Happy Birthday to Beatrice!

Yes, there's a first time for everything!

This is the only day of the year that I can give my sister Beatrice shit and not get her mad!
And look! It has your name all over it!

Compost- the black gold that will make your garden the envy of all the other gardeners! And piles and piles of it... delivered by the producers directly to your Cromwell garden.
Just look; even in the dead of winter, flowers sprout, as if by magic:

And we've arranged to have it shipped, factory fresh-

(Yup! that's the factory) straight to you by the truckload, eliminating (get it?) the middle man. (Actually, it's been perfectly aged in our open-air aging chambers and tossed and rotated lovingly.)
So... Happy Birthday to you, Beatrice!
xxoo
Rita, Bob, Jules the Dog and (most importantly) Maggie the Mexican Pony.
(I had to do something different! You'll either love this or hate it...)

An Unfortunate Exchange (Reason Number 765,500 to Hate the Art World)

I think of myself as a reasonable artist. I have been practicing my art for a substantial amount of time (like the better part of 59 years) and have a pretty clear idea that my work has "value". I have shown enough- and sold enough!- to know that I'm not some hack who wastes peoples time trying to corner them and force my work down their throats. In short, I believe I make work of merit and I deserve an audience and at least a modicum of cordiality when I approach a gallery professionally.
Last fall, a new gallery opened in a near by town. A friend had stopped into the space and even ventured my name and Bob's as likely candidates for showing at the new venue. Bob and I called in one afternoon and were pleasantly surprised to see interesting work of an experimental and conceptually engaging nature. We additionally had a positive conversation with the youthful husband and wife (formerly of New York City) who were running the gallery. Both Bob and I left our web addresses and suggested they take a  look.
Several weeks later, I called the gallery and talked to the male half. He immediately acknowledged me- again in a positive manner- and stated as how he'd looked at my web site and was interested in my artist's books and how I encouraged hands on interaction with them. He even asked if we were available on a certain Monday as he said he needed to be in our area (we are only one town away.), Unfortunately, I had to work and we agreed to set a time in the near future for a studio visit. Of course, they had a new show opening and then the holidays came and everyone got busy so it wasn't until the other day that I thought to check in...
When I called, he again remembered me but I detected a strain in his tone. Before I could even recommend another attempt at setting a date for a studio visit, he immediately said, "Well, we're actually booked for the rest of the year." Me, being all affirmative and trying to be upbeat and chipper replied, "We all know that most shows are scheduled well into the future and artists often have to wait a year or two to show. Besides, sometimes artists drop out or are unable to complete the work and there comes an available time to show." (See? I've been at this a long time...) But I'm starting to get that queasy, twisted feeling that comes when a conversation shifts into unpleasant territory- much like trying to hook up with someone that you have a crush on and it dawns on you that the feeling is not mutual. A lot like that! Anyway, I'm nothing if not persistent (but not in a creepy stalker-ish way!) and I said, "Look: I'm returning this call and following up because you expressed an interest. This isn't like a "cold call"". And he responds, "Well, honestly, I don't usually drive all over the place making studio visits." We're only in the next town... it's not like I've asked him to drive to Montana to see some lame-ass work. Besides, he'd encouraged me!
So I finally, trying very hard to not sound utterly foolish, desperate and like a jilted suitor, said, "Well how about I bring some work by the gallery?" To which he had to agree. But by this point, I'm thinking, "What a complete A-hole!" And why not make a poor artist bend over backwards and jump through fucking hoops?
Most artists will recognize this story. Curators, art dealers, critics- people even tangentially associated with the arts- feel they can ride rough shod over artists. Yes, there are too many of us but the system that has sprung up around artist sucks, to put it bluntly. I am so tired of feeling like I'm asking for a favor or a hand-out or some bizarre perversion simply because I need what most artists need: an opportunity to show my work.And how on earth are we to succeed if the very system that presents our work is manned by weasels that run the other way when they see us coming? I've been told repeatedly that dealers/curators feel "pursued" and "put upon" by pesky artists; they are jaded. But what's an artist to do? We are told we need to be aggressive and persistent, but then we're rebuffed. I was actually told one time, after asking for the contact information of a curator who had selected several pieces of my work for a show, "not to "bother" the curator. !?!?!?!!?!? WTF?
I know there's a fine line, a balancing act to follow. But does anyone have those guidelines for me to figure out just the right mixture of push and pull? And don't lead us on. Believe it or not, we're adults. that is, if you're not interested, just say so. Pleasantly.
So, in short- you Art World "power brokers": be nice! Artists have it hard enough.

Dog and Pony Update

I haven't featured our fluffy barnyard friends recently so I decided this was as good a time as ever. Let's check in with Maggie the Mexican Pony and Jules the (Perfect) Dog.
This is what greeted me in the field today:

Maggie spent a good part of the night shellacing herself in mud. Do we remember that Maggie is a BLACK horse? Here's a detail of her back end:

She looks like a brown and black zebra! After thirty minutes of currying and brushing, she looked marginally better but wherever you touched her, puffs of dust arose. In addition, she has thoughtfully whacked her foot on a frozen chunk of mud (I am conjecturing...) and took a big piece of her hind hoof off. Ouch. No pictures of the damaged foot- it's too pathetic!- but here's her other side. It's a bit more presentable:

At this stage of the winter, with all the fuzzy coat, it's almost impossible to clean them. Maggie resembles and old sofa in a basement rec room.
And Jules? Yes, the Perfect Dog continues his winning ways.

There he is, contemplating his very favorite activity. (Hint: it has something to do with chasing small round things.) Maybe he's waiting for snow. He does like snow, unlike the rest of us. But in the meantime, Jules has made himself super useful by providing logs for the wood stoves. Most mornings, he selects a log or stick from our walk and carries it back home. Our neighbors find this highly entertaining, especially when he chooses an especially long branch and he looks over his shoulder, expecting me to pick up the other end and help him carry it home. We then proceed up the road like a yoke of oxen. How perverse is it that he makes me work on our walks?

But there's a new twist. Jules is pretty smart and he figured out how to correctly train me. Several times recently, he picked out a log that was a bit too wide around to fit comfortably in his mouth. He struggled with lifting it and I'd try and help but I found myself carrying his log, with Jules glancing approvingly at me. I have become a log valet for the dog!

Coming In and Out of Closets

Isn't it funny that as soon as you conceive a house project, it leads to three, four (or more!) ideas... and they are all interconnected? That's what's going on in the minds of Bob and Rita. The above hall shot was an interesting starting point- conceptually, that is- as we have not actually begun any of these Big Ideas; they're all in the "planning phase". Both Bob and I (in one of those synchronistic occurrences) had similar ideas about re-configuring and "upgrading" the hallway. It is the first spot that most people see when entering the house and it's some introduction. Granted, it is where everything from paint and tools ready for the next project to the ever-soaking container of beet pulp for Maggie the Mexican Pony's  next meal land. And assorted coats, boots, dying onions and everything else on the way from here to there. But it's a place to hurry through and apologize for. (It does serve the important function of making every other area of the house look better by comparison so maybe we should leave it alone.)
But let's face it: once that's agreed upon as a potential improvement, all the other similar projects jump into awareness.Like the front door becoming a front door and not a stereo equipment and art storage cupboard. Here's a shot of that area:

Yes, there is really a front door behind that cabinet! This should all be in my studio. But until the closet in my studio annex is emptied of my clothing and shelves are built, there's no place to move my clothing:

The clothing will ultimately be at the top of the stairs, where we now have one of my paintings and a table and chair hiding the horror that resides behind them:

(There's Jules in the foreground, protecting one of his favorite places to sleep). Bob and I know there is ancient water damage behind the painting and there's a bit of deconstruction/reconstruction to tackle prior to assembling my closet here. See my point about a bunch of juggling?
But it's exciting! Because we have practical and very do-able thoughts on sliding shoji screens to hide the closet contents. Just think of it, especially that original hallway picture... here it is again, to refresh the memory:

Remove the cabinets at the end of the hall, construct narrow shelves all streamlined along the right hand side- hidden from sight behind simple, clean lined geometrically framed screens.... ooohhh! I think this could be very cool! And very modern! And clean. Hell, who cares what goes on behind the closed screens!

Entering Our 6th Year!

Hooray! Today, the 3rd of January (in the year of our lord 2016) is the beginning of our 6th year at The Bauhaus Chicken Coop! That would be the "Iron" anniversary if we were talking weddings but it's appropriate as Bob works in iron. Here's some iron to celebrate:

(The now famous Birthday Fence that Bob made for me.) It's been a tumultuous and often crazy five years... including that initial day of our closing on this date in 2011 when it was like 6 degrees outside and there was three feet of snow on the ground- and much more to come! Moving our belongings on the "tableboggan" (an upside down folding table that slid well over all that snow) and other adventures too many to recall.Thank goodness for friends with large vans and strong backs!

Our house feels like home and while we have plans and projects in mind for 2016, it's simply nice to have a home that we like- just the way it is. Both Bob and I have studios, we've made great gardens and planted trees; we're standing upright and looking forward to this year in art and politics. (OOps! Don't go there!) Jules the Dog and Maggie the Mexican Pony have nothing to complain about (but they still do) and we're all looking forward to anther tumultuous and crazy year. Why do I think that's exactly what is coming?