Earlier today I read an article in the NYTimes business section. That's odd enough because I almost never read the business section, but there was an article about Wikipedia above the fold so I took a look. Below the fold, there was an article about Kickstarter.com and I was fascinated. I emailled them and was utterly gobsmacked when they responded positively. As of 3pm this afternoon, I have a project entitled "Breathing Room" on their site.
I already have 4 patrons helping me towards my goal- I was so overcome with gratitude that I burst into tears when that first pledge arrived. I have 59 more days to reach my goal- $4500 to give me some breathing room to be able to make art and promote my work.
All too often, I succumb to feeling isolated and totally on my own. I need to be reminded that that is just F(alse) E(vidence) A(ppearing) R(eal)
To quote one of my favorite movies-
"No (wo)man is a failure who has friends...
Atta boy, Clarence."
(And thank you Mark, for your support and reminding me to write about this miracle.)
I wandered into my kitchen just now and smelled lovage (Levisticum officinale.) This took me aback since I have no lovage in my kitchen nor its cousins celery and cilantro. I used to grow lovage in my herb garden and loved to use it in salads and salsas- wherever a recipe called for cilantro. Cilantro is infamous for bolting (going to seed and becoming bitter) about 10 minutes after it starts to grow its first true leaves so I never bothered to grow it. Lovage, on the other hand has much better manners and comes back for at least 4 years, getting shrubbier and shrubbier, before it needs to be replaced, so I could snip leaves all summer.
But I digress... maybe the kitchen across the alley is cooking with cilantro and my melancholy mind threw me back to what I would recognize.
Perhaps one day I will again be snipping lovage from my own herb garden.
I was sorting through some clippings I had accumulated and found this one. It looks like one of my Word Project creatures but it really exists. The long-beaked echidna (genus Zaglossus) is a monotreme; it lays eggs- into a pouch where the eggs hatch- but feeds its young (young echidnas are called 'puggles') with milk. The milk, which is pink, seeps from openings in the female's chest. Grown echidnas eat ants and termites. They are native to Australia and New Guinea along with the only other monotremes - the short-beaked echidna and the duck-billed platypus.
This particular critter is Zaglossus attenboroughi.
Below is a picture of David Attenborough. Myself, I don't see the resemblance...
The Saugerties Artists Studio Tour was the weekend of the 8th&9th and I realized I hadn't written about it. Since losing my studio last year, I have relied on the generosity of others to have a Saugerties venue in which to show my work. I am also grateful to the members of the Tour who allow me to continue to be part of the group. The fact that I do the website, poster, postcard and this year's tee-shirt design may have something to do with it too... no, they really are a good group of people, the kindness of some of them shames and astounds me.
Anyway, over the weekend I came to somewhat regret not leaving the area altogether to start again somewhere else. I find the endless questions about where I am living now, how do I like it (I don't,) it must be nice there (it isn't,) surely I will be able to move back to the country soon (I won't unless I win the lottery or you all buy my art...) I just stand there with a gritted smile on my face but as Anne Morrow Lindbergh said, "insincerity is exhausting."
I sold some small pieces. I debated whether or not to bring small works but in the end my fears got the better of me and I did bring the set of postcard-sized pieces I brought back from the show down in the city.
Do I sound ungrateful? Perhaps I am a bit. I am tired of being grateful for scraps. Sometimes I think this is a big lesson in humility; sometimes I think I didn't need this big a lesson; perhaps this is a lesson in provoking me to get off my sorry butt and take my work down to the big city...
It is terribly hot and humid here nd the "a" is sticking on my keyboard, perhaps it is time to close.
