So my maternal grandfather Emmanuel Pierre Menager was something of a coyote trickster — an itinerant artist, a womanizer (an occasional bigamist), but a rather magical person when he showed up at our house. Though I suspect my parents — especially my father was less than pleased (despite the fact that Pierre was […]
Wily Rascal: My Grandfather, Pierre Menager Read More »
I figured it was high time to post some pictures of my mother, Jeanette, and found this one of her just after I was born, as well as a strip of photo-booth pics taken when I was just a wee one. I've also included a photo taken just after my birth as I
The Joy of Seeing Her Face Every Now and Then. That lipstick! Read More »
I posted a few field drawings of my mother Jeanette Snyder yesterday, and wanted to add some more of them because I think they are charming — and remind me of the days when field researchers lugged heavy tape recorders, cameras, and note books, just in case all that heavy technology failed, leaving only the
More Field Drawings: Darjeeling, India 1964. Tibetan Lhamo Performances. Read More »
It’s been a helluva a month or so working through the events following my mother’s death. It hasn’t been horrible — just time consuming as we work through the details. My mother went out like a rock star — on a farewell tour. Her ashes were collected and there was first an event in Toronto
Not Gone…Just Working On Life Stuff Read More »
A little indulgence here — as I go through the family photos (there are a lot of them, expect to see them over the coming months — this is a novel slowly unfolding). I was struck how much alike were these two "glamour" head shots — the first of my mother at about 20 (maybe
My mother, Jeanette Marie Snyder, passed away early this morning, and though I am very sad to lose her, I am relieved that her long-suffering with cancer has also passed. And she picked a remarkable day for it is also the date on which Miguel de Cervantes and William Shakespeare died. And it
Breathing In, Breathing Out. Read More »
When I was about five years old, (in the late-fifties) we went to Santa Fe to visit my grandfather, the artist Pierre Ménager. As well as being a wonderful painter and sculptor, he was also a fabulous cook…well he was French. But he cooked a mixture of Southwest and Creole — especially as a portion
Pierre, Rosalea, and The Pink Adobe Read More »
