Annie O.jpg

Annie Olson

"Artist Musings"

Come into my shell with me! My "Artist Musings" will give you an insight into my inner workings and why I create these faux shells and other works of art.

Updated: May 4

Two days ago I went to see a doctor. Nothing unusual about that. I first went to him a few months ago because my thyroid numbers were off and I started taking a small tablet every day. Still nothing unusual. Except at our first meeting, I must have said something that clued him in. Clued him that my way of seeing was unusual. I don’t recall mentioning much. Except growing up here and my first marriage to an Alaskan Native. Sharing that living in Alaska helped a lot to alter my way of seeing.


Well, this recent appointment was enlightening for both of us.



After the medical concerns attended to, I asked him where he grew up. He said Holland. Then asked where I went to school here. He’d somehow remembered I was from here. Then he asks me. “Do you recall Fred Bertch? He was my grandfather.” Yes, he was my math teacher. What a pleasant surprise.


Now before this, I’d brought with me a shell to give him. And I also had brought an Altoid tin with my clay in it. I planned to show him how I made the shells. Finding myself sharing about Unity in Diversity. My doctor caught on right away. We both knew his grandfather would love these shells and the wisdom they could teach.



With everything so dis-unified here in America, we agreed how much people need to grasp seeing this concept of unity in diversity taught through art.


Then he said to me, “What you’re teaching with this clay, making these shells to express this idea, it needs to be known nationally.


I’ve heard this before. I remember Virginia Ferris, a close friend, saying something similar. “You’re famous, but people just don’t know that!” Something I’ve known for a long time. So their words are heard by a prepared psyche.



Myself in that same yearbook, 1960

It was as if the words we spoke were directed. In such a way, that we were actually the ones hearing ourselves. Our inner selves revealing themselves.


The veil between the physical and spiritual is so thin sometimes. For a few minutes this veil was lifted.


I told him I’d write this for my website. I told him I wouldn’t use his name. But he said, no. Use my name if you want. He so realized as I do right now as I write this, the need to say it.


These shells I form are so ready to teach whoever will listen. The Great Mystery has designed our world in a special way. Diverse ways meant to come together in order to find solutions. By uniting in such a way, that their diversity stays intact.


I know this probably doesn’t make much sense. Things like this are next to impossible to

express with words. Maybe as it should be. But I’ll close with this thought.


Take notice of conversations you have with others. Aware that once in while the veil will lift like a mist. For a brief time. And leave you too in this place. How am I to write this in words?


Pink Eagle (Annie Olson)

Updated: May 4


This morning my husband Phil showed me an email/Facebook message he’d gotten from Kevin Isgor-Locke. Kevin is an American Indian Baha’i from South Dakota. If you are wanting to know about him, the web has lots of links for you to explore on your own.


This is what Kevin posted.


"King wrote in his 1963 book “Why We Can’t Wait” which outlined the historic injustices inflicted on Native People: “Our nation was born in genocide when it embraced the doctrine that the original American, the Indian, was an inferior race. Even before there were large numbers of negroes on our shores, the scar of racial hatred had already disfigured colonial society. From the sixteenth century forward, blood flowed in battles of racial supremacy. We are perhaps the only nation which tried as a matter of national policy to wipe out its Indigenous population. Moreover, we elevated that tragic experience into a noble crusade. Indeed, even today we have not permitted ourselves to reject or feel remorse for this shameful episode. Our literature, our films, our drama, our folklore all exalt it.”

You will find this same quote in the autobiography Marlon Brando wrote before he died in 2004.


On March 15, 1972 I attended The Godfather Premiere in Marlon Brando’s place. It’s well known he refused the Oscar in March of 1973, having Sacheen Littlefeather refuse this award in his place.


Marlin Luther King Jr. got it. Marlon got it! I get it! Why is it so hard for our nation to get it?!



The True Original Sin that our nation is built upon is what we did in order to get the very Land we’ve America upon and with.


My closest confidant was Doris Rucks. The contrast between her dark brown skin and my light tan skin was evident. But what you couldn’t see was our unity of knowing. Knowing that our nation was built on these twin pillars. We need both, in order to go forward in seeking solutions.


So on this day of remembrance, let us ponder why this is so seldom brought up.


Pink Eagle (Annie Olson)

January 18, 2021












Updated: May 4

“Satire should, like a polished razor keen, wound with a touch that’s scarcely felt or seen.”

- Lady Mary W. Montagu


This morning I was cleaning up the kitchen after last nights Pho soup supper. As is my routine, I had rinsed off much of the remains in order to make my future job of washing the dishes by hand easier. Allowing the warm water to cleanse the dishes and my spirit at the same time.


After a breakfast of leftovers Phil put on CNN. This being Saturday morning, Smerconish was on. I could hear the words he spoke. I don’t recall what triggered this Awareness to surface. But it did! So I quickly wrote it down.


I’m just now rereading what I wrote. It was about restraint. Restraining ourselves.


This is what I scribbled down.


“To restrain yourself carrying a sign when you ache to do something physical, you are whispering. Going into the Capitol-you were shouting-when a person shouts-people cover their ears/their eyes-can’t see/hear but when you whisper-people strain to hear/see. Satire is whispering.”

A thought I scribbled on a pizza box years ago


I have been aware of this for a long, long time.





This is what Monty Roberts was doing with horses. Whispering to horses to gentle them, instead of breaking them.


His book on whispering to horses came out in 1996. Five years later he wrote on How to whisper to people. Using the same means.


Paul McCartney wrote Let It Be a long time ago. Mary whispers words of wisdom. She doesn’t shout. He got it.I got it. Lots of us have gotten it.


When Will Rogers was on stage doing his tricks with his rope, he found himself whispering words of wisdom. First for himself, and then for the ones watching, listening. That first time, when it happened, he was surprised. It was as if the positive vibes of the audience allowed hidden wisdom to come out of the shell of his soul for he and them the hear at the same time.



Although Will was killed in a plane crash in 1935, and I born the end of 1943, I found him to be a very special person. I grew up loving him! His words of wisdom, even as a child, comforted this shy, skinny Dutch/German girl. Here in Holland, Michigan. The very city Betsy Prince DeVos grew up in. Her grandfather, Mr. Zweip owned the garden store I loved. Because he sold baby turtles, chicks, bunnies and all sorts of aquarium fish. He sold bits of Nature that whispered peace to my spirit.


So it isn’t strange at all for me to follow in these footsteps. I hope these words whisper a bit of the wisdom

I’ve found coming through me.


Martin Luther King Jr. grasped what Gandhi was aware of.


That non violent protest is all about whispering Truth to Power.


Pink Eagle (Annie Olson)

January 9, 2021