Scott Samuelson

Three Travel Sketches

2011-11-30T08:56:00.001-08:00

Card for the Portals Into Faery Class

2011-11-10T13:45:00.000-08:00

your hand in my hand
my life line meets your heart line
handsome friendship hey

Inspired by the Poulnabrone Portal Tomb Dolman, country Claire, Ireland.

Brie encrute

2011-11-07T15:59:00.000-08:00

Brie, walnuts, carmelized onion, fresh plum jam, biscuit dough.

2011 Crane Dance / Labyrinth Walk

2011-04-26T14:28:00.000-07:00

90 people walked through the labyrinth.

Recent Art

2011-04-19T15:46:00.000-07:00

Spirits Expanding: sculptural painting

Crane Dance Invitation

Jason and Dani's Engagement Balloon

Recent Work

2011-04-04T09:55:00.001-07:00

Bisque Pitcher 2

Bisque Pitcher 1

This semester's Temple Card

Recent Paintings

2011-03-29T09:06:00.001-07:00

Seven Spirirt Symbol Swirl Grid

First Wash Fall Leaves

Seven Spirit Symbols Hour Glass

Ark of Books

2011-03-23T09:54:00.001-07:00

Once other ribs have been added, this ark will house books--as Noah's ark preserved animals and as the ark of the covenant preserved sacred records.

Our One-Night-Victor, Idaho-Sky Mountain Lodge Retreat

2011-03-01T08:06:00.001-08:00

The road was closed because of drifts and wind, but they opened it and we got through.

View from the lodge window.

Geezers after snowshoeing.

Presidents Day in the Burg.

She Wanted a Nature Valentine Poem

2011-02-15T15:30:00.000-08:00

Porcupine and Eagle

The lumbering, quill-studded quadruped
waddles the shy, long way round,
ascends the camas desert tree.
Midwinter sap calls it up and out.
Clumsy, it does not think:
If I fall I could stab myself.
But it is true. True as the green sky:
where afternoon blue meets sun sinking
orange.
And the bald eagle sits,
taking it in on his thick branch,
sees his prickly neighbor shinny almost
to the very crown of the tree, backlit
quills casting an aura of abundance, defense.
The eagle’s sharp parts—talon, beak— not protective
but tools to pluck the trout like a God
unannounced, and rip its guts into dinner.
That was earlier. Now it perches here
away from chirping convocation and cavorting
peers. Why does it not fly to them,
apparently content to keep the company
of the sap-sucking, bud-nibbling, arrow-furred
beast? Not even a truce. It’s not like that.
This pause in their respective peregrinations
just finds each free—sharing for an hour—light, air, and tree.

--Scott Samuelson
February 14, 2011

For Shauna

Skiing with a Hydra

2011-02-15T15:27:00.000-08:00

Or a daughter. Jill is not really a flamboyant person, but when you go skiing with three young boys and one geezer father, it helps when others can spot you easily in line or on the hill.

Julia Child's French Onion Soup

2011-02-07T15:54:00.001-08:00

Eight cups of onions slow cooked with butter and oil (and later, sugar and later still flour).
Added to beef stock. Served over oven-toasted French bread, topped with grated fresh parmesean cheese.

Julia's Mushroom-Stuffed Eggplant

2011-02-07T15:50:00.000-08:00

Christen H made this yummy dish from Mastering the Art of French Cooking. (We decided the visual appeal may not have rated as high as the culinary taste.) Served with pan fried steak.

My Mother's Brownie Recipe

2011-02-07T15:47:00.000-08:00

Three topping choices: plain, cholate butter frosting with vanilla, mint/dark chocolate candies

When I Grow Up

2011-01-28T15:28:00.002-08:00

This is what I want to look like:

Yours Sincerely, Wasting Away

2011-01-28T15:28:00.001-08:00

Four Generation Banana

2011-01-28T15:27:00.001-08:00

My Birthday Cake is Cherry Pie

2011-01-28T15:25:00.000-08:00

When I'm 64

2011-01-28T15:05:00.000-08:00

After Throwing Snow with the Grand Sons

2011-01-19T16:17:00.001-08:00

We worked up a sweat; that's why Nathan has no coat on. Oh, and because he's twelve.
My how they helped me: lifting the snow thrower up onto the patio.

Is it Garish? Maybe

2011-01-19T16:15:00.001-08:00

But it makes me happy.

The 2010 Temple Christmas Card

2011-01-14T14:24:00.000-08:00

If you would like a hard copy of this 6" x 6" Christmas card (colors of card stock may vary; I printed on gold, gray, light blue, and pearl), I will be glad to send you one, if you send me an

envelope with your snail mail address printed on it. Cheers.

You know the drill: Eng Dep/BYU--Id/Rb, ID 83460-4540

Not Yet Spring. . . yet

2011-01-12T09:30:00.000-08:00

The emerging amaryllis seems to capture my mood of hope after my weeks of the intestinal problems no one really wants to hear about.

Syd, The Smiling Reader 1949

2010-12-07T16:28:00.000-08:00

December 7, 1952 Syd's Baptism

2010-12-07T16:20:00.001-08:00

Feeding Pigeons Venice 1960

2010-12-07T15:52:00.000-08:00

December 7th Syd's Birthday

2010-12-07T15:50:00.001-08:00

Two New Temple Paintings

2010-11-19T08:30:00.001-08:00

Campus November

2010-11-17T10:08:00.000-08:00

Like Guilt

2010-11-17T08:42:00.001-08:00

Like Guilt

Milton wrote of man’s first disobedience and the fruit.
I write of the wobbly wheel on the boy’s pinewood race car.
Shall the abstract triumph over the concrete?

Holden, eyes agleam with reverence and anticipation
hands the pine block, a grail, to his father
to be shaped, sanded (son-like) into a winner.

Flights of hope: the storm trooper seat, dragon design,
drilling the hidden hole. But doubt too stalks here: no matter.
The still-wet paint walk to the church, the ritual weigh-in,
magic donut magnets and powdered graphite.

Excitement convulses. The number is called. The heat.
Quick from the start. Look at her go.
But race after race, waddle after wobble. No
adjustment adequate.
Eyes try not to look disappointed.
The boy: “It feels like guilt.”

Can any concrete trump that abstraction?
Is guilt, like agency, a gift,
or, like conviction, a choice?

Late winter, my father and I pruned ancient peach trees.
July midnight I turned three hours of water, a shallow lake
sinking root deep. Mid-September—the beckoning fruit,
skin colored, dusted with seductive furze, each exquisite
sphere fitting perfectly my male cupped hand. I raise it
to my lips: gift of nature and my labor. The joyous juice
can not be contained, runs down my face onto chest and soil.

I slurp, wipe chin, smile, think,
“These must be saved—sold, bottled, shared.”
Well within my rights, I eat a second peach
with all the virtue of the first,
but spiced this time—Muse, can you tell me why—
with something like guilt.

For E. d’ E
Scott Samuelson
Nov 17, 2010

At the Faculty Art Show

2010-11-16T16:07:00.000-08:00

Paintings: St. Ives, Cornwall; Aspen Fall (see close-up on My Poetry Project)
Book: In These Hands (2010 Brit Lit Pilgrimage Journal/Notebook/Sketchbook)

(bad light on face)

Appetizers

2010-11-16T16:03:00.000-08:00

Artichoke hearts, calamata olives, garlic, parmasean cheese on baguette slices.

Baguette, avacado, cottage cheese, tomato, bacon.

From the Poetry Retreat/Workshop

2010-11-10T09:37:00.000-08:00

Fairborn Independence Day Parade

Within the frontiers, the alien is already there,

an exoticism or Sabbath of memory,

a disquieting familiarity.

--Michel de Certeau

Past tall trees, shadows long and lacey,

midtone, nostalgia grey, two horses

and their riders approach, backlit.

Bored boys sit on the curb, hunched,

awaiting, it seems, more action. Behind--

far behind the riders--a large-front truck

pulls we don't know what: float,

tank, missile (It is the Cold War after all).

Near the vanishing point, down the quiet street:

hints of procession, perhaps patriotic regalia.

Is it American to ride a horse?

Both riders--clearly the focal point here--

wear kerchiefs, the man a western hat.

They sit long and straight, their erectness speaking

of ease and joy. The paint horse, Corky, comes

straight on to the camera, ears alert, ridden by a girl

perhaps fourteen, large for her age,

full-figured, her hair doubtless done

just for the day by my mother who must also hold

the camera, pressing the shutter release at precisely this

moment. I, beside or behind her, unhorsed

by choice, am also happy in the shadow, as I suppose.

Syd's hair surrounds a pretty face, though we cannot

see it for distance and light. Nor my father's,

though their silhouettes are as unmistakable as time.

Dad's horse, Bobby, clearly spirited, tosses his head,

its ears, not quite back, suggest hot blood,

an awkward rear hoof thrown carelessly

on this day of freedom bespeaks

an attractive energy to be tamed.

I study this two-and-a-quarter inch glossy

stamped "Aug 1958," ambiguous bridge

welding me to these, flesh of my flesh,

now so long departed, destroying my autonomy

which I both surrender and insist upon, suggesting

a logic of ambiguity. I know the lie

of the two-dimensional representation

and love it anyway, no, love it for its duplicity,

driven, as I am, by my mortal yearning,

stemming, in part, from the same impulse

to costume, perform, play the role of the watched,

myself looking back, as here, parading cautiously forward.

Our Christmas Group

2010-01-06T07:07:00.001-08:00

Me n Casper

2010-01-06T07:06:00.001-08:00

Making Christmas Gifts

2010-01-06T07:05:00.001-08:00

Ceramic Windchimes

2009-12-09T10:18:00.001-08:00

Humuhumunukunukuapauaia (sp?)

2009-12-09T10:16:00.000-08:00

Two Christmas Camels

2009-12-09T10:15:00.001-08:00

Wood Burned Family & Animals

2009-12-09T10:14:00.001-08:00

Ceramic Candle Holders

2009-12-09T10:13:00.001-08:00

Painted Folk Family

2009-12-09T10:12:00.001-08:00

Ho Ho Ho

2009-12-09T10:11:00.001-08:00

Small Busy Sky

2009-12-09T10:08:00.001-08:00

Four Mountain Paintings

2009-12-09T10:07:00.001-08:00

St. Ives' Bay (2)

2009-12-09T10:06:00.001-08:00

Four St Ives Paintings

2009-12-09T10:04:00.000-08:00

Two Weed Paintings

2009-12-09T09:56:00.000-08:00

2009-12-08T15:24:00.000-08:00

2009-12-08T15:09:00.000-08:00

Touch the Temple then Desert Breakfast

2009-06-10T10:04:00.001-07:00

Christian Sartorial

2009-03-23T08:23:00.001-07:00

Ethan's Golden Locks

2009-03-23T08:21:00.000-07:00

Betty at Flower Show

2009-03-23T08:17:00.001-07:00

Nile Bank II

2009-03-23T08:06:00.000-07:00

Fun at FHE, Playing "Things on Our Heads"

2009-03-17T17:12:00.001-07:00

New Painting: Nile Bank

2009-03-17T17:10:00.000-07:00

Oldest Grandson Holds Youngest Grandson

2009-03-16T10:15:00.001-07:00

Christian and Cousins

2009-03-16T10:12:00.001-07:00

Christian Dreaming of Milk

2009-03-09T08:32:00.001-07:00

Visitors @ One Day Old

2009-03-09T08:27:00.000-07:00

A Son Is Born

2009-03-06T09:17:00.000-08:00

For Unto Us

2009-03-06T08:31:00.000-08:00

Sealing

2009-02-25T10:09:00.001-08:00

Minnesota Baptism Trip

2009-02-25T09:58:00.000-08:00

Happy Couple at Twin Falls

2008-12-06T10:40:00.001-08:00

Isaac Light

2008-11-26T10:32:00.000-08:00

Isaac as Optimus Prime

2008-11-26T10:30:00.001-08:00

My Youngest Student

2008-11-26T09:53:00.000-08:00

Going Historical

2008-11-07T14:46:00.000-08:00

Giant Swingers at BYUI Ropes Course

2008-11-04T15:16:00.001-08:00

Painting Deep Sea Monster Fish with the G-Boys

2008-10-22T14:32:00.000-07:00

Fading Iris

2008-07-02T09:58:00.001-07:00

Three Iris

2008-07-02T09:54:00.000-07:00

Our Quiver is Full (Filling)

2008-06-23T15:56:00.000-07:00

We See Animals I

2008-05-27T14:36:00.000-07:00

Memorial Day Trip to Jackson

2008-05-27T14:34:00.000-07:00

Aspen Leaf Study

2008-05-20T14:57:00.000-07:00

Sun Valley Ski Mtn

2008-05-20T14:40:00.000-07:00

Sun Valley Mountain

2008-05-20T14:38:00.000-07:00

Sun Valley Opera House

2008-05-20T14:23:00.003-07:00

Sun

2008-05-20T14:23:00.001-07:00

So Texas Crab Shack

2008-05-20T14:20:00.000-07:00

Maybe a Little Goofy

2008-04-01T16:13:00.000-07:00

And They Threw A Big Young Party to Honor the Boy

2008-04-01T16:04:00.000-07:00

Great Grandmother & Great Aunt Win a Smile

2008-04-01T16:02:00.000-07:00

Natural Light

2008-04-01T16:00:00.000-07:00

Uncle, Great Nephew, Niece

2008-04-01T15:58:00.000-07:00

The Proud Parents

2008-04-01T15:57:00.001-07:00

Sydney James Young

2008-04-01T15:56:00.001-07:00

Laura's Olive Garden Birthday Dinner

2008-04-01T15:51:00.000-07:00

Salt Lake Temple Pool Reflection

2008-03-25T09:10:00.000-07:00

Isaac and the Easter Bunny Cake

2008-03-25T09:00:00.000-07:00

Ten-Foot Icicle

2008-03-19T07:53:00.000-07:00

Ethan and the Giant Icicle

2008-03-18T09:24:00.001-07:00

Temple Glow

2008-03-18T09:03:00.000-07:00

What does this painting in progress need? Please respond. And while you're at it please give me feedback on this draft of the following temple poem I am submitting to the temple-focus issue of Perspective that's coming up.

Sunrise Pink, Ocean Blue

these papers we pin to sleeve
or slip into pocket. Perhaps
you carry mine, or I carry your
family name, firm as passports

to travel us through time
and eternity, centuries courting,
our cares galaxy wide,
or near as the neighbor in for surgery.

I write her name on paper whiter
than any hospital sheet. She
in turn may once have written mine,
or yours, penned perfect empathy.

These names too are gathered
and sown like wheat seed, tossed
heavenward where they may take root,
shoot becoming stalk, head to grain

to be garnered soon or late. All workers
here are also given a name and a blessing,
cradled and bounced anew by arms
that know how to write remembrance.

I speak that name and listen for
the whispered sacred response.
Can I hear stars speak for me,
or is that just the sea breeze
whispering praise to the rising sun.

--Anonymous

2008-03-12T20:25:00.000-07:00

Scott Samuelson's most recent batch of paintings can be found in the link to the right entitled "For A Sanctuary"

http://www.forasanctuary.blogspot.com