ArtWordsTea

Spring, 2011

2011-05-11T05:24:00.000-07:00

When I was growing up in a small town in the northeast corner of Ohio, every spring was welcomed with a miracle. The forest floor in the municipal forest erupted in a glory of wildflowers. Much of the forest is floodplain, beech and sycamore predominate, on higher ground large stands of conifers. The wildflower carpet was composed largely of Virginia Bluebells (Mertensia virginica) with Trilliums (T. grandiflorum, erectum, cuneatum and a few others,) Hepaticas, Spring Beauties (Claytonia virginica,) Marsh Marigolds (Caltha palustris,) and other ephemerals. I first learned to love native flora there and have carried the memory of that landscape in my heart and mind's eyes ever since.

I got an email from an old friend who has moved back to our hometown to care for aging parents. She is involved in a fund-raising art auction to support the forest. I was immediately thrown back to the sensations of wandering the paths through that explosion of color and abundance. A balm for a flagging, apartment-bound spirit.

Here is the piece I did to contribute to the effort to keep the forest safe- a small bit of debt-repayment to the earth. (Trillium grandiflorum, ©PMLaw/MMXI)

From Ulster County to Kings County

2011-04-25T19:28:00.000-07:00

From 1984 till 1991 I lived in the Carroll Gardens neighborhood of Brooklyn. I used to walk to the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens, my path taking me across the bridge over the Gowanus Canal. Now, my odd, bricolage paper-dolls and I are going back to my old stomping-grounds. I am one of twelve artists from Ulster County to participate in a show at the Brooklyn Artists Gym, opening May 14th and running for 2 weeks.
I was utterly stunned when I was asked to part of this group- in the company of some of the best artists in the area, people whose work I have come to admire and their friendship to cherish.

One of my works chosen for the exhibit: "Greenwoman"

Blindsided

2011-04-02T15:38:00.000-07:00

I know I have no control over my emotions but sometimes I am just blindsided by them. For a weekend at the beginning of March and now this weekend, I am taking part in a professional development workshop run by NYFA (New York Foundation for the Arts.) It is for visual artists who need a jumpstart in their careers- as I certainly do. Today's program is over and I am here just feeling like I want to cry. Nothing happened today that was emotionally fraught- as far as I can recall. We considered web sites and social networking- topics I deal with often as a web-designer and networker for my various projects. Yet...

Maybe it is just the immensity of the vision/project before me: to be able to once again live in my own house with room to work, dark skies at night, quiet except for natural sounds, land for gardening, time to be an artist. Oh and be able to sustain it. How am I ever going to achieve that? I know that the lesson from the loss of my home/studio/garden is that it takes more than wishful thinking- or delusions- to have that life but I just see this incredibly long road ahead of me and I am bone-weary already after only 3 years. Today I saw how much more I should be doing.

All I can do is just keep putting one foot in front of the other.

The Word Project Steps Out

2011-03-26T18:18:00.000-07:00

I am so excited- my book, "The Word Project: Odd & Obscure Words- Illustrated" has been featured on the blog: Brain Pickings! I am so chuffed about it that I am having a cup of tea (decaf Earl Grey) and some toast (Rye.) Some folks just know how to live.

Bundle Boy

2011-03-21T07:53:00.000-07:00


Bundle Boy (1995-2011)

My dear old boy, Bundle, died this morning at 2:20. He was a good cat and I will miss him. When I lost the house, etc. I had to have his 2 fellow cats, Pixel and Twyla, put down. They were both old and had a myriad of problems and the upheaval of the move was very hard on them. So my dear boy was the only cat who came with me and helped sustain me during the past 3 and a half years I have lived here. He helped keep my heart open when all I wanted to do was shut down.
He was a good boy and struggled mightily against the ravages of time. As much as I will miss him I am glad he no longer has to struggle so.

Flickers

2011-02-26T14:56:00.000-08:00

In an earlier post, I wrote about having lost the desire to nest in the rental I which am currently living. I keep it livable but I haven't wanted to decorate or improve it. Chalk it up to having been deracinated almost 3 years ago...

But, it is never too late. I have been feeling flickers of desire for things- creature comforts, the self-expression of decorating, the semiotics of a home. I have been experiencing visions, day-dreams, reveries of a home for me. I can see it in my heart's and mind's eye- the colors, materials and surfaces in my kitchen-to-be; the fabrics and textures and lighting of my future bedroom. I can picture myself painting the walls- a beautiful wax-bean yellow/green, installing the cork tiles on the floors, hanging the old light fixture rescued from dust and grime and restored without losing its begruntled charm. I can see my furniture placed just so along with pieces added as they come. I can see the home evolving in its style that I have come to call "Mahoning," meaning to me: rust-belt/rural. Midwest Wabi-Sabi.
Have I suddenly come into the money to accomplish this vision- no, not by a long-shot. But to me this awakening of desire is a miracle. I have started collecting information on materials, processes, making sketches. I will start keeping them in a folder and I will create an icon for this vision and hang it on my vision-tree in the place of the little book icon I had made to represent my vision of my Word Project book- a vision that has miraculously been accomplished.

It must be an intimation of Spring...

Teeny Weenies

2010-12-14T12:57:00.000-08:00

When I was a child- back when the arrival of the Sunday edition of the Youngstown Vindicator was a big deal- the first part of that thick bundle (you can tell how long ago that was- newspapers were thick bundles) that I went to was the funny pages. The first part of the funny pages I went to was the "Teeny-Weenies." I have written about them before but to recap- the TW's were a race of minuscule people who lived in our world but in the corners and hidden beneath violet leaves. Each week was the story of some TW travail or holiday depicted in a single, large, beautifully-drawn panel. One week the TW's may be doing battle with towering rats who threatened their grain stores, another week it would be a TW outing on boats made from milkweed husks. The TWs were from all races and cultures.
Also each week there would be a single TW that I could cut out of the paper, paste onto a piece of shirt cardboard and trim. The art came with the flanges that could be bent back so the figure could stand on its own. I had a collection of them that I could use to enact my own TW scenarios.

That collection was long ago discarded but I have been drawing again on that inspiration for a series of small pieces. I have conflated them with my "heart-box" motif and my love of the natural world. I use the same basic template, which is a constraint that I enjoy working within.
Where they greatly differ, however, is in their basic demeanor. The original Teeny-Weenies were, as appropriate to the times, sort of can-do, go-getting, optimistic types- no obstacle could stand in their way for long, soon to be overcome with the united efforts of the population. My Teeny-Weenies, are more reserved and cautious, often looking askance at the viewer, sometimes not engaging the viewer at all. Whether they reflect the times or just my own reserve is something to ponder.

Not Yet

2010-12-03T10:17:00.000-08:00

Sorry, I'm not nesting yet. I am in the midst of preparing for an open studio so that also means cleaning the parts of my apartment that cannot be blocked off from view. I look around in dismay at the pretty much total lack of nesting even after 2 years of living here.
I moved from a place that I had invested much time and energy into making a nest for myself- colorful, quirky, cozy and warm. Okay- and stuffed to the rafters with charming stuff. But I was not able to financially sustain it, I lost the house, the garden, the studio and about 95% of my belongings. So, now I am in an apartment in an urban setting with a few shabby rooms and a workroom and a bunch of boxes of books still packed- no bookshelves; a few boxes of decorative items that I managed to bring with me- still packed; and a few sticks of furniture. I did a bit of painting when I first moved in and tried to set it up in a comfortable manner but then I ran out of steam. I have been puzzled by my lack of desire to fix the place up.
I was speaking with a wonderful and insightful friend last evening and she said something that illuminated my anhedonia for me. I had mentioned that I had done almost nothing to improve the apartment since I moved in and she had last seen it. She said she wasn't surprised. Well, I was surprised by her response. She explained that she had two other friends who had also lost everything in the past few years- through house fires- and neither of them showed any desire to nest again either.
My desire to acquire anything beyond necessities for the apartment is low to non-existent, my desire to even browse is low. I used to be an agreeable browser- I could browse flea-markets or shops with no impulse or compulsion to buy, just filling my eyes with visual candy was enough, thank you. I used to love to read shelter magazines- especially UK Country Living. Not now. I picked up a copy recently to see if that would spark something- decorating porn to revive a dormant home-libido. Nah, nada, zip, zero, zilch.
Now I recognize that my thought process is: why buy things or invest in a place that may be gone in the wink of an eye? Why potentially put myself through all that again? I have moved on but only enough to get just out of sight of the past. I have stopped and am stuck around the corner from the disaster, unable though to keep walking forward. But my life is not all stagnation and resignation. I have moved forward in other, less material aspects of my life- and for that I am very grateful.
So, perhaps there is a glimmer of hope on the horizon; perhaps that will be enough to get me to move my feet a few inches away from this stuck corner; perhaps I will start to dream again- perhaps of a garden, perhaps of a kitchen...

A Day in the Big City

2010-11-09T16:06:00.000-08:00

I treated myself to a short day in NYC today. I used to think a long day would be fulfilling but usually ended up feeling crabby, tired and utterly forlorn at around 3pm; so today I got in a little after noon and just caught the 4:30 bus home. I was not too tired, my feet didn't hurt and I wasn't feeling marooned so it was either comfier shoes- a possibility- or a shorter stay- or perhaps both. But I digress...
My first stop was Mood Fabrics. Those of you who are Project Runway junkies like me will recognize the name. And let's face it, who can resist that combination of whinging narcissism, enough al-anonic behavior to single-handedly fill a meeting, and amazing technical ability? But I digress...
I was treated to a lovely selection of buttons- not as quirky, as wonderful, as inexpensive nor as bounteous as the long-lamented and greatly missed K Trimmings- but I digress... Got a handful of charming buttons but my camera's battery is out so I cannot show you- ah well.
My next stop was to be Purl Soho but I had neglected to write down the address before I left home so I wandered around Soho for a while and, unable to find their new digs, gave up and moved on.
It was just as well that I had not stopped at Purl as I needed that money for my next objective- Podunk.
Podunk? Isn't that where I come from- a small inconsequential town in the North East? No, actually Podunk is the name of the most charming, idiosyncratic tearoom in the East Village. Two years or so ago I had clipped a short but glowing review of the place from the NYTimes and kept it on my refrigerator. I would read it and say to myself, "someday I will go there."
Well, today I finally went. It is on 5th street to the west of 2nd Avenue, a hole-in-the-wall sort of place, modest in the extreme in its signage and decor. But the aroma when I walked in from the blustery, cold sidewalk--- the warm embrace of savoury baking: butter, wheat & rosemary. They could charge just for the delight of wrapping oneself in that aroma.
Mindful of the "No Sniveling" sign above the counter, I ordered an "Old Friends" tea for one. (Perhaps they should call it "Absent Friends" when it is a single order. But I digress...) The tray came with a nice pot of Earl Grey tea, cucumber sandwiches, scones with unsweetened whipped cream & blackberry jam, several assorted cookies, a small slice of vanilla sponge cake, a small slice of a lemon pound cake and some luscious fresh raspberries, blackberries and blueberries. (Fortunately, the owner did not count my request of "no strawberries, please" as sniveling.) The sweet things were garnished with mint; the savoury, with a sprig of majoram.
The next time you are in NYC, stop in to Podunk and treat yourself to a most civilized and delicious repast.

The Hysterical Society

2010-10-21T17:16:00.000-07:00

I reminisced recently about a group my parents were part of when they were young and how it enabled them to buy good art. I was asked to pass it along via this blog so here it is. Back in the 50's when my parents were a young couple living in a village outside of Youngstown, Ohio, they formed a group with other young couples in the area. They called it the Hysterical Society. They were all interested in art, books, current events, good cooking and martinis. There were, if I remember correctly, 12 couples in the group. They met monthly at one couple's home- that couple cooked the dinner, other members of the group contributed dishes- another couple was responsible for the evening's entertainment. There were many delightful evenings at our house that I got to catch glimpses of from the stairs- and yummy leftovers the next day. All well and good.
But the thing that caught the fancy of the people I was telling this to was the unique and wonderful system they worked out to purchase art.
Each year, all the couples would contribute a set sum of money into a common fund. That year one couple would pick out a piece of work at the annual Mid-Year Show at the Butler Institute of American Art and purchase it with that pooled money. The work of art would then be hung for a month in each of the homes of all the other members of the group. At the end of the rotation, the work would be the property of the couple that picked it out. The next year, all the members of the group would again contribute to the fund and the next couple on the list would choose a work and it would rotate through the other households and so on.
This was a great way to build a community, buy art and support artists. The works people chose may not have been my parents' taste in art- the art they chose may not have been another couples' cup of tea either; there were undoubtedly works that did not hang in the place of honor during the month. The great thing was that the work did not have to appeal to everyone. It also enabled young families to purchase art that they otherwise may not have been able to afford. Because of this plan, I was privileged to grow up in a home with good books on the shelves, good original art on the walls, and music- and my family was not wealthy by any means.
I offer this idea to anyone who wants to employ it.

I've Gotta Blow This Popsicle Stand

2010-08-09T18:25:00.000-07:00

I am so excited about a workshop I am going to take with Christie Scheele this coming Wednesday. She is a very successful artist and mentors other artists in improving their careers. I felt a little sheepish about signing up for such a workshop, but I have to admit that my career is stalled. I am not living up to my abilities and talents. I need to show my work outside of this area and most of my fumbling efforts to date have not been successful.

So, I am allowing myself to feel some hope that she will be able to find a key that has eluded me so far. I'll let you know how it went.

The Thrill is Gone...

2010-08-03T16:38:00.000-07:00

This evening I wandered into the local chain fabric store after having made some photocopies at the chain office-supply store next door. As usual I headed to the button racks, hoping to find a few interesting examples of the koumpounologist's arcane art. I was a bit taken aback to find that the button rack was full of interesting buttons- and a bit disturbed.
You would think I would be thrilled. But I could only shake my head in rueful disillusion. Card after card of buttons designed to entice me- but that was the problem. It was like shooting fish in a barrel. A large part of the thrill was- and remains- the hunt. Searching through bins of old, dusty cards from the 60's or earlier. Pawing through the contents of button jars purchased at yard sales or flea markets for the few gems. Sorting the contents of almost opaque old plastic bags full of odd buttons. Opening a rusty, battered mint tin from someone's grandmother that had been placed in my hands by a generous friend. The squeak of an ancient display rack in a small five & dime in a small town on a blue highway...
None of that here- the charm of buttons has been co-opted by the chain store.
Did I buy some? Of course I did. I did not, however, choose the obviously cute buttons- too slick, too calculated. I need to endow them with charm through the process of making my art with them- not slap on some ready-made charm. It all reminds me of what happened when the market was flooded with those ghastly teapots that were consciously-designed to look like a sewing table or a tea table. I love real, authentic teapots- they are marvels of useful design. And I love real buttons. Can inner authenticity be achieved through outward means- no, but I can applaud these little bits of authenticity in an increasingly unauthentic world.

My name is Polly and I am a koumpounomaniac.

Back in the Studio, Part II

2010-07-19T15:34:00.000-07:00

In my last post I showed a piece, part of a proposed diptych for a show with the theme of Pairings. I finished the second part of the pair today- and just in time- today was also the deadline... but I made it. Now I wait to see if the work got into the exhibit.
The prior piece was of my first-cousin-once-removed Jean Amy; this one is of my other Jean: Miss Jean Webb, my great aunt.

PS My piece for the Ulster Corps charity auction didn't sell despite what I heard were some very kind and supportive remarks from the auctioneer. Well, hopefully, sometime in the future someone will smack their forehead and say, "damn! I wish I had bought that piece! What a missed opportunity!"

Back Into the Studio

2010-07-12T12:30:00.000-07:00

I actually got to spend a day in my workspace over the weekend. Saturday not only brought some desperately needed rain to the area, it gave me a day off from my job at the nursery. I have a number of pieces on my desk- some of them only the barest sketches but the deadlines are looming. Here is the first to be completed:

It is part of a pair of works- its partner is nearing completion- for a show at the WAAM entitled "Pairings." When I saw the requirements I immediately thought of the 2 Jeans who inspired me in my life ( and whom I never fully appreciated until it was too late; to my great regret): Jean Amy (first-cousin-once-removed) (pictured above) and Jean Webb (great-aunt.) It seemed particularly apt if you just say their shared name- Jeans/genes. True I am not biologically descended from either of them but I am their æsthetic inheritor.
I was working on the assumption that they were both due today but found last night, much to my relief, that they are due this coming Monday. But that doesn't mean I can rest, I have to finish Great-Aunt Jean's portrait as well as the 2 other pieces I have promised. I will post them as they are finished. In the meantime, I commune with my jeans/genes.

For a Good Cause

2010-06-07T08:02:00.000-07:00

Today I am taking in a new piece for a special show/charity auction. I was honored to be asked to participate- 50 artists/50 good causes. The event has been organized by WAAM in conjunction with UlsterCorps- a very worthy umbrella organization for good-works in the county. I was asked to do a piece to benefit CASA, a group that works with abused children and also seeks to prevent abuse before it happens. This dovetailed with my own works on this theme, a series: "A Child's Garden of Entropy."

I had had in mind to do a piece with several of my iconic images from the series- the porcelain doll and the birds (scarlet tanager, indigo bunting and goldfinch,) and entropic metaphors in their various aspects, this event gave me the impetus to do the work. ("Entropic metaphors" gee, I sound like a 'real" artist!) Many people think all I do is witty, fluffy pieces so they don't know what to do with these darker works. Some people think they are supposed to be funny so they make laughing comments about them to me, some get where I'm going- or more accurately, where I've been- and are a bit puzzled by the contrast between the 2 sides of my work. I don't explain beyond that fact that no one's life is 1-dimensional, all light or all dark. Both, for better or worse, are part of me.

"A Child's Garden of Entropy: The Footnotes" 26.75"x9.75" Bricolage

I am hoping that after this week I will be able to spend a bit more time in my workroom making art. I am acclimated to working outside at the nursery the 4 days I am there- I no longer collapse when I get home in the evening. And the book files are 98% done so I hope to get it to the printer this week. I still have some graphics obligations to fulfill but getting the book off my desk will be a big relief. I miss working/playing with my materials and if I am to be an artist, I need to actually produce- you know, art.

Next....

2010-03-26T14:37:00.000-07:00

It seems like it has been weeks since my kickstarter.com project reached the end of its funding period even though it has, in fact been less than a week. The end of the project came at 6:09 pm EDT on Sunday. How did I celebrate this milestone? I was working away in my studio. I had gotten an email on Friday(?) asking if I wanted to have a show opening the end of the month and going through most of April? Of course, my answer was yes and then reality set in.
Egad, I had to get busy and pull the show together. It is a show of the original art from the Word Project- yes, the same art that will be published soon in my kickstarter-funded book. For the past 2 years the art has been sitting in a little storage closet in my apartment gathering dust. But I had 8 pieces that needed to be framed, paperwork, lists, labels, etcetc that needed to be updated- all the many tasks that need doing collateral to a gallery show. Plus I have, thank heavens, some graphics assignments on my desk.
Yesterday, I loaded up my elderly Saab with 7 bins (94 individual, framed pieces) of art and drove down to Hudson Beach Glass in Beacon, NY (about 40 miles south;) and hung the show. My good friend Laurel Smith (sister of one of the partners in HBG) stopped by and we had a nice lunch at Homespun Foods. I went back and continued hanging art. I ran out of steam at about 4 and called it a day. Came home and collapsed. Managed to stay up late enough to watch the designers on Project Runway try to design fabrics- (note to PR designers: don't give up your day jobs.)
Framed one last piece- my motto for this project seems like it should have been: measure 4 times, cut twice... Drove back down to Beacon and finished hanging the show. The rest of it is out of my hands and opens tomorrow. The reception is not until April 10th so I am going back to working on production for the book, the assignments on my desk, oh and I have to frame another piece for a show submission on Monday.
I am very grateful for all this but I am also learning some lessons about taking care of myself. I'm no spring chicken anymore, lugging those bins full of art down the stairs was a 3 ibuprofen job. Anyway, here is panoramic montage of the show: (yes, I meant to jam the frames together like that, I like it and I'm sticking with it.)

The Countdown Begins

2010-03-19T07:34:00.000-07:00

The countdown on my kickstarter.com project "Publish 'The Word Project' " has shifted from days to hours to go- 55 as of this writing. It is both exciting and terrifying to see this. Exciting because it means the book will finally be published- terrifying for exactly the same reasons. I am having to confront my fears of failure and success in the same package.
Failure- what if my backers don't like the finished product? What if the book doesn't live up to its promise, what if I don't live up to my promise? Success- what if this really takes off and my life changes in good yet unforeseen ways? How long before I fall on my face? Fear, fear, fear...what a soul-killer.
Its not like I have not already rather spectacularly failed in public in my life. Almost 2 years ago I lost almost every thing in my life yet with the support and boundless kindness of friends, and taking some steps, I made it through. I have a roof over my head and work and much (platonic only, alas) love. And I am 55 hours away from realizing a long-held vision. There will be much hard work between the end of the funding period and sending the book to the printer in 3 or so weeks- not only the work of writing and assembling, preparing the images (and, of course, I now have a gallery show to mount and a desk full of graphics assignments); but also admitting my powerlessness over my fear, turning it over and keeping my focus on the next right step.

Posters For Haiti

2010-03-07T10:41:00.000-08:00

I am participating in a project to support Doctors Without Borders' efforts in Haiti. The project is called "Posters for Haiti." Artists and designers create posters around the theme and then signed reproductions of the works are available for sale on the site. 100% of the proceeds go to Doctors Without Borders- a worthy cause and an excellent model.

(Rant about typical charity art auctions deleted...)

I finished the art and the design today and hope to be able to get the posters printed tomorrow and shipped out mid-week.

Ole Green Eyes Strikes Again

2010-03-01T18:28:00.001-08:00

Every once in a while my cardinal sin of envy rears up and smites me, and smites me hard. It happened a few days ago when I read about a project on kickstarter.com that has made over 400% of its goal. Normally my eyes are a squidgy grey but they quickly turned blazing emerald when I read that. I spent the next hour or so wallowing in my envy, marinating in it- not a pretty sight. It was a truly unlovely thing.
My own kickstarter project has made its goal but has stalled at just under 120% of its goal with 19 days to go. Am I content with that? Noooo... I want 400% too! Inside, I was stamping my foot, holding my breath and throwing a right royal tantrum.
But now I am over it for the most part and have been racking my brains trying to figure out how to shake that pledge tree in the remaining days. I do have to mention that the project in question was all about sex and my project, while it depicts a fair number of naughty bits is just that- a bit naughty, mostly punnish, and clever.
Do I begrudge them their 400%? No, I congratulate them on their achievement. I have to believe that there is enough for us all or I will just set myself back to where I was 2 years ago- a (non)spiritual place I hope to never revisit.
But, man oh man, 400%....

Scrooge Mc Duck & Me

2010-02-16T08:51:00.000-08:00

Among the iconic images I have carried with me since childhood- along with Eyvind Earle's stunning graphic backgrounds for Disney's Sleeping Beauty, N.C.Wyeth's work, Leo & Diane Dillon's work for the Time-Life science series- is that of Scrooge McDuck swimming in a pool of golden coins in an animated cartoon. Not quite as noble nor as artistically profound as the others but it has stuck with me nevertheless.
I was reminded of that image last evening when I dumped the contents of an old plastic bag out onto my worktable. A friend had told me her husband would be bringing them for me to a meeting so it was not a total surprise. That said, I had no idea of the extraordinary glee I would feel when I saw them spilled out in such profusion and scale. All of the buttons are quite large- after all, buttons as a rule tend to be small and the ones I most often use on my art are no more than 1/2- 3/8" wide. These beauties are measured in inches not fractions of inches. And they're mine- all mine I tell you, mine!!!!! (but I get ahead of myself...)
I poured over them, sorted them, let them run through my fingers into a pile, held them up and in the case of the one that looks like it was made out of braided twizzlers, was tempted to lick them. Even now, as they rest in their bowl, I look at them and cannot believe my luck. I have no idea how they will be used- but I suspect most of them will remain in their bowl for a while to be admired.
I will never have a swimming pool full of money- I will never even have a swimming pool full of buttons to backstroke in like Mr. McDuck. But today I have a bowl full of gorgeous big buttons, given to me by a thoughtful friend, to run my fingers through- I am rich beyond belief.

EggHead (part 2)

2010-01-26T15:10:00.000-08:00

A while ago, I posted about a piece I had begun but was unsure where to take it. I finished it today in preparation of submitting it for a show of artists' sketches, source books etcetc. I don't know- a bit cute, but I like it overall, rather cheerful for someone whose figures never have smiles on their faces (as someone pointed out to me.) Ambivalence rules... I have until the 2nd Monday of February to either commit or take another shot.

I am usually not this waffly about my work but I must admit the theme for this show threw me. My sketches are very rudimentary, just skimpy little pencil outlines. I have an idea, either rough or quite finished, in my head of how I want it to end up. Color sketch? Don't hold your breath. Working myself into artistic corners and then trying like hell to get out of them is typical.

Ah well. As my Great Aunt (and mentor although she didn't know it) Jean Webb used to say: "You can either talk or do."

Once More Into the Breach, Dear Friends, Once More...

2010-01-20T08:02:00.000-08:00

Okay, I have been sitting on my laurels for a week since my Kickstarter project made its goal, but those laurels are starting to smell a bit funky. So its time to get back to working the social web. I can continue to raise pledges until my deadline of March 21st. I turn to Robin Sloan, who raised an astounding 400% of his goal, as an inspiration. I would be thrilled to raise enough to print some extra books and do some traveling on behalf of the book and some other projects.
So, its back to the facebook, linkedin, and twitter trenches. Racking my pea-brain for ideas... but as problems go, this is such a luxury, and I am grateful.

(Lucubrate: (v) to work by lamplight... from The Word Project: Odd & Obscure Words- Illustrated.)

A Blessed Step Backwards

2010-01-14T17:43:00.000-08:00

The Bulletin of Atomic Scientists announced today that they had moved the hands of the Doomsday Clock back by one minute. The Clock now reads 23:54. Six minutes to Doomsday, but still a step in the right direction. Would that someday we will hear the announcement that the Clock reads12:01.

100%!!!!

2010-01-13T10:29:00.000-08:00

Gratitude: (n)

The state of being grateful; thankfulness. Synonyms: appreciation, gratefulness, thankfulness, thanks

[Middle English, from Old French, probably from Late Latin grātitūdō, from Latin grātus, pleasing.]

(Strepitant: (adj) boisterous, loud, exhuberant; from "The Word Project: Odd & Obscure Words- Illustrated")

"Publish 'The Word Project'" in the Kickstarter Spotlight!

2010-01-12T08:41:00.000-08:00

I check the kickstarter site every once in a while to see what's in the 'spotlight' and also on the 'recommended' page. I have backed projects myself and am always interested in what's happening there. I was thrilled when I saw a while ago that my project had been recommended by the staff- bless 'em. Even more of a thrill to see today that "Publish 'The Word Project' " has been featured on the spotlight (front) page!

Thank you!

(Frumentarious: (adj) relating to corn, from "The Word Project: Odd & Obscure Words- Illustrated)

EggHead

2010-01-08T15:45:00.000-08:00

While I am recuperating from my cold, tending to my kickstarter project, (sorry, I just had to add that, it's become a compulsion) and after my daily job-search, I am working on pieces for upcoming shows and, well, I just need to keep making things. Here is a piece I am working on for a show at the WAAM entitled "Sketches" showing working process. It is currently simmering on the back burner of my brain- I haven't quite figured out where to take it yet- or where it wants to take me. Either way is fine with me.

Milestone

2010-01-05T19:48:00.000-08:00

We are at 75% and counting! Thanks to everyone who has pledged so far! Big virtual kisses to you all- which is a good thing as I have a bad cold and am scaring the bejeezus out of the cat with my explosive sneezing.

The Word Project has an Uber-Backer!

2010-01-04T06:45:00.000-08:00

(Hystercine: (adj) resembling or referring to a hedgehog) This was me last evening- but happy.

Last evening I heard the little "bip" that signals email come in. I checked it- aha! another kickstarter pledge! yippee! Then I opened the email and saw that someone had pledged at the highest level. I was stunned and then I burst into tears. When I was setting up the project I had stopped the incentives at the $600 level (poster, signed book and a piece of existing WP art.) Even then I felt I was overreaching. (But I was proved wrong here, too. Bless you CA.) A wonderful friend, Mark Monlux, was the one who suggested setting an uber-backer level (poster, signed book and a custom word/doll using a word of the backer's choice.) My first thought was- "oh yeah, like that'll happen." But I put it in anyway quite sure no one would spring for it. I am happily proved wrong. Thank you, Mark, I wouldn't have dared to dream that large on my own behalf.
The project is now 68% funded and has 76 days to go. I am so very grateful to everyone who has pledged at every level.

A Wish For Us All...

2009-12-30T11:26:00.000-08:00

Image: Empyreal(adj) Celestial, elevated- from "The Word Project: Odd & Obscure Words- Illustrated."

PS.Publish "The Word Project" My kickstarter.com project, thanks.

Bits & Bobs to Wrap Up the Year

2009-12-30T10:51:00.000-08:00

1. I come across some truly baffling button designs during my button-hunts. I sometimes get the bags of mixed buttons from craft shops and cull them rather drastically, usually only 20-30 make it but the hunt is the thing. I really enjoy an evening of sorting buttons- well, it takes all kinds and it is harmless... Here are some that I came across recently that are so fascinatingly ugly that I have designated them the "2009 Buttons of the Year!" No, there have not been B-of-the-Y's for previous years and I will probably forget by this time next year, but there you are. What makes these worthy of this accolade? Well, to me they look like little maggot tartlets. You cannot see the detail but the little curls close up look like larvae and the edges look like nut-crusts. I have absolutely no idea where or when I will use them- though thinking of it they would be perfect for a "Mad-Men" style jacket made of a brown and lavender tweed.... that'll be #734 on my list of things to do.

2.I saw "Avatar" this past week in 3D. It was my first experience with the new 3D technologies. The last time was at a drive-in in the early 70's... It was stunning. I still have some problems motion-capture CGI figures; there is always something stiff around the chest/collarbones/shoulders; the skin is too tautly elastic- no wrinkles at the joints. The world seemed very completely realized, but I had to ask myself why all of the other fauna were consistently hexapeds while the "humans" only had 4 limbs- doesn't make evolutionary sense. But these are mere quibbles- I highly recommend it as an immersive experience- absolutely frivolous but life cannot be all serious all the time.

3.I am so very very grateful for all of the good things (and there are many) that have happened this past year. And even a little for the no-so-great things (and there have been more than a few)- they have been lessons that I needed to learn and I hope I am the better for them.

May you have blessed new years.

Once more with feeling...

2009-12-22T13:09:00.000-08:00

I'm trying again with Kickstarter- this time with a much more focussed project: Publishing The Word Project.
Please visit the site and if you like what you see- pledge and then tell your friends. Even if you don't pledge- tell your friends! link to the page! blog about how wonderful it is!

There is currently a problem viewing the video, please check back- (but there's nothing stopping you from pledging now.....)

Thanks!!!!!

http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/pollymlaw/publishing-the-word-project

Tea & Shortbread

2009-12-20T08:52:00.000-08:00

ince the name of this blog is "ArtWordsTea" and it is full into winter, I thought I should write a bit about tea. I drink a lot of it- mostly iced. I know- iced tea in winter? Well, (too many but that is another post) many people drink sodapop during the winter but you don't expect them to drink it hot do you? But I digress...
This time of year, I also drink a lot of hot tea. It used to be Earl Grey but nowadays it is more likely to be Lady Grey which is more fragrant with bergamot yet also not so strident. I also commit blasphemy by drinking it with milk- and sometimes a splash of caramel syrup. This is my version of the what the Hudson Valley Coffee Traders cafe- just down the street from me- serves. They use vanilla syrup and call it a Fog and it is delicious. I didn't have any vanilla syrup but I did have a dusty bottle of caramel syrup left over from something I can't recall and gave it a (pardon the pun) shot. I'm calling it a Cashmere and I'm sticking with it. But most of the time my tea is milky but unsweetened.
Since we are hurtling towards Christmas there have been invitations to potlucks. If the event is in the afternoon, i usually make Lemon & Rosemary Shortbread. I use a recipe from Melissa Clark's delightful column for the NYTimes and it is a hit every time I make it. I use a battered food processor- a benefit of my older brother's brief flirtation with cooking. (I also scored a stand mixer from the aftermath of his quixotic attentions.) On the low-tech end of the tool spectrum, I use a mezzaluna to finely chop the rosemary. This tool has two parallel arced blades and you use it by rocking it back and forth over the herbage. It never leaves the surface of the cutting board and chops much finer, in less time, and uses less effort than a knife.
I have an ivitation for this afternoon and the shortbread is in the oven, the fragrance of the rosemary and lemon with the hint of sugar fills the air.
Time for some tea...

But I Wouldn't Want My Child to Be One...

2009-12-17T04:47:00.000-08:00

I visited the site for United States Artists the other day when they announced their 2009 grants- alas I was not among the grantees, the notice had not been lost in the mail- and came across this bit of disturbing but not surprising information:
"A country that loves art, not artists
In a survey of attitudes toward artists in the U.S. a vast majority of Americans, 96%, said they were greatly inspired by various kinds of art and highly value art in their lives and communities. But the data suggests a strange paradox. While Americans value art, the end product, they do not value what artists do. Only 27% of respondents believe that artists contribute "a lot" to the good of society."

Explains a lot, doesn't it?

Consider the Persimmon

2009-12-08T16:31:00.000-08:00

I ran into a friend the other day at the Golden Notebook in Woodstock. He reached into a shopping bag pulled something out and put it into my hand. It was a Japanese persimmon, still hard and a bit cold from the air outside. A small, simple act but it really stopped me in my tracks. I just couldn't stop staring at the persimmon nestled in my palm. It was as smooth and marvelously opaque as soapstone- as dense and hefty, too. The burnt orange of the skin just radiated like an ember. The smooth symmetry of the fruit, contrasted with the ruffled, brown remnants of blossom- ah, it was just enthralling. I sat and contemplated it for a while, resisting the urge to gurgle "preciousssss...."

It now sits on my bedside table reminding me of the beauty and perfection of nature, and to take the time to appreciate her gifts and the generosity of friends.

A Tree Grows in Kingston

2009-12-08T16:07:00.000-08:00

There has been much activity around the trees on where I live on Wall St. in Kingston- much of it sad but now some of it serendipitously joyful and a bit subversive. The sad started about a month ago when crews started to cut down many of the Black Locusts that lined the street- also sad was the fact that they usually started in with their chain saws at 6am. There are damn few natural amenities in this area, the shade of the trees was one of them.
But a wonderful thing happened late one evening about 2 weeks ago. I heard pounding outside of my front windows. I saw a "tree" going up on one of the bare stumps left after the decimation of the locusts!
The activity was anonymous as so many wonderful happenings are- the anti-vandals struck and disappeared, melting into the night.
I remember thinking that the tree probably wouldn't last the night let alone the next day, but I was wrong. It has stood these past weeks totally unmolested.

That must have encouraged the anti-vandals because just a few minutes ago, I once again heard pounding out on the street...

Another tree- even more charming than the first- has gone up right in front of my windows:

I want to thank these anonymous anti-vandals who have taken something so ugly and crass and turned it into an opportunity for wonder and gladness.

(The sound of pounding continues down the block....)

This Week in Art and Gardens

2009-11-16T15:42:00.000-08:00

This week was an interesting one in both art and gardens- really, art and kitchen/gardens but that is even more of a mouthful.
5 years ago I was part of a group that built a clay bread oven at the Catskill Native Nursery. It took 12 of us stalwart souls- or 24 soles as you will see- to build the oven over an exhausting 2 days of work. The expert who ran the workshop built the base out of stone and gravel but it was up to us to construct the beehive oven out of native clay, straw, plus blood, sweat and tears with a large side-order of advil. The clay was very, very stiff, not like the clay you might use for throwing pots or making sculpture, so mixing in the straw binder was quite difficult. We ended up putting a mound of clay and straw on a tarpaulin and attacking it with our bare feet. We pounded and stomped until the mound was reduced to a pancake. We then rolled the pancake back into the center by lifting and pulling the tarp. It usually took us 5 rounds of this to get the consistency we needed. Then we took fist-sized gobs of the mixture and working in rows, slowly built up the dome of the oven. That was the first layer. the next day we got to do it all over again to build the walls to the correct thickness (8") At the end of the weekend, I would have gladly agreed to have my shins removed, I hobbled around for about a week before the muscles recovered.
Why describe this process? Well, Diane- one of my bosses at CNN- has tried to do a pizza-making session every year since then but it has inevitably rained out. (the oven still does not have a roof over it so it can only be used in fair weather) She has cooked in the oven several times for herself and her partner, Francis, but not yet with a group of people. This past Sunday was our day. I helped tend the fire to heat the oven up. This can take 3 hours to do properly. Unfortunately, we jumped the gun a bit in our enthusiam and the oven was not quite as hot as it should have been so the pizzas did not bake in the proper 1 minute's exposure to the 700 degree heat. But it was still good.
The dough I made was overworked and therefore just too darn springy- it just would not hold a proper pizza thinness. But even so, I enjoyed it immensely and hope we can try again next season. Then it was back to work putting the nursery to bed for the winter. A nice respite from the usually quiet work of cutting back, sorting and binning.

On the art side, I mentioned below that I had done a piece for the recent "Small Works" show at the WAAM but had neglected to photograph it before running out the door to submit it. Well, I won't get the chance now to take the picture. I got a call on Saturday from the gallery saying that a Dutch couple wanted to buy the piece and they were going to take it with them- Sunday was the last day for the show anyway, and they were heading back to The Netherlands. So I wish it: "Vaarwel, weinig werken van kunst. Ga naar een goede thuis."
(Farewell, little art work. Go to a good home.)
I also picked up my piece "Prosthesis" and dropped off a small piece for the annual Holiday Show & Sale. The Holidays?... egad

Enough Already

2009-10-28T08:51:00.000-07:00

Its been about a year since I changed my domain name and the look of my website, from Thrums End Art Studio to Buttonwood Art. Today I made another detachment from the past. I deleted the bit from my site that expanded on the reason for the change. Its time to move on and I am tired of the recitation of the litany.
I do not "regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it," but it's time to look forward.

Apropos of Absolutely Nothing

2009-10-25T18:58:00.000-07:00

I was reading the BBC newsfeedand saw an article about Andrew Lloyd Weber. The accompanying image struck me, so I did a little Google image search. The result:

Separated at Birth:

Nothing more to see here, move along, move along.

Nothing ventured...

2009-10-24T12:32:00.000-07:00

nothing gained. Well, my Kickstarter project failed to reach its goal by the deadline so its over. I would like to thank everyone who pledged, who supported my work. I am so very grateful.
What will I do now?
I have another month of work at the nursery so I will keep on at that and also start looking for another job. I am applying for a NYFA grant but that is another gamble and wouldn't be until April if I got it. I will still try to get my work seen by gallery owners in areas outside of the Hudson Valley, it will just take a bit longer than I had hoped.
A few weeks ago I got an email from someone saying essentially "Who do I think I am, asking people to support me so I can do art?" I must say it kind of soured the process a bit for me, especially when I was struggling to finish pieces for the shows at the WAAM mentioned below, but apparently that was the desired effect. (And I do have to mention, to be fair, that this person has reason to have a grudge against me, but I am unable right now to complete my amends.)
I really do think art is what I should be doing, so I will keep at it, come hell, highwater, ill-wishers and recession. Who knows, there may be some red-dots (sold stickers) on some of my pieces- stranger things have happened.
Again, thank you to everyone who pledged, my heart is so full.

Well, that's one option...

2009-10-21T08:19:00.000-07:00

A big weekend over the 17th & 18th. I was working at the nursery's booth at the Sheep&Wool Festival across the river in Rhinebeck. This is an annual fiber-fest when the fair grounds become a womens' tribal council for those 2 days. Oh, there are men there but the vibe is overwhelmingly female. All the various knitting/spinning tribes were represented- the Dames, the Earth Mothers, the Middle-American Crafters and the Urban Hipsters. The binding thread that connected them all was wool, from the sheep to the distaff to the dyepot, the winder, and the needles. It was cold, very cold, but a bustling day on Saturday. I had to leave the booth a bit early to drive to Woodstock for some art events.
I had my 4 openings this past Saturday. A triple-header at the WAAM; Mixed-Media (juried,) Small Works (juried,) and 11PICK2, an invitational in the Towbin Wing, usually the home of the permanent collection. Still patting myself on the back a bit about that one. I was very happy and honored to be in the company of many of my favorite living artist-members of the WAAM. I am sitting at the grown-ups' table.
I left those openings a bit early to get to my show of 8 works at Oriole9, a delightful restaurant right across the road from the WAAM. I was very pleased at how good the pieces looked in the setting. I had to wait for the crowd to finish their devastation of the spread the staff set out for the reception, but after they were done licking their fingers they turned their attentions to the art on the walls.
I sat in a corner and just watched people. I was just plain knackered from working at the fair all day and all the run-up to these openings, so I let others come to me if they wanted to. Many compliments on the art. One comment left me somewhat speechless, however- someone came over to where I was sitting and said that they thought I was one of those artists who would become famous after they died...
So, do I opt for instant fame or struggle along for another 40 years...?
Bemusement reigns.
(photo courtesy of Loel Barr, thanks Annie!)
(Now, where's that Photoshop filter that takes off 50 lbs...)

A Poke in the Eye, Part II

2009-10-13T15:40:00.000-07:00

The eye is much better thanks to Dr. O'Hara. I do not have a patch but I am wearing a "bandage contact," so no pirate jokes. Yesterday, she dilated the pupil of my eye before putting in the contact so I sported a slight resemblance to David Bowie- well, if David Bowie was an overweight, middle-aged woman. It made working a bit interesting but not impossible.
All the art is done and delivered, some to be hung, some to be juried and then maybe hung.

Here is the piece I did for the Mixed Media show, I'll know tomorrow evening if I got in or not. No image of the piece I entered in the Small Works show- slapped the glass on it and was out the door.

Anyway, it is titled "Prosthesis." Nice and cheerful, don't you think?

A Poke in the Eye

2009-10-11T16:05:00.000-07:00

I have often said, when asked how an experience was, "better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick." Well, now I have a real benchmark for that statement. I was at work today at the nursery and was repotting some large shrubs preperatory to closing down for the winter. I bent down and bingo! Fortunately it is just a scratch but boy these things sting like the dickens. I've had scratched corneas before so I know the drill. Thank heavens I didn't have more downward momentum, that could have been very bad indeed. Now for a week of jokes about pirates... and just in time for 2 biggish art openings for shows* my work is in...

*WAAM/"Eleven Pick Two" & Oriole 9, Woodstock NY.

Last weekend at the nursery, I was clearing a small area near some rotting logs and found a nest of young eastern milk snakes. It was interesting watching them up close, they reminded me of inlaid enameled bracelets, they looked so perfect and intricate. There is also a group of large garter snakes that hang out under the potting shed, even though they are quite harmless, their drab colors give them a slight air of menace. Both of these species help keep down the rodent population so I am glad- and feel a bit priviledged- to see them.

From a Kind Friend

2009-09-15T10:45:00.000-07:00

A dear and kind friend sent me these quotes that she had collected for another friend who had to move from her home of 35 years:

A memory is what is left when something happens and does not completely
unhappen.
Edward de Bono

Remember, what you possess in the world will be found at the day of your
death to belong to someone else, but what you are will be yours forever.
Henry van Dyke

Life is either a daring adventure or nothing. To keep our faces toward
change and behave like free spirits in the presence of fate is strength
undefeatable.
Helen Keller

Thank you, Michele.

Anniversary

2009-09-15T05:54:00.000-07:00

Today is one year to the day that I walked out of my home, studio and garden for the last time. The workers that were there to do over the house for the jackals who were hoping to flip the house for a quick profit had already popped the lock on the front door and ripped out swaths of the gardens so there was little time or opportunity to take one last look- it had stopped being my home quite a while before and was merely a holding box while I secured a new place to live.
But I do miss the starry skies, the birds, the goldfish pond, and the crickets, I miss them every evening.

Here is what I live with now:
"according to the sergeant on duty, at about 1:42 am, [Kingston Police] received a noise complaint at BSP (Back Stage Productions, just down the block from my apartment). Officers sent a group of persons who were standing outside back in, noting that there were about 200-250 people inside. At 2:55am they received another call for noise which turned out to be a fight inside the premise which was spilling outside. Due to the large number of people involved, all of [Kingston Police] shift and some officers from the Town of Ulster and UC Sheriff's Dept. responded. The crowd was eventually dispersed[4am] and three young females were arrested for disorderly conduct... Also, a guy showed up at the hospital with a large cut on his back that [Kingston Police] strongly suspect he suffered at BSP but he didn't cooperate with [Kingston Police]."

All I can do today is look forward and keep putting one foot in front of the other, and trust that that is what I am supposed to be doing.

Kickstart me, please!

2009-08-25T17:32:00.000-07:00

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.)

Lovely Lovage

2009-08-25T10:46:00.000-07:00

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.

A Face Only a Mother Could Love

2009-08-24T14:14:00.000-07:00

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...

Art Tour

2009-08-17T17:43:00.001-07:00

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.

OUCH!

2009-07-18T17:13:00.000-07:00

Some things I learned today:

Eastern Yellowjackets are wasps of the genus Vespula
They can build nests in spaces left by voles in the soil in potted plants
If you lift the pot and begin to weed it, the yellowjackets get angry
They are very aggressive and will follow you a great distance
Yellowjackets can sting multiple times, especially if they get inside your shirt
Those stings are extremely painful and the pain is long lasting
My middle-aged, overweight carcass can really move when sufficiently motivated
I can still type although my right hand resembles a baseball glove right now, but I do have go back and correct a lot of mistakes
A little knowledge is a good thing but a little Benadryl is a better thing

Degrees of Separation

2009-07-13T19:00:00.000-07:00

2 posts in one swell foop!

I watched a fascinating program just now on the Science Channel about networks and connections and it got me thinking about my connectedness and I must admit I was gobsmacked.
Here are a few of the connections I could think of:

I am 2 handshakes away from Theodore Roosevelt (my grandmother, as a very young child, attended William McKinley's funeral where she shook hands with TR.)
2 from President Barak Obama
3 from Queen Elizabeth II
3 from Peter Jackson and therefore 4 from the entire cast of LOTR by one route; 2 and 3 by another
5 from Albert Einstein
2 from Liberty Hyde Bailey
4 from NC Wyeth
2 from Kevin Bacon (had to add that one...)
2 from Paul McCartney
2 from Bo Bo Brazil, originator of the Coco-bop

(Bo Bo's on the right, not delivering a Coco-bop, but such is life.)

And I am just a nobody originally from a tiny village in Ohio, now from a small city in upstate NY. None of these are connections that I could call upon, they are merely handshakes but still it boggles my mind. Wow...

Treasure Hunt

2009-07-13T18:48:00.000-07:00

My piece for the Saugerties Artists Studio Tour's "Explore Saugerties Artists Treasure Hunt" is in place. ( I have to say that there have been 2 storms since I put my piece up and who knows about vandals, maybe I need to go check it...) Anyway, I am relatively happy with it but mostly happy that I got it done in time. Since I no longer live in Saugerties I am out of the loop and even more out of touch than I used to be- if that were possible... so I have no idea if anyone has made the effort to decipher my clue and found the piece. But I would be happy if only 1 person did that, just that one hardy, persistent soul would be vindication enough.

Ghosts of the Hudson Valley

2009-06-23T09:34:00.000-07:00

As part of the Henry Hudson Quadricentennial, the Artists of the Saugerties Artists Studio Tour are doing a public art project entitled: "Explore Saugerties: Artists Treasure Hunt." It was the result of some brainstorming between another member of the group, Gus Pedersen, and myself to have members of the Tour wreck our artistic will on 18"x18" boxes or frames that have been painted gold (hence the treasure aspect.) The theme of the works should be Hudson-related. My contribution was the idea to have the boxes/frames hidden at various locations around the township and have written clues to the whereabouts of the works for searchers to find them. I had assumed that being artists, all of us would seek out odd and unusual nooks and crannies of the township in which to put our treasures... well, a few of us have; the rest are putting their boxes in shops in the village- about as exciting and evocative as having an easter egg hunt at a mall...
Anyway, I have found a nice spot for my contribution- titled: Ghosts of the Hudson Valley.

Here is my clue:(I was going to have it translated into Old Dutch but that was pushing it a bit too far...)
I was a maid, then I was a wife.
We came to the New World
to start a new life.
But a new life took me
ere I was one and twenty;
my child, not I, walked this land of plenty.
From Aesculus' Crown I watch below
as iron wagons rush to and fro.
An argent stag for company I keep,
I wander in shadows, I dream,
yet I do not sleep.
(Please tread lightly, I share my prospect.
Others here too deserve your respect.)

(location: Chestnut Hill Cemetery, which for those not familiar with the area, is on a hill across from a place called New World Home Cooking, and it has a big silver stag statue there, and the major road between Saugerties and Woodstock runs below.)
I am in the process of putting together a page on the Art Tour website for the Treasure Hunt, the whole thing should be set up in the next week or two.
My own piece is two-sided and made of masonite and sheet acrylic. I have weatherproofed it to the best of my ability and who knows about vandalism- its a gamble but there you are...

Thoughts on a Kingston Saturday Night

2009-05-30T20:58:00.000-07:00

I HATE THIS PLACE! It is noisy- once again the folks at Backstage Productions, just down the block, are totally disregarding the lives of those of us who live here, they are playing loud, loud music with the doors and windows wide open. To put the icing on the cake when the gig is over, the street will be filled with loud, obnoxious drunks- oh joy. Most afternoons they also have drum sessions, again with the windows open so that everyone has to listen to the drumming. Calls to their office yield no results.
When the sidewalks are dirty, instead of using push brooms, the city workers use leaf-blowers- I guess their fragile male-egos can't take using something that is not energy-wasting and horribly noisy. There is a building behind me that has the noisiest air-conditioning unit on the planet- oh, and they are going to do a "green" roof to help curb air-pollution- that's great but how about cutting down on the noise pollution too?
Motorcyclists use these streets for their nightly "big, loud motorcycle=teeny-tiny brain" noise-fest.
I HATE THIS PLACE! It stinks- trucks making deliveries (4:30-5am) idle their engines for 20 or so minutes and my apartment fills with exhaust. I apparently am the only person living/working here who does not smoke- the sidewalks are always littered with cigarette butts- and then people wonder why no one comes here to shop, etc- who wants to walk through an ashtray?
I HATE THIS PLACE! The frigging street lights are on full all night and aren't capped so the light pollution is just horrid. They are supposed to be charming but mostly what they are is a nuisance. The street is so overly lit that skateboarders use the block as their playground at 3 in the morning. There are lights under the porticoes that run the length of the block, they shed enough light and that light does not shine up into the 2nd & 3rd storey windows. The street lights are totally superfluous.

I HATE THIS PLACE! I HATE THIS PLACE! I HATE THIS PLACE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

4"x6"

2009-05-22T18:08:00.000-07:00

On Thursday I went down to NYC to drop off 8 pieces for a show of postcard-sized art at the APW Gallery in Long Island City (actually a section of Queens.) I have been trying to get someone down in the city to look at my work for a while now but to no avail. This show is a chance- a long shot probably but what the hey. I will not be able to attend the opening, but if I ever get a 3 or 4 person show or- gasp- a solo show, I promise I will attend the reception.
I took the opportunity to have lunch at Shopsin's, my favorite NYC eatery. I had to wait for about 40 minutes to get a seat but as always it was worth the wait. I also did some shopping in Soho- oh I am such a hick from the sticks...

Anyway, here are 7 of the 8 pieces I did for the postcard show (the photo of the 8th came out quite blurry, sorry.) I'm pretty happy with them, I like making the little cracked open rib cages.

Shooting My Mouth Off Again

2009-05-12T19:10:00.000-07:00

Here I go again...

I got an email from the Graphic Artists Guild about a debate being held at The Economist website about copyright. I went and voted but since I also had to register, I figured I should add my 2cents while I was there:

Dear Sir, As a creative- and copyright holder- I propose that the concept of copyright is invaluable to insure that artists like myself can benefit from their efforts. However, since the inception of the Works Made For Hire designation in the 1976 Copyright Act, creator's rights to profit from their works have been continually eroded by corporate interests. We now have 2 classes of copyright holders, creators-in-fact (artists) and creators-in-statute (corporate publishers and distributors who have used their power in the marketplace to grab the rights of creators-in-fact.) Creators-in-fact are being squeezed between two monolithic forces: the creators-in-statute and consumers who feel entitled to what they want when they want it. To remedy this, I suggest a simple solution: eliminate W4H from copyright law and recognize that all-rights contracts and the practices corporate creators-in-statute use to force them on creators-in-fact are monopolistic and patently unfair. Utterly pie in the sky, of course, but that is my role in society...

So, there it is. I fear the pro-artists' rights side will lose, the forces of consumerism and the utter greed of the publishers have joined to make art and creativity just another "thing" -a bit of cheaply produced and easily replaced consumer junk. In the "Alvin Maker" series of speculative fiction works, there is an image that best illustrates my feeling about my place in society: the character is building a neverending wall, patiently placing one stone upon another; while behind him, the wall is being collapsed and destroyed by the forces of entropy.

Ah, this stone will perfectly fit with the one I just set..

Boasting Rights

2009-04-25T17:34:00.000-07:00

Not having any children of my own, I have to rely on my brothers' children to provide me with boasting material.
Here is one of my nieces singing on YouTube.

I'm not too chuffed, no not a bit...

Misjudging The Book By Its Cover

2009-04-21T18:45:00.000-07:00

I don't watch "American Idol" never have, never will. But I had read about a woman named Susan Boyle who appeared on the British version of "AI" and had utterly stunned the judges and the audience with her singing. I googled her this evening and watched the YouTube video of her performance. She is a very plain, frumpy middle-aged woman from a village in Scotland; when she walked out onto the stage, you can see and hear the snickers from the audience and the judges, too, are skeptical to say the least. But she is plucky and so utterly believes in her talent that I feared for her because obviously she was going to make a fool of herself- she was going to be the next "joke" contestant, the delusional person the audience supports out of sheer snarkiness. I felt sorry for her and dreaded her utter humiliation.
Then she opened her mouth and sang and it was an epiphany. Her voice was gorgeous, her rendition of the song was heartfelt and stirring. She shamed us all as she embraced us with the generosity of her talent and her complete confidence in her ability. I was in tears at the end of her performance. Even Simon Cowell was stunned- the look on his face was one of utter amazement and pure delight. (I understand he has her under contract for his recording company as a result of her performance.)
I wish her every great thing- what a lesson in persistance, vision, belief in oneself, and courage. Her victory over our cynicism, our culture's erroneous belief that great talent must be accompanied by physical attractiveness, our focus on the cover instead of the writing are complete. But she does not need my wishes, she took the chances and is now going to get the recognition her talent deserves.
So from this plain, frumpy middle-aged woman whose talent is often dismissed because it does not come in the culturally-approved package, I say- you go, Susan!

The Ache for the Past

2009-04-20T19:15:00.000-07:00

I started my summer "B" job this past weekend, working weekends at the Catskill Native Nursery from now until the end of the season. I knew I was going to be stiff and sore, feeling every day of my age and every moment of a long winter spent not doing much physical work. I was not prepared, however, for the heart-rending beauty of the birds and their songs. At my former home, I had planted and planted and planted just for the comfort and support of the birds and was rewarded with an abundance of song and movement. Now, however, I am living in town and while I hear a few English Sparrows singing in the morning, it is otherwise a desert. When I got to the nursery I was overwhelmed by the song and by the many bluebirds, tree swallows and other species flitting around. Oh how I have missed them.
Nostalgia literally means "the ache for the past." And it was literally an ache in the middle of my chest. The only cure for it that I can see is to be grateful for this small blessing- to be able to hear and see the birds at the Nursery, allow the sights and sounds to soak into me to sustain me for the intervening 4 days, keep putting one foot in front of the other and take the next right step.

A Start

2009-04-05T15:56:00.000-07:00

Ever since I moved into my current place, I have wanted to replace the color in the large back room- a room I am using as a dining/living room.As noted in an earlier post- "More Sheep & Goats"-the former tenants had painted it a lurid crimson and I had begun to paint over it in preparation for a mural. Here it is in its former state (actually this image looks better than the true wall color):

I took the plunge this weekend I got out my brush, my jars of homogenized acrylic paints and began. I have an idea in mind and I have roughly sketched it out on the walls but I am by-and-large winging it. This is just the first layer of colors, I will add to and embellish the shapes with stencilled, sponged, painted and printed motifs: leaves, grasses, bark, shadows etcetcetc. Also, many of the colors I will use for embellishing the surface will be more complex and interesting than these rather straight forward colors. Also, true to form, I am working somewhat piecemeal (I still haven't finished painting out the crimson on one of the walls but I just couldn't wait to have some fun.)
I did have to re-paint one area already. When I stepped back and looked at the wall, it was starting to look too much like a pediatrics ward- too cute and sweet. too easter basket-ish. There is still one patch of the offending viridian left, I ran out of the bronzy green that mercifully replaced the bulk of it. Phew, what a relief. Here it is so far:

I am also just glad to be exercising the art muscle. Friday evening a bunch of artist friends came over for an informal evening in my studio and that was very very pleasant. Saturday afternoon I attended the opening of the "River" show at the WAAM and that was good also. A few too many questions about my life right now, but there you are. By the end of that reception, however, I was all peopled out and opted for a quiet rest of my weekend. I painted, and graded papers for the class I teach up in Albany. Monday will be here all too soon. Ah well... sic transit gloria mundi.

A Dispatch From the Garden of Entropy

2009-03-30T06:42:00.000-07:00

Today is the drop-off day for the big "River" show at the WAAM so "Muhheakannuk" has been framed and is on her way. There is also the submission for the "Small Works" show downstairs in the Founders Gallery. I had decided to not enter some of the fluffier pieces I have been doing recently and get back into the darker territory I began to explore in my "A Child's Garden of Entropy" series. Its much closer to the bone and ultimately more satisfying. It is not, however, remunerative. Not many people want to buy pieces about child abuse, but there you are. Somehow I don't see a bunch of Chinese artists cranking out oil paintings sized to fit over a sofa, on that subject...

I, of course waited to photograph it until I had installed the glass- sorry for the myriad reflections. But since it probably won't sell, will be able to remove the glass when it comes back and shoot it properly- or as properly as I can. It is in an old box I found, the figures are in my button/doll style and the leaves are lovely dried magnolia leaves- I have commented on them earlier. These I gathered at my summer job at the nursery. The title is : "The Garden of Entropy: The Stain." I won't exhort you to like it or enjoy it.

More Sheep & Goats

2009-03-22T18:37:00.000-07:00

Well, the auction was today and I saw several people loading my excess furniture into their cars. I blessed them and wished them well. The furniture served me well and I hope the new owners soon have as many pleasant memories attached to the pieces.

I also called the president of the local quilters' guild and arranged to give them 6 bins of fabric that I had amassed over the years but never used up. That was what I was sorting yesterday. I am keeping 2 bins worth, offering some yardage to friends who might be able to use the fabric and giving away the rest. The quilter's group makes lap robes for local hospitals and nursing homes so I know the fabric will be of use and hopefully bring some delight to someone with the beautiful patterns and colors.

I also spent part of the day painting over the rather lurid crimson the former tenant in this apartment had painted the largest room. In combination with the grey industrial carpet and the dark wood trim it managed to look both overly suggestive and wildly inappropriate (and sloppy too). Right now the walls are white. I plan to paint a mural on them. Since I no longer have a garden or a view of mountains and trees, that is what I shall stencil, print and paint- all with a rather Bloomsbury/Bawden/me twist. I'll keep you posted.

Well, back to my other work that is giving me reproachful looks from the worktable...

Surprisingly Un-Difficult

2009-03-21T19:26:00.000-07:00

This evening I got together with an acquaintance who has a high-end salvage company and who does auctions every once in a while. The business also happens to be next door to where I live now. We met up at my storage unit and he took much of the remaining furniture on consignment for the next auction. I got to the unit early to finally go through some boxes and sort the contents, a task that should have been done before they were stored but time was of the essence.
The sheep and the goats have been separated, one group of reorganized boxes stays with me, the other goes on to ... well, I don't know where yet but I hope not to the dump. As to which are the sheep and which are the goats? Does it matter?
I did take a few moments to listen to the spring peepers and I felt a sharp stab of nostalgia. I used to cherish those first songs of spring and where I am now is far away from such delight.
But beyond that, I was surprised at how unemotional I was at the decision to let go of the furniture. Pieces that had been part of my former home. I feared that I might be pushing myself into a slough of despond but I was clear headed and optimistic. And for that I am very very grateful.
Who knows what my future will be? Is there a home again in the country for me? A cozy fireplace? Spring peepers? A garden? I don't know and for today, where I am and what I have is enough.

More Birds of Ulster County

2009-03-15T10:29:00.000-07:00

I am in the position to not have time to do my art work, my "A"job, because my "B" jobs are piling up and filling my time. I truly am grateful for the income and realize I need to adjust the way I apportion my time away from these jobs- if I do not do my art, the internal pressure builds to a point where it becomes almost intolerable. I used to make detailed plans for my days and I see the necessity for doing so again. Ah well, for the while its either (relative)feast or famine... when I am not earning, I do not have the desire to create. Still trying to make it to that sweetest place where my creative work is bringing in the income and the income is taking the pressure off of me so that I feel secure and free to create. A bricoleur can dream can't she?

Anyway, here are the next 2 in the series "The Birds of Ulster County"-- "Cardinal" and "Owl"

Fascination

2009-03-14T13:21:00.000-07:00

I was sitting in the local Panera this afternoon having some lunch (tomato soup, tomato/mozarella panini, iced tea) when I became utterly fascinated with the back of the head of a baby that was perched in a high chair a few feet from me. This child was slender and way its large, almost perfectly round head was perched on its tiny little neck- and especially the indentation formed between the tendons at the meeting point transfixed me. The little seashell-like ears jutting out on either side completed the composition.
The whole picture was just utterly delicious.

Was I filled with longing to have one such creature of my own? No. I was content to enjoy the sight and let it pass when the parents finished their meal and left. Even if I had such a longing, my biological alarm clock has long since rung and been flung against the wall, smashing into smithereens. No, my appreciation of that tender sight was just that- an appreciation without covetousness, for which I am grateful.

May I be open to more such happenstances, more tiny everyday miracles.

A Curse For Our Times

2009-03-10T05:06:00.000-07:00

Although I strive for kindness in all things, I do make pre-emptive moves to protect my works. But in the cyber world such protections as copyright registration seem to carry little weight. A friend sent me a link to a Wiki article about "book curses," used in long-ago times when each book was hand-made and was considered a precious object in and of itself- not just for the knowledge it contained (precious enough on its own merit.) These curses were written into the books by the scribes and called down the wrath of God upon book thieves and even book "borrowers" who neglect to return the volume.
Perhaps it is time to update the "book curse." So, here is a modern version:

"For him that stealeth this image from its owner, let it change into a serpent in his hand and rend him. Let him be struck with palsy, and all his members blasted. Let him languish in pain crying out for mercy, & let there be no surcease to his agony till he sing in dissolution. Let computerworms gnaw his entrails ... when at last he goeth to his final punishment, let the flames of Hell consume him forever."

Out of Touch

2009-03-07T16:23:00.000-08:00

Oh the perils of dependence on electronic communications... my computer died about 10 days ago and I was without web-based communications for a week... I was in the process of switching ISPs at the same time so my email had no home from which to retrieve it. Worst of all I couldn't indulge in one of my favorite diversions- Civilization. (Yeah, I know- ) Anyway, it was a real lesson to me about how much time I fritter away being diverted and maybe I should be making art instead or having a social life. Especially since I now have another "B" job (my art being my "A" job) and will in a month or so have a third "B" job at the nursery- and hopefully more web design jobs sprinkled in here and there. Teaching goes until May- for a month or so I will be extremely busy. I vaguely remember being very busy, it was tiring but good...
Anyway, I have a nice second-hand machine now and it is running like a top. I had a few beloved programs on the old machine that were lost in the crash and burn of the hard-drive (do I hear a chorus of "you did back things up didn't you?" in the background. Only a few things, but fortunately Gerry Brady at MacDiagnostics saved my sorry butt.) Especially Notetaker from Aquaminds. They and the other apps' developers very kindly sent me my original registration/license codes so I could get new copies. I would really miss my journals in the form of old-fashioned spiral-bound notebooks. I have a real nostalgia for them and I love the concept of a cyber version of the oaktag and wire notebooks.
So, I am back on the web. I still have some problems with sending email but I am working on those.
Oh- I have a few minutes- I can get on with building the Great Library and eventually dominating the entire world...
PS- Here is the piece currently on display at the WAAM's Small Works Show: ( I also have a piece in the upstairs show but I neglected to photograph it...)

"The Birds of Ulster County: Raven"

Coraline, hmmm...

2009-02-23T16:50:00.000-08:00

I saw the animated movie, "Coraline" over the weekend (not the 3D version, more's the pity.) I had an odd, delayed, reaction to it. Don't get me wrong, the animation and the art direction/design are wonderful. But...
I left the movie theatre cheerfully bouyant, had a very good East Asian supper with a friend, and then when I got home I felt horribly displaced- like I really should have gone to my former home, walked to the back door, through the garden under a starry sky, and sat by a crackling fire in the fire place before retiring. Instead I came back to an apartment that that evening all I could see were its many faults, and when I dreamt that night, I dreamt disturbing dreams of Thrums End.
I had an experience like that years ago when I was living in Brooklyn. I had walked the 10 blocks to the local cinema to see Albert Brooks' "Defending Your Life," ostensibly a comedy. I had left the cinema cheerful but by the time I had walked the 10 blocks home, I was in tears. The premise of the film was that as a child, the main character had not stood up to a much older and larger bully and was therefore going to be punished for eternity. Unfortunately, that storyline dovetailed rather too neatly with my own view of God at that time. To say it triggered some existential angst was an understatement.
So, what was it about "Coraline" that caused me to react so?
The parents were cold and distant, more concerned with working than paying any attention to their child; the home they had moved into looked dreary and, again, cold. There was no comfort to be found anywhere in that place. The parents could only be kind and loving to Coraline after they had brought in money- so the equivalence was made: poverty=coldness, not loving; money=warmth, loving. Maybe that was what triggered my reaction.
Anyway, was it a good movie- I can't really say. But that's just me...

Aha!!!

2009-02-20T06:06:00.000-08:00

Glorioski! I have found my art-ism! My place in the art universe. I am a Stuckist. (profound silence except for the chirping of crickets follows.)
Okay, so what is Stuckism? Well, go here to read the Remodernist manifesto.
I must add that I am very grateful to the founders of Stuckism for not only giving me an identifiable group but also for sparing me the task of having to write my own manifesto. I merely had to go to the cathedral of contemporary art, step up to the doors and read the theses, as it were.
Am I being facetious? No, I am not. I have felt alienated from much of the contemporary art world's cynicism and over-reliance on irony and just plain snarkiness for some time. Also its promotion of profoundly unskilled and untalented people. I visited the Tate Modern the last time I was in London and it had a tremendous effect on me. I was quite thrilled to see the work in the galleries devoted to Stanley ("Cookham") Spencer and other between-the-wars painters. I was quite dismayed when I was in the galleries devoted to very contemporary conceptual art- which seems to only embody the concept "I can't draw, and I can't paint, but I can self-promote to gullible people who are only interested in appearing hip." I had left the former galleries inspired and delighted; the latter, disturbed and upset. Later, when I was talking with the friends I was staying with, I mentioned that since the purpose of the very contemporary art at the Tate seems to be to disturb, and there was much of it concentrated in one place- I left the museum disturbed and upset.
I would rather that after looking at my work, people are thoughtful, inspired and- dare I say it- delighted.

Stuckists of the world unite! You have nothing to lose but your cynicism!

The Humble Button

2009-02-13T10:47:00.000-08:00

A very amusing snippet about buttons and Koumpounophobia- the fear thereof, from Neil Gaiman.

http://www.boingboing.net/2009/02/07/neil-gaiman-on-the-h.html

(Buttons rule)

I Thought It Was Over...

2009-02-12T16:04:00.000-08:00

But I was wrong. I have been out of my former home since September but in the virtual world I was still living at Thrums End. My web site was still up- frozen in time since then but no indication on the site that the house, studio and gardens were no longer mine. The site also had much about my work but according to the statistics, as many people visited the pages about the home as they did for the art. I knew I had to deal with it but I just didn't have the heart.
I had actually built a new site and secured a new domain late last year, but had not arranged for hosting nor finished all the little coding details- yes, I write the code myself. The pressure to close this chapter of my life was building, the hosting for the old site was expensive and holding onto the last shreds of Thrums End was becoming intolerable. I felt dishonest sending people to the old site- it was no longer me.
Well, the time finally came this week. Another tie to my old life has been cut. I had an ache in my heart the whole time and I did shed some tears but I did it . The old site served me well for 16 years, practically an eternity in the life of the internet. All there is left is a placeholder page and soon going to the old address will send visitors immediately to the new address. So, thrumsend.com is dead; long live ButtonwoodArt.com. I hope you enjoy your visit.

(PS The Word Project site has been carried over to the new site)

A Taste of the Past

2009-01-11T15:34:00.000-08:00

I am in the middle of cooking my supper and have been transported back to my childhood by the smells of onions, garlic and lentils cooking together. Now, you must know that I am celtic mid-westerner, a child of the land of meat-and-potatoes, so what am I doing rhapsodizing over lentils, garlic and onions frying in olive oil?
My mother subscribed to the Woman's Day Encyclopedia of Cookery- a series of cookbooks that came, one volume a month and spanned the culinary world from A-to-Z. They featured many exotic (remember this is Ohio in the 60's, so anything not served in cream sauce was exotic) cuisines, among them middle eastern. My mother cooked her way through all 26 volumes so when we got to the M's we first tasted M'Jeddrah or Jacob's Guile. For those of you who are not familiar with or have forgotten their Bible stories, Jacob sold his birthright to Esau for a "mess of pottage" and this pottage was and is M'Jeddrah. Coming from a family tree rampant with clergy, the biblical link added to its attraction.
It is a simple stew of lentils, rice and onions served with a crisp lemony salad and pita bread. (Imagine trying to find pita bread in Poland, Ohio 40 years ago. Fortunately, nearby Youngstown had a Lebanese immigrant community. My father became familiar with all the less mainstream markets in the area during this period.) Here is the recipe:

Slice up 1 large onion and 2 cloves of garlic
Sweat them in some olive oil
Throw in 1 cup of rice (I use brown rice nowadays) and parch it- saute it in the oil until the grains turn transparent and then back to opaque.
Add 1 cup of lentils
3 cups of boiling hot water
salt & pepper

simmer for about 1 hour or so, until all the liquid is absorbed and the rice and lentils are cooked

Make a salad of greens, cucumber , sweet pepper, tomato, whatever is crisp and cool. Toss with a lemon and olive-oil dressing.

Pile some of the stew in a bowl, top with the salad and serve with pita or flat bread.

The combination of hot and savory (umami) stew with the cool, sweet and sour salad is delightful.

I understand some levantine cultures serve the stew with caramelized onions on top and other variations but since this is the one I grew up with, this is the one I'll stick with.

So, the tug of aroma does its magic- hurtling me back 40 years to a kitchen in the woods in Ohio where a middlewestern housewife tried to cook the world.

New Year, New Art

2009-01-09T10:27:00.000-08:00

Here is the first new art work for the new year. Speaking of the new year, I am so happy to see the warty, decrepit backside of 2008. Good riddance, get outta here! I spent a very quiet new year's eve and day meditating on the passing year and clearing the decks for the coming year. At my former home I would go out into the snow at midnight and set off a fountain firework then go in and go to bed. This year I had a cup of decaf tea, watched a romantic movie, cried a bit and knitted, hugged the cat and went to bed- such an exciting life. 2009 can only be better. (11 days and counting)

But I digress. The first art work for the new year was done for a regional competition being held by the WAAM as part of the Henry Hudson quadricentennial celebrations going on this year. Her name is "Muhheakunnuk" which is the native name for what we now call the Hudson River. The work depicts a native/nature figure transformed by European culture. I like it. Whether the juror will is another matter and out of my control- it will be interesting to see. I'll let you know.

Until then, may you be happy and healthy in the face of the challenges of the coming year. As the saying goes: "The past is history, the future is a mystery, all we have is now which is why its called the present." (Corny? yeah but I have never said I was sophisticated and I eschew cynicism.)

Giving Bush the Shoe

2008-12-16T14:56:00.000-08:00

After seeing Bush beaned by a loafer recently, (BTW, where was the Secret Service in all this?) I was intrigued by the Iraqi concept of pelting someone with shoes to express disdain. I knew it was a grave insult to show someone the sole of your foot but did not realize the stigma was also attached to shoes off the foot. I have some shoes that have seen much better days and was preparing to drop them off at Goodwill but now I am thinking that since I can't actually throw them at Bush, I will just send them to the White House- a proxy throw as it were.

If I lived in the Washington DC area, I would consider just leaving them by the fence- throwing them onto the grounds would probably result in arrest, but I don't so I will throw them by mail.

No White Christmas

2008-12-13T16:46:00.000-08:00

I am in the middle of preparations for my annual holiday party, this year combined with an apartment-warming. I am still not recovered financially so my own food and beverage contributions to the pot-luck celebration will be modest. I can only trust that my guests step up to the plate, as it were; but whatever happens it will be fine.

That is what I keep telling myself. My usual holiday trappings are missing this year- no cheerfully burning fireplace, the dining room is lit by the most horrible fluorescent overheads (#1 reason why straight guys should never be allowed to design and interior,) and worst of all- I cannot watch "White Christmas" while I decorate my tree. I left behind the large TV I used to have for the smaller one I had used in my old bedroom, in order to save space. I was all ready to hook up the DVD player and watch my all-time favorite holiday movie but then discovered that the TV has no DVD connectors on it. Ah rats!

I am struggling to hold onto some semblance of holiday spirit- right now I just see what I lack- a real sense of privacy, a connection to the outdoors- I used to be able to fill my home with greenery from my trees, a fireplace, a sense of security- I feel as if this will all be taken away from me any moment now, even a connection to my Higher Power- I haven't been able to meditate for a while, a connection with my family. I also know that some of these are things I cannot change so I ask for serenity to accept them and move on. Some of these, I can change so I ask for courage to take that step on my own behalf. And lastly I ask for wisdom this holiday season to be able to discern the difference between what I can and cannot change so that I can be part of the goodness that is around me, even if it is not in the form that in my pride and self-regard I want it to be.

Driven

2008-12-12T04:01:00.000-08:00

Last evening on the Science Channel, there was a program about people who, after having had a brain anurysem or being struck by lightning, develop overriding compulsions. In the case of one of them, it was compulsive art-making. The man, formerly a chiropractor with no artistic inclinations, now has a compulsive urge to draw. Oh great, I thought, art-making is a result of brain damage... maybe someone dropped me on my head when I was an infant.

I was listening to the television while I sewed in the next room but when the program featured a display of the works of this man along with another fellow similarly afflicted I had to see what kind of art they were doing. I was very disappointed- and a bit relieved I must confess- to see that their works, while prolific, were cliche-ridden, overworked, and uninspired. The brain damage had given them the irresistible urge to draw but had not gifted them with any real talent or discernment. They were compelled to make marks but the marks were not worth keeping.

Another subject of the program had developed a sudden musical compulsion after being struck by lightning but instead of just pounding away on the piano and calling it music, he actually took lessons to channel his new compulsion. He actually became a musician. It took him 15 years to get the music that was playing in his brain, urging him onward, onto paper; while the art-compulsives just spewed onto paper and called it art. That the musician's work may have been equally cliche-ridden when it was finally finished is for others to decide, I do not have a particularly discerning ear; but at least he saw that he needed to train his new gift.

Why the relief? Well, for me art making is both a joy and a bit of torture. I work my way into corners and then have to work my way out of them again. Sometimes I can't solve the problem and have to put the piece aside, sometimes the idea has to percolate on the back-burner of my brain for quite a while. It is work, not spewing. And sometimes I feel like I am surrounded by spewers. There are more than a few talented artists in this area but too often I go to a local salon show and am dismayed by the extremely poor quality of what some people here consider art. Perhaps they suffer the same compulsion as the fellows above and also lack the discernment and discipline to make real art. Even more distressing but inevitable, some of the spewers are also very accomplished promoters and manage to make decent livings. Ah well, back to work.

Ethereal

2008-12-10T13:38:00.000-08:00

Today I was out running errands and while crossing east to west over the Hudson River I saw the most wonderful sight. The day has been preternaturally warm and very, very rainy. On my way over the bridge the first time, the roadway leading to the bridge was shrouded in fog. On the return trip I was treated to the sight of the river itself blanketed in the fog with remnants of the clouds still flowing down the steep, high banks. There was a barge making its way up the estuary (the Hudson is not, in fact, a river but a tidal estuary,) it was plowing through the fog leaving a swirling wake. It was quite magical. I wished I could stop my car and get out to watch the sight from the railing but that was impossible so I went on hoping to engrave the image on my memory.

That sight, along with many many others are why I treasure living here in the Hudson Valley, despite the many challenges. The winters can be harsh, full of extremes, unnaturally warm one day, frigid the next. The summers can be brutally humid and that climate promotes many fungi and blights, including what we call the "Husdon Valley Scunge" a persistent, low level chest congestion and cough. Southern Atlantic storms funnel up the river gorge and sometimes meet storms sweeping in across the Great Lakes from the west to dramatic effect. The area is infested with white-tail deer, the concentrations roughly 4 times the carrying capacity of the land; purple loosestrife, japanese knotweed, japanese barberry, tartarian honeysuckle, garlic mustard, mile-a-minute vine and multi-flora rose are all rampaging through our ecosystem like the barbarian invaders they are. I don't think most residents of the area would know a native landscape if they saw one, and it is very unlikely they would ever see one, the ecosystem is so depauperate. Oh, I am ranting... I need to remember the beautiful fog on the water and be grateful for the opportunity to see it.

Horse Hockey

2008-12-06T16:46:00.000-08:00

For the first time in the 15 years I have lived in this area, I fulfilled my small-towner's obligation to be a curmudgeon and wrote a cranky letter to the editor of the local paper. The project in question is called: "Hors'n Around Saugerties," HITS is a summer horse camp for the very rich that has made its home in Saugerties, Saugerties is located on the western shore of the Hudson River, 100 miles north of NYC, the rest is obvious. Herewith is my rant:

To the Editor:

The upcoming quadricentennial of Henry Hudson's historic voyage up the Hudson is being celebrated by Saugerties with a display of painted fiberglass carousel horses. A call has gone out to local artists to donate their talent and time to this display. With great regret I have decided to not participate in this event despite my great fondness for the village and town. Up until recently I had resided for 15 years in the Township. During that time I participated in the Saugerties Artists Studio Tour, the Little Dutch Barn Auction, and painted 4 panels for the mural in the clerk's office. I was happy to learn that no longer living in Saugerties would not be a barrier to participating.

Then I downloaded the specifications. The transfer of copyright agreement was obviously written without any input from or collaboration with someone representing artists. While it is not as horrible as it could have been, it is still a terribly one-sided document that saddles the artists with a tax burden if their work sells for more than the $50 stipend for materials; transfers all rights to the original piece and all derivative rights to the Chamber; and finally transfers all rights to even the preparatory materials to the Chamber. There are many ways this agreement could have been made fairer to artists without harming the Chamber or the Village or Town. The excuse that the boilerplate was lifted wholesale from the Catskill display? As mothers through the ages have replied: "if your friends all jumped off a cliff would you do it too?"

Then there is the total lack of any connection between carousel horses and Henry Hudson, the Half Moon or the Hudson River itself. The reason why it is carousel horses: HITS has thrown its weight around to get something to promote itself at the expense of history. (And shame on you, Senator Schumer for supporting this cowtowing to corporate interests.) We can only be thankful that an arms company is not the economic heavyweight in town, otherwise I assume we'd be asked to decorate M-1 tanks or howitzers; or a pharmaceutical company- imagine gigantic pills on every corner painted with scenes of the Half Moon sailing up the great river...

Besides the egregious disregard for history- the very thing the quadricentennial is supposed to be celebrating- the use of carousel horses hamstrings the artists who do choose to go through with this exercise because they are already covered with raised decorations. It is in fact not a blank canvas, there is no room for an artist's expression.

So, despite my fondness for Saugerties and my desire to be part of the Hudson celebrations, I will not be hors'n around Saugerties; I hope some other, more relevant, fairer and respectful opportunities present themselves.

When the Going Gets Tough...

2008-12-06T15:54:00.000-08:00

the tough wash dishes. This evening was both the opening of a small show in the Founders Gallery at the WAAM and its annual year-end awards announcements. I was gratified to be awarded an Honorable Mention for my piece in the show, "Wings." And I have to admit that I had thought I had a really good shot at getting one of the year-end awards. People seemed especially happy to see me at the event so I thought maybe they knew something.

But I was wrong. It is impossible for me to be churlish about the artists who did win, Elin Menzies and Meredith Rosier, they are both very fine artists and one is good friend, but I am still disappointed. So, what did I do to handle my envy (my most besetting-sin,) self-pity and guilt? I came home and washed dishes. I find the simplest domestic acts seem to bleed off all the negative feelings. Perhaps it is improvement in my surroundings, easily achieved; perhaps it is the warm sudsy water; the combination of the contemplative and the insistent presentness of the chores; whatever it is, it works. So I have a clean kitchen and relief that I did not act on my inner-child's temper-tantrum...

One of these days my emotional age will catch up with my chronological age.

Confession

2008-12-02T13:52:00.000-08:00

I am about to blow to smithereens any respect you may have had for me- you have been warned.

Its almost 5pm- time to turn off the radio and "All Things Considered" and indulge in my favorite guilty pleasure: NCIS. I am an ACLU-, progressive-, artsy- type gal but I have developed a heavy, heavy crush on Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs and am frankly astounded by it. Tuesday has become a real test for me- Gibbs vs House, both in the same 8pm time-slot (no, I don't have Tivo and do not wish to have it, thank you. I spend too much time in front of the TV as it is...)

Gibbs: strong, intelligent, good with his hands, steady, independent, dependable- very easy on the eyes, the Fisher King; House: a real bad-boy who needs the love of a good woman, insanely intelligent, erratic, needy, neurotic, sets off all the scoundrel alarms.

Oh which to choose.... despite my past faithfulness to House I have thrown myself into the sure, capable arms of Gibbs and plan to stay there. Do I feel guilty? Yes, I tend to be ridiculously faithful to cafes, haircutters, masseusses, etcetc- or maybe I am just prone to rut-trudging; but I just can't help myself.

If there is a good documentary on Nova or the Science Channel I am torn again. 9pm is a real smash-up: "Fringe," "The Mentalist," "The Universe (History Channel)," more Science Channel. So far "The Mentalist" is winning most weeks.

My name is Polly and I am a TV fiend...

Better Late Than Never

2008-12-01T16:47:00.000-08:00

A few months and several posts ago, I mentioned an exhibit of The Word Project at Sage College and said I would post pictures- which I have not done. Well, here they are finally:

The two women are chums from my Guild days, Lauri Baram and Susan Matthews. Several old Guild buddies showed up which was very nice.

Okay, cross that one off the list. I also have not posted any new work for a while. So here are those images:

Camelia in Her Cups

Greenwoman

Sharp as a Tack

So, there they are, pretty much all caught up.

A Spotty Mind

2008-11-24T20:13:00.000-08:00

I have just returned from seeing "Synechdoche, NY" with a friend and I feel as though my brain has been lifted out of my skull, rinsed in cool, clean water and returned to me- oh, and sorry about dropping it on the floor on the return trip but the 5 second rule applies to grey matter too... What a movie!

I also had some great cider- Doc's Cassis Cider- a delicious union of black currant and apple cider with hard cider's dryness, drinkability and don't forget the kick.

An altogether pleasant evening but the movie will be difficult to forget.

Some Little Art, A New Word, No Tea

2008-11-23T04:10:00.000-08:00

Since the beginning of this year, I have been dabbling in ATC's & ACEO's. No, these are not stocks or some arcane- and possibly unethical, financial scheme- they are artists trading cards & artists cards, editions, originals. They are small works, the same dimensions as a baseball trading card: 2.5"x3.5". The only difference between an ATC and an ACEO seems rather arbitrary and a bit silly to me- that ATC's are traded and ACEO's are sold; as far as I am concerned, selling something is a trade- you are trading the card for a twenty dollar bill in the case of my miniscule works. And besides, Artists Trading Card sounds better.

But I, as usual, digress. The WAAM held what was billed as an ATC swap meet the other evening but though I spent the day churning out my tiny contributions, I came home empty handed. I looked at the work others had produced but by and large they were just little color printouts of their larger works glued onto poster board- very few original pieces in the bunch. The few originals that were offered looked to have taken the artist all of 1 minute to produce- each or as a collection it is hard to say. I didn't want to trade my truly hand-wrought cards for cards I perceived as not of equal value so, I ended up just consigning what I had brought to the shop and consigning myself to disappointment.
So, I ask myself: am I working too hard or are they working too little?

I am always on the lookout for new words for my Word Project and this landed on my desktop the other day: mythologein (to tell mythical tales). This is an archaic word but it packs a real semantic punch for me. Twice in the past week, observers of my work had commented on its connection to deep wells of myth and symbol- they had also asked why my work is not being shown in NYC- a question that I have no answer for since I cannot ask it of any gallery owners, since they don't answer my queries...
So, now in addition to styling myself as a bricoleur (someone who makes artful use of materials at hand) I can now add mythologeinist (teller of mythical tales.) Does this increase my chances of getting my work at the very least seen by the swells in the big city? No, but it puts a name to the mantle I have been wearing these past years and gives me frisson of linguistic delight; for today, that'll have to do.

As for the tea? Nothing to speak of beyond the usual too many cups of.

58 days to go and counting... (W and Dick: resign today if you love this country at all.)

What a Difference a Day Makes

2008-11-08T17:19:00.000-08:00

Part of today's agenda was picking up some household items at the hardware store in Woodstock and then attending the opening of the current show at the WAAM, "Grey Matter." I was astounded to find the village humming with tourists and the opening full of optimistic, energized people. There were red dots on a few pieces in the show, unfortunately none of them were on my work, but who knows what the future brings. It was as if a cloud had lifted, a pall had been removed. And then it hit me- of course, the election.

73 days to go and counting...

Sisyphus Gets a Rain Day

2008-11-08T07:42:00.000-08:00

I am taking a Rain Day from work at the nursery today. While I was having breakfast, I was pondering what I would do with my day and came up with a list of the usual suspects: housecleaning, errands, and obligations.

I caught myself up short- where was the fun? I tried to come up with something fun to do... hmmm... still thinking, still thinking... aha! um, no, not really... then it struck me: I haven't the foggiest idea of what is fun for me. And I mean real fun- not glee which is the twisted joy of inflicting a small amount of pain on someone else (Karl Rove comes to mind as a gleeful person;) not hysteria, somewhat resembles joy but is actually fear-based (me on a roller-coaster;) not contentment, but fun- the kind of fun that refreshes one's innermost being, that unplugs and drains the sludgy recesses of one's psychic oil-pan. In the old-fashioned parlance: good, clean fun.

I have always enjoyed going to flea-markets (see the ur-bowl story below, March 27th entry) but I really don't need any thing and I don't want to spend the money, and heck, its November, not too many flea markets around here this time of year. But, that is a starting point... So, what does a flea market have that I like? (Besides, large pottery bowls that connect to my semiotic desires like a fork-wielding two-year old to a wall socket.)

People: But I usually am at these things alone, so it is people at a distance. Would I prefer to be flea-marketing with friends? Yes, being alone wore thin quite a while ago.
Eye-candy: lots of textures, unexpected juxtapositions, colors. Okay, that seems non-toxic.
Road-trip: Aha, a critical ingredient! When I was a child, my father would announce on a Saturday or Sunday that we were going to go on a Mystery Trip. Sometimes it was just the immediate family, sometimes it would involve a caravan of other families and friends; but it was always someplace fascinating that my father had found. It also usually involved a picnic or stopping for lunch at a diner- a rare and exotic treat for us. I loved those days.

So, these are the ingredients I want- going someplace far enough way to necessitate a road-trip, a place or event full of interesting things and opportunities, with friends and stopping on the way for lunch...

Then again, dancing around the apartment to the music of Abba sounds like a possibility, too...

Voting and Hoping

2008-11-04T11:49:00.000-08:00

Today is, in case you just dropped in from another dimension, election day. I did my duty, and gratefully so, this morning at my new polling place, the Wiltwyck Firestation on Frog Alley. Shortly after I moved here to Kingston I walked the hundred feet or so down the block to the Board of Elections and changed my registration to my new address. I had read earlier that day about how some folks uprooted in situations similar to mine had neglected to change their voting address with their county boards and because of the rules in their state were ineligible to vote in the upcoming elections. I am a member of the first cohort of 18 year-olds eligible to vote, and barring 2 school board elections and a library vote or two, I have voted in every election since that time- I take my franchise very seriously and did not want to miss this one. I remember going with my mother when she voted at the school, comparing all the different, and anonymous, shoes and legs set off by the booths' curtains and then suddenly, it was my babysitter, or someone from the hardware store attached to those shoes. I frankly do not understand people who don't vote, but there you are.

I have spent the rest of the day organizing, cleaning and attending to the many small chores that needed doing, a little more unpacking- nothing terribly creative or important but just about all I could handle. I know it is anticipation of the outcome of the vote. I am very hopeful it will be Obama/Biden. I am also terrified that by some horrible circumstance it will be McCain/Bible Spice. Even though I am very well aware that the outcome is out of my hands, I am still unable to settle to anything serious or focussed. I am not listening to the radio or the television, I have had the music of Samuel Barber, Percy Grainger, and Ralph Vaughn-Williams on rotation.

I must say I much prefer the English system- the day of the election, there is a crew standing by to remove the old PM's worldly possessions and bring in the new PM's, if that is way the citizens choose. Why wait? Speculating on the amount of damage Bush/Cheney could and probably will do to our rights and freedoms in these last days of his reign makes my blood run cold. Oh, now I am getting all fussed up again; time to go for a walk and be in the present.

Hell Is Other People

2008-10-18T19:20:00.000-07:00

So said Oscar Wilde, and after this week I am inclined to agree. Up until this past week, I was the sole full-time resident of the building, the 2 floors below me were offices and therefore empty (and quiet) after 5pm and on the weekends. I really appreciated that. Well, in a cost-cutting move, the owner of the building converted 1/2 of the floor below me into a small apartment and rented it to a very young couple- I didn't realize 12 year olds were cohabiting and signing leases these days but apparently i am behind the times.

And like all young people these days they apparently cannot exist without a very loud soundtrack to their lives. I am now treated to seismic bass notes from 5pm onward, it makes me want to clomp around in wooden clogs or build shelves in the rooms above their apartment when I get up at 6:30 every morning...

I have also been in retail hell this weekend, working at a huge Sheep & Wool Festival on the other side of the river. Ah the panoply of human folly that unfolds before me- parents totally cowed by their small children; said children making a mess of the booth while their parents stand by absolutely oblivious; people asking me for the website where they can find some of the merchandise we offer for sale- not our website, mind you; after standing in line for 20 minutes for some food, the couple in front of me finally reach the counter and suddenly can't decide what they want to eat from the extensive menu of 6 choices and proceed to discuss these options in excruciating detail; 2 couples standing in the middle of our space simultaneously having a discussion of the restaurant choices in the area, not buying- or even looking at- anything, and preventing actual customers from entering our space and purchasing our wares, and on and on and on.

The Sheep & Wool Festival has been compared to medieval festivals in its rustic character. These folks makes me wish it was a medieval festival- complete with stocks and ducking stools...

Tis a Gift to Be Simple

2008-10-05T16:31:00.000-07:00

I work at a northeast-native-plant nursery on the weekends and we are beginning the long process of shutting down for the year. It means a lot of repairs need to be done, herbaceous plants need to be cut down, pots need to be put into the bins where they will overwinter. Between tending to the needs of customers, I spent the day re-organizing the remaining pots of raspberries, currants, gooseberries and other edibles, finding spots for them in the bins, topping the bins up with the mulch that will insulate them. It was a day of many textures and sensations.

Most of the day the sun was out and the air was brisk and dry. The blue of an October sky is a blue even I, who dislikes most blues, cannot resist. The worms had been busy in the old mulch in the bins and had turned the bark mulch into a rich, dark, dense cake of castings. To my nose, the new mulch smells slightly of coffee and dampness- not an unpleasant aroma but inescapable. The texture of the new mulch is very friable and light. The stems of the black raspberries are bloomed with a waxy pale blue over rich purple. I helped myself to a luscious 'Autumn Bliss' raspberry. In the background, goldfinches were calling all day with their "zee-zee-zeet?" merrily feasting on the many seed heads from the summers' spent blooms. Bumblebees were still making the rounds- there are enough blossoms still around for them to do their work. One of the dogs at the nursery, an utterly charming Icelandic Sheep Dog, named Brinja, came by every once in a while to get her belly rubbed and then, in canine quid-pro-quo, insisted on licking my face and ears for me. By late afternoon, the sun had warmed the local fox grapes enough for them to release their heady fragrance. It was like drowning in a vat of hot grape juice- intoxicating. Unfortunately, the pulp of these grapes is insipid- and that is being charitable. At the end of the long day, when I just could not do another row of "socket pots," I headed home and stopping by a hardware superstore on the top of a ridge, sat and watched a glorious sunset for a few minutes.

There were many more delights for the senses- I neglected to mention the lovely colors of the sassafrass tree's three mitten leaves, the large display of 'Harrington's Pink' New England Asters, a few remaining Monarchs nectaring on the New York Ironweed... and on and on and on. A rich and rewarding day; and I am grateful for the chance to be present for its many gifts.

A Few Trips Around the Colorwheel

2008-10-02T06:02:00.000-07:00

I realized last evening that I have not posted for a few weeks- since leaving Thrums End and my first night in my new place; here is what has been happening.

I am slowly settling in here, I have learned the benefits of earplugs for dealing with the noise in the night and block-out liner for drapes for dealing with the street lamps that seem charming from street level but not so when one is trying to sleep. I am getting used to the wonky floors and walls in this place- I do not think there is anything at right angles anywhere. I am unpacking and have made a few trips to the storage unit to retrieve belongings. Setting up, putting away, slowly but surely.

Starting even before I moved in here, I had assumed that I would paint and decorate using the same palette I had at my former home- I loved the colors, warm tones, earthy and subtle. But the more time I have spent here the more I have been seeing a very different palette- colors my Great Aunt Jean used- icy turquoises, limey greens (overlap with my old palette,) orchid (!) salmon, and eggplant to ground them all to keep them from being too sweet. The wood trim is all dark and that will ground them also. What!? Where are the clays and mosses? I have apparently moved from earth to ocean. So, I put my ear to the seashell and my eye to the horizon and pick up my paint brush.

Meanwhile, in the studio- have I been making art? Yes. Happy with what I have done? No, not really but I trust it will come back to me.

Finale

2008-09-16T11:00:00.000-07:00

Well, as of 7:15 last evening, Thrums End is no longer and I am in the new space. I was absolutely exhausted by the end of that grueling day- and the end of a horrible, long process. But, my new neighbors had other ideas- there was someone cleaning the sidewalk across the street with a power washer & generator until 10:30 at night... The light coming into the apartment from the street lights was terrible and also kept me up (today, I need to get louvered blinds for all the street-front windows,) and the former tenants left cat smells untreated... I was not happy. I need to take many actions today for my own comfort and serenity. One of them was having the computer, cable and telephone all hooked up- yippee!!!! A good go-round with an enzymatic cat-odor remover has been done.

The installation took the entire morning so now I need to go out and get my errands run- then I need to take a good nap.

I meant to take pictures of the remains of Thrums End but my camera's battery was dead... perhaps the message is that I need to just move forward.

Last Hours

2008-09-15T11:48:00.000-07:00

I am waiting for the next contingent of moving help to arrive so I am taking a breather. The professional movers were here this morning and 80% of the stuff is out of the house and studio, the furniture is out of the storage unit. The mover has a temper and accused me at one point of purposely deceiving him about the amount of stuff in the unit that needed to be moved. I don't think I was unclear but I also am not thinking terribly clearly right now. (Thank heavens for spell-check) I did not sleep last night- the combination of anxiety, sadness, and the horrible humidity added up to fitful and brief spells of unrestful sleep.

So, one truckload of stuff was loaded and moved, leaving me with lots of boxes, the remainder of my artwork, and some small furniture still to move. Oh, and my poor cat, Bundle, who has been locked in a small room all day and is making his misery known to all in the vicinity. I will give him a big dose of catnip at the new place and I hope that will dope him out and help him adjust to his new life as an indoor cat.

I again called on friends and Jeff came with his truck and we pretty much cleared the studio- bless you, Jeff. But those stairs are a climb and I couldn't ask him to do more.

Another friend gave me the name and number of someone with a van-for-hire and while I would rather not have to spend the money, I am buying peace of mind and a respite from carrying at least 1/2 the stuff up the stairs. He will be by in a bit. Then I have a run to the storage unit to drop off a few bits and that should be it.

The painters are here and they usually knock-off at 5 so I will have a chance to walk around and properly say goodbye to Thrums End without an audience. I am keeping myself in denial by staying busy, but soon it will all be quiet, I will be in a new, unfamiliar place and there will be nothing to distract me. I need to just accept that grief when it comes and hope it also brings some healing.

Tomorrow, I start building my new life and picking up some of the dropped threads the foreclosure unraveled.

Last Days

2008-09-14T13:00:00.000-07:00

I have been hard at work today, shuttling between the new place and the old with my little Saab packed to the gills with belongings. The mover is coming at 7:30 tomorrow morning to do the final move but I wanted to move my artwork, pantry, clothing, and things like my printer and scanner myself. Unfortunately, it is also the most miserable weather we have had all summer- in the 80's but with the beastly humidity, thank you Ike, it feels like the mid 90's. Rivulets of sweat, soaked clothes, and 2 flights of narrow stairs...

I thought I was okay- looking forward, seeing the positive side. Then, my neighbor comes over to say goodbye and suddenly I am devastated.

Common Wisdom

2008-09-12T08:58:00.000-07:00

"The hurrier I go, the behinder I get." I remember that well from my childhood. It is an Old Dutch (Amish) adage and is apropos to the past two days. I had asked in an earlier post to have an easy couple of days so instead I have thrown up one obstacle after another for myself with my impatience and fretting. Any small glitch- a trip to the copy center but the image was in the incorrect format, I had cut the frame pieces for the three newest Word Project words too long and the saw is not here to fix them- that could happen, did happen. And they happened mostly because I was not paying attention or rushing. Another adage from my cabinetmaker father: "Measure once, cut twice; measure twice, cut once."

Also, a skunk let loose at about 3:40am somewhere nearby. I ended up smearing Tiger Balm around my nose to counteract the smell so I could get back to sleep. Now my nose is nice and moisturized, if a little out of joint.

My opening is this afternoon, here are the 3 Words that will not be in the show because their frames don't fit:

(Lypemania- excessively mournful; frumentarious- relating to corn; and junters- in a sulk)

Ashes

2008-09-11T17:34:00.000-07:00

I have just finished burning reciepts, checks and other tax documents from the years 1983-2000. In the course of cleaning out the attic I had found many shoe boxes full of this stuff as well as one large box filled with the documents that I had apparently brought with me from Brooklyn in 1994. I was glancing through the cancelled checks and was able to trace my journey from the upper west side of Manhattan, to Carroll Gardens in Brooklyn and then to here. By chance (?) I happened upon the checks I had signed and handed over at the closing on this house. I set those aside while I finished the burning. All told it took over an hour and a half to destroy that paper trail- old credit card receipts for a card I no longer have but from a time when the full number of the account was on the receipt, many many receipts from bookstores and yarn stores, a thick stack of bus ticket stubs from when I was newly moved up here but had to return to NYC every week to sign the checks for the Graphic Artists Guild, bank statements for accounts long closed, checks from past lives with new addresses inked on them, even the cancelled checks from my divorce- all gone, all reduced to slivers of carbon.

As a last step, I put the house-closing checks on the embers one by one and watched them burn up. A few tears were shed but not as many as I was expecting. I am perhaps already one foot out the door, tired of this dragged-out process yet fully aware that I am the one who dragged it out. I could have called a mover weeks ago, I could have finished this move much earlier- indeed, I kept saying I wanted this to be over, and I do. But... But... But there is still this reluctance to take the actions. "Isn't there someone out there who will do this for me," I hear a small voice say in my mind. No, I have to do this myself.

I have been wonderfully supported by friends through this but they have lives of their own to lead, and they are friends, not parents. And I want to be their friend, not some ever-needy child they need to take care of.

So, I need to remember the wisdom of Eleanor Roosevelt: "Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, all we have is today- which is why it is called the present."

My move is scheduled to begin Monday morning at 7:30am.

Hanging In There

2008-09-10T14:49:00.000-07:00

I drove up to Albany today to hang the show and it looks good- there are just under 100 pieces and it is always a puzzle as to how to hang it as each space is different not only in size but also layout. But it got done in pretty good time- 4 1/2 hours but I did not break a sweat. I needed to adjust some of the placards and other text accompaniments to reflect pieces sold and the many changes in my life since the last time it was shown. I got home in plenty of time to do that. I will adjust the lights and tweak the show on Friday before the opening. These last-minute tasks will give me something to do with my fidgets before the show opens- that time period when I am sure no one will show up..... I promise to bring my camera and take some images....

While I was hanging the show, I kept thinking about 9/11. The weather today was quite like the weather on that fateful day- clear, dry, cool and breezy, the best of the season. I had been preparing to go into NYC on 9/11 but the weather was so glorious I decided to stay home and spend time outside in the garden. Instead I spent the day inside listening to NPR on the radio while simultaneously watching the muted TV. (I would not have been in the area of the WTC and most likely the bus would have been turned away and sent back upstate, not even allowed into the city as the attacks occurred during the trip time- so it was in no way one of those "eerie coincidences" one hears about.) It was an odd thing to be thinking about nonetheless.

Working on the text pieces was a welcome diversion. The painters were here, blocking the driveway, playing loud country-pop music; I was glad to have to be in the studio until they were done for the day. Tomorrow the mover is coming to see what we are both in for. Looking around the place there is not that much but then I remember the furniture in the storage unit- but all in all, much less than my last move, from Brooklyn to here. There is a small bit of satisfaction in that, I must admit.

I was so fussed on Monday and Tuesday about the move and the show, I feared nothing would come together in time, it was all going to be a big rancid mess. I am relieved to say that so far my fears were unfounded, I can only ask that events continue to unfold easily and well; but if they don't that I can handle any problems. I have to have a bit more faith- perhaps the glass is just even right now and that is good enough for today.

I Have No Clever Title For This Post...

2008-09-08T16:20:00.000-07:00

I am just too tired and addlepated right now. I spent the first half of the day driving up to Albany to hang a show of my Word Project, got there and discovered that there was still art hanging in the gallery and that the show was slated to be up until Wednesday... despite emails alerting the director of the gallery that I was planning to come up and hang the show today, the space wasn't ready and he did not tell me this. The morning was redeemed, however, by a stop over at WAMC, the public radio station for our area, where I was able to promote the show to the station's vast audience. Who knows, one or two of them may actually come to see it. Many thanks to Joe and Sarah, the Roundtable hosts, for letting me share their air time.

When I got home there was a message from the director saying I could now come and hang the show, the gallery was cleared. Well, despite gas being so cheap and all (ahem...), I decided to hang the show on Wednesday and dedicate the rest of the day to moving. Good intentions but I don't know how much I actually accomplished. I moved several loads of boxes, but my car doesn't hold much and I could see this was not going to be an effective use of my time and energy. So, I need to hire a mover. Thankfully, I won't need one of those gigantic vans, but it would be lovely to not have to wrestle the remaining boxes and furniture up those 2 flights of stairs. So first thing tomorrow, I call movers.

I am feeling very betwixt and between- not at home anymore here but not able to settle in yet at the new place. I have started to paint- the floor of what will be my workroom is no longer the bilious yellow the former tenant had painted it. It is now a calm off-white. I know, I know you are saying- "off-white! has she gone all Martha on us?" No, but for now I need to get moved in, I will probably embellish it later, but who knows... I have primed the walls of what will be the bedroom- they had been another primary color- and I loathe primary colors, its tertiary and sub-tertiary all the way for me. But the actual painting will have to wait- that is what winters are for- sipping tea, listening to the radio and painting.

So I need to just float with this feeling- as the man in the story says, "go up when the water goes up, and go down when the water goes down." Fighting the current will just exhaust me and not get me any further toward my goal. And for the next couple of days, my goals are to have a successful hanging and opening for The Word Project on Friday; and to get all moved before my deadline so I can walk away from here, probably crying my eyes out, but headed toward the future.

Steps Forward in Several Directions

2008-09-02T08:18:00.000-07:00

I worked all Labor Day Weekend at the nursery and the former tenants of my new home were moving out so I did little over the weekend to prepare for my own move. I also had to take some time to finish a piece for another show coming up (it was a bit chaotic as I had packed some of the tools I needed and had to dig through to find them, but I did finish the piece.) I had made arrangements for utilities for the new place in the past week, a task I was dreading that did mean several hours spent on hold on the phone, but that is done.

But the weekend is over and it's time to start moving. I will be seeing the new place empty for the first time this afternoon. I will bring paint chips to tape on the walls, a measuring tape and pad to make lists. I am talking with friends- friends with trucks- about moving and trying to figure out the best time to do all this. It seems rather daunting despite all the stuff that I have jetissonned but I just have to take one step after the other- not assume that I can or need to move it all at one time.

Also this afternoon, I will be submitting the altered book and the piece I finished over the weekend to their respective shows at the WAAM. The piece I just finished is for a Works-On-Paper show and depicts several themes I have been exploring over the past 2 years or so- Hiesenberg's Uncertainty Principle, my autobiographical bird-doll-girl, entropy, and recently, deracination. When you stop the wave-form bird-doll-girl and, by observing, force her to be a particle, what happens? Quite a burden for one small composition of paper, paint, glassine and a button.

How am I feeling? My feelings are currently wave-forms, I do not want them to be particles that will spill down my cheeks, so I am letting them pass through me, unremarked, for now.

News

2008-08-27T13:47:00.000-07:00

I have found a place and put down the deposit. I don't know whether to laugh, or cry.

Life as an Open Book

2008-08-25T07:10:00.000-07:00

One of the most unfortunate consequences- among many unfortunate consequences- of all of this has been my inability to create new works. Whether it has been due to the press of outside events, the necessity of action spent on moving, or frankly, the anxiety, exhaustion and despond that have overtaken what little free time I have had, my life as an artist was last in line for my attention. I was also afraid it would not come back when I was settled in whatever new place is to be mine.

But there is a show coming up on the WAAM schedule: Altered Books, that I had put on the calendar when I was still chair of that committee and I felt I needed to enter something. I became interested in Altered Books a few years ago. I love the synthesis of context, sub-context, creativity and the artful use of what's at hand (bricolage.) The techniques overlap/intersect with my work with my dolls and I have incorporated my doll work with the books in the past. But, the book work is time intensive- much time to core out the pages, build the structures etc. Time and energy I just don't have right now.

Fortunately, I found a book I had already cored-out, but then had become stuck as to what to do with it further. Having worked under advertising deadlines for over 20 years had taught me a thing or two about how to get the creative juices flowing when needs must. I bless that experience now. I actually came up with something that I think is half-way decent. Well, decent may not be the best descriptive...

The book I worked on is titled: Human Heredity and the chapter the book is forever open to is titled: Sex. So, a golden egg on one side, flying screws on the other... I am just so happy to have done this even under all of the pressure being applied from the outside. Will it get into the show? I have no idea- but just having something to enter is reward enough.

My search for a live/work space continues...

Dismantled Life

2008-08-21T18:17:00.000-07:00

One of the conditions of my being able to stay until the 15th of September is that the new owners can begin work on the outside of the house. Today one of the owners came with contractors who started measuring. I stayed in the studio making calls, continuing my search for a place to begin rebuilding my life. An hour or so after they left, a dumpster was delivered and parked in the drive. Unfortunately, it had been used previously to haul garbage and they didn't clean it out enough- it stinks. I hope it was not intentional. If it was, shame on them.

The enormity of my loss has hit me this evening. I look at the stars spangling the sky and listen to the crickets chirp. Today the remnants of the garden were alive with butterflies and birds. Soon, I will not have that view of the dark sky nor the butterflies or birds. My world will be much more bounded and less green. I also keenly feel the loss of all the dollars I spent on this place, none of which I am getting back, the furnishings that haven't found new homes that will end up in the dumpster, the plants that I lovingly chose and planted that will undoubtedly be ripped out. I do not think the new owners care about Wafer-Ash, or Golden Club, or Flame Azalea- if they don't sell them at Loew's they probably don't want them.

I have not felt this alone and forlorn since the night after my mother's funeral when I was left in her home, all alone, with none of my familiar distractions or comforts to ease my loneliness and loss. I was 500 miles from friends. My brothers had left without apparently any thought about how it might feel to be stranded in that house. That is how I feel again, now. I might as well be back there with only overwhelming feelings of loss and sadness, I might as well be 500 miles from anyone who cares about me.

I have to go to work tomorrow at the nursery, I have been away too long. I am afraid of what I will come back to, what fresh reminder of my failure will greet me on my return in the evening.

Reprieve

2008-08-20T04:06:00.000-07:00

I had my court date yesterday and even though I was visibly shaking and sure the end had come, I was able to make it through. I felt like a real wuss but I have not been sleeping or eating well, nor really relaxing for the past several months and it is taking a toll. My lawyer handled the negotiations and the questions and was able to secure me a few extra weeks to find a new home and work space. I am so very grateful. I have been working on clearing out the 15 years of living and creating done here, sorting, selling, packing and saying goodbye. The house is pretty much bare except for some sticks of furniture that I sleep on or store my clothes in. The rest of my remaining worldly possessions are in storage or piled in boxes in the kitchen waiting to go to their new home wherever that may be.

I then went into town to get some supper and stopped in to see a friend in his used-book shop. He knows what is going on in the village and when I told him what I was looking for, he came up with some suggestions. So, I actually slept most of the night- a real accomplishment. I have my goal for today: hit the village and talk to the folks Richard suggested and see what shakes loose. I am feeling that slight swelling of hope again and that is a lovely, sacred feeling. So, for today I have a roof over my head, food to eat and clothes on my back- and a list of possibilities.