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I don't know anything much about rock and roll.  Dad never let us go to any concerts.  “Bad things happen at concerts. Everybody knows that.” Or so I was told.  It was and remains a huge “gap”… 

 

* * * * * * * 

 

Classical.  Roz was my teacher. She taught at Julliard. I studied under her for many years at her home.  Classical.  I was a child.  But for as far back as I can remember,  I always heard the music.  It was always playing in the background in my mind.  Roz served carrot juice along with healthy treats inbetween sets and scales.  (I hated the carrot juice!  I'd much prefer doing scales, even to the metronome tick tick tick!).  We ended each lesson with a happy lilting lifting piano duet.  Diabelli. FUN! 

 

When it was time to graduate and decide the next step, I knew what I wanted  - a career in music.  But, “That's no way to earn a living.  You have to be practical.  Business school, law school, med school.  Your choice.  Plenty of time for music - when you're not earning a living.” 

That turned out not to be the case.  College.
Pre-med.  Senior year.  I hadn't touched the keys for four years.  Plenty of time - AFTER  preparing to earn a living - ?  And then there he was in one of my classes.  Blonde. Blue eyed.  And he hadn't yet had it all knocked out of him - a dream reminding me of - me.  And he had a magnificent voice.  So we went upstairs leaving everyone behind in the food hall - because there was a piano upstairs.  Yes it needed a tuning,  but neither of us noticed. And we jammed. He sang.  Beautiful, “Wonder-full” music.  That was the last time I ever played.  

*  * *  * *  * *  * 

 

“WONDERLAND (FOR NATHAN)” pictured here is just a detail of a much larger & quite meaningful painting. It's extremely detailed throughout and took the better part of a year to complete.  (PHEW!! The process was both exhausting AND exhilarating!) 
I was just having a good ‘ol' time on this one, caught up in the wonder of creation, playing around with many of my techniques all at once and having the best time doing it. Lots of freewheeling intuitive work (or play, depending on one's perspective) and even moreso,  lots of highly detailed work.  It was really fun. The palette - predominantly melon, such a gentle and feminine and pretty color.  I love that color!  The decorative work was a labor of love and feels luxurious. 

 

* * * * *

 

My path crossed with an extraordinary number of Angels ~ Lawton,  Betty, M.B., Sam, Johanna,  Cal, Sim . . .  and Dr.Nathan Roth.  Nathan was a remarkable man. And he was my friend.  

*  * *  * *  * * 

 

It was shortly after I moved to California. I was living down by Dana Point, and knew no one.  So I decided to introduce myself to other professionals. Nathan Roth wasn't the first, but he was the nicest. I remember that day well. I drove to his office in San Marino, quite a distance from my home much further south. And I looked (& weighed in on) a few of the more perplexing cases Nathan had asked me for my professional opinion on -  he had a few of these “mysteriomas”  come into his office especially for me (I was always excellent at the zebras, the ones no one else could figure out, and everyone seemed to know that about me), and then after weighing in on these more perplexing cases, Nathan and I headed out for lunch.  

 

We went to a local diner in San Marino, very casual, and sat next to each other at the counter where we talked, and talked, and talked - literally for hours. But here's the thing - we didn't talk shop. Instead I wound up somehow or other telling him this story - a story about an Aspen tree.  He just seemed like he was the person to tell this story to and he was.  And he listened.   He laughed. He cried. He looked surprised.  He chuckled again and again.  He got it!! And when I was done, he looked at me and asked if he could have a copy of that story. But I could not oblige him that, because it wasn't written down anywhere. It was just in my head.  He said he was able to picture that wondrous place I had described.  And he said I should call it “Wonderland.” Then Nathan asked me what I was doing in this, his field. He knew I had studied under the very best in the World.  Lawton was unequivocally the very best - in every sense of the word.  He was the very definition of what it meant to be a physician, back in the day when it meant something.  But in spite of that training,  Nathan thought I should be doing something else entirely - and LosAngeles, he said, was the perfect place to do it!  And then it was my turn to laugh. And it was my turn to speak that refrain - the one I'd heard a million times.  Creative ventures are great, but only in one's “spare time.” We all need a real job!  But Nathan was different from the others and begged to differ.  And that's when Nathan first mentioned that he had a son and how much the kid loved rock and roll. And he told me that his son would play sets in their garage.  And Nathan would encourage him not to follow in Nathan's own path into a professional career - but instead to continue doing what he loves and pouring his heart into it.  It was strange to me to hear a parent say that.  And I pictured some little boy jamming in Nathan's garage, a cacophony spilling out into the neighborhood,  Nathan with earplugs but nonetheless telling his kid to ‘keep going' because the kid loved to jam.  Wasn't Nathan worried?  How exactly would his son survive?  I asked what his son was doing now - Was he grown up or still a kid? He told me his son was already grown. And I asked him what he does to earn a real living now that he's an adult. Or if he had a day job to support himself but still rocked out now and then.  And Nathan looked at me and smiled and told me that his son is still playing with a band.  “But he has a real job too. right?,” I asked.   But Nathan shook his head ‘no.' And I said quietly, WOW! And then, after some thought, with sympathy,  “That must be a pretty rough life, trying to make it playing gigs”.   But Nathan just smiled.  He encouraged me to accept Syd Field's invite to a writing class in Syd's home (I did) and to join the AFI  in one of the four spots I had been offered (I did that too).  But ultimately I lacked the courage to make the real leap.  Out completely. Nathan must be helping his son pursue a creative career,  or at least that was what I thought. But not everyone has that luxury - of having someone like Nathan in their corner- in every way. Encouraging. Believing. Nathan must have read my mind.  He told me his son David was doing pretty well actually - without any manner of help.  (Of course, having someone who just believes in your dreams - the value of THAT  is immeasurable.)

* * * * *

 

It was quiet on the postop ward.  Visiting hours were over.  And I was alone - and wondering what the surgeons had found. Anesthesia still had me in a fog and I drifted in and out of consciousness. And a man in a white coat stethoscope draped over his shoulders entered the room and sat down on the edge of my bed and held my hand throughout much of the night - at least until I dozed off again.  But before that,  I heard him say this - “You're gonna be fine.”  And he squeezed my hand. “I need you to remember not to lose the ‘Wonder.' You know what that is, not everyone truly does, and it's a special gift.  You remind me so much of my son David.  Don't lose the wonder!”  Nathan never did tell me that day at lunch how his son had somehow-or-other managed to make ends meet playing a guitar. “How?” I whispered. Nathan smiled and  asked me if I'd ever heard of a group called Van Halen.  I didn't know anything at all about them. And then I dozed back off to sleep. 

 

When I was starting to heal, I called Nathan's office to thank him for coming to the hospital snd staying by my side that first night following my surgery. But I was told he wasn't in the office. “When will he be back in the office?” I asked. The woman at the other end of the phone went silent. Then, “ I guess he must not have ever told you.”

“Told me what?”

”Nathan was ill.  He probably didn't want to upset you while you were still in the hospital and then, . . . there wasn't time left …… He didn't make it.”  

* * * * *

I just love this particular painting so much I can't stop looking at it -   and apparently so too do my neighbors who keep popping in
unexpectedly to visit with her!!  There are also lively little flourishes which I love as they spiral all around.  MAGICAL!!  Filled with wonder - for Nathan. I never got to say good bye.  He never got to see me start to paint. Or to write.  But I know he would approve. 

 

This painting,  WONDERLAND (FOR NATHAN) is one of those I'll have to live with for awhile,  before I can ever let go. 

I will never forget Nathan Roth. He was a remarkable man. And he was my friend. 

(Copyright JanaiAmi. All Rights Reserved) 

 

GIRL ON! (LITTLE BLUE GIRL SERIES)
Original__ June/2019_ Mixed Media on Board/Custom Plexiglas-Frame with Brushed Metallic Stand-offs__18 in X 22 in


[Several years ago I purchased a vase at the Beatrice Wood Arts Center by artist Lauren Hanson called Scheherazade and her Sister Go For a Ride. It's lovely and as a free American (& someone who also adores dogs) and importantly, cherishes freedom, it's a deeply meaningful piece. Lauren was at the Center, and I asked her why a California artist was painting contemporary scenes of Iran - given that she was not Persian. She explained to me that a Law just passed in Iran ALLOWING women to own a dog and ride a bicycle if they wanted to, finally! Up until that point, neither had been allowed. Slowly, things are changing in Iran she explained. And every once in a blue moon, change comes more quickly, such as after a catastrophic event.]


ABOUT THIS PAINTING
Ideas coming together.

With several little girls being welcomed into my family, I found myself wondering what lessons they would learn from Society. . . where their lives might lead. . . what might they do or become. There was (at one point not too long ago) a lot of talk about women and women's rights in the U.S.. And it occurred to me that the best way for a girl to realize that she could DO or BECOME anything at all, would be for her to see other women doing and becoming those things - whatever those things might be! . . . Talking about it doesn't make it so. Legislation does not make it so. Dreaming about it makes it so! And you can't dream it or imagine it necessarily, unless you can picture it. Picture it - dream it - make it so! And I wondered what contemporary art was portraying little girls in traditional all boys sports. And what art today showed girls and women in traditional men's jobs and careers. If you can picture it, you can start to dream. And that idea was simmering on a back burner until late one evening in June of 2019 . . .


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It was June 2019, the Pandemic was aways in the future, and I was painting up a storm! So much so, that I hated to stop just because Dreamland was summoning me. Why stop?! So I moved everything to the bedroom and onto the bed. And there was paint. And there were solvents. All of it. And it was not good. And I realized that. And then, one night, with that "urge" to create, my eye suddenly caught something blue on my nightstand next to my bed. It was a roll of tape. I used it for pastels to keep the edges clean. And beside the bed, next to the roll of blue tape was a white board. . . . and a small scissors. . .

And I started to cut out little shapes. Just playing. Would I do a geometric? I didn't know. And then the geometric circles were piled atop rectangles. And more triangles. And pretty soon, before I knew it, there were figures taking shape on their own and coming to life! Where were they coming from? And I added two ponytails and pigtails and braids. And they were climbing mountains and reaching for the stars. And they were landing on the moon. And they were playing soccer . . . I shall never ever EVER forget the Little Blue Girls that were playing soccer. I called it GIRL ON!

And I called the Series the Little Blue Girl Series, because they were, in fact, little blue girls. They could be any color at all ~ black or white or brown or beige or red or yellow - they represented a rainbow of all of the little girls in the entire World. And I loved it! Little Girls everywhere would see themselves doing whatever they wanted to do and becoming whomever they wanted to become. From playing soccer to landing on the moon! Wonder-full!

And I went to a framer and asked what super-contemporary frames he might have for these small works. And there weren't any that really felt right. So an idea popped into my head - ZAP! PING! BINGA BINGA! And it consisted of sandwiching the boards between two pieces of custom-designed Plexiglas, one clear one on top and a blue one of just the exact right shade below. Without any overhang to prevent warping.

And I looked into stand-offs too, to connect the two pieces together, which meant having to drill holes through the work, (but HEY! Whatever it takes! Hand me the buzz saw and the drill!!). But what of the stand-offs? The standard ones were no good. This one is too small. And this one is too big. That one too shiny! I was looking for the one that was "Just Right!" but I couldn't find it. And I went on-line to research stand-offs. WHO KNEW THERE WERE SO MANY DIFFERENT KINDS?! And I ordered custom standoffs with a brushed metallic surface, because I wanted a Jetsons feel (which when I was a kid, actually was futuristic. Now, maybe not so much.) But what I selected was manufactured from scratch and shipped in exactly the right size -- and I knew that it was GOOD! And the half dozen pieces came together. And they were delightful -- to me! And June turned into July and August and the burning hot summer came and went in a flash . . .


* * * * * * * * * * * *

And then came the Australia Wildfires which sparked in September of 2019 -- and I watched images of the animals dying, being burned alive. And something inside of me was overwrought and I needed to switch gears, and so the Little Blue Girls Series which had only just begun, fell by the way side -- which is where that series stands now -- in limbo. They are - to this day - hanging in my bedroom on the wall facing my bed. And sometimes I look up at them and think -- those are really great! I just love them!! For all of the Little Blue Girls wherever you may be!! And then I close my eyes and off I go into Dreamland. That is, except for that one night.

It was in September, just three short months after I had started the Little Blue Girl Series. Now the fires were raging all across Australia - which is what caused me to stop the series. And I was on Twitter looking at the videos coming in from Australia. Small koalas hanging from the top of a burning tree with their mother deciding what to do -- die in the fire lapping its way up the trunk of the tree or jump to their death. Videos of dazed animals coming out of the firestorm, themselves burned badly, embers flying all around. It was heart wrenching. And I determined and started to lay a plan that as soon as it was even remotely safe, I wanted to go to Australia and help in some way -- in whatever capacity they could use my services. (All of this, pre-pandemic). So there I was, lying in my bed, tears streaming down my face, watching one video after another and looking for any information I could find on which groups were planning to go in first to provide aid and comfort to the people and the wildlife. And that's when I happened upon it. It was a post about a "Little Blue Girl." And it caught my eye. And I followed the headline to the story.


* * * * * * * * * * * *

The story was taking place in Iran - also in September of 2019. A young girl who loved soccer had wanted to go to the Stadium in Tehran and watch a match several months earlier. But apparently that was not allowed in Iran. It was in March of 2019 that this young woman named Khodayari attempted to get into the Azadi Stadium in a disguise to watch her team, Esteghlal, duke it out with the UAE's team Al Ain. That alone would make any American sit up and take notice. Girls aren't allowed to watch men's soccer? WHAT?? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!

Khodayari gained the nickname "Blue Girl" because her disguise included a blue wig. But this time she got caught. And she was tried for her transgression -- of trying to watch a men's soccer game. And she was sentenced to a half year in an Iranian prison. I glanced up at the painting facing me as I lay in my bed - GIRL ON! Encouraging little girls to dream of playing whatever sport they enjoy. For Khodayari, that sport was soccer. How could that possibly be a crime, anywhere? I read on. Rather than face a lengthy prison sentence for wanting to watch a soccer match, Khodayari doused herself with gasoline and then set herself ablaze. She suffered burns across 90% of her body. She lay in an Iranian hospital on a respirator and died there a short time later. I tried to catch my breath . . .

I went to my image files, found the image of GIRL ON! and immediately posted it to Twitter with a caption that read, "Little Blue Girls should be able to play soccer and do anything they want to do!" And THAT, Dear Reader, believe it or not, unleashed a small firestorm! All of a sudden I was being messaged - directly - (I still didn't understand Twitter fully enough to know how all of that worked). Nonetheless, it seemed like half of the men in Iran suddenly had access to my private space and could reach out to me while I lay in bed -- to threaten my life in lurid gory detail. They discussed doing all sorts of ungodly things to me. And though at first I scoffed -- 'they're over there, I'm over here' -- the nature of the threats were so frightening that suddenly in spite of myself, I became a wee bit unnerved. 'OH! GREAT!' I thought. Now I've gotta worry about the IRGC ?! You have GOT to be KIDDING me !! So I unposted the image and thought about my next move. It was a restless night . . . (I did NOT like being told what to do, but these were armed Iranian military men! It was frightening. What would be an appropriate next move, I thought to myself. . . . hmmmmmm. . . . .)

My next move - poke the bear. I was angry at what had happened to Khodayari. I re-posted the image the next morning with a "take that" -- But a short time after re-posting it -- that little voice inside my head told me to take down anything that might be considered provocative to these irate men who held firm that women and girls should know their place. I never did put the Little Blue Girls back up on any social media platforms. And I left Twitter entirely & forever, deleting my account. I am ashamed to admit it, but I lacked courage despite the distance. But I did add to the title of the work.

And thus, GIRL ON! became GIRL ON! (In Honor & Memory of Khodayari), and it remains so today.