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Monday, October 25, 2010

The Love Potion / Tales from the ARK in Berea

Tales from the ARK in Berea

The Love Potion

You mention the juzu-plant, Uncle Paulie said. Oh, yes, everybody knows about the juzu-plant. It grows down in No Bottom Valley in the mystical area, sort of northwest of the ARK in Berea.
I hear tell it was once used by the Cleveland Indian's Native population as a medicinal herb. And some folks say that before Halloween, witches come from far and wide to pick the red berries for their various magic spells, but I don't believe this part. Because by the time the trolls and gnomes get done harvesting the crop you have to be a really beady-eyed witch to find what's been left behind. You can find that it grows high up on the cliffs above the Rocky River, and they say you must pick off one of its little red berries at midnight, under the full moon. Then, if you are a young man, and you are anxious for a girl to fall in love with you, all you have to do is to squeeze the juice of the juzu-berry into her coffee.

They say that after the girl has drunk the juzu-juice she begins to forget all sorts of things. She forgets that your forehead is rather low, and that your ears stick out, and that your mouth is too big. She even forgets having told you, the week before last, that she wouldn't marry you if you were the only man in the whole Western Reserve.

All she knows is that the man she gazes at, over her empty coffee cup, has grown remarkably handsome. You can see from this that the plant must be very potent in its effects. I mean, if you consider what some of the men in town look like.

One young man I knew, however, was not very enthusiastic about juzu-juice. In fact, he always said that before he climbed up the cliffs one night, to pick one of those red berries, he was more popular with the girls than he was afterwards. This young man said that his decline in favor with the girls of the neighborhood might perhaps be due to the fact that, shortly after he had picked the juzu-berry, he lost most of his front teeth.

This happened when the girl's father, who was an irascible sort of fellow, caught the young man in the act of squeezing juzu-juice into his daughter's cup.

And afterwards, while others talked of the magic properties of this love potion, the young man would listen in silence, and his lip would curl in a sneer over the place where his front teeth used to be.

"Yes, Boys," he would lisp at the end, "I suppose I must have picked that juzu-berry at the wrong time. Perhaps the moon wasn't full enough, or something. Or perhaps it was not just exactly midnight. I am only glad now that I didn't pick off two of those red berries while I was about it."

We all felt it was a sad thing what the juzu-plant had done to that young man. But with Dick, the new young policeman, it was different.

One night I was out shooting in the woods with a lamp fastened on my hat. You know that kind of shooting: in the glare of the lamp-light you can see only the eyes of the thing you are aiming at, and you get three months in jail if you are caught. They made it illegal to hunt by lamp-lights since the time a policeman got shot in the foot this way, when he was out tracking cattle rustling on the Olmstead Township border.

The judge in Berea, who did know the ways of the voters, found that the shooting was an accident. This verdict satisfied everybody except the policeman, whose foot was still bandaged when he came into court. But the men in the area, some of whom had been cattle rustlers themselves, knew better than the judge did as to how the policeman came to have a couple of buckshots in the soft part of his foot, and, accordingly, they made this new law. Therefore, I walked very quietly that night in the Woods and it wasn't because of that odd thing with the trolls either.

Frequently, I put out my light and stood very still amongst the trees, and waited long moments to make sure I was not being followed. Ordinarily, there would have been little to fear, but a couple of days before two policemen had been seen disappearing into the bush. By their looks, they seemed young policemen who were anxious for promotion and who didn't know that it is more important to a policeman’s career to have a drink with an honest farmer's homemade plum schnapps than to arrest him for hunting by lamp-light.

As I was saying, I was walking along, turning the light from side to side, when suddenly, about a hundred paces from me, in the full brightness of the lamp, I saw a pair of eyes. When I also saw, above the eyes, a policeman's shining badge, I suddenly remembered that a moonlight night, such as that was, it was not good for finding a deer or a stray cow.

So, I started home. I took the quickest way, too, which was over the side of the Valley - the steep side - and on my way down I lost my footing and slid straight down clutched at a variety of branches, tree-roots, stone ledges and tufts of grass. Later on, at the foot of the cliff, when I came to and was able to sit up, there was that policeman bending over me.

"Uncle Paulie," he said, "I was wondering if you would lend me your lamp."

I looked up. It was Dick, the young policeman who had been stationed for some time in Berea. I had met him on several occasions and had found him very likeable.

"You can have my lamp," I answered, "but you must be careful. It's worse for a policeman to get caught breaking the law than for an ordinary man." Dick shook his head. "No, I don't want to go shooting with the lamp," he said, "I want to....... and then he paused. He laughed nervously.
"It seems silly to say it, Uncle Paulie," he said, "but perhaps you'll understand. I have come to look for a juzu-plant. I need it for my studies. For my third-class sergeant's examination. And it will soon be midnight, and I can't find one of those plants anywhere."

I felt sorry for Dick. It struck me that he would never make a good policeman. If he couldn't find a juzu-plant, of which there were thousands in the woods at this time of the season, it would be much harder for him to find the track of a cattle rustler. So, I handed him my lamp and explained where he had to go and look. Dick thanked me and walked off.

About half an hour later he was back. He took a red berry out of his tunic pocket and showed it to me. For fear he should tell any more lies about needing that juzu-berry for his studies, I spoke first. "Barbara?" I asked. Dick nodded. He was very shy, though, and wouldn’t talk much at the start. But, I guessed long ago that Dick was not calling at Christian's farm house so often just to hear Christian relate the story of his life. Nevertheless, I mentioned Christian's life-story.
"Yes," Dick replied, "Barbara's father has got up to what he was like at the age of seven. It has taken him a month so far." "He must be glad to get you to listen," I said, "the only other man who listened for any length of time was a young soldier. But, he left after a fortnight. By that time Christian had reached to only a little beyond his fifth birthday."

"But, Barbara is wonderful, Uncle Paulie," Dick went on. "I have never spoken more than a dozen words to her. And, of course, it is ridiculous to expect her even to look at a policeman. But, to sit there, in the living room, with her father talking about all the things he could do before he was six and Barbara coming in now and again with more coffee - that is love, Uncle Paulie."
I agreed with him that it must be.

"I have worked it out," Dick explained, "that at the rate he is going now, Barbara's father will have come to the end of his life story in two years' time, and after that I won't have any excuse for going there. That worries me." I said that no doubt it was disconcerting.

"I have tried often to tell Barbara how much I think of her," Dick said, "but every time, as soon as I start, I get a foolish feeling. My uniform begins to look shabby. My boots seem to curl up at the toes. And my voice gets shaky, and all I can say to her is that I will come round again, soon, as I have simply got to hear the rest of her father's life-story."

"Then what is your idea with the juzu-juice?" I asked. "The juzu-juice," Dick said, wistfully, "might make her say something first."

We parted shortly afterwards. I took up my lamp and gun, and as I saw Dick's figure disappear among the trees I thought of what a good fellow he was - and very naive. Still, he was best off as a policeman. I reflected. For if he was a cattle rustler, it seemed to me that he would get arrested every time he tried to cross the border.

Next morning I rode over to Christian's farm to remind him about the fishing trip we had planned later on at Coe Lake. I stayed for only about an hour, I wasn't able to get in a word about the fishing trip, but Christian managed to tell me quite a lot about the things he did at the age of nine. When Barbara came in with the coffee I made a casual remark to her father about Dick.
"Oh, yes, he's an interesting young man," Christian said, "and very intelligent. It is a pleasure for me to relate to him the story of my life. He says the incidents I describe to him are not only thrilling, but very helpful. I can quite understand that. I wouldn't be surprised if he is made a sergeant one of these days. For these reasons I always dwell on the more helpful parts of my story."

I didn't take much notice of Christian's remarks, however. Instead, I looked carefully at Barbara when I mentioned Dick's name. She didn't give much away, but I am quick at these things, and I saw enough. The color that crept into her cheeks. The light that came in her eyes.

On my way back I encountered Barbara. She was standing under an apple tree. With her tanned arms and her sweet, quiet face and her full bosom, she was a very pretty picture. There was no doubt that Barbara would make a fine wife for any man. It wasn't hard to understand Dick's feelings about her. "Barbara, “I asked, "do you love him?" "I love him, Uncle Paulie," she answered. It was as simple as that.

Barbara guessed I meant Dick, without my having spoken his name. Accordingly, it was easy for me to acquaint Barbara with what had happened the night before, in the woods, in the moonlight. At least, I only told her the parts that mattered to her, not such as the way I fell down the cliff, clutching at branches and tree-roots. But, I am different. I told her that it was Dick who fell off the cliff. After all, it was Barbara's and Dick's love affair, and I didn't want to bring myself into it too much.

"Now you'll know what to do, Barbara," I said. "Put your coffee on the table within easy reach of Dick. Then give him what you think is long enough to squeeze the juzu-juice into your cup."
"Perhaps it would be even better," Barbara said, "if I watch through a crack in the door."
I patted her head approvingly. "After that you come into the living room and drink your coffee," I said. "Yes, Uncle Paulie," she answered simply. "And when you have drunk the coffee," I concluded, "you'll know what to do next. Only don't go too far." It was pleasant to see the warm blush mount to her face. As I rode off I said to myself that Dick was a lucky fellow.

There isn't much more to tell about Barbara and Dick.

When I saw Dick some time afterwards, he was very elated, as I had expected he would be.
"So, the juzu-plant worked?" I inquired. "It was wonderful, Uncle Paulie," Dick answered, "and the funny part of it was that Barbara's father was not there, either, when I put the juzu-juice into her coffee. Barbara had brought him a message, just before then, that he was wanted in the corn fields."

"And was the juzu-juice all they claim it is?" I asked. "You'd be surprised how quickly it acted," he said. "Barbara just took one sip at the coffee and then jumped straight on to my lap." But then Dick winked in a way that made me believe that he was not so very simple, after all. "I was pretty certain that the juzu-juice would work, Uncle Paulie," he said, "after Barbara's father told me that you had been there that very morning."


Wednesday, October 6, 2010

Under the Buckeye Trees / Tales from the ARK in Berea

Tales from the ARK in Berea

Under the Buckeye Trees

Bears in Berea? - David Jakupca said - Oh, yes, there are two varieties on this side of the Rocky River. The chief difference between them is that the one kind of bear is a few degrees blacker in color than the other kind. But when you meet a bear in the woods, unexpectedly, you seldom trouble yourself to find out what kind he belongs to. That is unnecessary. Because, whatever kind of bear it is that you run across in this way, you only do one kind of running. And this is the fastest kind.

I remember the occasion that I came across a bear unexpectedly, and to this day I couldn't tell you what color black he was.....whether pitch, lamp or ivory black, even though I am an expert environmental artist and had all the time I needed for studying him! It happened about mid-day, when I was out from The ARK in Berea walking along the path that leads to Rocky River, looking for my dogs Rolfe, Thor and Tanya.
I thought the dogs might be down there because it is cool and shady by the river under those buckeye trees, and there is soft grass that is very pleasant to sit on. After I had looked for the dogs for about an hour in this manner, sitting up against a tree-trunk, it occurred to me that I could look for them just as well, or perhaps even better, if I lay down flat.
For almost every one in Berea knows that Rolfe isn't so small that you have got to get on to stilts and things to see him properly.

So I lay on my back, with my hat tilted over my face, and my legs stretched out, and when I closed my eyes slightly the tip of my boot, sticking up into the air, looked just like Big Rock.

Overhead a lonely hawk wheeled, circling slowly round and round without flapping his wings, and I knew that not even a puppy could pass in any part of the sky between the tip of my toe and that hawk without my observing it immediately. What was more, I could go on lying there under the buckeye trees and looking for the dogs like that all day, if necessary. As you know, I am not the sort of neighbor to loaf about when there is a yard work to be done.

The more I screwed up my eyes and gazed at the toe of my boot, the more it looked like Big Rock. By and by it seemed that it actually was Big Rock, and I could see the stones on top of it, and the bush trying to grow up its sides, and in my ears there was a far-off humming sound, like bees in an orchard on a still day. As I have said, it was all very pleasant.

Then a strange thing happened. It was as though a huge dark storm cloud, shaped like an animal's head, had settled on top of Big Rock. It seemed so funny that I wanted to laugh. But I didn't. Instead, I opened my eyes a little more and felt glad to think that I was only dreaming. Because otherwise I would have to believe that the black cloud on Big Rock was actually a bear, and that he was gazing at my boot. Again I wanted to laugh. But then, suddenly, I knew.

And I didn't feel so glad. For it was a bear, all right - a large-sized, hungry-looking bear, and he was sniffing suspiciously at my feet. I was uncomfortable. I knew that nothing I could do would ever convince that bear that my toe was Big Rock. He was not that sort of bear. I knew that without even knowing what color black he was. Instead, having finished with my feet, he started sniffing higher up. It was the most terrifying moment of my life. I wanted to get up and run for it. But I couldn't. My legs wouldn't work.

Every big game hunter I have come across has told me the same story about how, at one time or another, he has owed his escape from lions and tigers and bears and other wild animals to his cunning in lying down and pretending to be dead, so that the beast of prey loses interest in him and walks off. Now, as I lay there on the grass, with the bear trying to make up his mind about me, I understand why, in such a situation, the hunter doesn't move. It's simply that he can't move. That's all. It's not his cunning that keeps him down. It's his limp legs.

In the meantime, the bear had got up as far as my knees. He was studying my trousers very carefully, and I started getting embarrassed. My trousers were old and rather unfashionable. Also, they were spattered with paint because I had just finished painting The Minstral Boy for the Bermuda Maritime Museum, and I wore them for the whole time I was doing the painting. And possible for a few paintings before that. The bear stared at my spattered trouseres for quite a while, and my embarrassment grew. I felt I wanted to explain about the Bermuda painting. I didn't want the bear to get the impression that I, David Jakupca was the sort of man who didn't care about his personal appearance.

When the bear got as far as my shirt, however, I felt better. It was a good blue flannel shirt that I had bought only a few weeks ago from the Secound Mile shop in Berea, and I didn't care how many strange bears saw it. Nevertheless, I made up my mind that next time I want to lie on the grass under the buckeye trees, looking for Rolfe and the boys, I would first polish up my boots with motor oil, and I would put on my green hat with a feather that I only wear on special occasions. I could not permit the wild animals of the neighborhood to sneer at me.

But when the bear reached my face, I got frightened again. I knew he couldn't take exception to my shirt. But I wasn't so sure about my face. Those were terrible moments. I lay very still, afraid to open my eyes and afraid to breathe. Sniff-sniff, the huge creature went, and his breath
swept over my face in hot grasps. You hear of many frightening experiences that a man has in a life-time. I have also been in quite a few perilous situations. But if you want something to make you suddenly old and to turn your hair white in a few moments, there is nothing to beat a bear - especially when he is standing over you, with his jaws at your throat, trying to find a good place to bite.

The bear gave a deep growl, stepped right over my body, knocked off my hat, and growled again. I opend my eyes and saw the animal moving away clumsily. But my relief didn't last long. The bear didn't move far. Instead, he turned over and lay down next to me.

Yes, there on the grass, in the shade of the buckeye trees, the bear and I lay down together. The bear lay half-curled up, on his side, with his forelegs crossed, like a dog, and whenever I tried to move away he grunted. I am sure that in the whole history of the Western Reserve there have never been two stranger companions engaged in the thankless task of looking for strayed dogs.

Next day, in Berea at Gray's Candy Kitchen, which people used as a meeting place while waiting for the arrival of the daily motor mail truck from Cleveland, I told my story to the farmers and quarrymen of the neighborhood, while they were drinking coffee and caught up on the neighrborhood news.

"And how did you get away from that bear in the end?" Jilliy van Koos asked, trying to be funny, "I suppose you crawled through the grass and frightened the bear off by pretending to be a snake."

"No, I just got up and walked home," I said. "I remembered that Rolfe might have gone home the other way and strayed into your yard. I thought they would be safer with the bear."

"Did the bear tell you what he thought of the President's last speech in Washington on Iceality?" Frank Welman asked, and they all laughed.

I told my story over several times before the mail truck came with our letters at the post office, and although the dozen odd men and women present didn't say much while I was talking, I could see that they listened to me in the same way that they listened when young Walkin Willy talked. And everybody knew that Walkin Willy was the biggest character in the Berea area.

To make matters worse, young Walkin Williy was there, too, and when I got to the part of my story where the bear lay down beside me, Walkin Willy winked at me. You know that kind of wink. It was to let me know that there was now a new understanding between us, and that we could speak in the future as one tall story teller to another. I didn't like that.

"Look Fella's", I said in the end, "I know just what you are thinking. You don't believe me, and you don't want to say so." "But we do believe you," Walkin Willy interrupted me, "very wonderful things happen in the woods. I once had a twenty-foot rattlesnake that I named Hans. This snake was so attached to me that I couldn't go anywhere without him. He would even follow me to church on Sunday, and because he didn't care much for some of the sermons, he would wait for me outside under a tree. Not that Hans was irreligous. But he had a sensitive nature, and the strong line that the preachers took against the serpent in the Garden of Eden always made Hans feel awkward. Yet he didn't go and look for a buckeye tree to lie under, like your bear. He wasn't stand-offish in that way. An ordinary thorn-tree's shade was good enough for Hans. He knew he was only a rattler, and didn't try to give himself airs."

I didn't take any notice of young Walikin Willy's stupid lies, but the upshot of this whole affair was that I also began to have doubts about the existence of that bear. I recalled queer stories I had heard of human beings that could turn themselves into animals, and although I am not a superstitious man I could not shake off the feeling that it was a spook thing that had happened. But when, a few days later, a huge black bear had been seen from the roadside near the quarry, and then again by Suds McGuires on the way to Olmstead Falls, and again the gnomes complained about their honey tree near Nobottom Valley being raided, matters took a different turn.

A first people jested about this bear. They said it wasn't a real bear, but a black bear animal that had walked away out of my dream. They also said that the bear had come to Berea to have a look at young Walkin Willy's twenty-foot rattle snake. But afterwards, when they had found his tracks at several water-holes, they had no more doubt about the bear.

It was dangerous to walk about in the woods. Exciting times followed. There was a great deal of shooting at the bear and a great deal of running away from him. And the amount of running away reminded me of nothing so much as the First Indian War. The amount of musket and rifle fire I heard in the woods reminded me of nothing so much as the Second Indian War.
But always the bear escaped unharmed. Somehow, I felt sorry for him. The way he had first sniffed at me and then lain down beside me that day under the buckeye tree was a strange thing that I couldn't understand. I thought of the Bible, where it is written that the lion shall lie down with the lamb.

But I also wondered if I hadn't dreamt it all. The manner in which those things had befallen me was also unearthly. The bear began to take up a lot of my thoughts. And there was no man to whom I could talk about it who would be able to help me in any way. Even now, as I am telling you this story, I am expecting you to wink at me, like young Walkin Willy did.

Still, I can only tell you the things that happened as I saw them, and what the rest was about only the woods knows. It was some time before I again walked along the path from The ARK in Berea that leads to the river where the buckeye trees are. But I didn't lie down on the grass again. Because when I reached the place, I found that the bear had got there before me. He was lying almost on the same spot, half-curled up in the buckeye tree's shade, and his forepaws were folded as a dog's are, sometimes. But he lay very still. And even from the distance where I stood you didn't have to be an environmental artist to identify the color red splash on his breast where a Musket bullet had gone.

I stayed with the bear for awhile getting used to the fact that he was no more and in the process it seemed to me that the wind that always stirs in the valley blew very quietly and softly that afternoon. Yes, the wind blew very gently.

As it was getting late I knew I couldn't just leave him there by the river bank. I started to walk along the river path into the deeper forest. When I got to the Reap, I made the cut across Urth Island that started me towards the edge of Nobottom Valley. Along the side of the trail there, there is a glen with an opening into it that you don't see unless you know it's there. All year long people pass by this spot and never stop to see what is on the other side. I did exactly that a couple of times myself and would never have found it until Rolfe disappeared into it one day and I had to followed him. He was good at finding out things like that. Nothing ever got past him. He was special that way. In the glen is an ancient tribe of Natives that have lived there as long as Uncle Paulie can remember. They used to be settled up along the Cuyahoga River in Cleveland, but as the city grew, they got pushed out further and further until they finally ended up here. The village of these ole Cleveland Indians is where I was headed. I spoke with Chief Ojibway and mentioned about the bear lying by the riverbank under the buckeye trees. He thanked me for telling him about this bounty for his village. We said our good-bye's and I left taking the long slow way back to the ARK in Berea across Lonesome Pine Ridge.

By and by it came towards winter and the Christmas season. That day we finished a Sunday potluck dinner at the ARK in Berea and we had a few over-night visitors who were snuggling into their beds as the cold snowy night set in. As everyone else retired, I stayed up by the campfire alone because there are times when you need some peace and solitude to relax and enjoy life's small pleasures. Of course I am referring to the three s'mores I hid still roasting under a bed of ashes in the campfire.
Yes I was all alone except for Rolfe who had his nose inches from where the s'mores lay hidded. Nothing ever got past Rolfe, as I said he was special that way. I took a stick and uncovered one of the s'mores and knocked it out to cool.

It was then just outside the light of the campfire I thought I heard something moving and even Rolfe pulled his nose away from the s'more and was looking around. At these times in the woods at night you have to be very careful and cautious if you value your life and possessions, and I was taking no chances tonite. I bent down by the fire and picked up a long sturdy stick and quickly covered the last two s'mores with ashes. As just quick as that, appearing in the campfire light was my old neighbor, Chief Ojibway, he said he saw the fire far away and that a friend of mine had left something at his village for me and he that he had come to bring it over to me.
We talked for awhile about his wife and kids, and we had some hot mulled cider with wild cherry schnapps from the pot to warm ourselves. He left the package for me and I gave him Rolfe's s'more for him to enjoy and warm up on the long walk back to the village.

Later, when I unwrapped the package, I found it was the hide of the now infamous bear.
Only, in fact, it was in much better shape than when the bear had had it himself. It was washed shiny and clean, and the thorns and twigs were brushed out of it, the red slash on his breast had been cleaned off and the hole was sewn shut.

That’s the same bear hide that now hangs in the ARK in Berea, in a place of honor, so that everyone can see there were once bears in Berea.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

'Gaia Spricht'

Iceality adds tranquility, distinctiveness to your garden.

Long before you step into the ARK in Berea’s rear garden you hear 'Gaia Spricht' - A cascading fountain covered with fairy land art: unicorns, pixies, gnomes.
'Gaia Spricht' is built into the Walderuin and easily visible from anywhere in the garden. Designed by American Cultural Ambassadors David and Renate themselves, 'Gaia Spricht' is one of just a few fountains in the garden and a source of constant entertainment and pleasure. "I wanted something that brought me something of my homeland of Austria," Renate says. " And I couldn't be happier."
'Gaia Spricht' is German for Gaia Speaks and refers to Gaia as the Spirit personifying Mother Nature. The Ancients believed in the idea that the fertile Mother Earth itself is female, nurturing mankind. 'Gaia Spricht' symbolizes that living organisms and inorganic material through water are part of a dynamic system that shapes the Earth's bioregionalism sphere, and maintains the World in a fit environment for life. At the ARK in Berea, every Earth Day, in a measure to heighten awareness of environmental concerns, the 'Gaia Spricht' water is dyed red to symbolize that water is the lifeblood of the planet. the garden, started in 1976 is an official wildlife habitat and a model and inspiration for future sustainable landscape designs worldwide: According to Natalie Ronayne, executive director of the Botanical Garden, In 2010, The Sustainable Sites Initiative already has the support of the U.S. Green Building Council, the nonprofit trade organization that expects to incorporate the landscape guidelines and performance standards into future updates to the LEED rating system. LEED -- Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design -- is essentially a third-party certification program that has become the nationally accepted standard for design, construction and operation of sustainable buildings.
Bringing art into your garden with Iceality is a perfect way to personalize your outdoor space, whether you buy something that catches your eye, make your own or commission a piece - gardens, art and iceality are natural companions. For the Jakupca’s, connecting with their roots for a major piece in their garden seems fated. Their travels to the olde world bought back many antiques and collectibles that are ideal for an outdoor centerpieces. Renate soon decided to have David create a fountain that would dominate without overwhelming her garden. The Gaia Spricht’s inclusion of a fairyland reflects Renate’s hopes the planted garden would attract the little people as well wildlife from the woods. The piece also has a number of custom-made pieces that David made himself. The artist also included their 6-year-old dog, Mickey, allowing him to help on making some imprints in the path. "I didn't want just anything," Renate says. "I wanted something specific, something personal that made me smile and David did it. It's very peaceful and it makes the garden look bigger than it is."
A quicker way to bring environmental art into your garden is by commissioning a carved wood work. David, a self-taught sculptor whose famous International Center for Environmental Arts (ICEA) “Pieces of Pelee” and “Endangered Spaces” Exhibits have been featured in United Nations Exhibits overseas.
"I just went for it, in the beginning" he says. David uses wood from fallen trees and unusable stumps from seashores and woods to create one of kind outdoor and indoor environmental art. He does commissioned pieces, but this art form is also entertainment to create a sculpture in mere minutes. David often did demonstrations for awed audiences. His pieces are somewhat sentimental, taking you back to those long days of summer on the beach with the family all there. "When you see the works, you kind of remember those days," he says.
Although he uses a variety of wood, David prefers driftwood. He likes the texture and appearance, and there's plenty of it to be found along the Lake Erie shoreline. He starts with a large hunk; the wood's shape dictates the subject. "I'll go in thinking my carving is one thing," David says, "and then something else — will just appear."
He says his work has become more precise in the past seven years that he has been carving Peace Stones for the Worlds Children Peace Monument (WCPM). The Ambassadors are gearing up for a Labor Day weekend trip to participate in the dedication of the Rising Sun, Indiana Peace Stone.
Utilizing iceality, outdoor art has moved far beyond the garden gnomes and the plastic flamingos.

See for yourself visit the ARK in Berea’s website on http://www.theicea.com/

By Bev Miko

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

David & Renate Jakupca inducted into Universal Circle of the Ambassadors of Peace

Né le 3 Août 2004 paru au journal Officiel : 28 août 2004 N° 1019

Welcome into the Universal Circle of the Ambassadors of Peace !

We are an association with no
Financial goals and that our only objective is :
to create a core of Peace between all the advocates of Peace.
“All those who work for Peace make together a same Spirit,
a same Soul, a same Heart, a same Body, a same Universal Family of Peace”.

Jean-Paul Nouchi Founder Président
In all Univesal Fraternity of Peace
Fait le 09 Juin 2010

Gabrielle Simond Fait

Reproduction et Diffusion interdites

Saturday, June 5, 2010

Message of "PEACE" carved in stone going to the Children of Seven Hills

ARK in Berea: The first Worlds Children Peace Monument (WCPM) Peace Stone of the 2010 peace season was unveiled this Memorial Day at the ARK in Berea. Dubbed the Seven Hills Peace Stone, it will be erected in Seven Hills, Ohio by Mayor David Bentkowski later this summer.

Ambassador Renate said "I am enthusiastic as ever about working with Mayor Bentkowski because of the way he has helped his city, but beyond the overall economic impact, he is most fervent about the power of the arts to awaken children's creativity. This works well with International Center for Environmental Arts (ICEA) WCPM goal which aims to make iceality, arts and culture a major component of neighborhood revitalization and urban renewal nationwide. As the WCPM program gains support it will involve many other federal agencies and public and private collaborations".

The Seven Hills Peace Stone still needs the 'special touch of a child' to be completed. This touch will be indelibly made in the lower right part of the stone.

Thursday, May 27, 2010

Iceality of Recycling Cleveland, Drew Carey's Favorite Rustbucket

Regarding Drew Carey's visit to rebuild Cleveland, the Complete 5 step blog by Dracha Arendee entitled "The Iceality of Cleveland, Drew Carey's Favorite Rustbuck" can be found at this link:


Saturday, February 6, 2010

Artists and Berea Cat unite for ART AID for HAITI

'HAITIAN ICEALITY' - is the understanding of the relationship between the Haitian people, their culture and environment while cultivating a sustainable global culture of peace.

  • -- The brown weave is surrounded by a blue mat as a symbol of isolation in the Caribbean. The natural weave and shells are a representation of the flora and fauna of Haiti.
    -- The background is cracked to symbolize the current earthquake as well as a historical statement  *1
    -- The Peace Stone is the Universal Symbol of Living Peace a representation of the Worlds Children Peace Monument (WCPM).
    -- The Peace Stone Colors are Blue and White - the United Nations colors - symbolizing the UN workers who died in the line of duty.
    -- White Dove is the symbol of WCPM.
    -- The Dove’s ‘Heart of Gold’ is a symbol of the generosity of all the people of the world helping out in this crisis.
    At the core of the heart and artwork is a colorful gem inscribed with a map of the Haitian area.

    ~ Haitian Iceality ~
    David Jakupca
    "The ARK in Berea has made the Greater Cleveland Area is the home of the Environmental Art Movement. And Environmental Arts has been recognized as the indigenous art form North East Ohio.
    ICEAlity inspires architecture for ALL Living Things and can be called a Cleveland Artists Foundation. ART AID has the ability to actually help make a difference in the situation in Haiti and I just can not using this sustainable initiative to help make a difference in the future of the country. I would also have my artwork 'Haitian Iceality' made a memorial for 101 employess of the  United Nations 2* who were killed eight weeks ago in the Haiti earthquake, the largest one-day toll in the organization’s history." Said David Jakupca, American Cultural Ambassador.
    *1 - When this part was painted at the ARK in Berea, to accelerate the drying process, it was left on the floor near a heater vent to dry while I ran some errands. Later we found Rebel, our adopted cat from Berea Animal Rescue, had climbed into the warm wet paint and made some additions to the painting himself then used it as a catnapping place. He has done this before, and upon review, as Cultural Ambassador, I decided to leave the natural ”corrections” Rebel had made to the final painting.

    *2 - United Nations in Haiti:

    United Nations
    Stabilization Mission in Haiti (MINUSTAH)


    News Centre - News Focus: Haiti Earthquake


1987 to 2007- Twenty Years of Community Service
"ICEALITY - assisting in the understanding of the relationship between Humans and
their Environment through the Arts to promote a sustainable Culture of Peace"

International Center for Environmental Arts (ICEA)

P. O. Box 81496
Cleveland, Ohio 44181 USA
Phone/fax: 440-891-8376