Part I, An Interview with Judy Dykstra-Brown by Andrea R. Huelsenbeck

Since Andrea is regrettably closing down her WP blog, I am reblogging two interviews she did with me along with a review of my latest book The China Bulldog. I will miss seeing Andrea’s blogs, but she tells me she has another blog on Medium. Please check it out!  

An Interview with Judy Dykstra-Brown, Teacher, Artist, Poet, Part I

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Judy Dykstra-Brown

When I first started blogging more than five years ago, one of the first blogs I discovered was lifelessons–a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown. I took part in blogging challenges, and so did Judy. As I perused other responses to the challenges, I often found Judy’s, and often they were poems–very good poems. I was hooked.

When I asked Judy if I could interview her for ARHtististic License, I was thrilled that she agreed. I knew she was interesting, but I didn’t realize the depth of her genius until I read her responses. Frankly, she sent me so much material that I soon realized I couldn’t squeeze it all into one article and do her justice. So I’m breaking it into two parts. If by the time you get to the end of this article you’re dying for more, you’ll have to just click on the link above to her blog until Saturday, when Part II will appear here on ARHtistic License.

Judy with her husband, Bob Brown, in front of their booth at an art show. I think it’s interesting how alike their faces are. Look at their eyes, cheekbones, and smiles.

ARHtistic License: You have worn many hats: English teacher, television production, artist, poetry journal editor, photographer, author, and blogger. Did I get everything?

Judy Dykstra-Brown: I was also the curator of shows for an art center.

AL: You have lived in interesting places, including Australia and Ethiopia. What took you there?

JD-B: From the time I was a tiny girl, I wanted to travel. When I was 11, I asked my folks if I could go on a tour for teenagers organized by Seventeen magazine. Of course, they refused, but by the time I was in high school I was driving all over the state to All State Chorus, district MYF meetings for the church we belonged to, and basketball games. I was the youngest of three daughters and they had sort of worn out in terms of driving kids, so I was given a lot more freedom than my sisters. Finally, during my junior year in college, they agreed to let me go on World Campus Afloat—a college campus on a boat that sailed around the world, stopping at a number of ports during its 4 month journey. They thought it would get travel out of my system, but I couldn’t wait to graduate and go back to my favorite place on the trip: Kenya. I absolutely loved Africa, but the only two places in the world that advertised that they  would hire a teacher with no experience were Isfran, Iran and Australia. So I actually emigrated to Australia and taught there for a year and a half before taking off to travel through Timor, Bali, Indonesia, Singapore, Sri Lanka and finally—Africa. Due to a series of misadventures, I ended up staying and teaching school in Ethiopia for a year and a half while my travel companion went on without me.

Retablo by Judy Dykstra-Brown

AL: You were a television production assistant. What shows did you work on? How did you land that job?

JD-B: I did P.R. and publicity for The Bob Hope Specials on NBC and also for his specials in Denmark and Tahiti.

I was studying film production and Screenwriting at UCLA and participating in an actor’s studio as well, thinking I needed to know all sides of the business, but after working on a couple of documentaries, I became disillusioned with the dynamics and decided to take a poetry class to regain my soul. I took two semesters from an excellent poetry teacher at UCLA and then heard about a charismatic actor and poet, Jack Grapes, so switched to his weekly workshop. There I became friends with a woman who was an assistant in charge of public-relations and publicity for Bob Hope. At that time, my income suddenly dried up when a company who bought a ranch I had a share in defaulted on their loan payments and we had to repossess the ranch my sisters and mother and I had inherited when my dad died.

I had quit teaching a couple of years before to come to CA to write the great American novel (still unfinished nearly 40 years later.) My friend had not had a raise in the 6 years she’d worked for Hope, plus no health insurance, and when they wouldn’t give her a raise, she quit. Her boss asked if there was anyone she could recommend to take her job. Knowing I was suddenly without a means of support, she suggested me. Her boss asked about me and she said I was a poet and studying film production, but the thing that really earned me the job was that I had spent a few years traveling through Australia, Indonesia, Asia and Africa after I’d graduated from college, ending up in Ethiopia where I got a job teaching English in a local school and had a number of adventures.

It turned out that the man hiring me was a travel writer for the L.A. times during the 5 months a year when everyone in the production company was laid off because there was no show in production. So, I got a job in publicity and P.R. not because I had any experience in those fields but because of my poetry and my travel experience. I was actually at a poetry conference in Napa when I got a phone call from my friend and her boss interviewed me over the phone. At the end of our talk, he asked me to come in for one week on a trial basis when I came back to L.A., and I ended up working there for 3 years until I married and moved to Boulder Creek.

Retablo by Judy Dykstra-Brown.

AL: When did you begin making art? Do you have any special art training?

JD-B: I started doing art when I had writer’s block and Jack Grapes, who headed up my writer’s workshop in Hollywood, forbid me to write and told me to do art instead. I insisted that I didn’t know anything about making art and he said, “That’s why I want you to do it. You know too much about literature and writing and that is getting in your way. You’re too concerned about what you ‘should’ be doing. I want you to do something you don’t know how to do!” So I went to a variety store—what we once would have called a dime store, and just bought a bunch of silly stuff: confetti, a rubber mouse and other assorted things. The summer before, the man who became my husband and I went on a driving vacation through Europe and I was amused by all the various little disposable aluminum jam and butter receptacles and I’d saved them all. I cut them up into three-dimensional shapes and took my poems and cut them in thin strips and made little figures out of them and glued them to heavy watercolor paper along with the things I’d bought. They were totally silly but I had such fun making them. I remember the first one I made had the title “Party Mouse Wants To Come Play But Can’t.” It included a rubber mouse and the confetti with a little fence around the mouse and I don’t remember what else, all glued to a Morilla block. At any rate, Jack had told me to bring them to next week’s workshop, but I was embarrassed and just left them in the car. When my turn came to present, he asked me if I’d done the art he told me to and I said yes, but they were dumb. He asked where they were and I said in the car and he told me to go down and get them. So I did, and they passed them around the circle.

At the end of the session, a woman came up to me who had a gallery in L.A. and she asked if she could exhibit them there. I was too embarrassed and said no, I wasn’t really an artist, but within a few months, I had married Bob, who was an artist and also a poet. We moved up to the redwoods and I fully intended to go back to teaching. I had taken and passed the CBEST test and planned on applying to teach the next year so Bob could stop teaching and do art full time. In the interim, I was doing little collages on stone and he said if I was going to do collage I needed to learn more about joining than simple cold joining. He talked me into taking a silversmithing class and that class led to another and another with the result that I never did go back to teaching and I ended up making my living making silver jewelry for the next 14 years. After my second class, he entered two of my pieces into the CA State Fair and I won first prize for them. I was astonished. He also entered me in an art fair in Oceanside. I was so embarrassed, but was delighted when people bought the jewelry. I took a photo of every person who bought a piece of my jewelry that day!  Ha.  Later I became a papermaker and made washi shades for all of my husband’s lamps, then started making art lamps myself as well. I didn’t go back to writing for 5 years. By then I was the curator of an art center and curated a show called “The Poet’s Eye, The Artist’s Tongue” which wedded art and poetry. I wrote a poem to go with another artist’s painting and then ended up doing several other art pieces that involved words which lead to starting a reading series at the gallery. And Jack was right. I came back to writing from a completely different slant after that.

Jewelry by Judy Dykstra-Brown.

AL: Do you have any funny stories about your work?

JD-B: When I was making jewelry, I remember feeling as though it was a very self-indulgent pastime. Prior to moving to California, I had been an English teacher for 10 years and felt that although I loved being a metal smith, it wasn’t really a job that was of benefit to anyone else. I think I had been doing shows for about three years and every time I did a show within 50 miles or so of San Francisco, one woman would always come and buy at least one piece of jewelry. Then two and sometimes three pieces. Then during one show, she came up to me and said, “You know you have changed my whole life.” Puzzled, I asked how that could be, and she said, “Well, you know I’m a nurse, and every year I go to this convention of health workers and because I’m not very outgoing, I never really used to meet anyone, but then three years ago, I wore one of your brooches, and people kept coming up to me and asking about it and because you always told me the stories behind the pieces, I had something to talk to them about. Pretty soon, every time I’d go to one, people would come up to see what new piece of jewelry I had, and eventually I knew lots of people and because we’d already broken the ice, we always had something to talk about”. My husband Bob always did say that he thought art could change the world, and I guess after that, I believed him. Never again did I question the worth of what I was doing.

About the above photos, Judy says, “These are some of the hundreds of vases Bob made so we could do shows together–me selling my jewelry and him the vases. I only have one–the carved dragon–only because the lady who bought it gave it back to me after he died. I’m looking at it now as I keep it on my desk.”

JD-B: Okay, another story. When I started doing shows, my husband Bob, who was a sculptor, decided he wanted to do something on a smaller scale than his very big sculptures so he could do shows with me, so he started making incredible ikebana vases out of wood, stone and bamboo. Each vase he made was unique and I would do an ikebana arrangement in each one. After a few years, those vases grew into huge lamps and I started making handmade paper lampshades that looked more like big sails or big cocoons than traditional lampshades. Some of the large lamps were rather expensive and there was one couple who would come to every show in San Francisco, Sausalito and the surrounding towns in the bay area. They would spend a long time looking at each lamp, but never bought anything. Finally, after three years or so, the man came to a show in Sausalito and bought three of our most expensive lamps. As I wrote up the order, I couldn’t help but ask why, after all these years, he had finally bought not a lamp, but three of them!

Because, he told me, that entire time he knew he was going to divorce his wife and he didn’t want her to get the lamps in a divorce settlement! And, the plot thickens. We delivered the lamps to his house, then went back to do two more days of the show. The day after the show ended, there was a Cirque de Soleil show in San Francisco, so we spent an extra night at my friend Sharon’s house in Berkeley so we could go to see it. The tent was so full that we couldn’t find three seats together, so Bob sat in the front row in front of the stage and Sharon and I sat in seats far away higher up in the risers on the side of the stage. During one performance, clowns started drawing people from the audience to come up on stage and Bob was one of the first people they chose. Now I must explain that Bob had a Santa Claus beard and long white hair that came to his shoulders. He loved wild Balinese-print batik pants, and red high-top suede sneakers. He was a handsome man and although rather quiet in private life, on the stage he came alive. Accustomed to performing his poetry in public, he was much more at ease center-stage than he was fighting it out with the hoi-polloi in real life. So, of course, the clowns made much of his hair and clothes, but Bob gave them back tit for tat and the crowd was laughing as loudly at his quips as those of the clowns. So, when they sent the rest of the people back to their seats, they kept Bob up on the stage for another 5 minutes or so.

The show ended and as Sharon and I stood in front of the tent waiting for Bob to find us, who should stroll up but the big spender who had just purchased our three lamps! He was with a very pretty girl and when he saw me, he came right over to me and asked where Bob was. I explained and he said, “Well, there’s someone here I have to introduce him to!” Turns out that before the show, as they were sitting in the audience, he started telling her about these fantastic lamps he had just bought, describing Bob as this eccentric character. She asked why eccentric, what did he look like, and just then, he looked up and the clowns were pulling Bob up to the stage. “He looks like that!” he said. “That’s the man!” The girl would not believe him. It was just too much of a coincidence to be true. We were in a town where neither of us lived, not even the town where he’d purchased the lamps. The chance that we would run into each other was just about nil and yet, there was the object of his story, up on the stage at Cirque de Soleil!  And just then, Bob strolled up, and the girl was finally convinced.

Above are some of the beautiful lamps made by Bob and Judy. Click on an image to enlarge it.

Do you agree that Judy Dykstra-Brown is an amazing artist and a captivating intellect? Be sure to check back on Saturday for the conclusion of this interview.

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15 responses »

  1. Hi Andrea. I thank you for having the interest to interview me. I want to emphasize that the genius behind the lamps and vases shown was my husband’s, not mine. I made and applied the paper that completed them and did the ikebana arrangements, but he did the really hard labor of working the wood and stone and conceiving the incredible designs. He was also the one responsible for making me realize that I, too, was an artist. The minute I had an interest in anything, he procured or made me the tools to realize that interest, pushed me to exhibit and instilled in me the belief that art can change the world. It certainly changed ours.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Very interesting reading this morning~! I learned so much more about you, including one thing more we have in common.. Will tell you more about this at another time. Can’t wait for the next installment~!

    Liked by you and 1 other person

  3. Judy thank you for letting Andrea interview you. And thanks to Andrea too. A fascinating journey you have taken both around the world and through the arts. Not sure which parts of the interview I like best. The part where your (zen) poetry teacher told you to switch to art to free your mind. Or the part with you and Bob at Cirque de Soleil.

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  4. Wow, wow, wow, my friend Judy is amazing. I already knew that and I have begged her to write her amazing stories, but now we have some of them here. Glad to read all of it. Judy’s the best, and most talented, and MOST GENEROUS person I know currently. She’s an inspiration to me on so many levels. Thanks for doing this interview.

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    • Are you the Perry I know from La Manz? I was in Ethiopia in 1973 and 1974–during the start of the revolution, but with none of us knowing exactly what it was going to lead to. The high school I taught in was one of the most revolutionary. I think I have a couple of stories on my blog about when the students rioted. If you search for “Ethiopia” you should find them–if you are interested. You must have stories to tell, as well. That’s some rough country.

      Liked by 1 person

  5. Judy’s blog was among the first blogs that I discovered as well. I knew that she has had an adventurous life, but I did not know how fascinating it was! I loved the stories about her work and how, “Never again did I question the worth of what I was doing.” The story about the Cirque du Soleil was hilarious!

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“The Ballad of Henry and Ruth” For MVB, Feb 8, 2025

 

For the MVB prompt of “Candy Bar” today, I am reblogging a poem written a few years ago:

The Ballad of Henry and Ruth

Before she met him at the candy store,
her days were empty and her life was a bore;
but when he offered her his 
Jujyfruits,
in just a moment they were in cahoots.
He was the drummer in a R&R band.
Down all 
5th Avenue, he held her hand.
She felt his pulse beat pump a sweet love tune
and knew he’d be her 
Sugar Daddy soon.

Chorus:

Yes she met him at the candy store,
between the sucker rack and front screen door.
He nearly tripped over her 
Mary Janes
and crashed into a rack of 
Candy Canes.
The 
Double Bubble and the Tootsie Roll Pops
collided with the 
mints and lemon drops.
Their love was written in the moon and stars,
but realized beneath the 
Hershey Bars!

Oh Henry, she was crooning, and much more.
He loved this 
Bit O’ Honey down to the core.
Shifted his 
Firestick and they went for a ride
his 
Baby Ruth snuggled right up to his side.
She cried, “
Oh, Henry!” as they hit the Mounds,
poppin’ wheelies as they did the rounds.
He was no 
Slo-Poke, tell you here and now,
so as he swerved to miss a big 
Black Cow,

The car rolled over on its Rollo Bars
crashing into six  more hot rod cars.
Atomic Fireball” said the words on his car.
Now how appropriate those two words are.
100 Grand it costs him on Payday
so he’ll be working every night and day—
his
 Red Hot mama working by his side,
for now his 
Sweet Tart is his blushing bride.

Repeat Chorus:

 And, thanks to Björn, this poem is going to the moon in the lunar codex! Who would have guessed? A friend has even set it to music, so if I can find it, I’ll add a link below or publish in a new blog.

Circus Muses

This is one of the pieces I’ll be showing in the Artful Codgers show whose opening reception will be held on Saturday, February 8, in the Cultural Center in the Ajijic Plaza between 4 and 6:30 PM. . The show will be open until February 17. The name of the piece is “Circus Muses.” Its explanation is given below the piece.

Circus Muses

In the tiny notebook which the animals are jumping out of is written the story of this piece, which I have copied below:

Did I ever have a fantasy of running away to join the circus? I did. The small town traveling circuses of my American 50’s youth still exist in Mexico, so maybe in running away to Mexico, I’ve finally come closer again to that childhood. For thirteen years, I traveled around the USA doing arts and crafts shows. Putting up and tearing down the tents, creating a new world every weekend, I felt that I’d finally joined the circus. What I learned was that circuses are hard work, but still carry magic. It’s getting increasingly easier to move away to Mexico and never really leave the States, but the mystery is still here, and some of it assembles itself overnight in empty lots in small towns all over Mexico. I try to keep that mystery in my writing and my art by being more led by intuition than by logic; but in addition to this spontaneity, I also need the preciseness of repeated rituals. The circus only works if the tent stays up!!!

 The beginning of this piece was the assembled image of the woman muse.  At first, she had the face of my mother, which I copied onto white cotton and glued over the face of the  old ceramic doll form.  I know that much of my creativity comes from early writing sessions with my mother.  The creativity which she chose not to pursue was handed on to me, and I wished to honor her.  While I was working on this piece, however, Frida kept creeping in and trying to take over. I glued her face over that of my mother, then peeled it off, then glued on another and peeled it off.  In the end, I covered all the layers with a mask, but later chose to raise the mask which now resides perched over one eye. What we do to expand the themes and techniques and legends of those who come before us needs to rise above imitation. What we can bring that is both authentic and new is the constant task of the artist. The painter clown, who is trying to paint something original, keeps ending up duplicating Frida’s face and her cast-off images lie crumpled up and discarded on the floor.

Around her waist, the muse wears a bag woven of morning glory vines which contains a tiny paintbrush.  In her hand is a small pair of silver scissors.  The jewel in her necklace is one of a pair of tiny silver dice.  The background picture of the blue lady is from a work by Ana Oneglia, my favorite  Santa Cruz, CA artist. There are many more secrets hidden in this piece. Yours to decipher.

P.S. I see that in this photo the mask has slipped down to cover the face. I have fastened it up again, so the face of Frida Kahlo in addition to a second face partially peeled off may be seen under the mask.

“Not by Bulk”, for SOCS, Feb 7, 2025

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Five Bananas

I was on my way home from the weekly market today, going to my car to get a thermal bag to buy ice at the corner liquor store,  when I passed a big truck selling fruit and vegetables.  I asked if they had bananas that weren’t green.  He got up in the truck, showed me some and I said “How much?”  He gave me a price for 2 kilos (about 4 lbs) and I said, no, I didn’t need that many and thanked him.  I realized then that he probably just sold in bulk to small grocery stores in the area.  I got in my car and drove a block away to another small fruit market and just as I was going to open my car door, the truck pulled up beside me.  The window next to me was rolled down and the man held out a bunch of five bananas.  I asked how much and he smiled and said, “It is a gift” and they drove away. Later, I saw them in another store and asked if I could buy them something to drink from the cold case, but they both said no.

Some days are worth getting out of bed for!!!

 

The prompt for SOCS today is “bulk.”

Palm Fruiting Fronds, for FOTD Feb 7, 2025

For Fibbing Friday, Feb 7, 2025

For Fibbing Friday this week, the task at hand is to define:

  • Cachinnate: To put something away
  • Cacoethes: A Greek famous for his addiction to chocolate
  • Callipygian: A descriptive word for someone who makes phone calls to swine..
  • Confabulate: Someone in favor of washing garments at the last moment possible.
  • Cankerblossom:  Herpes outbreaks on the lips
  • Chicanery:  The act of flirting with girls
  • Cloff: To jump off a precipice
  • Canorous :Description of a teacher given to not sparing the rod as a disciplinary measure
  • Coxcomb: To straighten the feathers on a rooster
  • Clishmaclaver: Nickname of the youngest daughter of a Scottish laundress

Crowded Secret, For Writing Prompts, Feb 6, 2025

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Crowded Secret

This secret
shared with only you
has become crowded.

Like a party with too many guests,
it spills up the staircase
and into private rooms.

This secret with only room for two
has nudged you out of my confidence
as this one and this one and this one

crowd in to offer advice
just as though
they had been invited.

or Writing Prompts: Secrets

Help!!!!!!!

Is anyone else having trouble with the Reader? I cannot see who has just posted blogs. Clicking eyeglasses doesn’t help..I only see one person’s blog at a time. No scrolling. Are others having this problem? Sorry if I’m not viewing and commenting on your blogs.. I have no idea who is posting.

Royal Poinciana, for FOTD Feb 6, 2025

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R.I.P. my dear departed royal poinciana tree. The most beautiful of trees lakeside. I’ve planted a new one that is still very small. May it be as beautiful and as huge as this one grew to be.

 

For Cee’s FOTD

The Lady Doth Protest Just Right, Methinks, for Wed. Poetry Prompt

Does this look like a sixty year old leg to you? She posed for it!!!

The Lady Doth Protest Just Right, Methinks

Any idiot can use
Shakespeare as his means to excuse
ardor that is uninvited,
passion that is unrequited.
Just like a half-schooled jerk to quote
a line that he has learned by rote.

“The Lady Doth Protest too much. . . .”
he says as he expands his clutch.
As she then makes attempts to guard her
honor from his excess ardor,
if he won’t take her “No!” verbatim,
there is one way to educate him.

For when a lady’s had enough,
it may behoove her to get rough.
That she may return home intact
may require much less tact
and more physicality
to apprise him of reality.

A well-placed knee aimed at his tool
may seem unfairly base and cruel,
yet if mere words will not connect,
this simple action might correct.
If entreaties will not stir him,
extreme sign language might deter him.

Wednesday Poetry Prompt is “Just like ……”