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.