist. Travel Journals are my self-imposed homework assignments, so I broke the rules for the past chapters to document my recent two-week journey from Minnesota to California to install art-work. Now back to the Story…

WRITING #20 “California Dreaming” Part III The road from Utah into Los Angeles, was a glimpse into two different worlds. Utah’s canvas is a stunning example of Momma Nature’s sculptural handi-work. The westward crawl on I-15 to L.A. revealed a landscape of contemplative vistas and an occasional sea of solar panels quietly harnessing the warm rays of sunlight. Fast forward a few hours to the I-405, and I am swimming in an eight lane school of fish; a rubber meets the road symphony of BMWs Teslas and Toyotas. California car culture is alive and well.

Writing #19 California Dreaming Part II With Vegas staying in Vegas, I crept westward to the Nevada — California border. But my ”tourist” to-do list included one more stop before landing in Los Angeles to install the sculpture work. I am a physics nerd when it comes to remarkable feats of monumental construction. I needed to see engineering’s interpretation of art, the Hoover Dam. They say water will soon be the “new gold.” Coming from the shores of Lake Superior, the largest body of freshwater in the world and Minnesota, the land of a lake in every village, town and city, I am intrigued by this harnessing concrete power-wall charged with the assignment to hold, deliver, and transfer water and electricity to the dry environs of the Southwest.

WRITING #18 California Dreaming; PART I Spent my days with a woman unkind, smoked my stuff, and drank my wine; Made up my mind to make a new start, going to California with an aching in my heart; Someone told me there’s a girl out there with love in her eyes and flowers in her hair…

WRITING #17 Master and Apprentice: How I became a morning person (…well, kinda) “I need you here at eight in the morning, I come in around five or six for a few quiet hours .” …“Yes sir, I will see you Monday.” (8:00 am ?…ughh… I have to set an alarm) I had just arrived back in Minnesota to begin working for the famed sculptor Paul Granlund. As indicated in prior writings, I found art, art found me and we have been joined at the hip ever since. I sheepishly admit from time to time the somewhat naïve, art school kid within me, did have romantic fantasies of what a future artist life may entail. “…oh, the artist life … pure freedom, no glass office building cubes, no business casual, no quarterly performance reviews….ahh the free spirit…a long hair pony-tail, a make my own hours schedule…sleep til noon -work all night, keep a half lit- cig hanging from my mouth, paint my skin with ultra-hip tattoos, and wear nothing but black….so cool.

WRITING #16 Good Bye Massachusetts, Hello Minnesota: The Apprentice PART II I have lived in 7 states and moved 17 times. This time was no different. One part pain- saying goodbye, and one part joy- the open road of another chapter yet to be written. Life of an artist-explorer. Days before leaving, ultra-sweet art school friend Jennifer asked me several times…”are you taking I-90 East out of Boston”. I couldn’t wrap my head around why she was so interested in my navigation choices” but I assured her, yes… taking the Turnpike.

WRITING #15 Good Bye Massachusetts, Hello Minnesota: The Apprentice “Your dad has Parkinson’s”. Despite the dark prognosis, Mom was always Jackie Kennedy-like in her grace and composure; and this time her voice was no different. (sometimes I wish had another spoonful of her stay-cool demeanor.) The call came from home in Minnesota, I was still in Boston. My heart sank a bit as the Dad film reel flashed across my brain screen. The quiet stoic, the always there-for-me-never-got-sick kinda biology of my father now had a disease that can ruthlessly have its way with the body.

WRITING #14 Boston, Mass Part IV; Finding Flow About 5 miles up the shore from my studio lies the Cascade River; a series of waterfalls that roar with Spring melt off into Lake Superior. I hiked it today, Easter Sunday. It reminded me when it comes to “flow,” Mama Nature carries the torch. It also inspired this week’s writing: “…hey, you supposed to be in here ?” …ah..yeah, I’m in John’s welding class, he gave me the key code”

WRITING #13 Boston Mass Part III; a Mixed Tape of Misfit — Toys I liked Sarah. She had an impressive arsenal of carpentry tools. I sheepishly admit, my preconceived image of an Ivy-League, doctoral student did not include a woman with a woodshop, drum-set, a prior pro tennis career, and a shared affection for hoppy, IPA brews. Her family origins trace back to historic Philadelphia’s first government, and her father’s office was in the World Trade Center during the first bombing attack in 1993. I suspect our friendship strengthened as we both revealed our quite different “being adopted” stories and both growing up with adoptive mothers who lived with Diabetes. (that and, I gravitated toward her infectious laugh, and quick-witted, sophisticated references to bathroom humor, and the dynamics of vexing human psychology)