Three More Pictures

 

Tertiary Zingiber Tigris

 

 

Gronalk, one of the Techs of the Atria

The Coming of Matchbox

Bio – Geonni Banner

Geonni Banner was born in an Army hospital in Seattle, Washington, in 1952 – a self-described Navy brat, delivered by a civilian doctor.   

A large part of her childhood was spent alone, with animals and books for company.  Fictional characters and the four-legged became her family and her peer group.  Being diagnosed with agoraphobia at age 28 was not the tragedy that it could have been.  Moving from place to place constantly as a youngster, she lived a life largely conducted indoors in a series of rooms that blur together into sameness.  Rooms seem to be her natural habitat – dictated by circumstance and her nervous system – and she now feels comfortable in them. 

Geonni has lived all over the 48 states (and Hawaii).  She never finished high school, which doesn’t seem to have been an appreciable hindrance.  Excessively curious, she reads omnivorously, gladly claiming the title “self-educated":  "In this day and age, if you really want to know about something and have the Internet, you’re good to go.  And if you spend any time thinking about what you’ve learned, you’re better off than the average garden-variety educated fool." 

She started drawing as soon as she could hold a pencil – mostly horses.  She’s still horse-crazy.  She tried commercial art school in Texas 1972, but “that didn’t work for me,” she says with a smile.  When her drawing instructor asked what she was doing at the school, she was crushed by his assessment of her (lack of) ability.  Then he said, “You should be in a fine arts school.” 

And that was her cue to “hie myself back to California, where I’ve been ever since.”   

She’s spent her life making a living at everything from running the shipping department of a psychedelic poster factory, silk-screening bar mirrors with elaborate beer advertisements on them, and working the counter in record or video stores – to managing Pizza Huts, cooking omelets and sandwiches in bistros, and doing live-in elder-care.  Plus years of animal-related jobs:  vet’s assistant, dog groomer, and dog trainer.  

Apart from Geonni’s art, writing and photography, her interests include anything to do with Tokugawa Japan – especially Samurai ‘stuff,’ horses, Japanese film, Anime, quilt making, and kitschy clocks. 

In addition to having completed the fantasy/ juvenile fiction novel Boo & Zephyr – The Blind Dragon, Geonni is now working on the sequel, Boo & Zephyr – The Good Road.  She’s also published sundry short pieces of humor and non-fiction in various periodicals.   

In 2006, Geonni became infected with a particularly virulent strain of photography virus, which has mutated into a Photoshop fetish as well:  “It keeps me busy.” 

Other quotes: 

“I have this belief that everything you have ever seen is still in your head, stored in your memory-banks.  I therefore try to look at everything – including things around me – that doesn't consciously register for most people.  In my art, my photography and in my writing, I really try to portray my impressions in a way that will showcase the essential nature of the scenes and objects I observe.   I feel that if we dismiss 20% to 50% or more of what we see as too mundane, ugly, or dull to bother with, then we are cultivating blindness – and missing a lot of interest and beauty.” 

“There is so much to see in this world that is worth looking at. If you have ever walked around the block with a toddler, you know what I mean. They stop and look at EVERYTHING. They want to see, touch, smell – and sometimes taste – everything in their path.  As we grow up we are trained not to see the world, but to narrow our focus to what is directly related to ‘getting ahead.’  What a loss!” 

“I am really influenced by the music I listen to when I'm working – usually techno or classical. In a way I turn the image or story over to the music.  The music will help me to make creative leaps, and show me the heart of the piece.  I am constantly amazed at how quickly it happens.” 

“Showing something natural, in its native state, is not art. Artifice piled on artifice, giving you the illusion of natural – that’s art.  If you are going to draw people into your dream, then you must make it completely convincing. If the dream is not perfect, then it will feel unnatural.  Only the most perfect dream approaches reality.”

                                                                                                    Kawase Toshiro    

“I most often take photos within 500 yards of my home or from a moving car.  The main reason for this is that I’m severely agoraphobic.  The secondary reason for this is that having been agoraphobic for so long, I have learned that it is really unnecessary to go any further than that.  If you open yourself to what is around you, an unsuspected cosmos will appear – one that is beautiful in its complexity, and at the same time, profound in its simplicity.” 

“I have learned to let books, films and other art forms bring to me that which is far away.  And I have also learned to let that which is close by me to take me to unexplored realms.”

Sneak Preview!

Where will Boo, Zephyr, Wioka and their companions travel next?

Here are a few glimpses of the worlds in store for the travelers.

 

New friends with their own stories will be discovered, 

and old friends will always be there for each other.  

 

 Join them!

Here are two more peeks at the books "Boo & Zephyr" and the sequel, "The Good Road." 

In the Old Days

from "Boo & Zephyr: The Good Road"

The Covenant

from "Boo & Zephyr:  The Good Road"

The Weaver brothers join Jared in his bowtop.  Earlier, they had left Beryl outside to sound a warning if anything were amiss.  Their conversation centered around Ossie’s disapproval of the dog being allowed inside the caravans.  Arlo explained to Jack that to Ossie, bringing a dog inside was as unthinkable as bringing in one of the horses would be.   All the animals were there for a purpose - to work or to be sold.  They were not to be fondled, fussed over or made pets of.  Jack objects to this, saying that Ossie worried over Kakaratchi like a mother hen if the horse got so much as a pimple.  They all laugh at this, but Arlo grew serious again and told them a story.  

Ossie had obtained Kakaratchi as a weanling, and the horse was everything he had dreamed of in a foundation sire for his little herd.  When he discovered that the horse could speak, he was angry and never answered Kakaratchi.  He took good care of the horse, but never had a kind word for him.  When Kakaratchi was grown something happened to change all that. 

 Ossie had lost his wife and family some years before, and as time went by he grew more and more bitter and withdrawn.  One day he harnessed the stallion to his wagon and ordered him to move off.  But Kakaratchi stood still and silent.  Nothing would move him.  At last Ossie’s temper gave way and he did something he had never done before.  Furious and swearing he beat Kakaratchi savagely and cursed him.  The horse was unmoved.  He never flinched and stood gazing at Ossie until the man was spent and threw down his whip.  Then Kakaratchi spoke.

“Now, old man, if you have poured out all the poison in your heart on me, listen to what I say.  I have served you well for four years, and done everything you have asked of me.  I have stood still gratefully while you cared for my feet and my coat, and I have offered you my friendship and my labor.  I have seen you grow apart from the world and watched as you grieved for the loss of those you loved.  I will watch no more.  If you wish to go on punishing yourself for the troubles that took away your family that is your affair.  But I am young and strong and my heart does not wish to be alone.  Take and return the friendship I offer you, or sell me to someone who wishes to live in life and share his happiness with those around him.  I will no longer labor in solitude for a dead man.” 

Ossie fell back from the horse and his words.  He turned and walked away.  For hours he walked and wept.  At last he returned to where the stallion waited, and removed his bit and bridle.  Climbing aboard the vardo he said to the horse, “Let us go on together, my friend.”  And Kakaratchi moved off, pulling the wagon.

Here’s another peek at Boo & Zephyr: The Good Road…

  When Ata-noe climbed up on the boulder to get a better view of the mountainside, Tertiary was lying next to Sandyx grooming her ears and face with his tongue.  Both tigers were mortally tired, but the young tigress was especially so.  Rambler stood quietly by, half-heartedly nibbling some dry grass.

     Tertiary watched Ata-noe gazing intently at the side of the mountain, and following her gaze, he too saw Vitrater emerge from behind a screen of brush.  He scrambled to his feet and took a step toward the mountain.  Sandyx remained lying down, and watched him as he moved forward.  When Ata-noe looked back and beheld the dragon, Tertiary, seeing her reaction, spun about and then flattened himself to the ground.  Tail lashing, eyes glowing, he snarled in fear and rage at the gigantic flying beast.  Sandyx too was terrified and crouched low, almost seeming to sink into the ground.

    
    Rambler reared and dashed uphill toward Ata-noe.

#                  #                  #

     Ata-noe clung tightly to the panicked horse as they sped up the side of the mountain.  The dragon passed and passed over the mountain slope below her and cast down fiery ruin before it.   Clouds of choking smoke billowed across the narrow trail as the fire spread, and the wind from the oncoming storm drove it along.  Rambler’s pace had begun to slacken.  She was still terrified, but the steepness of the trail and her tired muscles began to slow her down.  Her ears swiveled to listen to the voice of Ata-noe as she sought to calm the mare and guide her toward the spot she had last seen Zephyr.

     Out of the corner of her eye, Ata-noe saw the leaping forms of the tigers as they ranged alongside Rambler.  Sandyx ran as close to Tertiary as she could, her ears flattened in fear, and together they swept on.  Burning fragments of wood began to fall around them as trees burst into flame.  The whole mountainside seemed to be a roaring inferno, but there were many patches as yet free of the fire.  It was in one of these that Ata-noe met with Zephyr.  They nearly collided as Vitrater came galloping out of a roil of smoke.  Both horses skidded and stumbled as they sought to pull up.  Vitrater slipped and slid, nearly falling and Rambler wheeled, neighing piercingly and slid to a halt beside the stallion.  The horses were panting with exertion and Zephyr shouted, “We must get down the mountain!  The dragon has shattered the portal!  All is in flames and the rocks are shattered!” 

He paused, gasping at the thick smoke, and a shadow fell upon them.  The dragon wheeled above, and a sheet of flame descended to where they stood.  But the horses sprang away, the tigers before them, and they fled, feeling the scorching heat of the dragon’s flames, not yet stuck by the fire.  An ear rending crash of thunder rent the smoky air as they ran.  The storm had reached them.  The white flash of lightning eclipsed the brilliance of the dragon-fire, and the dragon roared deafeningly in answer. 

   For a short way the riders plunged down the slope.  With each stride the horses risked bone-shattering falls, and they struggled to stay upright, lathered coats gleaming orange and gold in the leaping firelight.  Suddenly a wall of flames with no opening was before them.  Tertiary roared in fury, and slewed about, avoiding the hooves of the horses as they staggered to a halt. 

     Lightning struck nearby and the thunder was like a hammer stroke.  Sandyx leaped straight into the air in an agony of terror. 

     “We cannot get through!” shouted Zephyr.  But Ata-noe shouted back, “There is another way!  Come, let us fly!”

     She seized Ramber’s mane at the crest of the mare’s trembling neck and leaned forward, pushing her head to one side and shouting in her ears.  Rambler spun in the direction Ata-noe had turned her head, and sprang away into a rolling cloud of smoke.  After an instant of hesitation as he saw the tigers follow the girl, Vitrater leaped after her.

For a moment they were blinded by smoke, but soon Zephyr saw that Rambler was in the clear, clambering up a steep defile with a stand of unburned fir trees at the summit.  It was rugged and treacherous incline, choked with scree.  The bay mare was struggling and Ata-noe slid from her back, urging her on from beside her straining forequarters.  Zephyr too, leaped to the ground, and taking hold of Vitrater’s mane, he climbed beside the stallion.  The talus slipped and rolled underfoot but they made steady, if maddeningly slow progress up.  Large scattered drops of soot-blackened rain began to fall.  The storm was beginning to lash the forest with a pelting rain.  Zephyr looked ahead.  Ata-noe and her exhausted horse were nearly at the top. 

     The tigers waited there already.  They had made little of the shifting rubble and had sprung lightly up, compared to the heavy laboring of the horses.  Looking over his shoulder, Zephyr saw the raging conflagration of fire and storm, and the dragon, still wheeling beneath the clouds.  The noise was an indescribable numbing torrent.  A great crescent of burning forest lay below them.  Already the trees at the foot of the defile were roaring towers of flame.  They were trapped on the mountainside, and the flames were moving hungrily up.

     In a moment he reached the top where the others stood between the last green trees in sight.  The company stood, gasping for breath, and watched the dragon, as it laid waste all below it.  Lightning played about the sky, as they stood transfixed, gazing with awe at the scene of destruction.  The rain began to fall more heavily. 

   The dragon swept toward them, and as they made to flee into the trees, they heard a dreadful crack, and a deafening shriek that veered up to an unbearable metallic pitch.  Before their astonished eyes a huge, livid fork of lightning struck the dragon.  For an instant the dreadful beast seemed to glow; its shape coruscated and wavered in the air.  Then, with a furious roar, the huge body burst into thousands of black fragments.

     Ata-noe shrank against Zephyr and uttered a sharp cry.  Without taking his eyes from the scene before him, Zephyr pulled her close to his side.  He felt hope rise within him.  Was this the death of Callida?  For he well knew that the dragon was in reality, the cruel shape-shifter. 

     Tertiary knew it too and he roared in delight and triumph.  But his delight was short-lived and his triumph soon turned to alarm, for Callida was not so easily disposed of.

     The dark mass of burned and tattered black fragments that had once been the dragon was not drifting quietly to earth.  To be sure, some of the ragged shapes spun fluttering in the wind of the storm and fell into the burning trees below, but most did not.  The greater portion remained aloft and began to revolve in a weaving, sinister dance with the rain and wind.  They resembled a flock of birds.  With a shock, the companions realized that the whirling black shapes were in fact a massive congregation of crows. 

     The birds flew about in a confused mass, and then they began to form into an ordered flock, wheeling and dipping much as the dragon had done.  From time to time they would be nearly obscured by the slanting sheets of rainfall, but they were moving with a purpose.  Ata-noe was the first to speak.

     “They are seeking us,” she said.  “We must go.”

     Indeed the crows were moving over the side of the mountain, swooping low in the places where the dragon-fire was being quenched by the downpour, rising swiftly above the places where the flames still leaped.  And the flock was approaching the place where the companions stood. 

     The noise was much less now.  The dazzling bolt of lightning which had struck the dragon seemed to be the storm’s last.  The thunder had dwindled to an occasional low mutter, and the rain fell steadily.  Over the drumming of the raindrops could be heard the raucous squawking of the immense flock of crows.  It was coming closer.

     Zephyr turned to Ata-noe.  “We can find no safety here,” he said.  “The portal is destroyed, or at least the cave inside which it stands is blocked.”

     “There is another way,” said Ata-noe.  “The mountain holds many secrets. Come, let us go to the hidden gate.”  She turned, and as the others followed her into the stand of trees, Zephyr asked, “Where does it lead?”

     Ata-noe answered, “To the sea.”

   

This is Beryl, a Lurcher - which in her case means a Scottish Deerhound crossed with a Border Collie.  Beryl is a good pot-hunter.

Coursing hares is her work, and she loves it.  

Beryl belongs to Jack Weaver and travels with Ossie Shehan's familia in "The Good Road."

Ready for the Road

from "Boo & Zephyr: The Good Road"

Ossie Sheehan's Kakaratchi (Magpie) pulling a Reading Wagon somewhere in Ruan.