Sunday, October 11, 2015

Mallory's Milieu

Follow Ted's board Mallory's Milieu on Pinterest. Visit this Pinterest Board of my artwork, designs, & photography. Leave your comments. If you see something you like, make me an offer. If you need some work done, hire me to freelance for you. Thanks.

Saturday, August 23, 2014

What's Happening on my NEW Blog

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

Redirect; Visit us at our new location!

I'm not abandoning this blog (this conglomeration of blogs really), but I've been wanting to streamline &/or consolidate all of them for a while now, so I've started something new:

Please follow the link and take a look. I'm hoping to revitalize my blogging by making doing it more consistently and having each post be more brief and focused. I hope you'll like it and follow me at the new single blog site. Thanks. See you there.

Sunday, May 04, 2014

Stupid Raven

I know that my Redeemer lives
Be that as it may,
There's still this
Black bird
Rapping on my chamber door
Incessantly reminding me
Of my loss

Grief is like an earthquake
At least mine has been
I knew it was likely to come
I thoughti'd prepared
Yet when it arrived I was still 
Shocked & overwhelmed

What's worse
Are the aftershocks
Never knowing when they'll come
Or how frequently
Or how hard each will be
Or how long they'll each last

I know you're better off
And in our Savior's arms
But you're not in my arms anymore
And I'm not in yours

I'm supposed to beon your shoulders 
In the sun
Or slung over your shoulder
Asleep, too tired& too young
Depending on your stamina and strength land patience

But this fucking raven keeps visiting me
In my chamber
"No more, never more!"
Shut up

Stupid bird
Stupid melancholy
Stupid pain

Let me go

Rain, rain, go away
Comeback again some other day
Maybe someday when it's easier to ignore you,
Work through you
See past you

Today, you're all I know

Saturday, May 03, 2014


I can't help thinking
What a kick
My grandmother
Would get
Out of
The pair of cardinals
In our young mock pair tree
Outside our kitchen window

Is this a poem,
Just an observation,
Or a tweet?

Wednesday, April 30, 2014

Make Art That Hurts

I've been reading about the German Expressionist painters recently since I'm teaching my Eighth grade class about it. To see a slideshow visit

Ernst Kirchner in particular interested me. Much of his early work looks like Matisse's. But Matisse believed that every painting needs to be joyful and comfortable for viewers. After Kirchner suffered a breakdown as a soldier wounded in WWI, his works came to reflect his deep suffering. Kirchner wasn't necessarily fishing for sympathy, but his paintings certainly invoke emotions and provoke reaction.

Norwegian master Edvard Munch is know for deliberately making his viewers part of his paintings like audience participants standing in a stage play. His viewers are usually discovering intimate scenes that in real life they'd probably not be intended to see. This strategy of Munch's doesn't merely express his feelings, it effectively shares experiences.

Notifying friends of a trauma may solicit sympathy, but sharing an artwork you created or a poem you wrote in response to your trauma can in very real ways shae or replicate your experience thereby eliciting empathy.

Art (not just painting, drawing or sculpting, but writing too) is not only therapeutic for the one creating it, but can be cathartic for the viewer too. In that way it builds connections between people and helps students develop empathy.

Wednesday, April 23, 2014

Hardest thing I ever had to write

Merle C. Mallory, age 83 of Phoenix passed away Sunday, March 30, 2014 peacefully, surrounded by his family.

A loving husband, father and grandfather, Merle is survived by his wife of more than 50 years, Sharleen Mallory and his two sons and their families; Bart and Debbie Mallory of Surprise, AZ and their children Daniel and Emma; and Ted and Bethany Mallory of Charter Oak, IA and their children, Grace, Ellen, and Annamarie. And by  two sisters; Marlene Smith of Ann Arbor, MI and Mildred Dean of Whitmore Lake, MI,

Born February 8, 1931 in Petoskey, Michigan to Clifton Frank and Hilda Gay Mallory. He attended high school in Belleville, Michigan, where his family had moved during WWII. Merle enjoyed working for a local farmer after school.

On December 5, 1950 he went to work for American Airlines. He enlisted in the United States Marine Corps in 1951. He was stationed on the aircraft carrier U.S.S. Bennington where he was part of the Air Reconnaissance Squadron VMC-2. He achieved the rank of Sergeant as crew chief for planes patrolling the Caribbean for Soviet activity.

Upon discharge in 1953, he resumed his employment at American Airlines, a job he would continue another 45 years, working at the Detroit Metro and then Phoenix Sky Harbor Airports. While working in Detroit, he met his future wife Sharleen M. Reilly, whom he married at Angelica Lutheran Church in Allen Park Michigan on April 20, 1963.

Merle attended adult instruction classes at Angelica where he was both baptized into the Christian faith and Confirmed as a member of the Lutheran church on the same day,  May 10, 1964.

The couple moved to Phoenix, Arizona in 1968 where they would raise their two sons and become members at Christ Church Lutheran, where he attended Bible studies, often served as an usher and volunteered. Merle retired from American Airlines in 1997 and enjoyed traveling with his wife, bowling, playing cards and dominoes, and doting on his grandchildren. Merle never missed watching an Arizona Diamondbacks game on TV.

Visitation will be from 5:00-8:00 PM Thursday, April 3, 2014 at Hansen Chapel, 8314 N. 7th Street, Phoenix, AZ 85020. Memorial service will be at 6:30 PM Friday, April 4, 2014 at Christ Church Lutheran, 3901 E Indian School Rd., Phoenix, AZ 85018. Interment will be at the National Memorial Cemetery of Arizona. In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to Christ Church Lutheran Scholarship Fund.

Other Posts & Poems about Dad and/or grief
Great way to remember both of these; P51 was one if Dad's favorite planes and Psalm 51 was his favorite psalm. #P51 #PS51 #Psalm51

Written on a plane on the inside jacket of a paperback on the way home

no words

no images

 works well enough
there's not even
 much comfort
 in the familiar
cold comfort
 when there is



 sleep is
  no escape
when what little sleep
   actually comes

better to just
 keep moving
trudging on

what else is there to do?
what else is there?
what else?

Sunday, January 05, 2014

On the coldest night of the year

Your window rattled
the storm window being blown between the frame and the real window

but mine did not

The pages shuffled as I turned them in my book

but yours did not

The wind chime outside our neighbors back door made a little noise

but the owl in our tree, that most nights hoots and hoots

did not

Every once in a while there's a deep hollow thump from some duct in the basement, or maybe it's the fuel barrel becoming more empty. 

But the dogs from over a block and up the street haven't made a sound. 

Once in a while I notice your breathing calmly and evenly. 

And there's that wind chime again.

Saturday, December 28, 2013

Over the Hill

You always told me to be careful on the downhill
it was easier to loose your footing and slip, you said

take your time
take it easy
enjoy the view
don't be in such a hurry
its not a race

On the way up it was harder and slower
but I thought I was so strong and so tough

It made me proud
each step of the climb
I was accomplishing something

and I felt confident and safe, with you on ahead

but I was impatient
I couldn't wait to get to the top
I wanted to get to see what you could see

but when we peaked
you kept on walking
no time to stop and bask at the zenith

I lost sight of you for a minute
you below the crest on the downward slope,
me on the upward, still climbing, catching up and catching my breath

instead of seeing the dirt and rocks
and my own knees and boots,
I can see the panorama just like you promised
but I can also see you on ahead
descending descending
up where I can't be yet
but where I know I have to go

I can't enjoy the big picture
because I want to keep my eyes on you
and not lose you again
and because I see all the chasms and cliffs and crags
around you, behind you, beyond you
and right in front of you
things neither of us could see on the way up.

On the way up, I wanted to stop and rest because it was such a strain
now I want to stop and wait
because this feeling is so weak and worn and vulnerable
exhausted after so much strain on the way up,
but now we need our strength even more
we need our balance and agility more
so that we won't stumble and plummet to the bottom before we can reach it gently
but there's no stopping gravity and momentum
and time

I can see you far ahead
too far ahead
I want you up here by my side
I liked it better when you were here to catch me and to steady me
and to encourage me to keep going
to assure me that I could do this

I'd rather still be walking with you
but I can't just gallop and catch up to you
even though I want to be there to catch you and steady you

I wish you'd just stop and wait while I gradually catch up with you
but I'm scared to travel where you are

Downhill is definitely faster than uphill
but I'm not sure its as fun
the trail seems to keep slipping out from under me.

I know that the pastures and waters you're headed for offer rest and reward
but between this mountainside and there seems so hard
and while the vista seems clear, twilight is falling
and I'm losing sight of you

Just promise you'll be there waiting at home
once I finally catch up

Friday, December 27, 2013

A poem about tact and allegories

Plant implicitly
to grow intrinsic

explicitly sown
is extrinsically grown

Nourish coach and encourage
and there may or may not be a harvest, but if there is, once there is, the roots will be deep and the fruit will be tender.

Coerce, control and command
you may get something quick
but it will be bitter
and you won't get much for long

Which is worth more?
The golden egg, or the goose?

After all, you're not God
You know we're just plough boys.

Thursday, October 17, 2013

The Artist's Statement Project; Part 2

This kind of Artist statement represents a collection of artworks, rather than just one. Seniors and Independent-Study Art students should do this if they are preparing a portfolio to submit to art colleges or university Art departments.

People who like an artist’s work generally want to know more about the artist. Artist statements are effective marketing tools. It helps make a connection between the artist and their audience. In putting your art into words you might also find that some of your ideas which didn’t entirely make sense to you become more concrete. Your writing might even open new paths in your thinking and take you in new artistic directions.

This definitely worked for me.

Artist’s Statement for a Body of Work
CIVICS; Faces in History

When I began teaching 8th grade Civics in 2011, I wanted to decorate my classroom in a way that would be patriotic and engaging. I also wanted to reassure students that it was okay that an Art teacher was teaching a Social Studies class (I have a double-major in K-12 Art and 7-12 Social Studies). Over the last two decades of teaching, I’ve frequently drawn on presidents and other historic figures for drawings and paintings. I simply gathered them up and hung them up. That first year I even had students try to name as many of the people featured in the paintings on a worksheet for extra credit!
Benjamin Franklin has an amazing line in the Broadway musical 1776. John Adams, fighting to keep a statement opposing slavery from being removed from a draft of the Declaration of Independence warns Franklin that if they don’t address issue of slavery from the onset, posterity will never forgive them. In an effort to get Adams to compromise with delegates from the South, Franklin tells him, “That's probably true, but we won't hear a thing, we'll be long gone. Besides, what would posterity think we were? Demi-gods? We're men, no more no less, trying to get a nation started against greater odds than a more generous God would have allowed.”
A basic premise of democracy is that leaders are servants of the people who elect them. The promise of America has always been that any kid could grow up to be President. What fascinates me about great men as a Civics teacher, as an artist, and as a citizen, is that they’re just men. Perhaps of great ability, power and experience, but never the less just men. Full of faults, imperfections, vulnerabilities and personalities. My hope is always to portray the faces of Presidents and protest leaders as human faces. Faces that could be your cousin or uncle or neighbor or friend. I hope whether its Truman or Gandhi or Lincoln, that viewers can see that there is a real person behind the face.

The Two Cowboys Two paintings which I tend to hang next to each other are an 8”x 8” oil on panel of Arizona Republican Senator Barry Goldwater and a 14”x18” gouache on canvas of Texas Democrat, President Lyndon Johnson. The paintings contrast each other not only in size and format but also in mood and style. Goldwater is more detailed and has more angles. He’s also more comfortable and confident. Whereas Johnson has more swooping curves and seems almost unfinished. Meanwhile his face seems more weary and jaded. These two paintings in many ways reflect many of the differences and tensions in our country.

BULLY! One of my all time favorite works is a 9”x12” tempera on matte board, monochromatic, orange,  impressionistic interpretation of Progressive/Republican President Teddy Roosevelt. This was painted quickly based on a photograph of the president laughing heartily. I think it captures the exuberant personality that Roosevelt was known for. Since we share a first name, I’ve always had a special affinity to him and with this painting.

KING This acrylic on paper in teals and black started a long relationship for me with Martin Luther King. I’ve always been an admirer of the activist and have tried several times over the years to paint him. Two or three oil pastel paintings haven’t made me as happy as this earlier work. A couple of years ago, I managed a larger, more detailed and developed piece which I gave as a wedding present to a friend who lives in Washington D.C. This early painting is more close-up, more intimate and probably better reveals the worry, sacrifice, deep intelligence and seriousness of his cause. Like the Teddy Roosevelt painting, this is one that has become an old friend. I think I’d like to have it hanging in whatever office, studio or classroom I occupy as long as I’m teaching, writing or painting.

I never realized that I even had a style of my own until I hung several of my paintings together on the wall of my Art classroom this Fall. Looking at nineteen years of paintings I’d done with classes or as examples for classes, it finally manifest itself to me. It may may just be my own Attention Deficit Disorder, messiness or stubbornness- but my work seems to be very passionate, expressive and maybe just a little rough-hewn. I’d like to think that  I’m a shaggy lummox like a bison or a bear. Unkempt yet majestic. Simultaneously humble yet proud. Inglorious with dignity. In other words, quintessentially American.
Art History students and aficionados can probably recognize the influence of the neoexpressionism of the 1970’s and 80’s. I’m not sure if this is because that was the era in which I grew up or if its because of the strong German expressionist influence on my professors at Concordia College in Seward, Nebraska.
If I had to name my favorite painters, I’d probably rattle off names of pop artists like Wayne Thiebaud and Jasper Johns; the venerable regionalist Grant Wood, and Native American master John Nieto. But my work doesn’t really seem to look like any of theirs. Frankly I think my paintings remind me more of Jules Feiffer, Johnny Hart and Bill Mauldin. That’s probably because from ages 12-38 it was my dream to someday make it as a professional cartoonist.
Years ago a student told me that I teach History classes like their Art classes and my Art classes like they were Social Studies. So maybe I get my wired crossed a lot because I can definitely see how my cartoons are influenced by Grant Wood and Wayne Thiebaud and my paintings are more like Bill Mauldin or maybe even Charles Schultz or Matt Groening.

Students who watch me painting often say something like “how do you DO that?!!”
Inevitably the teacher in me wants to either painstakingly explain to them the process of observing, analyzing, comparing and contrasting visual-spatial placement and proportions and then recording those observations and analysis. But I  know it would bore them to death.
That same teacher in me also wants to point out every single flaw in my painting, hypercritically explaining how their awe is misplaced because of how weak my technique is or how inaccurate the features are compared to the photograph I’m using. But I hate to devalue their experience, even if I don’t think I deserve whatever admiration they’ve just given me.
So I encourage them by offering that “you can do it too, you just have to keep practicing and listen to what I try to teach you,” yet not bother revealing all of my magician’s secrets.
Ultimately it is a sort of alchemy. Certainly there’s the trained artist’s way of perceiving and translating those perceptions into visual language, but there’s also a great deal of responding to and expressing about the subject matter. What they mean to me and how I feel about them. What I admire or disdain.
Too be sure, its not just about the artist and the subject. The painting itself makes its own decisions too, just like our children do. Or in this case maybe a better analogy would be to say that sometimes politicians break party-ranks and vote their own conscience (something I admire about Teddy Roosevelt).
Finally, you the viewer, bring your own experience to every painting too. Eighth graders who have no idea who Goldwater, Johnson or Roosevelt were often have vastly different reactions to my paintings than adults.
So there are four of us collaborating on each painting; artist, subject, painting, and viewer- each lobbying for our own interests. Hopefully we all make compromise and meet somewhere other than where our preconceptions would’ve taken us alone. That’s in the nature of democracy too, isn’t it? Together, whether in tension or harmony, we’re something very different than any of us would be left to our own devices. E Pluribus Unum, from many- one. Long may it be so.