• Volunteer medical workers – and patients – make do with limited modern supplies in an isolated village.

CHARLOTTE LOWE For the Tucson Citizen

BAJA CALIFORNIA, Mexico – The smell of fresh green chiles searing on the stove top’s gas flame wafts through the house as Tucson’s Flying Samaritans continue their medical mission in El Rosario, an isolated village here.

One old woman, smiling through broken teeth, has walked five miles to bring flour tortillas, says Jeannie, one of the missionaries who lives here. She and two neighbors make lunch for the doctors, although it’s only 10:30 a.m.

Hortense, a sad-eyed woman in a blue knit cap, is called into the dentist’s office. On the double bed lay dental supplies, toothbrushes, toothpaste and a couple of flashlights. There are two chairs that don’t go up, down or lean back.

Michael Don, an orthodontist who has been flying with the Sams for several years, peers into her mouth while interpreter Blashill holds the flashlight.

”She has heavy buildup around her gums, and scaling,” he announces. ”We didn’t bring any heavy cleaning tools, but I’ll scrape off what I can and do more next month.”

Blashill takes a break from her interpreting to take a Polaroid picture of a woman who just had three teeth extracted. She poses proudly with her five daughters and three sons, all dusty from the long walk to the clinic.

Lew Leavitt, a new dentist on board, brought the camera – a big hit all around. ”I saw kids 5 and 6 and 7 years old who had never seen themselves in a picture,” he marvels. Leavitt is repairing a tooth ”with a whole lot of decay,” he explains.”I took it out with hand instruments and no pain killer. She’s very brave.”

His patient is pregnant, so Leavitt uses no anesthesia. For patients not at risk, the Sams carry local anesthetic, although most refuse it, Don says.

They grip the chair and shut their eyes. Some have their children or their mothers at their sides. One teenage boy has a very painful infected tooth, which must be pulled. Tears roll down his cheeks.

Blashill grips his shoulder and tells him he is ”fuerte,” very strong. Another word she says a lot is ”Duele.” Pain? she asks, as she strokes foreheads and holds hands.

The Tucson Flying Samaritans is one of two Arizona groups working in Mexico; the other flies out of Phoenix and has clinics elsewhere.

California Flying Samaritan groups also offer their services to other Mexican towns. But Tucson’s Sams are the only ones taking care of El Rosario, a fishing village with a population of about 4,000.

Very few charities exist in most Mexican towns, especially small ones such as El Rosario where free or adequate medical and dental care is limited or non-existent.

Today the Sams are adding something new to the usual clinic services: toothbrushes. Kids are running around everywhere, brandishing toothbrushes and small tubes of toothpaste, novelties to the vast majority.

Lunch is barely observed. Many doctors take their plates into their ”examining rooms.” El Rosario’s mayor is standing in the parking lot, waiting for his wife to be seen.

She has brought her X-rays of a former spinal injury. Dr. Wright Cortner is holding them up to the window and asking her questions. A cow moaning outside threatens to drown out all conversation.

”Send a doctor!” someone jokes. ”We got a sick cow out here.” A doctor goes out. He returns later a little glum. ”She was being butchered,” he reports. ”Before she was dead, they slit her throat. But they didn’t wait until she died to start cutting her up.”

Cortner is examining a child who had a fever and an upset stomach last week. Now she only has a stomachache, but just a little one. She and her mother leave with a month’s supply of Flintstones vitamins and the admonishment, ”Remember, just one a day.”

Many come in just for the vitamins, explains one nurse. ”But they eat them all at once. The kids are hungry, and they think the vitamins are candy.”

In an hour or two, all will be finished for the day. Around 4 p.m. the Sams start to wrap up, stacking their equipment. ”Amazingly, today we saved more teeth than we took,” says Don. ”We did lots of temporary fillings.” If enough dentists come next month, or the month after, those will be replaced with permanent fillings.

This has been the first time out for a glowing Cortner, who says he hasn’t done this kind of work in years. The last case he saw today was a man who had been paralyzed in a car wreck, a quadriplegic. ”I feel bad there wasn’t more we could do,” he says. ”And I saw a guy who had cataracts and I know how easy that could be dealt with back home . . .”

But both the new volunteers, Cortner and Leavitt, say they’ll be back. There will be two more Flying Samaritans helping out the best they can.

”We’re a well-oiled machine,” says nurse Lisette Le Corgne, with satisfaction. ”That’s because everyone wants to work.”

TWO-DAY SERIES

This is the second of a two-part series on Tucson’s Flying Samaritans, who offer health care in remote areas.

• Yesterday: Volunteers hit the ground running.

The Flying Samaritans is a volunteer, non-profit and nonsectarian organization of pilots and health-care professionals operating 22 clinics in Baja California.

Flying Samaritans chapters share four missions: primary care, specialty care, education, and emergency care. There are chapters in Tucson and Phoenix, and 20 chapters in California.

Members usually travel to the clinics the second weekend of each month, and work Saturday and part of Sunday.

For more information, contact Lisette LeCorgne, N.P., Campus Health Service, University of Arizona, Tucson, 85721. Or call 621-4427 or fax 621-8412.

An alternative number for LeCorgne is 325-9505. The Flying Samaritans’ Web site is at www.geocities.com/Heartland/Plains/1134.n.

PHOTO CAPTIONS: Photos by Brion McCarthy

Bev Blashill (right) holds a flashlight while Flying Samaritans’ dentist Lew Leavitt examines a patient at the clinic in El Rosario, an isolated town in Baja California, Mexico.

Orthopedic surgeon Wright Cortner uses the light from a window to inspect an X-ray.

CHARLOTTE LOWE For the Tucson Citizen

BAJA CALIFORNIA, Mexico – Bucking staggered shocks of downdraft crossing the rugged spine of the Baja, we finally dip down to land.

Woozy, I crawl out of the snug six-seat Cessna and onto the dirt airstrip, breathing in dust and the sickly-sweet odor of Guthione and Captan. These and other pesticides are still used in the Mexican fields rimming this private landing field, a sign of how much this village differs from Tucson.

Here, at 8 a.m. on a Saturday, workers are already out picking brussels sprouts. No one looks up. They are used to the American visitors who every weekend leap out of the small fleet of private planes and squeeze, sardine-style, into a waiting van.

But today, it’s clinic day. The arrival of the ”Flying Sams” is announced early this Saturday morning by a small Cessna buzzing over El Rosario, an isolated village in Baja California, Mexico.

Some of Tucson’s more than 100 Flying Samaritans, including dentists, doctors, nurses, interpreters, and assistants, head out the second weekend of every month to hold free medical clinics for those who live too far away or are too poor to get medical attention.

For some, this may mean a couple of decayed teeth filled or bronchitis diagnosed and treated. It may mean something as simple as a toothbrush or a month’s worth of vitamins.

Twenty-one volunteers hit the ground running. Or at least hopping. They bound into ”Baja Blue,” a van donated for their transportation to the village 45 minutes away, and careen down a winding dirt road until they reach a cluster of waiting patients under a palm tree at a local missionary’s house.

In about an hour the home has been transformed into the Flying Sams’ makeshift clinic. Boxes of medicine, vitamins and first aid supplies are stacked in the kitchen.

Health professionals, most in jeans, sweats and sneakers, bustle around, setting up a skeleton hospital.

They gulp coffee, trying to wake up after getting up in darkness for a 6:30 a.m. takeoff, followed by a 90-minute flight into Mexico.

The Flying Samaritans, a Tucson-based, non-profit medical relief organization, includes medical professionals, interpreters and pilots who volunteer their skills, aircraft and time to help the less fortunate.

The group has been flying to various sites in Mexico for 20 years. Up until two years ago they had been holding clinics in Sonora, but stopped after that state’s health department said it no longer needed their services.

Now relocated to Baja, so far with no objection, the Flying Sams have the chance to build a permanent clinic – with help from the locals – on donated land.

Some of the doctors and nurses come every month, others only once or twice a year, paying about $65 each for their share of the air transportation and about $50 for their food and overnight lodging.

They also donate medical supplies and prescription drugs-bought in Mexico, and whatever medical equipment they can provide. Recently an ambulance was donated to augment ”Baja Blue” and both are used to cart the group, in shifts, back and forth from the landing strip.

By 10 a.m. the clinic is packed. In the living room, orthopedic surgeon Wright Cortner is cutting a plaster cast off a boy’s leg with rusty rose clippers. An admiring cluster of children leans in to watch the armchair operation, while a commercial for Shopping Barbie blares in the background.

”Phewww, that’s stinky,” says one helper, holding up the boy’s leg. The rotting cast has not been changed for over a month and a half. The kid hasn’t been able to get to the nearest big town, Ensenada, 1 1/2 hours away, to have it removed from his now-mended leg.

The cast comes off in chunks, in a process of hacking at the plaster, then soaking it in a bucket of water, then hacking and tugging again. Cortner warns the boy, through interpreter Virginia Romero, to use his crutches until the leg is stronger.

Next to the kitchen a helper holds a dishpan under a man’s chin while nurse Lisette Le Corgne squeezes a bulb syringe into his ear, hoping to dissolve years of built-up ear wax.

”It’s real hard and there’s a lot of it,” says Le Corgne, a former president of the Flying Samaritans and a regular on the flights. ”He says he hasn’t been able to hear out of that ear for 10 years.”

This has been going on for two hours and the man is pale with nausea. Now hanging his head, he looks ready to bolt for the door. Le Corgne and her crew say they’ll take a break and try again in an hour.

”A Water Pik is the tool that would usually move this sort of wax out of there,” explains one observer, ”but we don’t have one here.”

This is a place where nothing – hot water to wash with, food, warm clothing, toothbrushes, not even a pencil – can be taken for granted. Later in the day another attempt to move the wax fails, although it moves ”a little” says Le Corgne. He’ll come back next month, she says, and they’ll try again.

In one bedroom Bev Blashill, a volunteer interpreter who usually works as a breast cancer researcher, holds a flashlight while a woman has three rotten teeth extracted, without Novacain. With another patient, a second dentist uses unpowered hand tools to chop away a chunk of dark decay before temporarily filling the tooth.

A second bedroom becomes an examining room with a sheet strung from the ceiling. In the parking lot Carol Harris, an LPN, takes blood pressures, miming her mission to the Spanishspeaking patients. A man pulls off his red sweatshirt and waits, goose-pimpled and bare-chested, for his turn.

Many regular patients clutch manila folders containing their medical records.

”We’re trying to have them keep and bring their own records for updating, and it seems to be working,” Harris says.

About 30 children and their parents still wait under the palm tree, punctuating their conversation with thick bronchial coughs until their number is called.

”¡Numero cinco! ”yells the receptionist from her card table, which is under a hand-lettered sign El Denistito . Here they sign up and are called in order to see a doctor, nurse or dentist.

Specialists can find themselves being called far afield. Cortner, the orthopedic surgeon, found himself treating a skin irritation with Calamine lotion in the back bedroom. ”The guy digs for colorful shells on the beach,” which accounts for the source of the rash, he says.

Next up: what seems to be a chest cold in a wailing baby. The doctor next to him is checking out the digestive problems of an 87-year-old blind man. His son hovers anxiously, and later he and a volunteer lead his unsteady father through the maze of children and uneven steps.

Another person treated, but the day is just beginning.

TWO-DAY SERIES

This is the first of a two-part series by free-lance writer Charlotte Lowe, a former Tucson Citizen staffer.

Tomorrow: Town waits for toothbrushes.

FLYING SAMARITANS

The Flying Samaritans began in 1962 with a small California-based group that flew in to treat the residents of El Rosario, a small village on the Pacific coast of Baja California.

The volunteer, non-profit and non-sectarian organization of pilots and health-care professionals now has 12 chapters, with about 1,300 members. They operate about 22 clinics in Baja.

There are 20 California chapters and one each in Tucson and Phoenix. Flying Samaritans chapters share four missions: primary care, specialty care, education and emergency care.

A typical clinic group might consist of physicians, nurses, dentists, dental assistants and hygienists, translators, pilots, audiologists, optometrists, ophthalmologists, chiropractors and helpers.

Volunteers usually travel to the clinics the second weekend of each month, and work Saturday and part of Sunday.

Volunteers pay for their lodging and food and contribute toward gasoline costs for the aircraft and land vehicles.

Money for medicine and other medical supplies comes from donations and fund drives by members.

For more information, contact Lisette LeCorgne, N.P., Campus Health Service, University of Arizona, Tucson, Ariz. 85721. Or call 621-4427, or fax 621-8412.

Another number for LeCorgne is 325-9505. The Flying Samaritans Web site is at www.geocities.com/Heartland/Plains/1134.n

PHOTO CAPTIONS: Photos by Brion McCarthy/Madden Publishing Inc

The gift of health

Diane Sheehan-Davies (center) removes a worn-out cast from a boy’s leg. Sheehan-Davies volunteers to provide medical care in Mexico.

A Flying Samaritans plane makes its way down a rugged airstrip in Baja California, Mexico.

Bill Gallagher (right), a retired doctor, works with a Mexican patient on a recent medical mission to Baja California.

NOTE: COLUMN/2 PHOTOS

Many of us who live in Tucson come from Arizona’s small towns. In “Arizona’s Barrios,’ José Galvez shows black-and-white photographs that contain the life of some of these communities – moment to moment.

Whether Latino, Mormon, or filled with a racial hodgepodge of miners, our small towns share a sense of vanishing culture and a tangible feeling of time to spare.

In these quiet places, people often make much of their special occasions – of passages.

In these photographs, taken in the Latino communities of San Luis, Yuma, Guadalupe and Tucson, Galvez’s celebrates the commonplace and the festive.

Through his eyes, we see a wedding in San Luis. A long line of little flower girls and their young escorts, all formally dressed, look like the somber, middle-aged adults they may become. A bridesmaid, clutching her streamered bouquet, the neckline of her dress echoing the doily around the flowers, looks anxiously out of the frame. We have the sense that we, along with these participants, are waiting for the future to begin.

Some of his photographs express the giddy happiness that erupts out of a special day.

In one, a newly-adult young groom and his giggling bride – wreathed in balloons – toast their future with champagne. Her glass is tilted toward the camera, about to spill.

Many others capture “just hanging out,’ as Galvez puts it. The leaning against gates, sitting on or in cars, the waiting for a turn at the pool table and other such non-activities that fill the hours in such communities.

What Galvez shows in this grouping of candid photographs is unself-conscious participation in life.

A couple dances on a near-empty outdoor, concrete dance floor trying not to step on a child in a fluffy dress crouched near their shuffling feet. In another frame, we see two saxophonists wearing black sunglasses, caught in a pause between notes.

Galvez knows how to move among people gracefully, unseen or well-tolerated. For this project, he switched from 35 mm to a medium format. Even with the larger camera, Galvez seems to be invisible to his subjects.

In one dimly lighted scene, an older man sits on his heels to achieve the same level as a young boy. It was a man spending some time with his godson’s son, explained Galvez. Private moments such as these make up some of the best in this body of work.

These photographs capture the transitional moment between words and action.

The few townscapes or houses and land without people are also exceptional. They convey silence, something we can barely remember in Tucson.

Galvez’s focus is to document the growth of these communities, but he looks at his subject artistically. Painterly landscapes and sculptural figures are also among his concerns.

In “Arizona Barrios’ Galvez goes a step past his previous and considerable achievements in photojournalism. He combines the interior input of art with the outside influence of photography in a series that is about change.

This show, by guest-curator Beth Wachtel, celebrates the third anniversary of José Galvez Gallery, 743 N. Fourth Ave. It will be up through May 18. Gallery hours are 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. Wednesday through Friday, 11 a.m. to 3 p.m. Saturdays, and 6 to 9 p.m. during Downtown Saturday Night.

PHOTOS

Getting a haircut in Guadalupe.

The Colorado River in Yuma.

NOTE:

Art news

Check out these art happenings on the University of Arizona campus:

“Four Directions: Paintings From The Desert,’ by Joyce Robertson, can be seen at the Arizona Gallery in the Student Union Building, 8 a.m.-10 p.m. daily, May 16 through June 28.

“Damaged Goods,’ mixed-media works by Sean O’Donnell and Janet de Berge Lange, will be up in the Union Gallery in the Student Union Building, Monday through Friday, 10 a.m. to 4 p.m., May 16 to June 28.

* A lecture will be given by John Griswold on the importance of community involvement in public art maintenance issues at 7 p.m. May 16 at the Tucson/Pima Arts Council, 240 N. Stone Ave. It’s free and open to the public.

* Sculptor Ed Davenport displays stone images at the Phantom Gallery at 38 E. Congress. At 221 N. Court, Janet Miller shows reverse glass painting. Phantom Gallery is a Tucson Arts District program. Call 624-9977.

* The Galvez Gallery is seeking submissions by women artists for its third annual “Dia de los Muertos’ exhibition, this year titled “La Mujer y SIDA /Women and AIDS.’ The exhibit, which is open to artists working in all media, will be juried. Proposals for this year’s altar will also be accepted. Multimedia artists are encouraged to submit. Works submitted must deal with how AIDS and HIV affects the lives of women. Deadline is July 1. Send 3-by-5 slides, a one-page biography and a self-addressed, stamped envelope to “La Mujer y Sida,’ Galvez Gallery, 743 N. Fourth Ave., Tucson, AZ 85705. Photos and proposals also accepted. Call E. Liane Hernandez at 624-6878. The exhibit will run Oct. 23 to Nov. 16, with an opening reception on Nov. 2. Lectures and panel discussions are also planned during the run of the exhibition.

* The extracurricular work of three University Medical Center nurses will be on display at Eric’s Ice Cream, 1702 E. Speedway Blvd., through May 31. “Garden Colors’ features work by Susan M. Matte and Renee Koehler. Matte’s paintings were framed by Leah Bracht.

* Bentley’s, 1730 E. Speedway, presents a new body of work by Cat Spencer through May 30.

- Charlotte Lowe

NOTE: PHOTO/RECIPE

Why did Chef Alan Zeman invent the Banana Burro Flambé?

The reason was twofold, he says.

Zeman is the chef for the new restaurant Fuego! which means fire. “So I thought we should have a flaming dessert,’ he explained.

Also, when Fuego! opened, Zeman didn’t yet have a pastry chef. “I wanted to come up with a recipe I could always do well,’ he said. “So I adapted the traditional Bananas Foster to a more southwestern dish.’

Zeman will demonstrate how to make his Banana Burro Flambé at “Cookin’,’ a benefit for Arizona Theatre Company on May 19 at Trio Bistro/Bar in the Plaza Palomino, 2970 N. Swan Road.

The event, which features four of Tucson’s top chefs, will begin at 4 p.m. with a wine reception in the Plaza Palomino Courtyard. Tickets are $60 per person, and all proceeds benefit ATC. To order tickets, call ATC at 884-8210.

A four-course dinner will be presented and demonstrated by these chefs: Zuppa de Pesce by Daniel Scordato of Vivace Restaurant; Bleu Cheese Pear Exotic Salad by Rich Koby of The Ventana Room; Sautéed Garlic Shrimp with Corn-Saffron Hollandaise Sauce by Donna Nordin of Cafe Terra Cotta, and Fuego Banana Burro Flambé by Zeman.

Immediately after the demonstrations, dinner will be served in Trio Bistro/Bar. Recipes will be provided to all who attend.

Zeman’s recipe seems simple, but a little insider knowledge makes it even easier.

When you sauté the bananas, Zeman advised, keep the heat medium high. “But not too high or the sugar will caramelize and be too crunchy,’ he said.

The sugar should be a distinctive light brown color.

In French, it’s called “going noissette ‘ which generally refers to butter browning around the edges. Even more important, Zeman said, the smell should tip you off. “It smells kind of like roasted nuts,’ he explained.

Then you flambe or flame the bananas.

“To flame, the pan (which contains the bananas, butter and sugar) has to be very hot, you have to have a burner going under it,’ said Zeman. Then you add the rum and light it, in the pan.

To illustrate how some might get confused about this seemingly obvious step, Zeman tells a story from his days as chef at Tucson Country Club.

“They had a dish, a Greek flaming cheese,’ he explained. “You have a semi-hard cheese you send out out on a sizzling hot platter. You pour booze on it.’

The waiter he sent out with the dish to a table kept coming back, saying it wouldn’t catch fire. After a while, said Zeman, “we realized he expected it to just light up. After that, we called him S.C., for Spontaneous Combustion.’

So remember. Use a match or a lighter when you’re trying to ignite the rum.

At the very last, Zeman adds lemon and orange zest. “Only use the orange and yellow parts of the fruits’ skins,’ he said. “The white is bitter, and the oil is in the skin.’ To take the zest off an orange or lemon, use a vegetable peeler, he advised.

Add the zest at the end “because, like herbs, if you cook it, you kill the flavor,’ said Zeman.

Have your crêpes pre-made. Present it, as Zeman does, with strawberry salsa, fresh berries, white and bittersweet dark chocolate shavings, and powdered sugar.

If this is all too much trouble, skip these steps and buy a ticket to “Cookin’.’

Chef Alan Zeman’s recipe for Fuego Banana Burro Flambé

Cognac Crêpes

2 cups all purpose flour

2 tablespoon granulated sugar

Pinch salt

2 cups milk

4 eggs beaten

1/2 cup unsalted butter

1/4 cup Cognac

Blend flour, sugar and salt, add milk and eggs.

Whisk in hot butter and Cognac to make crêpe batter.

Let rest at least 15 minutes. Ladle batter into pre-heated and lightly oiled sauté pan to make crêpes.

Banana Flambé

Use 1/2 banana per person

1/4 cup unsalted butter

1/2 cup brown sugar

1 ounce rum

1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

1/4 teaspoon lemon and orange zest

Strawberry Salsa

1 pint strawberries, rinsed and diced

2 tablespoons honey

1/2 lime

1 tablespoon chopped fresh basil

Dice strawberries; add honey, lime, basil.

Assembly:

Sauté bananas in brown sugar and butter glaze, flambé with Rum. Add zest and cinnamon.

Arrange burro (crêpe filled with banana mixture) on plate with strawberry salsa; garnish with fresh berries, chocolate shavings, berries and powdered sugar.

NOTE: PHOTO MUG: Doogan

Bailey Doogan, an artist who fights for social realism in her work, is this year’s winner of the $25,000 Arizona Arts Award. Given annually by the Tucson Community Foundation, the award honors and encourages excellence in the arts.

The winner was announced last night at the Tucson Community Foundation’s annual community meeting at the Doubletree Hotel, 445 S. Alvernon Way.

Doogan was one of this year’s five finalists, who each received $1,000. Doogan, a University of Arizona art faculty member, will receive an additional $24,000 with no stipulations as to how it should be spent.

The other nominees were metal worker and designer Thomas Bredlow, photographer and mixed-media artist Gail Hewlett, visual artist Andrew Rush and clay sculptor Fox Joy McGrew.

The five artists were nominated by an anonymous panel of professional artists, and the winner was selected by an alternate panel. The award is the largest of its kind in Arizona and one of the largest unrestricted grants in the country for this purpose.

Margaret Bailey Doogan, known professionally as Bailey Doogan, came to Tucson in 1969 to make art and teach at UA. She lived for several years at Rancho Linda Vista, an artists’ cooperative in Oracle.

Before moving here, she had been a graphic designer in New York and in Washington, D.C. In 1966, while living in New York City, Doogan was commissioned by the makers of Morton Salt to design the sixth version of the Morton Salt Girl, which remains in use.

Nationally recognized for her paintings, prints and drawings, Doogan is represented locally by Etherton Gallery.

Her work, which often depicts naked, ripe/aging women, has provoked controversy. In 1992, two of her pieces (a nude self-portrait and a Gulf War drawing) were censored – literally torn from the walls of the Irish Art Center in New York City.

Her work is loved by some critics. Nationally known art writer Joanna Frueh described the women in Doogan’s work in 1963 as “Sexual, full of themselves, arrogant in scale and emotional presence. Healing the rift between representations of the body and lived, observed reality.’

The Arizona Arts Award was established by the Tucson Community Foundation in 1986 by arts philanthropists Mary Bartol and the now-deceased George Bartol.

Past winners include dancer Charlotte Adams; painters Alfred J. Quiroz, Johna Cronk and Cynthia Miller; violinist Stephen Shipman and filmmaker Robert J. Sabal.

NOTE: 2 PHOTOS/BOX

More artists are coming back to the downtown area, using buildings purchased with city funds designated for the Tucson Arts District.

In 1987, with the construction of Ronstadt Transit Center where once there had been storefronts, downtown Tucson experienced an exodus of artists.

Nine years later, some artists and arts groups have come up with ways to remain in the community they created – “the Downtown Arts District.’

Photographer Steven Meckler remembers being evicted from his storefront studio on Congress Street to make way for a big new bus station.

His photography studio/living space, a former butcher store, was one of the oldest buildings on the block.

Meckler lived and worked at 215 E. Congress St., a storefront “with great, big display windows.’ His was one of a row of art studios and galleries.

Now the block is Ronstadt Transit Center, where people sit on benches, waiting for buses.

Meckler and other artists from Congress Street and surrounding areas undergoing rent increases looked all over Tucson for new studios.

Most wanted to live in their spaces or nearby, to create the same sense of community they had shared.

“I really wanted to stay downtown, and I went looking to find a space but I just couldn’t find one,’ Meckler said.

Finally he found a studio on the edge of downtown, near Broadway and Fifth Avenue.

“It was an old auto parts, paint and glass building built in 1937,’ he said. “Most people know it best as where Valley National Bank used to auction off repossessed cars.’

Meckler converted the building’s 7,000 square feet into a front gallery space, a photography studio and two-story living quarters.

After renting five years, he bought it. No more evictions, no more rent increases, no more month-to-month leases.

The members of Dinnerware Artists’ Cooperative Gallery know about that sort of hand-to-mouth living.

Dinnerware artists moved to 135 E. Congress St. in 1986. But they never had stability, and lived in danger of being booted out any month or having to come up with ever-increasing rent, said Nora Kuehl, the group’s administrative director.

To solve the problem, they bought the building in 1989 with the help of two arts support groups. They also bought the adjacent buildings that house a.k.a. Theatre and The Screening Room.

“The Downtown Development Corporation, which now owns the properties, and the Tucson Arts District Partnership did a lot toward securing three buildings on our block,’ Kuehl said. “Now we’re rent-controlled and have a lease in perpetuity. Our rent more than doubled, but we’re less at risk.’

The buildings were purchased with money designated for the Tucson Arts District by the city when the arts district was being developed, said Mary Ellen Wooten, special projects director for the Partnership.

Kuehl wants artists to have more equity in the Downtown Arts District because they were a moving force in its revitalization.

This could happen, said Wooten.“There is a move right now for the tenants to purchase their buildings,’ she said. “They’re working on raising funds.’

Another cooperative, Alamo Woodworkers’ Guild and Gallery, has found its home in a 95-year-old building in the warehouse district, near downtown at 101 W. Sixth St.

For the past 10 years, the Alamo Woodworkers Collective has been renting the former Steinfeld Warehouse at 101 W. Sixth St. from the state.

“Now the city and state are doing a land swap,’ said Alamo member Robert Robles. “I think they’ll still rent it to us. The city is assuring us they want us here.’

Rent on the 26,000-square-foot space is “a couple of thousand’ dollars a month, Robles said. He and the other five Alamo members come up with that by contributing to the rent and by renting space to two ceramists, two painters and Kore Press.

Alamo members are hoping the city is willing to part with the space.

“If they want to sell, we want to buy,’ Robles said.

The nearby Toole Shed Studios, 197 E. Toole Ave., a renovated warehouse that provides 11 art spaces for 13 artists, was started by Tucson Artist Coalition members. One of the founders, photographer James Graham, said the members got a loan from the Tucson Partnership to do the renovation.

Like Alamo, they rent from the state, “but it’s month to month,’ Graham said. “No lease.’

The Arts District’s major problem, he said, is that “all the other landlords are really greedy and charge too much.’

To reduce landlord control, Graham would like to see more artist-owners downtown.

Buying, borrowing to start up an art business, renting from artist-friendly agencies or renting subsidized housing are all options.

The Lewis Hotel, now the Julian Drew Building, 182 E. Broadway, is one such place. The Tucson Arts Coalition worked with the Finance Development Corporation to develop the subsidized space that includes housing, a studio and a gallery.

The Finance Development Corporation is a non-profit, more traditional lender who loan $10,000 or more and deals with projects in the downtown area, Wooten said.

The Partnership lends smaller amounts, she said.

“Our art space loan program has loaned out money to local artists and arts groups. Since 1992, our committee has loaned $60,000, the cap being $5,000,’ she said.

“If the amount loaned is $2,500 or more, the interest is 3 percent. Under that amount, it’s 5 percent.’

They also give emergency loans of up to $500, “to get electrical wiring up to code or things like that,’ Wooten said.

“We hope to increase the loan pool so we have an amount of money that could be used totally in the warehouse area so the area can be developed and stabilized.’

Wooten said they’ve just begun to work with the city and state toward that goal.

“The Arizona Department of Transportation has decided it didn’t need the 20-some buildings they were going to take down for the Aviation Corridor.

“Lots of properties and vacant lots that were purchased won’t be needed,’ she said. “They’re going to be sold. And they are the ones that the city is looking at acquiring.’

The city is discussing whether to sell the properties to artists or arts groups, Wooten said.

A nomination also has been submitted to the National Register of Historic Places to create a Warehouse Historic District consisting of about 89 buildings or structures, she said.

“We want to work out programs so artists can own buildings down there,’ Wooten said. “We want to encourage arts use of that area over other use.’

IF YOU GO

* What: The Tucson Arts District Partnership will hold a walking tour of the city’s historic warehouse district. The 1 1/2-hour tour will cover about one mile and include a talk by a leading authority on the area’s history and a glimpse into artists’ studios. Dress comfortably – the tour will primarily be outdoors.

* Where: Participants meet in the lobby of Hotel Congress, 311 E. Congress St.

* When: 8:20 a.m. Saturday.

* Cost: Free.

* Reservations: The size of the tour will be limited. To reserve a space, call 624-9977 by 5 p.m. tomorrow.

Photos by VAL CANEZ/Tucson Citizen

Photographer Steven Meckler and his dog relax in his studio, which is also his home.

Robert Robles is co-owner of Alamo Woodworks Collective, 101 West Sixth St.

NOTE: 3 PHOTOS/BOX

Stella Foster enjoys nothing better than tap dancing for the folks downtown.

“Bada bing, bada boom! If you want to know, I’m having a ball,’ says local hoofer Stella Foster.

Foster, 73, is demonstrating her opening tap steps to “Sweet Georgia Brown’ at Armory Park Senior Citizen Center’s lunch tables.

“She’s our Ruby Keeler,’ observes one friend. Another calls her “a female Gregory Hines.’ At the center, Foster is part of the Armory Park Variety Group, tapping about once a month in a live show.

But downtown, Foster is better known for her weekly gigs on the corner of Pennington Street and Stone Avenue.

She’s been setting up her stage for a 50-minute show there for about nine years. “I take it for granted that’s my little spot there,’ she said.

Foster is famous in Tucson. “According to the dictionary, famous is a person who is spoken of highly and is well known. That’s me!’ she explained.

Even people who don’t know Foster smile at her as she walks briskly down the street.

“Maybe it’s how I dress, in my tuxedo and derby,’ she muses. “Or maybe it’s my round glasses.

“When they smile, it gives me a beautiful feeling; it’s like I’m reborn each time.’

Foster’s usual routes take her from Fourth Avenue to downtown. “I walk about a mile and a half a day,’ she estimates.

Originally from Yonkers, N.Y., Foster has lived in Tucson, mostly near downtown, for 13 years.

She’s danced often at Downtown Saturday Night and at the Fourth Avenue Street Fair. But it’s the Friday performances, which she started doing on her own, that she considers essential.

“The only time I’m not there is if I’m sick or if I’m dead,’ she said. She performs there for people on their lunch breaks, “because they need me and I need them.’

There’s a schedule to Fridays, a rhythm that can’t be messed with.

“I’m wonderful, girl,’ she said. “I’ve got it timed.’

Foster leaves the Armory Park Center at 9:50 a.m. “I go home, I pull out the phone. I can’t communicate with anyone,’ she said. “I have to save it for them.’

Before she leaves for her walk downtown, Foster looks in the mirror. “I don’t see a wrinkle. They may be there, but I don’t see them.’

At 11:20 a.m., Foster arrives at the Congress Hotel and puts on her lipstick. “At 11:30, I go in to see Tony at the beauty shop there. I say, `How old do I look? How old, Tony?’ And he says, `Oh, I don’t know. About 25.’ And away I go.’

Then Foster walks down Congress Street. “Here I knock on the window at Sidney’s glass shop and I wave at him,’ she said. “It’s all part of the show.’

She picks up her tape deck at the Congress Street Copyboy, where they store it for her between shows.

“Then I go to my stage and set everything up.’

At 11:55 a.m., Foster goes into Walgreens.

“I’m watching the clock. At 12, exactly, I push down the button on my tape, and it’s `Sweet Georgia Brown.’ I go for about 50 minutes.’

Once, “some kids in their 20s wanted me to go for 10 minutes more,’ Foster recalled. “They wanted to do a video. They offered me $10 to keep going. How well do you know me? What do you think I said?

“I said `No. It’s not part of the show!’ ‘

She doesn’t do it for the money, she said, but if you want to put a buck in her plastic ice bucket, that’s OK.

“I’m there to project 60 minutes of good energy. I’m here to give,’ she said.

Foster began taking tap dance lessons in Yonkers in 1933.

“It was about a dollar a lesson. It was the Depression, but my mother always came up with that dollar a week.’

Foster kept tapping, even while raising three children and working as a waitress, then a hostess.

She moved to Tucson after visiting her son, Vinnie, who then lived on Convent Street.

“You see I believe in reincarnation,’ she explained. “I felt I was here before, on that street. I went back to my apartment in New York but I was miserable. So I came back.’

Foster spent her youth in a Catholic orphanage. But her idea of religion has changed since then, she said.

“When I’m walking down the street, I’ll say, `Thank you for my health. Thank you for this life. Case closed.’ ‘

Twice a widow, she believes, “Everyone you knew who died is your guardian angel. I’m watched over.’

Last year at the Fourth Avenue Street Fair, she was tapping and looking up at the sky.

“My mother’s name was Angelina,’ she said. “So I say to her up there, `Mom, just give me another five minutes.’

“I went on for three hours.’

IF YOU GO

Stella Foster and other local tap dancers will dance tomorrow at “Tap-IT,’ Invisible Theatre’s benefit “Tap-A-Thon.’

A “Parade of the Tappers,’ registration for tap dance instruction from local teachers, individual and group performances, and prizes will be part of the festivities, along with food, fun and frivolity.

The event, celebrating Invisible Theatre’s 25th anniversary, will precede the opening of IT’s final show of the season, “Stepping Out,’ a tap dance comedy by Richard Harris that will run from May 22 through June 9.

* When: 1 to 5 p.m. tomorrow.

* Where: Doubletree Hotel, 445 S. Alvernon Way.

* Cost: $25.

* Reservations: 882-9721.

Photos by MARY CHIND/Tucson Citizen/Tap dancer-at-large Stella Foster gestures toward her painted image in a mural at Fourth Avenue and Sixth Street, fastens her tap shoes before performing, and takes a smoke break afterward.

NOTE:

Art notes

* The Galvez Gallery is seeking submissions by women artists for its third annual “Dia de los Muertos’ exhibit, this year titled “La Mujer y SIDA/Women and AIDS.’

The exhibit, which is open to artists working in all media, will be juried. Proposals for this year’s altar will also be accepted. Multimedia artists are encouraged to submit. Works submitted must deal with the issue of how AIDS and HIV effect the lives of women. Deadline is July 1.

Send three to five slides, a one-page biography and a self-addressed, stamped envelope to “La Mujer y Sida,’ Galvez Gallery, 743 N. Fourth Ave. Tucson, AZ 85705. Photos and proposals also accepted. Call E. Liane Hernandez at 624-6878 for more information. The exhibit will run Oct. 23 to Nov. 16, with an opening reception Nov. 2. Lectures and panel discussions are also planned during the run of the exhibition.

* Gustavo Rocha, the artist-winner of a mural site provided by the Tucson Art District Partnership’s Phantom Mural Program, has installed a mural depicting mythical muscular figures on the back of the Johnny Gibson Gym Equipment Co. building at 11 S. Sixth Ave. Rocha is a muralist and free-lance graphic designer. Recent projects include a PeaceBuilders mural at Lynn/Urquides Elementary School and the restoration of a previously executed “killer whales’ mural at Menlo Park swimming pool. Rocha graduated from the Art Center of Tucson.

The Phantom Murals Project is a Tucson Arts District beautification project providing an opportunity for area artists to create murals at downtown locations. The Phantom Project is sponsored by the Tucson Arts District Partnership, with downtown property owners providing sites for both galleries and murals. Southwestern Paints and Varnish Co. provides the paints for the murals.

- Charlotte Lowe

NOTE: RESTAURANT REVIEW/HOUSE SPECIALTY/LOCATOR MAP

You haven’t lived until you’ve feasted on Er Pastaro’s Spaghetti Alla Puttanesca and later retired to the patio to sip cappuccino and listen to a tape of “Ave Maria’ as the sun goes down over the Santa Ritas.

Our meal last week at Er Pastaro, Sonoita’s answer to a typical Roman trattoria, was so good it has to be savored again in print.

Owners Karen and Giovanni Schifano, from Salzburg, Austria, and Rome, respectively, offer a menu of classic Roman dishes ranging from a simple, fresh Spaghetti Marinara to their spirited Penne Alla Vodka.

Chef Giovanni Schifano, formerly of Tucson’s Westward Look, New York’s Regine’s and the international racetracks, usually has some dishes offered off the menu. Ask.

That day he had made some special antipasti or appetizers – all very good. At Karen Schifano’s suggestion we ordered the classic carciofi ala Romano, or Roman artichoke ($5.50).

Its leaves were stuffed abundantly with cloves of garlic rendered mild by the steaming of this very large artichoke. Topped by a crusty sprinkling of parsley and Parmesan cheese, it was served with a sauce of mayonnaise, basil, tomato, parsley and, as we requested, with a little cooked ground meat – Roman style.

The artichoke was served chewy, as it often is in Italy, perhaps a little firm for most American tastes. But the flavor was magnificent.

We also had caponata, an eggplant and black olive appetizer ($6.50), made with ripe, sweet tomatoes and capers from Malta – where the Schifanos go for the summer.

Giovanni Schifano picks the capers (they grow on bushes) and brings them, pickled, back to Arizona were he uses them in several dishes on the menu. They are choice, small and pear-shaped.

The eggplant, seared in very hot olive oil until crisp outside without breading, then becomes softer yet firm when combined with a fine light marinara sauce. Whole, split black Greek olives add to the piquant flavor.

All the entrées were pasta dishes, ranging from $12 to $13. My dining companion believes one of the tests of a good Italian restaurant is its clam sauce. “Always white!’ Er Pastaro’s Spaghetti Alle Vongole with white or red clam sauce ($12.50) is one of the best he’s ever had – here or in Italy. It was subtle, depending on flat-leafed Italian parsley and lots and lots of clams for its flavor. Served on spaghetti cooked al dente, it wasn’t one of those floury, chalky chowder-like catastrophes that sometimes try to pass for clam sauce. A hit.

The charm of a good puttanesca sauce is in how hearty and light it can be – both at the same time. Spaghetti Alla Puttanesca ($12) – or spaghetti with “whore’s sauce’ – is so called because in Italy it was supposedly created by prostitutes who wanted a quick spaghetti dinner after a long night’s work.

It’s quickly put together of fresh tomatoes, black Greek olives, garlic, anchovies (here, it seemed made with anchovy paste to distribute more evenly throughout), oregano, capers, chili pepper and herbs.

Er Pastaro’s version is the finest I’ve ever tasted, and I’ve eaten it everywhere I can. It’s tart but not acidic, filling without meat. An excellent choice and a regular menu item.

If there is a drawback to Er Pastaro, it is in its wine list. The only wine by the glass is by R. Mondavi, a pedestrian choice at best. To get a drinkable wine you must order by the bottle, which we did from a limited but adequate wine list. A pinot grigio by Zonin ($22) was a clean, fresh, before- and during-dinner wine.

For dessert there was house-made tiramisu and fresh, plump strawberries soaked in sugar and white wine and served topped with whipped cream ($4 each). It becomes repetitious to say Er Pastaro’s tiramisu is the best, but again – it is.

At least in the Tucson area I haven’t had any version of tiramisu, an unbaked pudding/cake of ladyfingers, espresso coffee, delicate mascarpone cheese, egg yolk, bitter dark chocolate and cocoa, that tops this.

Our cappuccino ($4) was strong, and fluffy with milk on the top.

Cloth napkins and checkered cloths, photos of past customers at Regine’s, fresh flowers and candles on the table help make this restaurant a graceful evening out.

If you’re stingy in the restaurant business, it shows. Er Pastaro isn’t and that’s obvious as well. The quality of the capers, the olives, the tomatoes is excellent. Portions are lavish. From the wealth of clams in the sauce to the pricy mascarpone cheese used in the tiramisu, Er Pastaro doesn’t cut corners.

Which makes it worth the 50-mile drive to Sonoita. Arrivederci.

Er Pastaro 3084 Highway 82 in Sonoita (520) 455-5821

HOUSE SPECIALTY

Menu features classic pasta dishes alla Romano, plus robust appetizers and house-made desserts.

* Pluses: It’s not a mirage. The food at this Roman oasis couldn’t be better, the patio has great views of Sonoita’s rolling hills and the tiramisu is to die for.

* Minuses: The wine list is limited and by-the-glass is not a worthy choice.

* Bar: Wine and beer.

* Attire: Casual on up.

* Hours: Wednesday to Sunday, 4 to 9 p.m.

* Smoking and non-smoking sections: Yes.

* Wheelchair accessible: Yes.

* Credit cards: No.

* Checks: With check guarantee card.

* Reservations: Accepted for large parties only.

NOTE: COLUMN/3 ART WORKS

Various views of the fantastic can be seen in a show of works at Dinnerware Artist Cooperative Gallery by member-artists Joanne Kerrihard, John Davis and Ann Keuper.

Kerrihard is represented by medium and small oil paintings using a limited palette of reds, beige-browns and earth greens.

Very ethereal, these paintings resemble minimally appointed stage sets combining bits of architecture, furniture and drapery.

These elements are surrealistically juxtaposed against an open, sometimes rocky, landscape. One or two people roam these settings, in paintings called Day One through Day Seven – hung out of sequence.

This body of work illustrates a vague story line. In some of these canvases we see circus tents emerge out of a dreamlike mist.

In “Day One’ a small rose-colored tent blooms in a varnished, sparkly indigo-blue night. Un-peopled and elaborately gilt framed, this is an alluring beginning for a journey.

By “Day Seven’ we have traveled from landscape to an amphitheater-type of structure. An oversize seashell appears to be rolling onto a checked tile floor. Half a large dog is improbably hidden behind a narrow Doric column. In the background an Italian cypress tree juts out of the barren land like an exclamation point.

Kerrihard makes evocative paintings that entice the viewer from frame to frame. She creates mirages. Her images are entrancing.

Technically, her under-painting (the previous strokes that can optionally be seen or not seen in the finished painting) is sometimes too obvious. If done properly, it can create great depth that seems illuminated. When her under-painting is freer and more obvious, as in the red and yellow slashed “Day Four,’ it works.

But if Kerrihard is going to paint in a renaissance style – which seems to be the aim – her technique needs to improve.

Davis shows some of a series of street sculptures he began while living in downtown Washington, D.C., inspired by the male image he perceived in that environment.

In these works he concentrates on constructing the torso from fabrications and found materials and showing them in different contexts. They are, for the most part, jokey setups.

In one, Davis builds a chair to hang on the wall, puts a suit coat on its back and has dried agave fronds jutting out of the arms.

In another, a suit-coated headless clay torso lays on an overhead shelf.

Both recall the sort of arrangement people might put together out of found objects in their house for fun.

A more ambitiously constructed work depicts a white, upholstered torso bursting out – like a jack-in-a-box – from the seat of a red, upholstered chair. Here Davis plays with the juxtaposition of the classically white statue and the modern Naugahyde culture.

These are facile works. It’s hard to imagine why anyone would want to see any of them more than once.

The work of fiber artist Keuper recalls a bird making nests. She incorporates feathers, fish-hooks, roses, stones, gut and goat hair into her weavings that hang like large and small bundles on the wall.

“Illuminated Figure’ has moments of airy grace when purple, green, blue and orange strands of dyed gut seem to break away, arch and curl up out of the its denser bulk.

The “Wrapped Child’ is a somber collection of wide purple ribbon over a carnival of motley (again strands of dried, dyed gut) and white chewing-gum like strings seemingly binding it together.

These works are more interesting to dissect than to see bunched-up on a wall. At a distance they are visual blobs.

Keuper’s smaller, found natural object pieces are delicate, dealing with less combinations and more isolation. They are simple, like a leaf collection tacked to the wall, and more effective.

The show will be up through May 18 at Dinnerware, 135 E. Congress St. Also up is a Sonoran People’s Tapestry Project and the drawings of Matilda Essig. In the back gallery are a selection of Dinnerware artist-members works. Gallery hours are Tuesday through Saturday, noon to 5 p.m. and Thursday, noon to 7 p.m. Also open on Downtown Saturday Nights (the first and third Saturdays of every month) from 7 to 9 p.m.

ART WORKS

Joanne Kerrihard’s “Day Seven’

“Torso #2′ by John Davis

Ann Keuper’s “Wrapped Child’

NOTE: PHOTO/SIDEBAR/BOX

The loss can affect us in much the same way as the death of a human loved one. A Tucson support group helps owners deal with those feelings.

When your pet dies, you may experience headaches or breathlessness, or perhaps a hollowness in your chest. You might lose your appetite or have recurring dreams about your pet. You may feel anxiety – or relief.

These are all common reactions to pet loss, said Jean-Louise Joiner, a certified psychotherapist who leads a pet loss support program in Tucson.

Sponsored by the Humane Society, this free support group meets to handle the sorrow many owners feel when a pet dies or is euthanized.

“We respond physically, behaviorally and emotionally, just as we do to the loss of a human,’ said Joiner.

She still remembers her first pet loss. “I was 5 years old when my dog Blackie died,’ she said. “I certainly experienced pain. I hated it.’

As a pet lover, Joiner wants to help others deal with a grief she says is minimized by the health community.

Depression resulting from the loss of a pet, especially among senior citizens, is common.

“Especially if the pet has been ill for a long time and an older person has cared for it,’ she said. “It takes a significant amount of caring and time. When they die, it leaves a hole in our life and heart.’

The physical responses to pet loss, said Joiner, include aches, pains and headaches, and a feeling of hollowness in the chest.

“Or perhaps nothing will seem real as you walk down the street,’ she said. “You might experience shallow breathing, muscle weakness.’

Behavioral changes may include sleep disorders and appetite loss, absent-mindedness and repeated sighing, she said.

The emotions you might feel are loneliness, anxiety, yearning, pining or a feeling of being stuck.

“There are also a couple of surprise ones,’ said Joiner. “Such as a feeling of freedom and relief, especially when an animal has been ill.’

Many of these problems stay with us, she said, because there are no ceremonies to commemorate pet death.

“With humans we have funerals, wakes, sitting shiva,’ she said. “But pet loss goes completely unrecognized as an event.’

What Joiner suggests to cope with pet loss is to create your own ceremony.

“To create a ritual around the loss of a beloved pet is a very healing thing to do,’ she said. “You can do it alone with a collar, a candle and a wishing of the best for the pet. Or if you have other pets you can have a little pet party, like a wake. You can will their dish to someone else.’

If it is a family pet, Joiner recommends the whole family be involved.

“It makes it real, and validates the normal grief reaction,’ she said.

The group is open to the public, and participants are welcome to attend as many sessions as needed.

“We are here for the animal lovers in our community,’ said Rosemary Schrepfer, Humane Society of Tucson membership coordinator. “Anyone in need of understanding and support in coping with the loss of a pet is encouraged to join us.’

More than 30 owners buried with pets in cemetery here

There are two horses buried at Tucson’s Petland Memorial Cemetery, as well as chickens, llamas, dogs, cats, ferrets and even rats.

Any creature a person considers his pet is welcome at Petland. And so is the owner.

“We have over 2,500 pets buried here, and over 30 people buried with their pets,’ said Debra Hill, Petland’s president.

Over the past 11 years, Hill has watched the demand for pet burial grow.

“Pet loss is more socially acceptable,’ she said. “Before, when you lost a pet, people used to say, `It’s just a pet; get another one.’ Now society is beginning to understand that losing a pet can be just as devastating as losing a human.’

To be buried at Petland, you must be either an animal or an owner of an animal buried at Petland, in which case, you can be buried with your pet.

Cremation is required for human burial at Petland, but there are no state regulations governing animal burial. Animals don’t have to be embalmed, said Hill, but they can be cremated.

Costs vary widely for pet burial.

“Basically, the larger the casket, the more it will cost,’ said Hill. “For a small pet burial, which includes the space, interment fee and casket, it can start at $400. It depends on what people pick for their pets.’

Caskets for a small pet start at $100 and go up. The least expensive casket is made of hard plastic. Private cremation begins at $75. Much of the cost depends on what kind of memorial marker, casket, flower vase and service people want, said Hill.

The pet’s grave is kept up by Petland, said Hill, “for eternity.’

Hill is the person who often performs the cemetery’s “committal ceremonies.’

“In other words, the same thing that happens at a human funeral service,’ she explained. “We do a eulogy, some poems and prayers relating to animals.’

Clergy are welcome to officiate at the pet’s service, she added.

Petland has a 24-hour service to remove dead pets from the home or the veterinarian’s clinic. “Whatever the family needs,’ said Hill.

The pet owner can personalize the memorial. “About 90 percent of the time, people write their own endearment,’ said Hill.

One person wrote “My Life-Saver’ on the memorial monument over his dog’s grave, she said. “He was an invalid who fell in a pool once and his dog barked until people came and saved him.’ This year, that man died and was buried next to his dog at Petland.

Hill knows of many people who bury their pets in their back yard. It’s not illegal, said Jody Burns, Pima Animal Control Center public services coordinator. “But common sense would tell you to bury it deep enough so predators don’t disturb it. Some can dig very deep – two to three feet even.’

The Humane Society of Tucson also cremates animals. The cost is $25 for cremation and disposal of the pet’s remains. It’s $65 if the ashes are returned to the owner, said an HST official.

Hill said that of all her client’s questions, “Will my pet go to heaven?’ is the one most often asked.

“I wish I had the answer,’ she said. “I believe they do, because how could God create such wonderful creatures and not have a place for them to go?’

- Charlotte Lowe

SUPPORT GROUP

* What: Pet loss support group.

* When: 6-7:30 p.m. on first Wednesday of every month.

* Where: Humane Society Community Relations Office, 3450 N. Kelvin Blvd.

* Information: 296-0098.

NOTE: BOX

It is possible to be a good Catholic and a practicing homosexual. So says one Catholic nun whose writings and talks on homosexuality have been investigated four times by the Vatican.

Sister Jeannine Gramick, a school sister of Notre Dame, was assigned to her gay and lesbian ministry nearly 20 years ago. Although she continues to be scrutinized by the Vatican, she continues her work with their knowledge and the approval of her religious congregation.

As part of her controversial educational work, Gramick, 53, will conduct a one-day workshop on lesbian/gay issues and religion Saturday at Our Mother of Sorrows Parish.

Joining Gramick will be Francis DeBernardo, program director of New Ways Ministry, a national group which promotes reconciliation between the lesbian/gay community and the Catholic Church.

In a telephone interview from her home in Mount Ranier, Md., Gramick said that after much soul-searching and talking to a priest, one could be a good Catholic in a committed homosexual relationship – “if it didn’t interfere with your God relationship.’

The Catholic Church’s stance on homosexuality, she said, is that one can be Catholic and homosexual, as long as one doesn’t act on the homosexuality.

“Like most mainline Christian churches,’ she explained, “they differentiate between sexual behavior and sexual orientation.’

While the Vatican does not condone homosexual behavior, Gramick said most Catholic theologians in the United States disagree with that position for gays or lesbians in committed relationships.

What one must do, said Gramick, is go through a seeking and self-questioning process.

“The Church has a certain position it maintains, and it asks you to take that position seriously and to make it your own,’ she explained. “But they want you to be clear in your faith and make your own moral decisions.

“If, after prayer, learning and considering the Church’s teachings, you take the view of other theologians who say that a homosexual commitment can be good, you could make a conscious decision to express your relationship.’

One wouldn’t confess the relationship as a sin, said Gramick, because it would not be in conflict with one’s relationship with God.

The workshop she and DeBernardo will present deal with Church teachings, Scripture, spirituality and pastoral outreach. There will be opportunities for questions, comments and interaction.

Gramick said she will focus on the broader teachings on homosexuality by the Catholic Church, which include sexual ethics, same-sex orientation, human and civil rights, prejudice, violence and discrimination against gay people, and outreach pastoral care needed in the Catholic church today.

The workshop is designed for Catholic clergy and laity, she said, including parents of homosexuals, homosexuals, people in social justice ministries, educators and social workers.

A gay/lesbian advocate since her ministry began in 1977, Gramick said she has never considered leaving the Catholic church because of its official teaching on homosexuality.

“The Church is my spiritual home and family,’ she said. “Just as in a biological family, you may disagree. But I would never turn my back on my family.

“I’ve seen many lesbians and gay people in my church become alienated. But the way to heal the wounds is not to walk away.’

IF YOU GO

* Who: Sister Jeannine Gramick and Francis DeBernardo, director of New Ways Ministry, a national Catholic group promoting reconciliation between the lesbian-gay community and the Catholic Church.

* What: “Building Bridges,’ a workshop on homosexual issues and the Catholic Church.

* When: 8:30 a.m.-3:30 p.m. Saturday.

* Where: Our Mother of Sorrows Parish, 1800 S. Kolb Road.

* Cost: In advance, $35; at the door, $45.

* Information: 747-1321.

NOTE:

Art news

* A “Border’s Workshop,’ concentrating on international art exchanges between Mexico and Tucson, will be held from 9 a.m. to noon April 27 at the Tucson/Pima Arts Council, 240 N. Stone Ave. There will be information on funding, border issues (crossing and documentation), insurance, festivals, creating a Pima County roster of artists and other concerns. Presenters will include artists, administrators, legal representatives and other border experts. Free and open to the public. Reservations are recommended because space is limited. Call Annabelle Nunez at T/PAC, 624-0595, ext. 14.

* A tour of public art, including downtown murals, outdoor sculpture and art treasures, will begin at 2 p.m. April 28 and will last two hours. Meet and park at the Arts Council, 240 N. Stone Ave., just off Council Street. David Hoyt Johnson, director of the Tucson/Pima Art Council’s Public Art Program, will guide the tour. Cost is $4 per person, $2 for children 12 years and younger. Pre-registration is required. Call 624-0595, ext. 21.

* A Spring Coffee for prospective Tucson Museum of Art docents will be held 9:30 to 11 a.m. April 26 at the Corbett House, 180 N. Main Ave. For more information call 624-2333.

* “The Human Form – Five Perspectives,’ featuring art works by Barry Zak , Evamaria Lugo , Lori Andersen , Mark Bondy and Jo Anderson, will be up through May 17 at Tucson/Pima Arts Council, 240 N. Stone Ave. Regular gallery hours are Monday through Friday, 8:30 a.m. to 5 p.m.

* At the University of Arizona art galleries: “Intimate Desire-Removed Control,’ an art exhibit featuring the work of student artists Ashley Towne, Lisa Bergh and Diane Stapleton, is on display at the UA Art Department Gallery in the Gross Gallery Building through May 15. Gallery hours are Monday through Friday, 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. and Sunday, 1 to 4 p.m.

“On Our Own Time,’ an exhibition of artworks by UA employees, will be on display in the Arizona Gallery in the Student Union Building through May 9. Hours are 8 a.m. to 10 p.m. through May 9.

“comiCAzine: A Comic Art Show,’ will be up at the Student Union Gallery through May 3. An opening reception will be held from 5 to 7 p.m. April 25. John Foier, owner of Captain Spiffy’s Superhero Emporium, will be on hand to answer questions concerning comic art.

- Charlotte Lowe

NOTE: COLUMN/2 ART WORKS

There are no people in William Christenberry’s Alabama. But the evidence of signage, houses, shacks, churches and warehouses says people have lived there.

We know them, in Christenberry’s art, by that which remains empty, falls into decay or is left behind.

Even the G.I. Joe dolls he dresses in satin Ku Klux Klansmen robes and pointy hoods expose a dark absence of humanity.

In a massive retrospective of painting, photography, sculpture, drawing and installation that spans more than 35 years, Christenberry shows us his home and a considerable amount of heart.

Curated by the University of Arizona Center for Creative Photography, “Restoration: The Art of William Christenberry,’ shows through June 30 at both the Center and the adjacent University of Arizona Museum of Art.

In it, Christenberry explores Alabama and in particular Hale County where his family moved in 1914.

He is an extraordinarily attentive artist in that he has kept to that topic for more than three decades, tracking it in abstract expressionist painting, found-object assemblages, color photography, drawing, wood and fiber sculpture and installations.

Christenberry approaches all of these mediums as if retelling a story to himself.

A small snapshot of a rural mom ‘n’ pop store will be subject matter again in one of Christenberry’s constructions, or “versions,’ as he calls them.

Hand-painted and pared down to its most evocative details, it sits like an unfurnished doll house on a bare patch of red Alabama dirt.

Christenberry’s work is also about change. He lives in Washington D.C., but annually makes a trip back to Alabama. On the way he re-looks at, and photographs, the buildings that have sagged or been overgrown with hairy kudzu. In peeling boards and revealed joists he may see a sculpture, to be completed a year or so later.

In 10 more years that sculpture may evolve into an ink drawing – direct and dramatic and even more minimal.

Rusting signs, license plates, all manner of found objects are incorporated into this study Christenberry has made of the South.

Sometimes he cuts them up and turns them into abstract expressionistic constructions. Or they are fondly displayed as found object art. A row of large tin Coca Cola bottles, each weathered differently, attest to his painter’s eye. Christenberry loves texture and subtle gradations of color.

In this body of work Christenberry proves himself a poet who works with his hands. His pictures contain the murmur of words – lost ways of saying things.

The photographs, constructions, and “versions’ all share a quiet, contemplative mood. In his “Dream Buildings’ and “The Klan Room’ we are angled into confrontation.

The Klan Room is a work of conscience, telling secrets that need to be told.

In the darkened room we see walls covered with Klan images. On the south wall a watery blood-red is the backdrop for pale figures of Klansmen. Textbook illustrations of rifles, handguns and targets frame the drawn and painted figures.

Other walls are filled with framed blocks of drawings of Klansmen, head and full bodies, studies seeking some final resolution. The north wall is given over to larger pieces in red, white and blue blocks of color creating a united flag of Klansmen.

Tableaus of Klan dolls, cordoned-off but filling most of the floor space of the room, conjure up images of pointed-capped wizards, circling witches and malevolent puppets.

They are mythical in their satin robes and hoods, riding their horses and caught mid-gesture whirling in a shadowy tower. We imagine where they are going, what they will do in the night.

The violently racist secret Klan society is here reduced to Fantasia-like toys come alive.

“The Dream Buildings,’ an ongoing series, came out of the dreams that invaded Christenberry’s sleep after 64 Klan Room dolls were stolen from his studio in 1979.

The peaked buildings, reminiscent of Klansmen’s hoods, have no open doors or windows. They are houses with secrets, sealed shut.

Christenberry shares his nightmares with us. They become ours.

For Christenberry, art is a way to touch and reconsider his roots. Both tactile and literary, this is art that stands back, moves close, remembers and tries never to forget.

ART WORKS

William Christenberry’s “House and Car, near Akron, AL, 1978′

“Dream Building I, 1979′