Winter Sort of/Kind of/Maybe

We finally got some snow- not that I was all antsy on the edge of my seat about the lack there of. (But Jules the Dog seems really happy today!) Some confluence of Climate Change coupled with a strong El Nino has manifested in our oddly benign weather to date. People keep posting all the plants that are growing (and even blooming) and the insects that are drawing winter blood. It is remarkable.
So the picture above illustrates the dusting of crusty white stuff that appeared this morning in the Blue Garden. I guess the end of year and the arrival of a small storm make me consider this year passing and the New Year approaching.
What are we remarking on this year? (Besides the weather).

1. The perfidy of creeps that poached my domain name and messed up my website... leave us poor artists alone for god's sake. Do something good for us: Buy our work. Or advertise us but don't fuck with us. There are plenty of other opportunities for that! So let's hope the New Year returns www.ritavalley.com to me! (It seems to be "down".)
2. Both Bob and I had really dynamite shows this year... and neither one of us sold a bloody thing. I guess we can claim to have had "positive experiences" and we "learned a lot" (but wouldn't it have been nice if the universe smiled that one bit more and caused filthy lucre to have been delivered to our bank accounts? I think so...) Let's hope the New Year brings art sales and splendid offers of shows and good reviews!
3. Bob and I had truly lousy motor vehicle experiences this year. The truck died (and it took a while to replace it) and then the Honda and my mother's elderly Subaru died. We're still dealing with the fallout of all this. Let's hope the New Year brings automotive joy!
4. I can't complain in the "health and happiness" department. We were (overall) healthy and happy. That's a good thing. Let's hope for a continuation of that, come the New Year.

I hope in the New Year that Bob and I accomplish even one of the household projects that we were laughing about with a friend yesterday. We all have long lists, I know, but even one thing (like the hallway shelves/sliding doors or the back terrace area or even my closet!) I'd be really happy with any of those!

It's Cyber Warfare!

I was attempting to complete an artist's statement for some work I wanted to submit and I thought I'd go on my website to check the wording of a particular description of a piece that I had up online. I googled in my web address: ritavalley.com and I was horrified that instead of my art work, some (what I thought at the time) Chinese gibberish appeared.

 (Yup. That's my address in the upper left hand corner). Turns out that it's Japanese...
I tried three times more to reach my website and finally went to my pages through the hosting site where I can add pictures and edit it and stuff. It came up just fine through the host site. I then called Ipage to see what was up...
Turns out that my domain name was supposed to be on "automatic renewal" but was on manual, meaning I was somehow supposed to be on top of when it came due (to the tune of a princely $12 a year). Ipage doesn't handle the domain and the domain registry company either never contacted me or it somehow went to spam or out with the garbage. The upshot is some crazy Japanese computer geek registered my name, I guess in the hopes that they could sell it back to me.
I said to the Ipage representative, "But I'm an artist! What do they want MY name for? We never get any traffic anyway!" And while there was an email address I can't say I see the wisdom in emailing these cyber thugs and saying, "Give me my domain name back!" They'd probably just want to extort lots of money from me, or take my credit card information and use it or send the Yakuza after me.
But it's sucky that my name is associated with what looked like a Japanese dating service:

 The guy at Ipage assured me that it was some sort of Japanese horoscopes. But really? I feel like my online identity has been violated! Who am I?
The only thing I could do was register ritavalley.net as my new address but it just isn't as easy as dot.com. And someone who doesn't know me well will probably google www.ritavalley.com, come up with that stupid poser website and forget all about me!
My next best hope is waiting for these creeps to get sick of paying for my name and then I'll have to jump on it and re-register it for me. I know that people make a business out of registering domain names, but seriously? My name? It's not like I have the name recognition of a Kardashian or a Bush or something! (I heard that the republicans were not really swift about Internet use and people made money selling their names back to them.)
But this is the third time I haven't had my own name available. Initially, it was this real estate agent in Illinois or Indiana. Then it was (just as strange as Japanese) a British chemical company. Then I scored my name serendipitously late one night when their ownership lapsed. Let this be a lesson to the wise: register- permanently if you can- your own name!

This Year's Model

Here's this year's Xmas tree; we can call it the "Bondage Tree". But don't worry, both Bob and I were forced to "liberate" it as guilt over its possible suffering caused us to cut the string...
I went to Walmart a week ago. Yes, I confess to occasionally visiting Walmart (despite those pangs of knowing we're supporting exploited child labor and grisly conditions to produce our pukey cheesy goods at ridiculous rock bottom prices). Anyway, on my way into Walmart, I spotted actual real live Xmas trees, bound up and ready to thrust into the hatchback of our (temporarily) running car. And- can't beat this!- there was a sign reading $5.50. I went in and inquired at the courtesy desk to make sure I wasn't misreading the sign. I then called Bob to get his approval for this remarkably affordable transaction. I enjoy his input.
After smelling and fingering each available tree (for freshness and vigor) I loaded the selected tree into the shopping cart where it projected like a harpoon. Thus armed, I made my other purchases and was greeted with other shoppers exclamations of approval. In truth, as the trees were strictly bundled, there was no way to ascertain whether this tree was a lovely desirable pyramidal spruce, or a homely lop sided individual. It didn't matter anyway- cheap is good.
It was Bob that had the clever idea of leaving the tree all strung up. He even prefaced his idea by saying, "This is an idea more typical of you..." He was right! And for a couple of days, we lighted it and left it bound.
We almost used the above image as our Xmas card, but it just didn't translate all that well. Instead,
we freed it and were pleasantly surprised to find a perfectly shapely five foot tree. We'll officially decorate it tonight, before watching the Democratic debates. Go Team Bernie!

End of Year Project- Kudos to Bob

I wish I had thought to take a picture of the barn before Bob put this lovely wood door up! He really surprised me by just taking the initiative and doing it.
Previously, this section of the barn (which store Maggie's hay supply) was cloaked in an increasingly deteriorating tarp. Looked like shanty town! But Bob cleverly used wood that we had left from other projects and hardware that we had been given to us... in short, it cost like nothing and works really well. The right hand side rolls on a track so you can open  and close it easily. He put a great metal handle on it and it will weather to the same grey in short order. Both Maggie and I are very happy although the picture below doesn't seem to suggest that! Sometimes, it's very difficult to make your horsey friend put her perky little ears forward in a semblance of a good mood:

She appears a tad suspicious in this picture; sort of the "Leave me alone. I was sleeping and what's that annoying little box in your hand? No, I won't put my ears forward and look like your pleasant little palfrey!" But at least her hay is nice and dry and the barn looks so much better. I guess the unseasonably warm inspired Bob to get the door done. We are enjoying the strange December benevolence but it's worth remarking that this is happening during the Paris Climate Summit. Mother Nature does seem intent on reminding us that we're messing around with the natural order of things. Let's hope that- Climate Change deniers aside!- the powers that be come to firm resolve about our environment and everyone gets on board!

Big Feet and Other Scary Stuff

(Well some how I screwed up (while attempting to multi-task) and I published this blog before I was even done) and someone even looked at it!).
Ahem! So Jules the Dog and I went out for our walk and had only just gotten to the car parking area of the dirt road when I saw the above track in the nice soft sand. That is a big foot print! We actually walked all the way back home to get the camera to document the print. And I compared it the listed mountain lion/bear/bobcat prints on the Internet and it looks just like Mountain Lion.
For scale, here's my hand next to it.

(Funny that other people did exactly the same thing for scale. You can google that.) Anyway, sort of freaks me out that there are these super large felines prowling around out there, ready to eat me and Jules. Yes, I suppose it might be a very large coyote but that would be bigger than most I've ever seen. And I took a shot of Jules' footprint in the same sand and it was no where near as deep or impressive and he weighs 55-60 pounds.
Here are a few other  things to be scared of:

Ahhhhhhhhh!!! Ben Carson AND George Bush! Or even worse:

 http://i.giphy.com/xTk9ZMvytLICEWw9bi.gif
Follow that link to get the full effect! Pretty scary stuff out there... and it's real!
Or how about this charmer:

What's terrifying is thinking of any one of them as president... give me mountain lions any day!

And it only gets weirder; just wait until next weeks debate. OOOOOOOOOOoooooo! You'd think every day is Halloween!

Insidious Piles

While the title of my blog could be referencing unfortunate fistulas, it is actually about heaps: heaps of everything. Newspapers, unopened mail, books... really, it is possible to construct piles from almost anything. I should know, as I am an inveterate piler-on.
I seem to be in a confessional mode and allowing one of those occasional glimpses of how we live here at the BauHaus Chicken Coop. Bob can be excused from this conversation, as he is much better than me at eliminating piles- sometimes by simply chucking everything in the offending pile into the garbage can. He is less tolerant than I am of clutter.

Piles evolve. They start as a single magazine or book and advance down that (literal) slippery slope towards deconstruction. I like a good tower in danger of avalanche-dom! It makes for fireworks and excitement when the pile finally lets go and everything comes whooshing down. Once the components of a pile are spilled onto the floor, a better assessment of the contents is possible and an edit can begin. Most of what is found in the pile are expired coupons, notes to one self about interesting books or music to check out (this becomes another auxiliary pile up near the computer) and the book that was due last week at the library.

This last heap is particularly noteworthy. It's what happens to a pile that gets moved because friends are coming to dinner. The pile that resided on the edge of the kitchen table now "hides" on the washing machine. This pile may be returned to the kitchen table intact, or allowed to age until the laundry needs doing. In truth, I probably wouldn't miss anything in this pile if someone came along and threw it away. But you never know.
And really? Our house isn't too bad. We clean up the worst of the dog fur and dust bunnies every few days and our bed is made and the dishes are done. It's just that piles happen.

Things to be Thankful For

I don't know about you, but I'm plenty thankful for lovely mushrooms like the ones above that are growing on a stump in our back yard. They look like constellations. Here's the whole group of them:

I think they're as nice as anything I could have planted.
So here's a bulleted list of reasons to be thankful this Thanksgiving season:

• For Bob! He's a great guy and a good cook. Plus, he and our good friend Joe finished my studio ceiling the other day. Yaaayyy!!!
• Jule the Dog; the perfect dog who's only psychotic like .09% of the time.
• Maggie the Mexican Pony who may have soundness issues of late, but is a very nice horse.
• My studio- with new ceiling or not, one of my absolute favorite places to spend my time.
• Good friends and family members. They don't vote republican and they're not total weasels.
• A car that got me home yesterday. Although it threatened to leave me screaming at the side of the road, it came through and made it into the yard.
• For Stop and Shop being open today, although it is Thanksgiving. Bob and I sort of didn't really plan ahead as our family wasn't celebrating until later in the week. So we didn't consider that maybe other people (like the ones that work at stores) should be with their families. We were able to purchase ingredients to make Quesadillas and pumpkin pie for tonight. (Frozen, on sale pumpkin but pie none the less!)

So there! That's my 2015 list. Happy Thanksgiving!

At Last... Insulation!

Insulation at last! Bob and Joe and I are in process, installing insulation and sheet rock the better to regulate the climate in my studio. You will remember that we had finished the majority of the hard work last fall, but still needed to get to the ceiling. Work began Friday...
I sort of like the tutti frutti two color confectionery fiberglass; looks like Easter colors. Of course, sheet rock is going up over it. And I should mention that a very generous and gracious client of Bob's gave us the insulation as she was having work done at her house in the attic. This prompted us to bring it home and use it!

But first here's a shot of the scaffolding that's making this all so much easier! (Not that it's not hard work. The fiberglass is nasty scratchy stuff. I cut it outside on a nifty jig that Bob made... so much faster! And the sheet rock- yes, called "ultra light" but believe me, it weighs plenty!)

Here's Bob and Joe. I'm sure they're delighted that I'm documenting their heroic efforts to finish my studio!

And hey presto! Sheet rock goes up, the insulation vanishes and I'm feeling snugger already. Tomorrow, when I return from "the salt mines" (as I affectionately call my place of work) the ceiling should look like... a ceiling!
(And I will mention: I wanted to make a blog posting earlier, but felt somehow not up to my usual silliness after the Paris terror attacks. Being concerned about the self indulgent or petty preoccupations of one's daily existence can seem so minor when confronting the bizarre realities of the world in which we live. I was so saddened and sickened by recent events that I couldn't even blog.)

Can It Get Any Weirder?

I'll tease with the above picture but start my dialog by saying, "You know how Bob and I have been having really bad luck with cars and trucks for the past few months?" Well, it only gets weirder so read on.
Our good friends Caltha and Jerry gave us their used Subaru Impreza. Gave it, as in "free"... very generous indeed! Gotta love friends like that! Thank you!!! By last Sunday, it was registered, legal and ours and in our yard, awaiting a muffler replacement, to be done by a friend of a friend (also named Bob). There were a few part-not-ordered mishaps (thanks to the AutoZone in the next town- don't get me going) but the parts were assembled and Car Bob installed the system. It only took an hour, we fired it up and it ran like a charm. I did some errands, exclaiming how wonderful it was to be a two-vehicle household again.
Monday morning I say to Bob, "Just think; I'll drive the car to work and the truck is here, ready to take you to the store or deliver a job you've finished... whatever you need to do!" Of course, nothing is that simple. The car exploded to life but proceeded to get louder and louder and wouldn't run without my foot on the gas. So I sat there thinking, "This is too much". Bob heard the car's commotion from all the way down in his studio and when I turned the car off (as there was no way I could drive it) it kept making this over-heated pinging noise and generally acted like it was going to explode. Needless to say, I took the truck.
So at lunch, I decided to drive up to the garage that had disposed of my Honda and get the $50 that scrapping the car had gotten (Pathetic). I got in the truck, looked ahead of me, saw a co-worker  standing in front of me, standing in front of his truck and I thought, "Oh, I'll never fit between him and the next car over. I'll just back up." The result is the damaged car, above.
You see, the truck is very high. When I looked out my back window, I didn't even see the Volkswagon Passat directly behind me. It gets worse.
I go into the building to find my victim, who turns out to be an elderly (and now irate) customer of the auction house who was there to consign merchandise. I sheepishly confess what I have done- really, I felt terrible (and stupid!) but hey! I wasn't trying to hit her (deep breath) brand new (as in she hasn't even had it a week) car. I mean, brand spanking new...
I will not go into the pitch of her fury or that she insisted I call the State Police, who told me that as I readily admitted that I'd hit her car and it was on private property and no one was hurt, they didn't really need to send a trooper. But she insisted; I think she was hoping the feds would haul me off in leg irons. The police officer who arrived was very nice, and I am sorry to say, entertained by how out for vengeance (or at least a pound of flesh) my victim was. He actually smiled benevolently at me and her and said, "Look: it was an accident. She (me) admits she hit your car. All you need to do is exchange information." My victim kept insisting that the police officer write up a report, treating it as a crime scene. He replied that they don't investigate or file reports on cases like this, as there was no case. She kept insisting that I be publicly stoned or taken to a labor camp or at least chained to a rock where Ford F 150's would back up into me all day long. Something, anything... she wanted justice.

(Insult to injury, absolutely nothing happened to our truck. I think that bulge in front of the license plate directly impacted her hood. Sorry!) The upshot was that she decided she didn't feel safe driving her car and would wait for a tow truck to drag her poor car all the way to Greenwich (although the police officer and a few of my sympathetic* co-workers assured her that absolutely nothing had happened to her engine, just her hood was smashed in and looked dramatically awful but it started and ran just fine.) Did I say I felt really bad? I did, several thousand times but she did her best to berate me, so much so that it got funny and even the police officer was laughing. (Discretely, but he was amused.) She actually waited for that tow truck all afternoon. Like until 4:00. We all took turns, looking out the window expressing disbelief that she was still there. Even the cop, who had kept a vigil with her finally left. (I bet she gets a bigger car next time she's in the market for a new ride.) I drove all the way home at twenty miles an hour and will only go forward from now on.
And the car? Car Bob came back out to check out what on earth had caused the Subaru to threaten to explode... but of course when Bob and Bob started it up and took it out for a test drive, it performed perfectly. Am I nuts? Did we need this? Bob and I can't believe our bad "kar-ma".

*Sympathetic to me as she really was a bitch. I mean, yes, I wrecked her brand new car and probably ruined the rest of her life but give me a break! I was very contrite! My co-workers all watched as she continued to harangue me.

Wildlife Tragedies and Mysteries

Last Sunday morning was truly awful. I fed Maggie and was on my way into the house to eat toast with Bob, when I spied Jules standing stock still over by the fence, staring intently at something. I say "something" as I wander around outside quite often with no contact lens in my good eye and I miss things. I had to get very close to Jules and I'm thinking he sees a squirrel or the neighbor's dog.. But then I realize, with my nose almost on the fence, that he's looking a grey think IN the fence. I think it's a leaf or a mushroom (I am half asleep) and I'm on top of the fence and Jules before it dawns on me that it's the hind end of a bunny, stuck at a really weird angle. I realized this poor bunny is stuck in the fence, and probably hurt. Poor Jules was very good and realized that I was upset as he followed me without a protest straight into the house.
I retrieved Bob, safety glasses, two pairs of heavy leather gloves and a pair of tin snips. Bob and I set to work, trying to free the obviously badly injured rabbit from the fence. When he was finally free, he slide in a pathetic little heap of bunny fur on the other side of the fence and Bob and I agreed that there was only one humane thing to do.
Bob went and got a sharp shovel and I carried the badly hurt rabbit to a clear spot on the other side of the fence and finished him off. At this point, I'm crying (it was very sad!) and it's raining and it couldn't have gotten more gloomy or tragic if we'd scripted it. I buried the bunny and put a small bouquet of late chrysanthemums and yellow amsonia leaves on his grave. So much for Sunday morning.

And today, the next Sunday (and a time change one at that: I'm confused, as usual about what time it REALLY is) I go outside with Jules to feed Maggie and there's another wildlife mystery. There's a large pile of some kind of poo in the yard, right by the long border. I almost stepped in it- isn't that what piles of shit are all about? Anyway, that's it in the picture. Obviously some wild thing as it looks nothing like neatly formed dog poops. This is someone messy who eats seeds and god knows what else... maybe a bear? I got a shovel and disposed of it (heavy!) and then realized that Maggie's fence is bent right by her water basin, like something heavy had climbed over it. Later I discovered another section of bent fencing. I have to deduce that some sizable beast scaled the fence, no doubt terrifying our horse in the mean time, and took a heroic dump on the yard. I hope they had fun!

An Empty Driveway! (sort of)

You will recall we had not one, but two dead vehicles in the driveway. (Don't get me going on the also deceased Honda Civic, sitting at a garage in Litchfield; still can't find the title and am seeking a replacement...) Bob made arrangements and early this morning:

This giant truck showed up. A brief exchange of titles and checks ensued, and the process began. Needless to say, the tow guy showed up when we had just sat down to warm banana nut muffins. But look at the excitement! Worth a cold muffin any day!

Up goes Mommy's dead Subaru!

I love processes like this! And Bob and I are wondering, "Just HOW is he going to take the truck too??!" I guess this is why they don't send us to pick up cars... I would have driven all the way back and- never mind.

And then:

He backs up and of course! He's going to tow the truck!

There they go!

Goodbye F 150! Goodbye Subaru! And we now have a(relatively) empty driveway. Temporarily, just the newer F 150 until the new(er) Subaru arrives, thanks to very generous friends and the trade of an artist's book. (More on that tale in another blog post).And tomorrow, the Department of Motor Vehicles, all over again. Didn't we just go through this??!!??

I am Sick, Therefore I Ramble

This is a piece that I'm working on but I'm further along with it than when I shot this picture (it's pinned, not sewn in the picture.) I like the potential and the potential open endedness of "As If". I also admire the hint of a threat in"...as if". But you can read it however you like. (At present, I think I'm inclined to act as if I'm not sick.)This and the crazy book project about collectors has been keeping my fingers busy.
But something is going on cosmically. Like I developed a cold (and am therefore not really smart right now), and I don't get colds too often. I successfully fought it off all week, but had been feeling run down and tired but was unable to sleep well. And then there's stress... did someone say stress?
But in addition to my cold (which is a minor inconvenience, like we were supposed to be hosting dinner guests), let's face it: Bob and I are down to one car again, my horses feet have something going on (as she's been abscess prone), Mommy went back into Hospice care, fall is here and the weather is getting colder and the days shorter. Yech.

On the other hand, the fall color can be spectacular- or at least peculiar. Check out the pinkish cast to the fall color of the oak leaf hydrangeas. Although I didn't think this year's color was especially great because of the summer drought. And the sudden cold snap made for a quick shedding of foliage...
See? Told you I was rambling... But is this better than the fact that I was contemplating ranting? Ranting about those pesky republicans? Oooooooooooooh. They're so weird.
Most recently, I want to address how they pilloried Hillary Clinton and grilled her for 11 hours of fruitless Benghazi testimony- and this from the party that's always railing about "wasting tax payers money"? Really? Isn't this the biggest waste possible? Especially after one of these clowns was asked if they'd learned anything new. He responded as how Hillary Clinton's statements and answers were consistent with the last time they'd questioned her. I wonder why... Maybe because she is telling the truth and her story IS consistent. At least Hillary Clinton sounded utterly stable, calm and reasonable- and presidential!- in the face of so much political triviality. That fool Kevin McCarthy (who pursued the Speaker's position) let loose a big wet one when he claimed how Benghazi had hurt Hillary Clinton's presidential bid. Boy, did that back fire! Where is he now?
Of course that leads back to republicans and that weasel Paul Ryan as Speaker of the House?!! I'm sick! I can't breath! Get me to bed!

A Trip-ney to the (Nu) Whitney

This is a screen shot of new Whitney Museum of American Art. You may well remember that I do not take my camera anywhere on trips; why bother? So many other people take better photos! I'd rather enjoy my day...
Anyway, Bob and I and our good friend (and artist and art dealer) Ellen piled into her Prius and hit the streets of Chelsea (after surviving traffic jams coming and going), secured parking and walked on the High Line for a few blocks- always a treat! until we ran smack into the new Whitney Museum. Somehow, it had looked more impressive (from the outside) while under construction, but the above shot- with the aid of sexy evening lighting- looks pretty smart. We were able to skip the line which snaked around the block, as Ellen is a member, but to our chagrin, no guests were allowed on her pass, so we ponied up $44 for Bob and me. Kinda steep and I was already feeling a bit peeved...
But we proceeded into the cavernous main hall to take an elevator up to look at art. In my humble estimation, the main lobby looked like an airport terminal and there was not a painting or sculpture to be seen. And the elevators either weren't working or were being used for some other purpose, as there were throngs of people sort of standing around, staring at the closed doors. We opted for the stairs.
These particular stairs led us up three flights and then sort of landed us in another lobby. There were uncomfortable looking people holding some sort of meeting in a glass partitioned office space and it's a good thing they were on view, as there was still no art to be seen. And this is three stories up. Or options here were stand in front of the still seemingly implacable elevator doors (more throngs) or climb more stairs. Deciding that the cardiovascular benefits of climbing further stairs was a fine idea, we set out trying to find the stairs. It became apparent that the design of this new museum left a lot to be desired. The floor plan is not at all intuitive, and they seemed to like to hide the stairways. There were many cul-de-sac office hallways and a few dead ends before we located the stairs. And climb we did, on stairs that hardly seemed intended for use by paying customers, as they were sketchily painted and sort of service-entrance underwhelming. (I get the fact that the entire architectural message here screamed "Industrial!")
When we finally ascended to floor seven or eight, we realized that our timing was poor as the major opening show was closed and the next block buster was being installed. We had paid full entrance to see mostly permanent collection; which is fine as they have a swell collection, but we couldn't help but feel a tad gypped. (Yes, I think that's now a politically incorrect term... sorry!) There was a good show of an African American painter, Archibald Motley, (great name) who painted jazz age crowded pictures. We enjoyed the decks that cantilever out from the building and the views of lower and mid-town Manhattan were truly stunning (and on a picture perfect nary a cloud blue sky sort of day) but Ellen pointed out that she had wanted to walk further around the building on the outside, and the decks sort of dead-ended. The entire floor plan seemed to give art a back seat to office space and hallways and "staff only" signs. The circular revolving doors were damned heavy, too! A helpful security guard set one spinning for us...
I think I'm trying to reinforce that the impression of the actual building wasn't optimal. The three of us were a bit disappointed; you do want to be wowed for the initial visit to a major museum and so many people had raved. I felt cheated at having shelled out $44 and not been warned that several major gallery sections were closed for install. We did enjoy an interesting meal at the cafe on the top floor: a tripod of fish croquettes in a bean salad and really nice sauce. Best part of the trip! And lots of art world chatter and fine company! But I hate to say that we won't be paying a repeat visit any time soon.

Bureacratic Joy and Sculpture Shows All In One

Yup! The truck's legal as we paid a most inspiring visit to the Department of Motor Vehicles on Wednesday. It wasn't as awful as we'd been told: I heard tell of four hour waits and I always dread the document forgotten at home hell. Don't get me wrong- as we approached the DMV, we could see (despite torrential downpouring) cars circling like so many metallic sharks as there were simply not enough parking spaces to be had. I exited the car, telling Bob optimistically to park it where and when he could and I ran for the door. Only to find that the line inside snaked all the way out to the entry way and the next poor suckers to join us on line were actually waiting outside. We inched forward where a woman came along and issued numbers- mine was D694. I thought, "My life is over. I will be here for the next ten years. I'll never see Bob or my dog or pony ever again". I almost left as I am somewhat claustrophobic and not necessarily the biggest fan of masses of humanity compressed check by jowl. But I figured we'd just have to do this all over again...
About an hour later, I was joined by Bob. We managed to find a seat and waited and waited and waited. I think it was myself who had suggested that we wouldn't need those magazines or books we had debated bringing. Thank God Bob and I always have things to talk about-
Like his wonderful show at ColoColo Gallery. The show looks amazing as it is a large high-ceilinged space with an interesting arrangement of three semi-rooms off of the main gallery, allowing for large spaces and more intimate ones. The woman who Bob is showing with had pleasing and colorful abstract paintings that complemented Bob's austere palette perfectly. Bob has received a really great review in a New Bedford newspaper and hopefully this will draw in masses of the art viewing masses. (Who ever they are. I shall explore my theory of who consumes art in another posting...) So all in all a true triumph!

(Autumn color outside our office window. Red truck, golden yellow foliage. Fall is here!) And as you can tell from the fact that I am posting this blog entry, our number was finally called, we successfully registered the truck and are back home. The Bernie Sanders sticker has been affixed to a clean bumper and we're ready for the next art event. Bring it on!

Sculpture There, Not Here

There is much excitement here as we get ready to go there to Bob's show in New Bedford. It's always nice to be able to have a show and trot your work out for public scrutiny and accolades. Not to mention that it's festive and celebratory and there's much back-slapping and toasting of art well made. And when it's at a commercial gallery where the very real possibility of a sale exists, all the better! We are "cautiously optimistic" (who isn't?) that good things will manifest...
Our friends Don and Elizabeth are putting us up in New Bedford as well as throwing a party for Bob. We're truly looking forward to this congratulatory mini-vacation. It is strange to realize that I haven't seen the show yet, as I didn't accompany Bob to help in set up. That fell to our friend Joe who acted as sculpture chauffeur. Thanks all around to everyone who helped Bob in his ascension to art world fame! It was two years in the making; two years that flew by.

And here's a confused Jules the Dog, surveying the now quite empty yard. I think he's wondering where Bob's sculpture has gone as he likes to pee on it and now has to look further a-field. It is very odd to look out the kitchen window and view the lack of sculpture. And to think that many people live like this! Shocking! Of course, that can be remedied by visiting ColoColo Gallery in new Bedford and purchasing one or more sculptures. Never have an empty yard again!

The Red Truck Decade

As you may recall, Bob and I were hot in pursuit of a new(er) Ford F 150. AND we had such specific requirements: conventional rear wheel drive, short cab, long bed, standard transmission... I am happy to report that we have found our truck and it is here!
We did have to drive to New York state and it did take a few anxious weeks of constant Craig's List/Car Fax/Auto Trader/ Car Gurus etc etc to locate the right truck. And not one of those icky odd green ones that I kept seeing. This truck is "toreador red" (Who thinks these color names up?!) I guess the color comes in handy if we decide to herd bulls.

Here's the front in relation to the old trucks back and vice-versa:

We didn't really want the cap on top, but it may prove handy when transporting delicate art work, and yes, that duct tape on the upper right of the cap! But it's just clamped on so we can lift it off and store it behind Bob's studio when not in use.
But here's a trully awful view of our driveway.

What with our Honda, the old F 150, the new F 150 and Mommy's now deceased Subaru, we have four cars in the yard. Looks like a parking lot.... But hooray! We're more than happy with the new vehicle: Bob said it drove really nicely and feels more like a car than a truck. The dealership was an hour and a half away so he had plenty of time to get acquainted with the new truck on the way home.
Both Bob and I confessed that it was a nerve wracking experience. The dealership has been there for like a million years so I wasn't too scared that they were trying to rip us off (despite this weird Soviet-style sales tax switcheroo. Still don't get that...) but we both admit to feeling stressed while spending thousands of dollars. The truck was a good deal and under our price point so I am pleased, but it's still tough to hand over large sums of money even if you're getting what you want. This must be what it feels like to buy art! Hahaha.
So tonight, we can relax, knowing that we have a newer truck and that the second Republican debate is on for entertainment. We're getting Chinese food, a bottle of wine and our Bernie Sanders bumper sticker is getting applied to the new bumper.

A Million Tiny Letters Make Words

I've been keeping my nose to the (studio) grindstone and am only briefly coming up for air. That's my table, above, covered with minute letters. I promise that later this week, I'll post a close up of just what all those miniature letters spell out. You would not believe the anxiety induced by losing that perfect tiny "L" that you had waited to use. Probably stuck to the end of my nose! (The same one that's been put to the grindstone.)
The project pictured is all about collecting art. Damned if I know what collectors are looking for. No wait, I'm lying. I have a pretty good idea... The text that I am intricately replicating (think: monks stuck in abbeys at long tables, illuminating manuscripts) is from an Art Basel Miami catalog. I am verbatim collage-ing this "brief guide for collectors" in the hopes of deciphering just what it is they're after. After all, every artist (except the fabled independently wealthy ones) needs collectors. Bleakly, I must report that this helpful guide seems intent on recommending collecting only blue chip, name brands (Say, Gerhard Richter or Cindy Sherman). This doesn't really come as big surprise, but it's depressing none the less. What's a lesser known artist to do?
Well, glue a million tiny letters together to make words, for one thing. I am pleased with the way my Collector's Guide is going. I have nine or ten pages of collaged text so far. The base page is photocopied Cartier watch and jewelry ads (those wealthy collectors certainly like pretty gold things!) Interspersed will be images or "picture pages" and a foreword and an afterword with my sage observations and reflections on stalking those illusive collectors.
But I do know this: many artists seem dead set on copying other better known artists or jumping on some established trend. Yeah, I guess that's one way to ensure sales: make sure you're a more affordable, second or third tier version of an established artist. But honestly? Isn't art supposed to be about having an individual voice or a new way of seeing (and presenting) ideas and images? I sure hope so! I have no urge to replicate some other artist's work in the hope some trickle down economics might dribble my way. I may be nuts (try hunting for fifteen minutes for a combination of "m" and "p" together) but at least it's my own personal insanity!) but at least I'm my own kind of nuts.

Wet and Dry

Bob and I have developed a serious addiction to watermelon this year. No kidding- this has to be our tenth or eleventh entire watermelon; none of that pre-sectioned and sliced up stuff for us! It started when we brought one to a party early on. It began around Memorial Day and here it is Labor Day and we brought a watermelon to a party yesterday. The one above was chilling in our refrigerator for when we arrived home. (No, we didn't grow them. We actually bought them as they've been on special at one supermarket or the other all season.) Even Jules the Dog likes watermelon. Maybe it's a way to stave off personal desiccation because it's been so dry this summer.
Here's a patch of our lawn:

I admit the dappled light of the overhead trees make this section far more fetching than if I'd taken the shot in full sun, like this:

Not so appealing is it? And it makes that walking on shredded wheat sound beneath your feet. Bob knows a woman who has threatened to pull up all her lawn and replace it with crab grass as it's still green and nothing kills it. I believe that may be a bit of crab grass in the center of the picture above, proving her point. We have been spot watering; only the valuable things, like all those trees we have been planting. The annuals have blown out early and the perennials are sort of shot.
We have only experienced a couple of months of dry weather and many plants look stressed and are dropping their leaves early. Consider what the west coast must look like. California and other parts Oregon and Washington have been suffering from drought for years. I guess we're lucky; we'll just keep eating watermelon ntil it snows.