Stamina

Tendonitis continues to be the one factor that limits me. A few weeks ago, I finally put a coat of prime on the outside of the boat. I had never used the type of paint that I chose. So the first coat had some issues. So instead of a quick sanding between coats of prime, I had to perform a major sanding. A few hours into that job, and I had to stop. I could no longer use any pressure without my elbow screaming. But I didn't stop. I switched to my electric, orbital sander.

Pushing myself too far is my continuing, obstinate stupidity. I should have just stopped. By the end of the day, my elbow was even worse. I decided to take a couple of days off. But here's the thing: If one has tendonitis in the elbow, one tends to start favoring and using one's arm in a weird way. Soon, my wrist tendonitis flared up. And then my shoulder tendonitis made its first appearance in 12 months.

Of course, I had to stop rowing. I thought I could do some very light work on my rowing machine. Dumb. Dumb. Dumb. I had to stop that, too. For the past week, I haven't done any activity that's stressed my arms or shoulder. But If I'm going to stay somewhat on track to row from Martha's Vineyard to Mattapoisett, I have to keep my stamina. And the effort required of sliding-seat rowing is 80% legs, so I've been biking a lot.

A week ago Thursday, I rode down to New London to catch the train home to New York. 108 miles. On Sunday, I participated in the Transportation Alternatives NYC Century. 117 miles. On Tuesday, I got up early and rode out to Orient Point at the end of Long Island. 108 miles. And I took the ferry across to New London, then rode up to Providence. 60 miles. I taught my first classes of the semester; then, yesterday, I rode back to Mattapoisett. 44 miles. 437 miles in all. My leg stamina is doing fine.

Riders at the starting line of the NYC Century.

Stopping for a break along the Coventry Bike Path (RI).

Biking has been a passion of mine for at least 25 years. I wouldn't be surprised if I find a way to directly insert cycling into my work. The time I've spent with the Buzzards Bay Coalition and the New Bedford Rowing Center gives me some notion of how to bring something like cycling directly in sync with my artistic practice.

Already there is some synchronizing (or synchronicity?) going on. One of the Buzzards Bay Coalition's main fundraisers is a cycling event that takes cyclists through the watershed that feeds the bay. I've done this ride twice already, and I'm doing it again this year. Of course, this means that I have agreed to raise at least $300.00 as part of my Watershed Ride. As an incentive for people to donate to my ride, I am putting one small artwork in as a raffle item. One person who donates to my ride will win this artwork. My next project will involve making large watercolors combined with text-image works (like those that I have been producing for the last ten years). I've been doing some small watercolors as tests. The small work (pictured below) uses text from the introduction (written by Amos Elon) to Hannah Arendt's Eichmann in Jerusalem and presents the image of mayflies. You could win the work pictured.

The Buzzards Bay Coalition has helped me learn a lot about Buzzards Bay. But, more importantly, the organization does a great job at advocating for water resources, monitoring water quality, and preserving key resources throughout the watershed. And it's incredibly well-run. Not all non-profits can claim that. If you donate to my ride, your money will be used wisely and well. And you could win this artwork. Meanwhile, I'll be on my bike preparing for this ride -- and for my row -- and preparing for the thousands of hours of artmaking that, oddly enough, take more stamina than riding my bike 437 miles.

The Banality of Evil, Introduction (part 1.0).  2014. Watercolor and acrylic with pigment print on paper. 7"x9" (print #4).

Ride

For the second year in a row, I will be participating in the Buzzards Bay Coalition's "Watershed Ride." I will ride 75 miles around the perimeter of the bay.

The goal of the ride is to raise money for The Buzzards Bay Coalition. To show my appreciation for the Work of The Buzzards Bay Coalition, I am donating a number of a print edition (pictured below). Anyone who donates $50 or more to my fundraising page by October 6 will get one of these prints. The prints will sell for more than $50, so there's motivation to give to this cause now. I believe in their work. I hope you will do so as well.

January 31, 1827. 2013, pigment print on Mylar. 13cm x 13cm, ed. 100 + 1AP, 1PP, 1BAT.

Please note: Getting your print is a two part process. You can pay for postage and/or framing of the print by clicking the "Add to Cart" buttons below. But you will also need to donate on my fundraising page at the Buzzards Bay Coalition.

To donate to my fundraising ride and qualify for a print, follow this link: http://www.savebuzzardsbay.org/waugh

And select the buttons below if you wish to pay for postage or postage with framing.

Postage Only ->  
($6.00 for any number of unframed prints to a US address)

Framing and Postage ->  
($50.00 for each print to be framed and posted to a US address)

Please note that paying for framing or postage does not include a print.

This print, showing the image of a snow crystal is composed of the entire newspaper account of the death of Gideon Dexter (the text of which I posted on the first entry of this blog). The image of the snowflake is significant because the text recounts Dexter's death by freezing during a winter storm. But the form is also evocative of lace. Images of lace and knot-making make up most of the imagery that I'm working on in the next series of drawings related to this project. In a way, this little piece is a key into understanding one aspect of those drawings.

I, also, can't say enough about the Buzzards Bay Coalition. The coalition does an amazing job of monitoring the water quality of the bay. They provide data about the water quality to the towns in the watershed so that they have the facts that they need when deciding on policy.

The coalition also has a top notch education department. I worked as a docent for them this summer, and I saw first hand the value of experiences that the coalition is providing for kids in the New Bedford area.

I also helped with water testing, going out on the coalition's boat and taking down the numbers that the science department uses to evaluate the impact of development in the area.

I was glad to help as a docent and as a water quality tester. But my time at the coalition was also invaluable for my current artwork -- which centers around my great-great-great-great grandfather, who was a shipbuilder -- and who froze to death during a winter storm in the middle of Buzzards Bay.

The efforts of the Buzzards Bay Coalition have been crucial in reversing and slowing decades of declining water quality. And I want to raise money for the organization so that this important work can continue. But I also want to raise money for them as a thank you for educating me about Buzzards Bay and for giving me the chance to go out on the coalition's boat and experience the body of water that figures so prominently in my family's history and my current work.

Permission

Saturday morning was gorgeous. Thirteen people showed up to row at 7:30. We had a slow start, which was unfortunate because we finished late, too. I then rushed over to The Buzzards Bay Coalition for a training/orientation session. I begin as a docent in the visitor center on May 7th.

The really unfortunate thing about getting off the water late was that I missed the "Hi, my name is Karen" introduction part of the meeting. Another rower was at the meeting and had explained to them why I was late. But I never got a chance to say who I am and to talk about my project and explain why I will always have a camera with me. By the time I arrived, we were broken into small groups and asked to present information from the training manual. At that time, I pulled out my camera and was going to briefly talk about my project to just my group.

Before I could do that, the woman sitting next to me got very worked up. "What's That." "What's It For?" "Does [the head of the education department] know your doing this?" Etc. Authority-whispering these things while the docent coordinator was still explaining our task. It got me really flustered and self-conscious -- and then defensive. I said that because I was late, I hadn't been able to do that. I turned the camera on. And before I could explain the camera, the same woman launched into our task. Then, when we were done, she started telling me that I was a bad person for filming. I turned the camera off.

After the presentations were over, I thanked the woman for pressing me about the camera. I tend to forget that some people are unsettled by cameras. So this was a good reminder that I need to be respectful, and, if I run out of time, I can not skip ahead and just do whatever I want without bringing people on board. I told her that I was just trying to do too much and that it was really rude of me to just turn the camera on. She said no, I was breaking the law. What really irritated me is that she never said that she had a problem with the camera. She kept referring to everyone else in the room and legality. She was as presumptuous as I had been by turning on the camera. Who made her spokesperson for everyone else? The fact that I had initiated our conversation with an apology evaporated from my mind, and I began to talk about the legality of taking pictures for private use. Then she began quoting school department policy, which is kind of a non sequitur -- so much so that I realized that it would be better to drop the subject. I thanked her again and restated that I had been incredibly rude. She reiterated that I was a bad person. Lovely.

The staff of the education department then started their portion of the session. One of the segments was about how the coalition uses social media to spread the word about the environmental work that they do. The docent coordinator said that, "I've already Tweeted about this training session and posted a picture of all of us here." She never asked our permission.

Watershed Ride

On Sunday, the 14th, I participated in the Buzzard Bay Coalition's annual fundraising ride, in which "A record 147 cyclists raise[d] a projected $68,000 for clean water." The route took us through the watershed that empties into the bay, from Horseneck Beach in Westport to Quissett Harbor in Falmouth.

I had ridden most of the roads before -- but not all at once. A ride like this creates a strong link between the idea of the bay and the physical experience of space. So, for my project, the experience was invaluable -- especially undertaking it with so many other people who care about the health of the water.

I raised $300 from eleven donors. Of course, anyone can still donate to the coalition on my ride page. I personally have benefitted from the organization through experiences like this ride and from volunteering on the coalition's water monitoring boat. I need to acquire local knowledge about the bay for my project. The coalition's main offices also provides educational programs about Buzzards Bay. An interesting fact is that the largest contributor to pollution in the bay is the nitrogen that gets into the watershed from individual septic systems throughout the area which we cycled -- not golf courses, not cars, not boats. The biggest problem is the sheer number of people whose toilets are not connected to the grid.

I video recorded the whole ride and have posted the documentation below. It's sped up 1000%, so the four hours and fourty minutes that I was cycling are condensed into less than twenty minutes. It provides a nice portrait of the region.