Hasta La Gadget!

A security contractor with a gun and three prior convictions for assault and battery was allowed on an elevator with President Obama during a Sept. 16 trip to Atlanta, violating Secret Service protocols, according to three people familiar with the incident.

When film legend Bette Davis (1908 – 1989) sat down with entertainment journalist Shirley Eder to discuss the sexes, the year was 1963, and Davis was smack in the middle of her career. But even today, her words remain as relevant as if she said them yesterday.

In this previously unheard interview — resurrected and animated for the PBS series “Blank on Blank” — Davis reflects on being a woman in a male-dominated industry and remarks on the obstacles facing intelligent, independent women in the workplace.

“As a female, I think [intelligence] is a terrible hindrance in business,” she says. “I think it’s a terrible hindrance for any female to have a lot of intelligence in private life. But I think in business sometimes it’s even worse because there’s deep resentment … from the male side of the business. We all work for men, you know, they’re the people in charge, and I think they find women easier who haven’t the ability to think for themselves or stand up for themselves. One can make more enemies as a female with a brain, I think.”

Davis also calls for men to elevate their views of independent women.

“I think men have got to change an awful lot,” she says. “I think, somehow, they still prefer the little woman. They’re just staying way, way behind. … As a rule, I think millions of women are very happy to be by themselves. They’re so bored with the whole business of trying to be the little woman, when no such thing really exists anymore. … This world’s gone way beyond it.”

She even points to the lack of female-focused characters and plots in entertainment, an issue that continues to receive attention today.

“There’s no writing for women anymore,” says Davis. “This is the truth. … Women are the essential part of the theater but the writers are not writing about women.”

Check out the video above to hear more from the interview.

Sex arouses the body, nature enriches the soul, and art inspires the mind. Artist Mark Henson makes love visible with a paintbrush. It’s not porn, and it’s not exactly what you were thinking but it might just turn you on in ways that you have never imagined.

Sunset Sacrement, Oil on Canvas, 60″ X 60″

These visions show us something that Darwin spoke of which has been forgotten… that nature thrives on cooperation equally as it does on competition. Waterfalls make love to the rocks they splash upon and the interdependence between all living things brings a deep sense of connection to anyone who ponders the idea. In a society fixated on competition, survival of the fittest, and oppression, these paintings are refreshing on all levels. Of course the most explicit ones can be seen at his online gallery.

Henson is 62 years old, grew up in Sacramento and spent his formative years in The San Francisco Bay area. Influenced by the art and social movements of the 60’s he painted backdrops for theater productions like One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest and musical acts like Jimi Hendrix. Mark attributes meditation as a source of much of his inspiration. He first learned about it at a talk given in San Francisco by the founder of Integral Yoga, Satchidananda Saraswati.

His meditation practice might be why he has the ability to embrace the spiritual, political, and paradoxical nature of our society simultaneously in his art. Even Darwin refuted Social Darwinism which says that humans are here to compete, winner takes all, and society should be ruled by that model. As is so well depicted in Sharing the Wealth below and in the news everywhere, there are some real downsides to living in a society ruled by this belief alone.

Cooperation of species may well be the missing story to resolving much of our planets problems, and art might be the most powerful way to convey this idea. Humanity’s capacity for destruction and discord is equally matched by it’s ability to create beautiful inspiration. Sex, or better yet, making love is not limited to naked bodies but includes the concept of procreation with a paintbrush, a musical instrument, a dance, or the exchange of mutual respect within the larger community of life. The painting below is aptly titled Paintbrush Warrior.

We know that each person is faced with a choice about the kind of future we’d like to build on this planet, but a masterful painting puts you in the middle of the picture. New Pioneers (below) took almost a year to paint. You can see the influence of Paolo Soleris‘ vision for urban centers that work with the flow of the land on the right side of the painting. I’m not quite sure who to credit for the war and destruction on the left side of the painting but we all know that it is a very lucrative business for a few people…

In the mid 90’s Mark racked up a bunch of library fines taking out books and learning how to paint the animals in March of Progress below. If we choose to fight against nature we might all lose that battle in the end but seeing it on canvas (or in a blog) somehow bypasses the usual mental filters. The word “progress” in this painting and in our world seems to be defined in the context of the Social Darwinian nightmare. I can’t help but wonder what “progress” would look like if it were applied to the ideology of a cooperation of species rather than a conquering of species… I think the word commonly used in that paradigm is “permaculture.”

Perhaps we could all learn something  from the paintings and vision of Mark Henson. Maybe a little quiet reflection and meditation somewhere in nature would help us conceptualize how the polarities of our human nature might flow into one stream of connected consciousness.

Healing Waters, Oil on Canvas, 16″ X 20″

Whether it’s sex in nature, making love, or appreciating great art, we have many reasons to ponder this great gift called life and reflect on our role within this larger web of existence. Mark Henson has continued to be an inspiration to many other artists in the Visionary Art world. You can also read more in Visionary Art, You’re Painted into the Picture and other articles on Culture Collective. It is apparent in Mark’s work that stories rule our world and what we believe to be true is often what we create. How might we re-consider the stories that rule our world and what might the world look like if we did? That concept is actually quite sexy…

**Article originally appeared on Culture Collective**

You are approaching that age now, when you look around and see how other dads raised their daughters. You are noticing that I did things differently, that you are not like other little girls, the ones who never leave home without a ribbon in their hair. You are brave and curious, and are beginning to realize that these qualities are not accidents. I want to explain why, because it will help you understand the way you are.

I taught you how to punch. Not because you should grow up fighting, but because, if ever forced to, you should know how. I once saw a little girl in Afghanistan who had acid thrown in her face because she wanted to go to school. You are not yet ready to know what some people do to each other, but I want you to be prepared. You will grow stronger every day, and the moment will come when you will fight for those who cannot fight for themselves.

I have nurtured your curiosity. When we found the spider under our orange tree with the red hourglass on her belly, we did not kill her. We watched, night after night, as she tended her web and waited patiently. We read books about her, and told jokes about how she ate her boyfriends for lunch. And when she finally caught a beetle, we watched her strike and wrap it tight with silk. You found that the things which scare most little girls have the most to teach us.

I let you learn hard lessons. You wanted to walk barefoot to the park through six inches of snow, so I tucked your boots in my backpack and said, “Let’s go.” When your stubborn feet had nearly turned to ice, we rubbed your toes until they were warm, and I pulled out your boots and socks and slipped them on. You discovered that winter footwear, however unstylish, is a good thing. You also learned that cold feet, however uncomfortable, will not kill you.

I taught you to respect nature, to hunt and to fish. Not for the sake of killing, but because the surest way to honor the living earth is to be part of it. You dug for worms and baited your own hooks, and most of the time we cooked what we caught. We raised chickens together and loved them, and ate the eggs they laid and offered thanks. You know and love the world that sustains us, and you understand that meat does not grow on grocery store shelves inside plastic wrapping.

I allowed you to test your limits. When we surfed together, you paddled towards the outside break, even as the big waves kept pushing you back. You fought, and failed, but not really. We rode in, side by side, determined to try and try again until we owned the sea. Some day we will catch that giant storm-driven wave and the crowd on the beach will rise to its feet and marvel at the little girl riding down the mountain of water.

I taught you these things, because one day I will let you go. You will walk down a long aisle to start another life and another family. You will be perfect and beautiful. But no one will mistake that beauty for fragility. You will fight for others, while seeking new wonders. You will run barefoot through snow, while exalting all of creation. You will live life to its fullest, testing your own limits while obliterating those set by others.

Until then, be proud of who you are. Never let anyone tell you what a woman can and cannot do. And should someone make fun of how little girls hit, offer to teach them. Smile politely, square your stance, and give fair warning. Then knock the effing wind out of them. Because that is how a girl should punch.

September 1st. Somewhere in the world:

This year is going to be different. I’m going to have my sh*t together. I’m going to be the best mother ever. Becky from the PTA will worship me. Other mothers will fall at my feet begging, “What’s your secret?!”

1. I’m going to make organic, non-GMO, fresh, wholesome lunches made of laughter and angel eyebrows every night. None of this buying school lunch bullsh*t. We’ll leave that to the kids whose parents don’t really love them.

“This shouldn’t take too long. Now where did I put those pipe cleaners…”

2. I’ll wake up super early to write notes every day to my kids, memorializing their awesomeness and the fact that neither one of them have been kicked off the bus yet. (Hooray!) I’ll tuck the notes in their backpacks. They’ll love it. It’ll be our little game. Some daily affirmation to let them know how much I care. Hell, I may even start scrapbooking!

“Except for Mommy. Mommy never gets frustrated.”

3. I’m not going to allow any lost library books this year. Nope. I’m going to hunt down the library-book-eating troll that haunts our home. And that zany sock-eating dragon that lurks in the dryer. I’m going to be the essence of organization.

“I have plenty of time to fold my bras! Just the spliffiest of spliffs.”

4. Their outfits? Set out the night before. Labeled by the days of the week. Strictly Crewcuts and that overpriced Scandinavian company for my cherubs. Speaking of organizing, I’m going to organize the f*ck out of the closets. This year, I will know where everything is at all times.

“Just a little weekend project.”

5. I’m not going to roll up to the bus stop looking like Marilyn Manson’s mugshot. No siree! I’ll wear those little Lululemon skirts that Peggy Perfect-Ass from next door wears and straighten my hair.

“Hold on a second, Lucy. Mommy’s stretching on this monument.”

6. I’m going to get all 500 pieces of paperwork completed the very first night of school. I will trust that there is a valid reason that I need to complete 72 emergency contact forms. I mean, safety first. Amiright?

Also, I’m going to maintain my files like a boss.

“Piece of cake. Who needs email when there are trees out there just begging to be killed?”

7. I plan to volunteer more this year. Maybe I’ll chair the Box Top Committee. Or read to the blind. Run a craft fair perhaps. There’s always the ice cream social. I like ice cream. The world is my oyster!

“Look out, bitches. Here comes Super Mom.”

8. I’m going to start cooking for the whole week on Sundays. I’ll put classical music on and there’ll be fresh ingredients flying around my perfectly clean kitchen. Maybe I’ll make some detox water. I need to drink less wine and more lemon, mint, chlorophyll and vegetable water.

“Cleanliness is next to godliness.”

9. I’m going to sign my son up for music lessons. According to Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, children should be immersed in music during their formative years.

“If music be the food of love, play on…” Billy Shakespeare

Yup. It’s going to be a good year. I can feel it.

“I am woman, hear me roar.”

September 8th. Your household. 7:37 am:

1. Where the f*ck is the bread? And who ate all the snacks? How is it possible to go through an entire box of Annie’s fruit snacks in two days? P.S. Thanks and f*ck you, Annie’s Homegrown. #sellout

“Here’s some Grade D meat and tater tots. You’re welcome.”

2. Writing notes every day? I can’t remember to do anything everyday. Like, not even wear a bra. Where’s the paper? Where are the all of the pens? Probably with the bread. How about this:

“Dear daughter,
You know what would be awesome? If you stop telling your teacher how much wine I drink.
Love,
Mommy”

3. Where in God’s name is that library book? And all of the matching socks? I bought eight pairs of the same exact color to avoid this.

“For the love of God, just wear a pair of your father’s! You’re going to miss the bus!”

4. The kids have gone through the five new back-to-school outfits that I bought so they’ve resorted to wearing last year’s pants. I started organizing the closets but then pulled apart the junk drawer, pantry and lazy Susan. Obviously, I became overwhelmed so I poured a glass of wine.

“Just pull something out of the dryer. The bus is here!”

5. Me. In the morning:

“The beautiful people, the beautiful people…”

6. Why are there helicopters circling the house? Oh no. I didn’t finish all of the paperwork. What if there’s an accident and they can’t find the other 71 emergency contact forms?

7. Why the hell are there seven thousand school events in one week? Pajama Day, Bring your Special Sh*t to School Day, Picture Day, Red White and Blue Day? Whatever happened to show and tell? My mom would stick a Barbie in my bag and call it a day.

“What the actual f*ck?”

8. My son is taking saxophone lessons. It weighs sixty pounds, he can barely carry it and like all of a sudden, I’m Kenny G and I’ve got to learn how to put reeds in the damn thing, only to listen to him slaughter Mary’s Little Lambs.

“Sweet baby Jesus. Make it stop.”

Don’t be so hard on yourselves, ladies. It’s early days. We got this. Screw the pipe cleaners and have an Alka-Seltzer.

“Bite me, mythical robot mom.”

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