Apres L'Deluge

So after some pretty wicky- whacky weather, Bob and I made a tour over the bridge to the far side of the stream. Our stream was a torrent: swirling, cresting and threatening to become a river. It had been a wild night of downpour and wind and general wooliness. But at least all trace of that nasty snow is gone!
This poor mouse seems to have not made it home and out of harm's way and had obviously drowned. We found this tiny corpse while inspecting one of the little pine seedlings. I guess I shouldn't feel badly, after all, had the mouse found his way into our house, we probably would have set a trap.
On an entirely opposite note, our horse Maggie decided that the absence of snow and ice was a marvelous good thing and took the opportunity to kick up her heels and really show off. She raced the wind from one end of her pasture to the other sliding to a stop like a reining champion and then spinning on a hind hoof and careening off to the other side. Crow hopping, bucking, galloping... at least she feels good! Bob and I were alternately entertained and terrified that she would trip head over tail and break a leg or two (horses being know for truly stupid accidents).
Later, Mistress Maggie rolled and enrobed herself in a thick plaster of mud. She looked very pleased with her performance as I tried to brush her back to a semblance of civilization. I was contemplating riding her today, but that high wind dissuaded me and I'm glad I stayed on terra firma.

The Just the Wrong Amount of Right...

I started a drawing again a few days ago. My fingers were itching and I had that unsettled feeling that I get when something just wants to come out. And drawing is such a physical art act for me; way more so than collage and much chunkier than sewing. (Fabric work is tactile in a much more silky kind of way.)
Anyway, I began to mess around with pencils and a bit of added collage and then I glued on- and ripped off- other papers, leaving scabby, redrawn-on ghosts. I stenciled letters and then erased them. In short, I had a ball. Then it occurred to me that there was a odd skull shape looking up at me, which, if you think of it, is not all that strange as I must have made thirty plus skulls in the past few years. (They were made from all kinds of crumpled magazines and packing tape).
Above is the third drawing in this series, because inevitably, all my work is from a series, whether new or old. Oh, and the phrase... that's from this weird series of ads for a hotel chain. I think they're trying to appeal to a younger, hipper sensibility. But boy, is a chunk of jargon like that up my alley. Just what are they- and I by extension- trying to say?
And of course, this exercise got me mulling over the twisted way that things like skulls permeate our culture. Not really a source of revulsion and fear or a blunt reminder of our certain mortality, skulls have gone the way of owls, mushrooms, dinosaurs, zombies and many other kitsch-ified societal shorthands. Think about it: dinosaurs were known for tromping around the planet, chewing up smaller dinosaurs and consuming entire palm trees and generally wrecking havoc on a magnificent scale. Not cute, by any means! Even owls are predators, devouring voles and shrews in a single swallow and regurgitating bones and beaks after the fact. And mushrooms are frequently poisonous but they have long been used as decorative devices with fairies sleeping beneath their deathly gills. They have all been rendered safe, cozy and cute. So I can't figure out which side (or hopefully both! I love ambiguity!) my skulls come down on.
On the other hand- embracing that ambiguity- I can honestly say my sorta skull drawing isn't an ultra representational skull . It's more of an implied skull or a suggestion of skull. That leaves room for you to see something entirely different. Or, to see just the right amount of wrong.

BBBBu-baby It's CCCCC-Cold Outside

Yes, that's end of day ice on the thermometer. I think it was hovering somewhere around 15 degrees and it was windy so it was even colder when I shot this picture. It must have been around five o'clock when I went out to feed Maggie her grain. I keep wanting to feed dog and pony to keep up their body temperature. Tonight, a good friend asked, "How does your horse keep warm?" and then related how her ducks want to still swim, despite ice forming on their swimming pool.
I don't know. I really don't understand how hooved ungulates (read: deer and cows and horses and the like) (despite heavy winter coats) keep warm. I've seen beds in the woods- circles of smashed, compressed leaves- where I know deer huddle together at night. I left Maggie with extra straw to make a nice bed in her stall, and she still seemed to want to be outside. But you have to think they're sort of miserable, too. More hay, more straw, more grain, more calories.
Jules seem to be oblivious to the cold. He'll run through puddles, gleefully smashing ice and then run off with wet feet. But the last few days, even he wants to come back inside.

And meanwhile, in my studio, the wood stove burned fiercely all day long. I worked on an ongoing project, but suffered from brain freeze. I just didn't feel super smart or edgy or like I wanted to put fabulous ideas to the test. Instead, I felt drawn in and low key. I went and secured another 20 bales of hay this morning, and that was about it for heroic measures. I was more than  happy to sit by the fire this afternoon, sewing a particularly laborious part of my "Fiscal Cliff" piece. It is a hunkering down time of the year.
So I'm hoping for no more than an inch of snow on Friday. We are supposed to travel to NYC to see art and have some urban entertainment but they are being hesitant about weather we're getting one inch- or one foot. Tomorrow is rumored to be as cold- or colder!- than today.

The Indian Well

When we first moved here, our neighbors regaled us with stories about odd and fascinating facts regarding this property and the general area.  I'm certain they were using these tales as a way to test our character and to pull our legs.
Thus we were told of the treacherous quicksand pits that lurked behind Bob's studio, ready to suck us innocents into their gooey depths (we're still waiting to stumble on those). And we marveled at stories of the awesonely gigantic black snake that lived in the murky green pond at the bottom of the horse field. I still tread past the pond delicately, fearing to see this serpent of heroic proportions. So far he/she is a bit like the Loch Mess monster; lots of rumors, fewer actual sightings. (I let Bob do most of the planting of wetland irises into the banks last year. He purports to be unafraid of snakes. Let's see who wants to move to the Everglades!)
In any event, the tale of the Indian Well may well be true. Across the great water (actually our humble brook) there is a cistern of sorts with a narrow pipe from which water always flows. The body of the container isn't old, but we suspect there is truth to the notion that area Native Americans probably used this very stream and possibly even a receptacle of some kind to catch the water from one of many springs in the area. Above and below are pictures of this basin. We don't know who put the tube there, or added the pipe, but it is always brimful and quite pretty.

It's nice to have mysterious corners of the property. We're still waiting to see (or not!) that giant snake.

What Is It? (Part 563)

Okay, this is a hard one: What is it?

Give up? It's my horse's version of a snow angel. If you look really carefully, you can see where she rolled in the snow, and there are two (dirty) wings off to the right and left... I guess you had to be there. But I was charmed! Maggie is pretty funny. The other day, she picked up her rubber feed dish in her mouth- it was empty- and threw it across the pasture as if to say, "Go fill this up immediately!"
Bob points out that Maggie is a pig. She pulls her hay out of the hay rack and throws it all over. She poops here and there and everywhere- very much unlike Crispin who (for all his faults) only pooped in one discreet area up by the gate. Maggie takes heroic dumps in her stall, figuring (correctly) that we will clean up after her. She is often covered in mud, with bits of hay affixed to her ears and threaded through her forelock. But she's a good little horse!

So here's a drawing I did of Maggie. I find it pretty funny that she was advertised as a "Mexican Pony". When I googled that, not surprisingly, no such breed appeared and all I got were links to purchasing Mexican versions of the kid's toy My Little Pony- which was pretty weird! They were all garish colors like pink and lavender and had pale blue spots and peculiar pastel manes with goddawful bows in them. They didn't look like my "Mexican Pony" at all.
I think Maggie was bored today with the snow and freezing rain. She had miniature mountains of snow on her butt this morning and generally looked miserable. I don't know what she's thinking as she can go in her stall any time she wants- total access!  I visited with her this afternoon, feeding her more hay and consoling her that if the sun comes out tomorrow and she dries off, we'll go for a ride.

It's Probably Still Christmas Somewhere!

The tree is down and the personalized Christmas stockings are safely tucked away but I've left the Holiday cards up on the back door. We sure get some great cards- a gigantic benefit to having artist friends!
Bob and I have amassed quite an extensive collection over the years, saving all the hand-drawn, hand made cards. Some of our friends- like Roberta!- make truly amazing art works each year. Take a look at this
 year's model:

We gave Roberta's card it's own shrine in the ice making dispenser section of the refrigerator door. Have an odd year, indeed!
Most years, I really enjoy creating cards with Bob. I think this year's offering was pretty clever and we received good feedback. Some years, the "well is dry" and making cards seems a real chore. Bob and I actually broke down and purchased cards several times in the last twenty plus years. (Oh the horror!) I have already conceived of a brilliant idea for next year; let's see if I remember it by early December 2013.
And don't get me started about "Merry Christmas" versus "Happy Holidays" and "Seasons Greetings". Please. We have friends who are vegan, pagan, trans-gendered, left-handed, Middle Eastern, fly-fishing, cat-walking, stay-at-home dads and we try and accommodate ALL tastes and inclinations!
And while we're at it, here's the bulletin board where we stick "over flow".

There's a nice new postcard from our friend Ben who is in Mexico (as always) for the winter season. He's making art in a warm, dry climate.
Incidentally, I think this posting was about friends. Due to weather events, we've missed several parties, dinners and festivities this last month. Last night it was fog! We were supposed to have dinner after an opening but as we drove up the road, the visibility was terrible so we came home and dined on leftovers and (non-violent) video games.

The Two Big Projects 2013 Style

My goal in this upcoming year is to accomplish Two Big Projects (obviously with the help and cooperation of my beloved partner Bob and probably a few helper elves). The Great Gods of Time and Money willing, we will at least get under way...
The first is the crucial Enclosing of the Carport. This is important for my happiness and mental health. Why, you may ask? Do I love my car so much that I dread it's spending yet another cold and lonely night beneath the stars? No, it is because Enclosed Carport is the Future Home of the Artist Know as Rita. Let's be real: the living room has been a satisfactory space. It's actually a great space but it's supposed to be the Living Room. When we lived in Bridgewater, I had a fine studio but it was really a "family room" (replete with hideous pink carpeting that needed disappearing). If truth be known, the doorway was so narrow I couldn't work on bigger projects and had to work outdoors or "borrow" Bob's studio. And the ceiling! The ceiling was really low, and even I, short stuff that I am, had dreams of elevations soaring faaaaaaaaaar above my head. The living room that I presently occupy has a very tall ceiling and that has made me desirous of "head room". Therefore, I say ,"Raise high the roof beams, Carpenters!". (Paraphrasing J.D. Salinger)
And the second assignment for Casa de BobnRita is to remake the famous deck:

(We are tactfully ignoring that white residue also known as snow). This batch of slowly decomposing wooden planking will be replaced by stones. Can't wait! This is a really do-able project as we have probably half the stone needed (thanks in no small part to Bill and Gloria and their quarry). As we really enjoy sitting out here at day's end (when the snow's all gone, of course!), this will be a great addition to this side of the house. And maybe it will motivate us to replace that dreadful broken trim board to the left of the door frame... but don't lets get carried away!!!
Hey, I know there are other things that majorly need doing or would simply be swell to do. But I'm a part-time realist and if these two things get done, I'm good for a few years.

2013 Here we Come!

I am so surprised sometimes by my own work and how it manages to emerge from me. Even in the darkest, coldest time of the year, when I feel cranky (haven't I honestly mentioned that recently?) and it would seem I/we should be creatively "frozen", all kinds of things pour out of me. The last week or so has been ridiculously productive...
As sometimes happens, I have been motivated by the endless debates in Congress about whether to end Bush (ugh) era tax cuts, go over the 'fiscal cliff" (voted one of the most over used phrases of 2012) raise the debt ceiling, get partisan politicians to agree for once, blah blah blah, blah... But I have made a small suite of collages and a fabric piece and I made an entire new (very silly!) alphabet book; the list goes on.
And I was remarking to Bob the other morning, over coffee in bed, that we still don't know where "creativity" comes from. They've located places in the brain that hold memories and dream centers and language but the formation of creative ideas-or thoughts in general!- is elusive. It seems like one minute you're debating whether to have peanut butter and jelly on your toast and the next minute, your next overwhelming concept/ project is arrayed out before you. I know; it's a hackneyed discussion, but miraculous none the less!
So the piece above is done entirely in flesh toned magazine samples. I feel that is appropriate as Congress often seems to "traffic" in us. (Like the proverbial pound of flesh). How else can they justify giving themselves raises while they argue for years about raising the minimum wage (how it will hurt business to give workers something like $10 extra a week. Don't get me started!) And the price of not raising the debt ceiling is real in human terms.
Anyway, the alphabet book I made is an exercise in fun and games and an antidote to all that budgetary hogwash and dreck. Gotta lighten up some how!