FLOYD ENCE AND HIS BELOVED RACEHORSES AND HOUND

The photos I am putting up are of my brother-in-law Floyd Ence, his racehorses and dog. He ran racehorses at all the tracks in Utah, Golden Gate, Hollywood Park and Santa Anita. His dog "Whitie" seems to love these horses as much as Floyd did. He seems to be posing for me when I took these pictures. Margie loved the Utah races and went with him often. I went when I was in town to Beaver, Escalante, Panguitch, Cedar City, St George, etc. A Ence horse was often the winner. Floyd didn't Gamble, but I did and won some easy money because we knew his horses were a cut above most in Utah. Many of these photo are of the Mares who were having the colts. He had one little colt he saved in the correl from the wolves or something he was pretty beat up. All of his horse seem to love him and came to him to be petted any time he was in the fields at his Mountain Meadow Ranch. Just down from the ranch was where the Mountain Meadow Massacre took place. One of his friend died on the fence there shot by his own gun as he climbed he fence. It was a little spooky up there. I seems to hear moans and groans on the wind.

DEATH IN THE FAMILY

My sister, the nurse practitioner, died last night. It was unexpected. She had a another repair on her foot, the fourth surgery to relieve pain. They don't know if it was a stroke, a heart attack or a blood clot. I have been talking to everybody today, but I still can't rest. I clicked on her name, Marg, like I always do. I read her her last blog...maybe there was a clue? Then I posted a comment on her Blog site even though she is gone. We sister have been so close. They have always called us five peas in a pod...among other things. Over the years we have had such fun together.

Hi, Marg... I guess you are over there with LaRae now. At least one person is happy. You know,I am going to miss you so much. I could always come to your place and feel welcome, through all of your years. You and Pole could be so funny together. And there were those time when we all stayed with you at your Escalante house. I was your bartender at Star Hall and we put together some great dancing parties. You and Pole were always the best dancers. I, also, had great times with you visiting the cabin at The Meadows and with Floyd too. He loved that cabin. It should have been left how it was..well, maybe, just cleaned up the singles outside. The cabin had so many memories for him and his brother...and you too, as you drove back and forth up there for him so many years. You have been good to all our family, and all his family. I'm sorry I didn't call you again yesterday, but I was giving you a day. You nursed Floyd over and above the call of any wife or nurses duty.
You seemed more like the old Margie, after Floyd had gone to a care home. You probably over-did, after he left, getting the house cleaned, painted,and the carpet changed. You never did know how to be messy or say, "No," to a medical doctor.
I like our middle of the night talks. You were the only one I could call in the middle of he night. You were always awake when I called...the pain you said.
I know, now, that the dream about that Gangster, Joe Burns, was for you. He came and "stole" you away. When that black Gangster car drove way and I saw it going up the road toward Leeds, where Joe used to live (Or going to Boulder.)..I thought, that looks more like a Hearst than a gangster car. Joe knew that you always loved him.
Well, Goodbye, for while...say "Hello," to Mom, Daddy, Ray and all the rest of the family. We are going to miss you. What is Buddy,(the dog) going to do without you?
He is going to be so sad. I remember that great a big White Russian hound, that killed his own deer to eat, He loved you, too. No one would ever hurt you with him around. I'm glad I did your sculpture.
Your kids are Griffins. They might never stop crying.
Lov you, Sis....Linda, (the baby)
Love you.

LETTERS TO VOOMAN

Since Vooman's alter ego has received questions by e-mail from "fans." Ha... I decided to answer the questions here on VOOMAN'S VOICE so I could.. Well...kill two jobs with one finger action. And let other people read, as well. Whose knows who don't know what about me.
"You are such an inspiration." ...(I wish I could inspire myself right now...)
"I am dumbstruck that so little is known about you, your early life in Utah and what made you the genius artist that you are. (I like that, I think it is the first time anyone has used the word "genius" on paper about me. It was in a sentence with "dumb," but "dumb" and "dumbstruck" are two different words. I am very sensitive about the word "dumb."
Lois Munoz is writing a film script to respond to caricatures created in "WOMEN," by the late and great, Charles Bukowski. Doesn't she know this about him? ..."I write 90% of the truth and the other 10% is an improvement on the truth." I am not sure that I can be too helpful as I have made a caricature of myself...here on VOOMAN'S VOICE, maybe long before that. But, one should respond to anyone who calls them genius...art genius..

Dear Lois,
In respond to your questions.

What was your first experience with art?

I came from Boulder, Utah, the most beautiful area in American. It's in the heart of Escalante Staircase National Monuments, where there is over 200 miles of scenic beauty.
My first art experience was with the gang who painted graffiti on the rocks. My older sister, LaRae, also an artist, was the leader of the gang. We painted a huge nude up there on a beautiful, flat, red sand rock canvas. It was a dangerous climb and we painted long, even though we had to hurry before any cars came by and we got caught. Nudes were not honored in Mormon country like they were in Rome. It, later, becane the favorite target practice of the boys, who, I think shot her boobs right off. When we went to repaint, we had to add a Bikini, but it was never as good as the first one. And the sign killed it, LAND OF ENCHANTMENT AND BEAUTIFUL WOMEN.

Who or what inspired you to create art?

After I got married and lived in Hollywood. I used to stroll, with my new baby, by this studio that had a little sculpture head in the window and admire it. I wanted to be an actress, but my husband had made me promise, I would give up that dream. He, later, agreed to let me sign up for a sculpture class. I found out at that class that I could catch a likeness better than anyone in the room. I have since had many, many dreams of sculpturing in past lives. One day while I was watching T. V. I jumped up scream, "Come and look. My sculptures are on T.V. I know I helped do those." It was some site in India. The sculptures ere buried in vines with monkeys all round. Russian, American Indian and Mayan art are, also, buried in my unconsciousness, as well. I must go to Rome before I die. I am thinking of sneaking off the trail to a cave in Boulder and sculpture in sandstone again, before 90.

Where did you study and who were your favorite artist?

I went to Adult School in Burbank, Calif. Milton Nickelson was the teacher. He used to do portrait heads at Universal City for $50 a head. He sculptured people from all over the world.
I took Ceramics at Dixie College at St. George Utah and found out I could not make a round pot...I could not. I told the teacher, "Don't give up on me, I am going to get a year of therapy and try again." He said, "Don't do that, the therapist are sending their patients to us." I, mostly, studied on my own. I am taking my first live sculpture class now, at San Francisco City College.
My favorite artist is, Rodin, even though he didn't treat women all that great..unless he was between their legs, at the moment. I saw The Rodin Sculpture Garden and Museum in Paris, it was great. They did have some of "her" work at his Museum. That was nice of him. See how the "she" is forgotten. Even I can't remember...and can't find her name right now. She got so frustrated, "she" destroyed her work...or most of it. That's why I can't remember. I don't like that. I was even against Saddam sculptures being destroyed....after all he wasn't the artist.

What traumas or acts of beauty fuel your creativity?

I had a breakdown in the 60's, which I wrote a book about called MAD OUIJA......still unpublished. My book about Bukowski,LOVING AND HATING CHARLES BUKOWSKI (the 70's)......still unpublished. On the good side, love is a good motivator. Bukowski and I wrote and created quite well together. He was always doing oil stick or chalk drawings for his books, while I sculptured. Of course, he wrote like a madman, so the writing was there too. He was the beginning of me doing portraits of writers and poets. I've sold about over a dozen of Bulowski's head in bronze. I suppose some of those fights we had, created some poetry.

Was your environment where and how you grew up, conducive to you becoming an artist?

I rode a Bus, an hour, morning and night to school and we got creative on that bus, so as not to get too bored with songs, talks, debates, discussions, etc. My oldest sister, Geraldine King, went away to school, but was the writer of the family and she wrote volumes. She is now blogging and working on her Autobiography. She has written so many plays and books I can't count them......still unpublished. She is pushing 79. She tried to make all of her sisters into writers. We had a little rag before Bukowski. It was called HALF N' HALF. In fact, I have one of his poem published in one of them. We were five girl and we trained to be cowgirls because my Dad had no cowboys and herd of a 1000 cattle to take care of. I still have a great love of horses. We partied and dance with great energy, too.
My nephew, Raymond Shurtz, is a playwright, song writer and poet in Phoenix. He has had great theater events with, one act plays, written by many writers including me, his mother Gerry, Brenda Edward, Gus Edwards and many more. Gerry has had original plays performed in Phoenix and Utah. He has had close to 25 original plays done. My mother was also a writer. THE KINGS OF BOULDER, being one of them, mostly self published. My sister Ann writes history and will have a book out this summer LET'S DRIVE, stories and maps of Escalante Staircase National Monumnent. My sister, Margie, wrote a book about her husband Floyd Ence of St George, Utah. My niece, Cheryl, put together a book, EARLY WOMEN SETTLERS, of Boulder, for The Hertiage Festival. I am going there this summer to...well,... build fence. My hometown is becoming a hide out for artist, writer. organic gardeners, musicians, and mountain pot growers,etc.
I managed to get two poems in REVOLUTIONARY POETS BRIGADE, San Francisco. I probably the laziest of the sister...spoiled baby. I did a heads of Jack Hirshman
A.D.Winans, Lawrence Farlinghettim Jack Micheline, Harold Norse and Neeli Chercovski of S.F. I am loving my live nudes the most right now. Oh, Oh, I've got to pick up my Grandkids from school.

98% Trufully yours,

Vooman
of VOOMAN'S VOICE

****All or part of my words or soul can be used...or published.
****Write,Dear Vooman, at your own risk.

REVOLUTIONARY POET BRIGADE CLEBRATES EGYPT

On Friday I went to a party to celebrate Egypt's freedom from it's dictator. Everything is so up in the air in the middle east it might not be the time to celebrate at all, with rumored up to 2000 killed in Libya. I guess each country and people who frees it's self from oppressive rule can be celebrated. The party was held at Dottie Payne's new gallery space that is is in North Beach, about two blocks into Chinatown. About twenty poets read one poem each. We even had a woman poetess from the Middle East reading. There were some excellent poems. I read one poem.

NECESSARY COMMUNE-ISM,TRIBAL-ISM,
SOCIAL CONSCIOUSNESS FOR AN
OVER POPULATED WORLD

You see it is not about
A political party
It is about survival
A rational way of
Distributing the foods
Of the world
To the most people
So that greed does not
Eat up someone else’s
Fair share of commodities
It is a rational way
Of living together
For the common good
We cannot tolerate
Corporate greed or
Dictators of the world
Profiting off the poor
For their own
Selfish interest
Lining their pockets
With stolen monies
...Yes, they should be
Hunted down
And stripped of their
Power, jailed
Sent into exile
Accounts frozen
Treated as the
Criminals they are
The days of the
Powermongers are over
And their guns
Will rust along side
Their dead bodies
For the meek
Shall inherit the earth
And respect the earth
It’s plants, it’s animal
It’s environment
It’s people
For we the people
Will work side by side
Planting the earth
For the good of all
We will use the earth's
Gas, oil and metals
For the good of all
The animals
Large and small
For the good of all
A necessary reality
Yes, it is about survival
…Linda King - 2/21/11

At the party there was food and wine, a band played and many danced. It was a good night. Dottie was an excellent host. I love her new space where she will be having other events, art shows, etc. I had a great time even though I had been up since early morn and worn out and had to go home and rest. I had been to my Life Sculpture class, (five hours), which takes a lot of energy and then I spent the afternoon in North Beach visiting with other poets at Cafe Trieste, visiting at the Beat Museum with Jerry C. and even danced at The Saloon, before the party. The music was so good it drew me in.
I am still watching CNN to see what is going to happen in Libya and the rest of the middle east. It seems like a very unsettling time. Already the gas is skyrocketing.
I hope Qadhafi will step down without more people being slaughtered. He is an old warlord and crazy as well, so I don't expect it. It's worrisome. One man who worked for him said he had a lot of chemical weapons.
I had a dream where I saw the Statue of Liberty covered with people. It looks like one of those painting that are all people, but you don't know it's people until you look close. As I watched more and more blocks of people popped up slowly covering the Statue of Liberty. I took this to mean that more and more of the people of the world are going to be demanding their liberty. On the ground was a lot of fighting with some evil looking forces, but all the people on the Statue of Liberty were standing way above them, like they were going to be triumphant.