Flavia Bacarella is an amazing artist whose work pulls you in with its color, its directness, and its life force. She is primarily a painter, with a remarkable eye for color, shade, and mood, so it’s not surprising to hear her say that what she has always “most loved about painting is the visual pleasure I gain from the colors.” You can see this love of color in her paintings of scenes from the farm in upstate New York where she lives with her husband, Keith Stewart, an organic farmer and writer. In all of her paintings, woodcuts, and drawings, you can see her love of her work.
Belgian Blues
Oops 50 interviewed Flavia Bacarella recently, so that we could introduce our readers to this wonderfully gifted artist and her work.
Oops 50: When/how did you become a painter?
Up on the Hill
FB: I started painting after graduating as an English major from college. As a child, though, I always was drawn to ‘coloring’ and was totally passionate about my 64-color crayola set. I drew with these crayons non-stop as a kid. But I didn’t study art other than an occasional art course in grade school and high school until after college. When I started studying, I took a drawing course, and the teacher encouraged me to become a painter. I started studying painting at night until I was able to take a fellowship leave and a couple of special leaves without pay in order to participate in both a full-time studio program at the Studio School in NYC and later earn a graduate degree from Brooklyn College.
Every year, I like to pick one plant to grow in my summer garden that is different, an ”exotic”, just so I can experience the taste of that particular fruit or vegetable right off the vine. So growing next to the usual tomatoes, swiss chard, lettuce, basil, carrots, beets, fennel and figs, this year’s “exotic” is a cantaloupe called Hearts of Gold. I love that name, and found the seeds in my local health food store from a local seed seller, called Sow True Seed. And yes, I do believe in buying local!
I plant everything based on the planting guide of Maria Thun’s BioDynamic calendar. I cannot imagine gardening without it. I even get my hair cut according to this calendar! If you don’t know about this, you really should try it because it really does make a difference.
So growing vertically along the fence that surrounds my raised beds was the cutest plant with yellow flowers that became little baby rounds that soon in this record-breaking summer heat became heavy and firm cantaloupes. I was thrilled to watch them grow, I was thrilled to bring it in when it fell from the vine into my hands, and I was thrilled to taste it…it was like eating warm sunbeams with a sweet taste and heavenly aroma. Ahh, summer!
This whole thing of releasing kids into the universe should be easier by now. After all, parts of it are so much easier: we are not ingénue parents going to our first college to drop off our first kid; we don’t take long, extensive notes at Orientation sessions; we smoothly navigate college websites. And we are no longer intimidated by the process of packing enough stuff to make sure she has all she needs. We know there is always the U.S. Mail. Most of all, we no longer stay up late, worrying that our child might be homesick—or worrying more when she isn’t. We know that, either way, there is nothing we can do about it. Not a damn thing.
But that’s part of what makes this whole process hard, every single, damn time: there is nothing we can do about anything any more. Once again, one of our children—in this case, our daughter, Becky, has stepped over the threshold that takes her out of our home, out from under us, into her own world. We may still be here to provide financial—and occasional emotional—support, but, really, our work is done. As the colleges love to point out these days, she is on her own now, making her own choices, setting her own curfew (or not), and we won’t even hear about it unless she chooses to tell us. No helicoptering allowed!
Becky with her sisters at high school graduation
So, it’s damn hard. First of all, there is the big, gaping hole that one person’s absence creates in a family. Secondly, there is the emptiness of rooms once occupied by Becky. But, worst of all, there is the suddenness of it all. In one breath, you have moved from waking up at night and feeding a baby to pushing that baby out the door. Overnight, you have gone from soccer practises and piano lessons, in a land where time stands still, to this strange, alien planet where kids become grownups and function on their own. Overnight, you’re supposed to make that dramatic, sudden shift that is required—from being an active parent, overseeing a teenager’s actions, keeping track of a teenager’s hours, to being a calm, uninvolved, hip, laissez faire parent who trusts that her child will be fine, no matter what. It’s not a natural process. It throws off all your signals. It doesn’t come naturally to me.
Becky's stuff on the ground outside her dorm
But I’m working on it.
It helps to make promises to myself: I promise I won’t go whacko and think up bogus reasons to drive to Greensboro in order to show up on her doorstep in tears, with homemade brownies in hand. I promise that I won’t cry in my beer about the fact that I never read all the Harry Potter books to her out loud. I promise that I won’t do again what I did the first night and eat five bowls of ice cream to try to make myself feel better. But I also promise that I will cry, damn it, when I feel like it and to hell with how pathetic I look! Most of all, I will celebrate the fact that our daughter is happily ensconced in college, so I will be a saint and not get angry when I read her Facebook status that says “Yaay, College!” at the same time that mine says, “Bereft.”
Given all the fuss a post or two ago about Oprah looking for women obsessed with aging and beauty, I am happy to turn that page and introduce you to a beautiful and creative woman over 50 who is far too busy creating cards and more for us women over 50 than being obsessed with aging. Meet Diane English, a self-taught artist who owned a metaphysical book store in St. Augustine, Florida before moving to Asheville, NC 10 years ago. After reading The Artist’s Way by Julie Cameron, Diane decided to follow her dream of combining art with her spiritual path allowing her to embark on the next phase of her life. After visiting her in her studio and seeing many of her cool, cosmic characters, I’d say she is living her dream – minus the downtown condo she covets.
Diane at play, oops, I mean work.
Diane is the owner and creator of The Great Cosmic Happy Ass Card Co,and if you’ve never received one of her cards, send yourself one. Why not? They’re inspiring, whimsical and just plain old kick-ass funny. This is one of my favorites. This beautiful woman over 50 has aspired to achieve a higher consciousness along her journey, and not without some help from “years of deep meditation, medication, fasting, prayer and a few bottles of Merlot.” Having had a subscription to her cards, I knew I was in for a treat when we finally sat down in her lovely bright living room drinking coffee and nibbling scones.
Oops50: What made you finally decide to leave Florida and your bookstore, “Dream Street,” and go into the card business?
Diane: About once every 7 years, I did a painting, and one of them was titled, “Reach for Your Stars.” That became my first card, and it sold out in my bookstore. Then, I made more cards and magnets, and soon those sales were accounting for 20% of my gross revenue. That’s when the big box book stores moved in, and I took that as sign to make a change.
Oops50: Kind of like the movie, “You’ve Got Mail.”
Diane: I really wanted to use smart ass but I didn’t feel I could really do that. So, my customers helped me pick the name.
Oops50: So now I’m going to change the subject a little. What’s your fondest childhood memory?
Diane: My grandfather carrying me on his shoulders while walking me to the zoo. He was Irish and English, and we lived in Philly and walked everywhere. When we got to the zoo, there was a blackbird in a cage at the entrance and he said, “Hi, I’m Joe.”
Oops50: What’s was the first record you bought? Diane: It’s a tie between Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto and Bill Haley and the Comets.
Oops50: Any advice for women over 50?
Diane: Well, I’m well over 50 – 68 in fact. Don’t listen to anyone. Follow your heart and do what you want to do. Don’t be intimidated by the “should’s” in life. Oh yeah, and keep your nose out of other people’s business.
Oops50: Right. I need to remember that. So what turns you on?
Diane: A romantic dinner in an Italian restaurant, with Luciano Pavarotti singing in the background.
Oops50: So you like Italian?
Diane: I had an aunt who married an Italian, and I remember wonderful Italian dinners. And I like to cook Italian food–outrageously delicious.
Oops50: What next? Any new dreams?
Diane: A downtown condo with a large patio and a great view of the mountains of Western NC. It should have a cable railing, a fireplace on the left side, a kitchen behind that, and a loft upstairs. The light will be clean and beautiful. And, don’t forget Rachmaninoff playing in the background.
Oops50: Any must have products you can’t live without?
Diane: My Netflix subscription and Roku, so I can download old movies.
Oops50: So what’s your favorite movie?
Diane: “Casablanca.” And have you seen “Sunshine Cleaning?” A very funny movie.
Oops50: So what’s Roku?
Diane: It’s great. A little black box that lets you stream movies from Netflix. It’s great.
Oops50: I’ll check it out. Last question: Any regrets so far?
Diane: Only that I didn’t know in my 20s what I know now. And, that I don’t have the same body as I did in my 20’s.
I need to give a plug to my very famous canine niece, Winnie, who belongs to my sister-in-law, Ellen, and her husband, Bill. Winnie was recently the featured dog in an article on the website Ohmidog! because of her amazing ability to open and shut the front door in her house. You have to check out the article called “Old Dogs New Tricks Good Times” at www.ohmidog.com. Here’s a picture of Winnie from the article, just to whet your appetite. Turns out Ellen taught her the trick, using dog treats! I wish that were possible with our delinquent (but lovable) dog, Tater.
