Happy Duck Art

I'm a person for whom ducks are an integral part of life. From an early age, they were my favorite animal; one of my earliest memories was being surrounded by ducklings as I was scattering cracked corn for the flock.

Our flock was only supposed to be a few muscovies; my mom had the idea that she'd grow her own food, and ducks were supposed to be both eggs and meat. But, turns out she didn't like duck meat – or at least, not muscovy meat – and she didn't really manage to separate the one male, Buddy, from the females. So our flock grew to a resident population of about 15-20, traipsing around town, eating slugs from everyone's garden and offering free fertilizer in exchange. (Aviaries and penning were not something my mom ever thought of – free range only, for her ducks!) We'd be joined by mallards overwintering; on the Oregon coast, I don't know if we were on a migratory flight path, or if it was just that the local wildlings knew where to find food, but I like to think they saw tall grass, other ducks, and food twice a day, and thought, “Now, there's a place to camp!”

Spend a lot of time with ducks, and you start to pick up their habits, I think. I just wish I had the feathers and the ability to regulate my body temperature separate from my feet.

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I like art. I like museums and galleries for fancy, high-brow art; I like streets and underpasses for graffiti and stickers. I like traditional art and craft, I like digital arts. Music and writing and poetry and dance and theater are all exciting to me.

I’m just not particularly good at it. At any of it, really – and I’ve tried my hand at a fair amount. In great part, I think, due to not sticking with it – that ADHD curse of new excitement every couple months comes back to haunt me.

But. In this age of AI-generated slop, my bad art with heart is at least genuine, and comes from a place of feeling. And I’d like to share it with you.

I practice zen with an online sangha, The Vine of Obstacles – for folks seeking kensho and really getting to the depths of what is and what it all means. I like to think that my art is an extension of that seeking; that it’s that practice carried off the cushion. My teachers might say I’m not particularly creative in my interactions there, but maybe this can help buoy that creativity, and that practice can help to steady and stabilize me enough to commit to regular art.