Don't Tread On Me

I see the weirdest things on my morning walk. Once in a great while, I remember to bring my camera along to record the more memorable moments. Like the above coiled, and apparently ready to strike, snake. (Which is actually a bank, as there is a slot in its head). Somebody carefully placed it on the lid of a sewer line at the juncture of the dirt road and the end of our road. It's been there since this summer. Only now do I get around to documenting it...
Anyway, I am deep in the throes of that jittery, quasi-anxious stage at the end of one art project and the beginning of another. I finally finished my "Hold Menu" collages and am very happy with the seven pieces that I made. They look great as a suite or series, but work on their own. And who isn't plagued by those bland, computer generated voices that encourage us to, "Hold the line; your call is very important to us". The project that I have just begun, have been conceptualizing for a couple of weeks, is taking me in some pretty uncomfortable directions. I typically do a bit of "research" and this piece (which will be an artist's book) has got me looking into an unpleasant subculture. I hate to be so vague, but when I'm initially involved in a new project, I often can't/don't want to divulge too much. I am not sure if it's superstition that I might jinx my plans, or whether it's just that I quite simply am very foggy myself about where I'm going and can't take others along on such an unplanned ride. Or something. I frequently go through a prolonged gestation period; it sort of feels like you have on someone else's damp socks and they're a size too small. Something to think about! But ideas keep coming.
Update on that accursed sweet potato. You will recall that Bob stuck one in a glass of water, fully eight days ago, now. Still no sprouting, so we suspect "Bud Nip". Heaven help us! Clorpropham is here! In or home!

It takes on a wholly new sinister look, sort of like the Dick Cheney of sweet potatoes. Already things to look out for in the New Year. 

(What We All Need is a) Pre-Christmas Rant

Hey! Remember him? That's right; the half- burned Santa from Hell. Actually, Bob and I retrieved this Santa (with the help of our beloved friend and artist extraordinare Wasil) from a still smoldering slag heap in Shamokin, Pennslyvania several years back. It was early summer and he had apparently been sacrificed by some coal country crazies. But at least he's found a new home among us North Country heathens and was featured on our Christmas card when we were in between housing... let's just not go there.
Anyway, it's the eve of Christmas eve and as good a time as any to promote unhealthy habits and a healthy dose of nihilism. Good ahead! have more eggnog and bacon or eat another gross of cookies! Why not? I think I've started in on food because this is the season to over eat and the repent, isn't it? Well, we may not even have to repent as the world as we know it may end very soon indeed. So much for my being thrilled about ObamaCare! We'll all need it in a big way before much longer...
What am I referring to, obliquely? How about Fukufuckingshima and the fact that that "incident" is still happening. There is so much radioactive water pouring out of that derelict plant every day and true "containment" is years away. Have you heard that they want to try and put walls of ice around it? That'll take ages! And in the mean time, they're attempting to extract the rods, very slowly, very carefully as there's a really big bang waiting in there somewhere if one touches another- and there are hundreds of them! There are these hastily bolted together vessels, stacked on one another in endless rows; what are they- or we- going to do with all those containers? Any one got a bright idea?
The radioactivity has already reached California, according to maps and models. West coast fish is no doubt contaminated and I do so like my salmon. I guess we'll be eating canned food from some other decade down in our fall out shelters.

And food in these fine United States? Has everyone (I hope) seen the little video about a ten year old school kid who was assigned the typical science experiment of sticking toothpicks into a sweet potato and watching it sprout? She waited and waited and waited and started doing a little research. Turns out they treat sweet potatoes  (and so many other foods) with a chemical cheerily called "Bud Nip" that chemically prevents foods from sprouting and weeds from growing. But we're eating this stuff! In the meantime, she got an organic sweet potato from a farmers market and stuck toothpicks into it and mounted it in water and it sprouted right away! Bob took a sweet potato from the box we'd purchased; he's hoping that it sprouts.
Scary, no? Bob and I aren't quite sure what to eat for the holidays...
That's why I'm sort of nihilist this Xmas season; have another cookie! Have a good time!

Not Quite as Bad as it Looks

Doesn't that look just awful? Only in our sink! It is an unhappy confluence of melting ice and my dumping my left over coffee on top... looks nasty! Don't worry; the images get nicer as you go along.

Look! Here's the naked Xmas tree! I'm very happy now. In case we don't remember, the two things that make Christmas Christmas for me are Christmas cookies and the tree. What a nice surprise that Bob went yesterday and got a funny, very wide tree from our friend Joe's yard. It made the fact that we had more snow and very cold weather sort of tolerable. I'm sorry, I was crabby all day because of all this early winter weather and nascent cabin fever. I'm already sick of winter.

That's better! Pretty much all lighted and decorated, but the nicest part was when I went to photograph the tree, the full moon had come out from behind the snow clouds and shone in the second story window above the Christmas tree! (In the picture, it sort of look like he lights on the tree, but the light in the center top is actually the moon.) Just something about Christmas trees make me happy. And I was baking cookies and consuming vast quantities of dough! Heaven!
You can have your Christmas music and consumeristic nightmares...I'm really glad to not feel that craziness of running around panicking, unable to find a parking space and incurring credit card debt. And to boot, today at work we had a Christmas cookie exchange, so I came home with ten other varieties of cookies. And it's over fifty degrees outside. Yay! I hope all that stinking snow melts and I don't need a white Christmas, either. (Remind me again why we live in the northeast...

Here's what I've been working on in my (old) studio): a series of collages based on those annoying (and all to present in our modern day world ) phone menus. While stuck on one the other day, I decided I had only two options. Number One was to get really angry and rip the phone out of the wall, or Number Two, make art out of my (and everyone else's) experiences. I chose the latter.
I have made seven of these, including such high lights as, "Please hold the line; your call is very important to us". Or the classic, "Press 5 for more options". Approximately 28" x 22"; I mixed graphite and paint for the grey field areas and the rest is collage.
In the meantime, my membership in the "Losers Club" is in good standing. I applied to- and got fucking rejected from ($^#$%&!!!) three separate art shows/ venues that I thought were appropriate to me and my work. Hey! What do I know? Why I even bother is beyond me. I mean that rhetorically, of course. I do despise submitting to juried shows, as when they reject you, they never even tell you why so it's not as if you learn anything. On the other hand, most of the time it's like what the jurors had for lunch didn't agree with them when they come to your piece. You can't win. But the sheer wanton fear of never showing again compels me forward. I just submitted to another show today, at the insistence of a couple of friends. I truly must be a glutton for punishment!
But on an entertaining art related note, I am currently in a show in New Bedford at the Colo Colo Gallery. (Our good friend Don Wilkinson invited Bob and I to participate). The theme, loosely Christmas inspired, was "Naughty and Nice". An idea come to me almost at once, when out on my morning walk. I thought to make two plates of cookies, as befits the holiday season. Both plates were covered with cookies made from the same recipe of sugar cookies but once batch, while looking innocent, had chunky kosher salt on top (looks like sugar) and the other had lumps of coal. I polyureathaned both batches three times so as to make them as shiny and artificial looking as possible. Guess what happened? A so-called "art lover" (according to the gallery owner Luis Villaneuva) promptly ate one! This was despite them being labeled as "inedible" and a "work of art"! And at the opening, they had to assign a "cookie watcher" to discourage others from attempting to eat them. The least they could have done was buy my piece before consuming it. Hahahahaha.

I suppose as a very funny footnote I should mention that the person who ate my cookie reported that the flavor was good, but they were hard!

A House Divided

Here's Bob out playing with (the newly christened) Pascal the Snow Blower. I swear he was shooting that snow thirty feet into the air; quite exuberant! But it is a relief to never be in thrall again, to snow plowing extortionistas. We stocked up on basics for the upcoming storm...
Which leads to the current situation of a division among the sexes: The Boys, that would be Jules the Dog and Bob the Sculptor, look forward to the snow and inclement weather. Jules loves the snow; perfect for snow ball making and throwing and general white stuff inspired silliness. Bob will be infatuated as long as there's snow to blow with his new-fangled piece of impressive equipment. Short wok will be made of flakes and drifts!
The Girls, that would be myself (Your Humble Narrator) and Maggie the Mexican Pony, don't care for snow much at all. I don't like it because by default, it needs to be cold in order to snow and I readily confess to a lack of patience for cold weather (even as a child, I never liked the cold). I also hate driving in the stuff and feel generally inconvenienced. Maggie gets bored; I can't blame her. I try and visit with her ever hour or so, but I know she feels that her horizons have been cramped and her hooves are packed with snow balls and require frequent picking out. What has she to do besides stand in her doorway and consume vast quantities of hay? So today, The Boys are happy and The Girls not so much. I may attempt to saddle up my splendid palfrey and ride a bit so as to stave off "stable fever".
Here's what happens when artists snow blow the driveway:

Bob acquaintance with the snow blower brand new and he hadn't fine-tuned the angle of the chute that ejects the snow. We wound up with calligraphy across my studio and the driveway side of the house. I thought that was pretty funny.
At least this storm has occurred on the weekend, removing the necessity of having to go out and do anything crazy like drive to work. Bob and I will work in our studios. I am sure that I'll put up another posting this weekend as I get restless and am forced to remain house-bound as all my gloves are wet through from throwing snowballs for the insatiable dog!

In Which Bob Inexplicably Prays for Snow and Other Oddities

Okay, so that's why Bob is praying for snow... he went and bought (not entirely unexpectedly) a brand new, shiny bright orange snow blower. Of course, all we got today was freezing rain (or sleet; not sure which one) and a half inch of ice.
The snow blower wasn't just a good idea. It really was a necessity. The first winter we were here, we sort of lucked out because despite twenty million inches of never ending snow, we had a neighbor who snow blew (snow blowed?) the entire driveway and a nice guy from a near by tree farm who plowed for cheap. The next winter, we had almost no snow... except when we were having dinner guests and I actually shoveled the entire length of the driveway. (Really don't look forward to doing that again). Last winter was an entirely different story and Bob and I threw around all kinds of solutions/ideas: buy a junker truck with a plow on it, get a snow blower, get a lawn tractor with a plow, get a blow torch and melt the stuff as it fell from the sky... we considered everything. And wound up hiring an extortionist to plow. I think I related the epic struggle with this particular shyster- Mike by name- who double dipped and charged us and our next door neighbors for plowing the same driveway twice. He also tried to charge three times what his agreed upon price was after that particularly heavy snow fall. When I threatened him with a call to the Attorney General's Office, he returned our check. Anyway, Bob decided to take the law into his own hands. (See above picture: Bob's hands to the right hand side).
That's how Pascal, the newest addition to the family came to live with us. I think the snow blower was christened Pascal because the instruction manual was in English and French. That figures!

Here's another angle. And here's an accompanying rant. To those local businesses that would like local business, please remember to be pleasant and courteous to your customers who are spending hundreds and hundreds of dollars. When I went with Bob to pick the snow blower up, I was properly dismayed to be confronted by yet another grumpus man. These bearish oafs cannot seem to muster the most rudimentary manners and simply grunt and behave as if engaging in basic courtesy was an unheard of chore. Bob had warned me that these gentlemen were taciturn louts, but I was impressed at just how uncivil they were. I was charmed by a tiny toy chainsaw on the counter, available no doubt for Xmas giving, and I thought to chuckle, "Haha! A tiny chainsaw!" and I made appropriate tiny chain saw like noises. The man behind the counter grunted, "Here's the receipt; we'll bring the blower around to your truck." Maybe I'm crazy, but I'd appreciate a brief, "Thanks so much for your business" or even a phony, "Have a nice holiday." Too much to ask, I guess! I've had nicer responses while buying cheap socks.
On the other hand, I assured Bob that maybe the snow blower will do the trick and we'll have no more snow for the remainder of the winter... (Yes, I am aware the winter hasn't even started. Secretly, I think Bob is hoping for endless quantities of snow!)

Yo-de-le-odel-a-ee--oo!!

Hey! There it is! My little wood stove! Bob cleaned it all up and now we just need to get some pipe and an insert that goes through the roof. (Bob's also making a metal pad that sits on the floor so that I don't burn the studio down when putting wood into the stove and sparks and the like spew out.) The stove is cute; nice and small so that it doesn't dominate the room and interfere with traffic flow.
But here's the funny part: when our good friend Joe (Hi Joe!) introduced us to the stove, he said it was a "Yodel". I took this literally and when we got home, I googled "Yodel wood stove" and up comes some crazy yodeling pickle (who thinks this stuff up?) and links to some wood stove company named "Jotul". I think there's an error until it dawns on me that Yodel is actually spelled Jotul (with a little accent line through the o) because it's Norwegian! It's pronounced Yodel... it takes me a while.
Anyway, call it what you will, it looks great and as the weather is starting to turn colder, the idea of extra heat is compelling. By the way, the side of the stove has a really cool insignia:

Nice design. I was afraid the stove would be homely or dumpy, but it's attractive.
In the meantime, here's a piece of advice. If you're planning an art show, don't bother spending good money on cards to advertise. Most cards get chucked right into the trash can and the few unfortunate ones that survive get pressed into service as... SILENT BUTLERS!!!

Yuk, yuk, yuk.

Windows Are The Eyes of the Studios Soul (or something!)

I heard banging before we embarked on our mystery trip to obtain (ahem) art materials and what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a window! Installed! Bob actually got it in today... YAAAY!!!
It was a misty, foggy submerged kind of day, but look at that: I got a window!.
This side of the studio looks pretty complete; those little cross pieces in the corner of the window were only to hold it in place while Bob affixed it in place. We also picked up the wood stove for my studio- really cute! A Norwegian make of wood stove called "Yodel". It will fit so nicely and not take up a lot of space. Thanks again to our good friend Joe.
One again, I feel we're on the road to progress in the studio department.

Fog, With the Possibility of Windows...

This was supposed to be a picture of one of my windows, all installed in advance of rainy weather. Yesterday, Bob finished the trim around my doors, I painted the frames and then he proceeded to frame out the windows. The first time Bob put the window in the frame, I almost ran into the house to procure the camera but thought to wait until he finished. I looked up a few minutes later, and the window was removed because he needed to make an adjustment. About an hour later, I run into the house to grab the camera as the window was back in the frame. No sooner do I emerge from the side door, then I spy the window mysteriously vanishing from the hole. Turns out Bob needed to make another adjustment. And then it was too dark to photograph so you have to be content with the above photograph of the beginnings of our very graphic breakfats. Ummm, that's "breakfast" but the way I'm feeling, "breakfats" is more appropriate. And it only the beginning of the holiday consumption fest!
But I'm very excited, as we're off to Joe's factory to bring home my wood stove for the studio. That way, we can work in warmth and comfort and joy. Also, we're picking up another interesting potential art making material. I'll leave you in suspense as to what we're getting... should be an entertaining future photo!