The call of ravens and rain

Four ravens, all noisemakers, flew over my house as the first drops began to fall.

I ran outside to acknowledge them, and to wallow in the scent of rain. Monsoon has arrived, streaking down at an angle, gaining strength, and we all run for cover, but not too far.

Until I lived in the desert, I did not know these particular joys of being summoned by ravens and rain.

Original drawing ©Beth Surdut. Order signed prints at www.bethsurdut.com 

Ten Generationsof Ravens en la troca

Ten Generations en la Troca from Listening to Raven series by Beth Surdut

La troca (the truck) is as iconic in New Mexico and the Southwest as Trickster Raven-- the older rounded forms made by man mimic the languid curves and patinas of this high desert that color my soul.

In Alaska, Mark has been caring for ravens and eagles for the past 18 years. Although there are certainly professional nature photographers with admirable patience, skill, and talent, this man’s love is uniquely communicated through his actions and photographic documentation of his avian friends. His photographs and the stories he tells me gave flight to this drawing as well as  The Ravens of Truth and Memory which nods to the Norse God Odin’s ravens.

Mark writes: I must say I think your drawing of Raven is the best that I have seen yet...

 Raven flew over the office of the apartment complex where I worked. I put some meat out for him and soon he came down and got it. Next, he brought his partner and although she was much more tentative they both started stopping by each day. I started to develop a call that sounded like when the male Kushka called the female Feathers. After time, when I called, they would come down off the mountain. That summer, I noticed that they brought their fledge down to my truck and from that time on I became their babysitter.

  After 10 generations of fledges, I believe the original couple moved on and now all their children come back in the winter to live nearby cause they know I will have food for them if times get bad.

Speaking of la troca: I carried Martha Egan's collection La Ranfla (The Ride) to the mechanic's while he fixed my brakes-- I read the entire collection, nodding and grinning, wondering if I should go looking for a literate cowboy and a good cash crop, when Guapo brought me to tears right there in a chilly waiting room.

When your friends back East ask what New Mexico is about, send them this book. Then get them out here, drive them around in a troca, show them the land and sky and a good taqueria, reading them Jim Sagal's Unexpected Turn if you can find a copy. 

The raven drawing  Ten Generation en La Troca  appears in the September 2015 literary arts journal RiverSedge published by Texas Pan-American University Press. 
(Much of this post was originally published in 2013)

Ravens Roost

Truth and Memory

and

Walks Like a Man

may be the current top two favorites so far, with The Compass of My Heart an active Contender, but this swaggering guy is the one who's been going home with people. I love the stories you are bringing to these characters--bird tales, spiritual experiences, intolerant neighbors and macho husbands!

See you at the solo exhibit opening July 9, 2010 at the Randall Davey Audubon Center in Santa Fe!

Fine Feathered Raven Tales

Thanks to the Santa Fe New Mexican reporter Ana Trujillo and photographer Jane Phillips!

Fine-feathered tales Sunday, January 24
"Local artist Beth Surdut is drawn to the region's landscape and ever-present ravens. Her visual storytelling project, Listening to Ravens, includes drawing accompanied by a myth or story of the bird. She's looking for new stories from Santa Feans for a new project..." More story and photos on the newspaper's website.

The raven stories in response to this article are already coming in!

Raven Print Cycle

http://www.bethsurdut.com/listening_to_raven_prints.htm

After a year of drawing and cawing, The Raven Print Cycle is now available! I am asking you to be my focus group. Please vote for your favorites by going to www.bethsurdut.com/listening_to_raven_prints.htm where you'll find 11 images. lf you've been following the journey so far, you know there are stories here. I eagerly look forward to you posting your thoughts here on the blog or emailing info@bethsurdut.com
To thank you for participating, the prints are offered at special prices if purchased by July 30.

Raven Walks Like a Man

In my dream, Raven walks like a man.

My friend Cuervo, who grew up in Columbia, warned me, "If you see a really big raven, I mean, one that is big like a dog, it's a spirit or a brujo, and not a good one."

Raven lopes towards me, beak wide open and pink inside, so I know he's young, but I don't know what he wants, so I wake up.

I draw every feather and shadow of him until he walks off the page to tell me why he is here.

Raven just flew by my window. I can see everything through the wall of glass, the light so beautiful I can breathe.

The Egg Thief

As I was drawing in the highlights on a pair of raven feet, Raven flew directly towards my studio window, then veered to land in a big pine tree. My pleasure at his arrival turned to foreboding as he placed one foot in front of the other, moving purposefully through the branches towards a songbird's nest that I knew held three eggs.

I ran into the garden, squawking and flapping my arms. Raven glared at me and took off before he reached the nest.

Two days later, I climbed a ladder to find only one egg in the nest. As I grieved, telling myself that this was nature's order, the egg moved! The remaining baby had pecked out much of the underside of the shell.

As I came down the ladder, hoping the mother would return, I saw a tiny yellow beak wobbling open-mouthed in a soft bed of leaves at the base of the tree. Another survivor! I placed it, pink skinned with random patches of gray fuzz, back in the nest.

Raven must have made off with the third egg, for there was no sign at all.

In two more days, the birds have doubled in size, but these babies may still be doomed. My friend David had five little birdkins snatched all at once and he's still moping like a grandfather denied visitation.

And I, recognizing that humans steal and eat eggs from nests every day, I have lost my desire to eat eggs.

This original drawing is pen, pencil, heart and mind on paper size 15" x 21"

Raven brought this mermaid to the high desert. To begin, start with Drawing Raven.

The Ravens of Truth and Memory

The Norse God Odin sent two Ravens out each day--one named Thought (Hugin), the other Memory (Munin).

Here, I've changed Thought to Truth.
Memory allows Truth to gently pick through her feathers until both birds shine.
While I was creating Truth and Memory (paper size 15" X 22") with pen and colored pencil, heart and mind, two tiny Zuni fetish ravens carved by a married couple into black marble and bound together with turquoise and coral perched on the paper's edge. I found them through the grace of the White Raven who owns Keshi in Santa Fe.
My thanks to kind-hearted Cordova Raven, who cares for ravens and eagles in Alaska.
For the beginning of the Raven story that brought this mermaid to the desert, start with Drawing Raven.

The Compass of My Heart

Displayed until May 29 at City Hall in Santa Fe, this intricate drawing came to me in a dream:

A Compass glinted between Raven’s feet as he lengthened his legs to land. It had been a bad day—a friend in Florida had been shot, not killed, by some crazy teenager with a 357 Magnum the color of raven feathers.
Raven, as gravel-voiced as Tom Waits, announced his arrival. I offered a flat hand, palm up, as one would to a dog, my mother’s voice in my ear, “Always palm up, so they won’t be threatened,” she’d whisper, the thin white scar from the bite embroidered right above her eyebrow. Big dogs scared her. She tried to pass on her fears to me, but I decided to just be polite to the muscled boxer down the street, saying “Excuse me,” if I ran by him.
“Don’t run; he’ll chase you. They can smell fear,” warned my mother, but for much of my life I have smelled like musk and exotic flowers.
Raven released a silvery roundel that fit well into the palm of my hand. The sun’s shadow quivered like a hound as tiny animal shapes in turquoise and black marble moved restlessly around the sides.
Raven danced next to me, scratching out a tune in the dirt as I examined the intricate inlay of purple sugalite, orange coral and bright turquoise.
Wings whisked the air as he lofted onto my shoulder, nuzzling his beak into my hair.
“What is this?” I asked him as he preened me, rubbing his head against mine, combing through my hair with his beak, tickling along my hairline.
“Pay attention to what I’ve brought you,” he murmured.
I stroked his head and back, trying to read the compass of my heart.

Telling Tales in New Mexico

Critter Tales:
Yours, Mine, and Ours
Feb 18, 2009
9:30 AM - noon

There's nothing as fun as winding people up and watching them go, so I'm facilitating this workshop at the Georgia O'Keeffe museum. Come join a round robin of your nature stories, where I bet we'll learn more about the humans telling the tales than then critters we talk about.
Here’s a great opportunity to foster concise storytelling. Bring your wild critter stories—off the top of your head is just fine—and share them with neighbors who have lived in New Mexico forever or for just a little while.
Professional writer and artist Beth Surdut, aka Gator Girl, will assist you in telling a good tale for radio—short and sometimes not so sweet. Participants will write their stories, read them aloud, and hone them for radio. Education Annex, 123 Grant Avenue. $35; Members $26 (25% discount).Reservations required by February 16: 505.946.1039.
For a few bites of the wild life, meander through my blog. Drawing Raven explains why I've come here. In Gator Girl , terror masquerades as aplomb, and join me in Raptor Rapture-- an owl prowl and oh my, what big teeth you have. There are gators and mermaids swimming through my stories here and at http://www.bethsurdut.com/

Drawing Raven

from the series Listening to Raven

Raven comes here to find me in the cool desert morning, announcing his presence in an apricot sky. I see myself reflected in his blue-black eyes and feathers.

According to Native American lore, Raven is the bringer of magic. He is my birth month totem and  for  three years we've engaged in an ongoing dialogue of  art and  story.
I saw no ravens in my three years of river paddling with   alligators and birds in Florida, but once I made the decision to move to New  Mexico, Raven came to see me in my  tropical  garden. Always chased by a noisy escort of mockingbirds and blue jays, Raven would perch on the turquoise-colored wood railing of my front porch to watch me draw. If he couldn’t find me, he would caw and dance on the little tin roof covering back stairs. I'd come out and he’d cock his head to get a good look. That bird never missed a day for weeks.
A friend of mine who is a lay minister tells me that somewhere in the bible a visit from a raven can mean prosperity and the Medicine Wheel offers the same possibility. Here is a place for people to unbind themselves, to expand their hearing and seeing, both inward and outward, in the vast beauty of a limitless sky.
For another glimpse of Raven, look at Listening To Raven- Drawings,Myths & Realities
This drawing is on 10" x 14" paper using pen, pencil, heart and mind.