What Is It With Me and the Weather?!?!?

I know, I know: it IS Winter and everyone gets miffed with ice, snow, cold temperatures, driving wind and grey days. But sometimes, I feel the need to respond personally.
A good friend asked me that question a couple of days ago (Hi Louise!), because every time I'm supposed to do something- something important like meet the Queen or  take a trip to the Moon- the weather predictions become dire. I was supposed to address my adoring audience of art lovers and art groupies tonight at the school where my art is on display but I postponed it because it's predicted that snow will start this afternoon, and they've been coy as to how much.
Alas, on Saturday, when Bob and I are slated to go into NYC to install my work at the Spring/Break Art Fair, it's currently predicted to snow all day. I have been skating my schedule around to accommodate changing that to Friday or Sunday... but it's hell to not be certain when and if you're hopping on a train to set up the most important show of the year! And I feel badly not being courageous and damning the weather and plowing forward, come hell or high water but I have bigger concerns: like not getting in an accident and winding up damaged and without a car! (I also know that I will inconvenience my co-art stars but me thinks they receive less snow where they are (further south) and are possessed of such assets as four wheel drive and stronger stomachs for hazardous drives.
Update: As it stands now, I'm going in the evening before installation and staying over at our gallerist's home in Greenwich and we will drive (with my work securely tucked into the back of her Prius). Lord knows what the weather will bring. Yesterday's threatened snow fall turned out to be a few wonky flurries and a real dud of a storm... but I guess that's better than sliding off an on ramp into a snow bank.* Maybe I need to take a chill pill, whatever that is.
And, yes, I probably am a tad wound up because we are on the brink of an exquisite art experience! That's bound to make one jittery. It's a good thing I spent the afternoon finishing a large piece (crystals pictured above an integral part) and playing with Robin the Good!

Tired her all out...


*Unfortunately, I think I inherited an awful propensity for seeing disaster looming from my saintly mother (aka "Mommy"). She was always predicting tragedies... On the other hand, I do think that people exercise undo bravado when traveling under less than optimal conditions. And I've had waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too many harrowing journeys home in inclement weather to feel sanguine about venturing forth when blizzards and ice are expected.

Song Stuck in Head!!!

Okay, I know this happens to all of us. I have a song stuck in my head, and it's been there for oh... maybe five days now. I admit that's a long time even for me.

As we well know, I'm a classical music sort of gal. I like Beethoven, Bartok, Stravinsky, John Cage, Steve Reich etc etc (and even Schoenberg, Webern and Berg! Atonality rocks!) I make occasional forays into electronica and hip hop but I tend to be a bit weak in the pop music department. So why on earth do I have an Elton John song wedged decisively in my skull??? 

I have never thought too much about Elton John; I find him mildly inoffensive when he's playing on the shopping channel at my local supermarket, but I have never really gone out of my way to listen to him. (Although I did have- and enjoy- his first album when I was a youngster. I especially liked the song "Burn Down the Mission". (From Tumbleweed Junction)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EdEQkRq_xrw

Okay so what gets stuck in my head? "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road". And the weirdest thing is that as I don't even know the words, I keep hearing only one section of the song... the part that goes "So goodbye yellow brick road, the dogs of society howl. You can't plant me in your pent house. I'm going back to my plow." That's it. Over and over and over again.*

Is this some special personal message from Elton John to me? Am I supposed to understand the direction my life will take from here on in?

Not sure, but as an interesting aside, my father's name was Elton- not a typical name. Occasionally, when I was young, some wag would call our house asking if "Elton... Elton John was home". Hahaha.

Anyway, I actually looked up this song on YouTube, listened to all the music, read all the lyrics thinking maybe this would stop my Elton John song loop. To no avail.

 But in an effort to cease and desist, please Sir Elton!- I offer a link to sing along with. Maybe if we all sing at once, in harmony together, I shall be released.

goodbye yellow brick road

*Maybe this has to do with this particularly strong full wolf moon? Dogs of society howling?!?!? I cannot begin to know, but I have been having sleep disruptions and then incredibly deep, dream filled sleep. Leave it to the moon!

What Time Is It Anyway?

That's me as a human sundial. I thought the shadow of Bob's metalwork, perched on the picnic table (at 6:00 am in the light of our house floodlight) made a great image. Somehow I got into the act, too.
I haven't slept well for two nights. One of my favorite pass times when sleepless is to check the time every five minutes or so. This became an interesting exercise because our clock decided to go a bit bonkers and start posting random times. (perhaps it's simply taking an existential view of things and is suggesting that time is an artificial construct. Fascinating, but not useful as one wants a clock to be.)

I'd wake up and the clock would say "3:37".  I'd think it odd as it didn't seemed like we'd been in bed all that long The next time I checked, it would read "12:17". Then "4:52". Then back to "2:44". It was disconcerting and discombobulating as waking up in the middle of the night inevitably is anyway.
So sometimes I get up and go on the computer but sometimes I just lay there and stew in my own juices. Sometimes, Bob wakes up (or I wake him up) and we discuss foreign affairs or the state of the art world or The Orange Menace and just how fast do we think the Mueller investigation will wrap up and is Don Jr going to jail. Unfortunately, many of these topics seem designed to keep one awake. This clock may well be a member of the Trump administration as it lies constantly. It probably knows Roger Stone, too.

This is the clock we used to have in the bedroom. It now lives in my studio, not that I am preoccupied with time while enjoying artistic pursuits. It's just that when it lived upstairs  it was seemingly possessed by an odd demon that insisted on playing a tinny electronic version of "Happy Birthday" at odd hours. I think I may have previously reported on how unnerving it was to be hearing "Happy Birthday" echoing through the house... sort of like a Twilight Zone episode. Since moving to my studio, it's been remarkably quiet but tells me the temperature before and after I get a fire going in my wood stove. See that? It was 42 degrees this morning:  way too cold for my creative juices to flow!
Right now, I honestly don't care what time is, or even what time the clock wants to tell me it is. I'm tired and am going to go take a nap. See you... whenever!

Spring Break

It was so warm, so sunny, so NICE that you could almost forget that it is only the beginning of February. And whether it's a slightly late January thaw or an aberrant benevolent snap, it really doesn't matter... it was beautiful weather.
When I checked the thermometer, saw that it read a hair above 60 degrees, I removed our thermal window cover and let the sun and warmth stream in. It made me feel so much more optimistic and want to do things...
Perhaps I overdid, as today I can barely walk. I went (horseback) riding for the first time in over a month. It felt both oddly familiar and strangely odd to be aboard a fuzzy 900 pound being. The riding part came back to me quickly- thank goodness or my riding instructor would probably have brandished a quirt about my ears!- but my muscles felt savaged and resistant, and that's despite my exercising diligently at home! Riding calls into play all manner of interesting muscle groups; inner thigh and lower abdomen particularly. It feels good to work these areas, but not so good that sitting still for a few minutes makes getting and crossing the room a uniquely torturous adventure.
Adding to my soreness was my enthusiasm to cut back some of the grasses and perennials in the long border. The birds have no doubt eaten all the seeds they're going to eat and the plants are shattered from beatings of ice and rain. They look messy so I lopped them back and dragged them away. Now my shoulders are protesting...

Maybe that's why my latest WTF sculpture is green- a longing for spring. I am excited about the second kind of Spring Break I'm celebrating here. My work is  being included in a booth at the eponymous art fair (Spring Break). This is something I have wanted for years. My work was almost taken to an art fair a few years back and I was sorely disappointed (more soreness!) when my sometimes art dealer (hi Ellen!) decided not to participate. (Let's be real: art fairs are expensive and peculiar, a very complicated aspect of an already complicated contemporary art market). Many people express disdain and contempt for art fairs; truth be known, they are like shopping malls for art consumption. People stagger around, ostentatiously absorbing Kulture and impressing each other with their conspicuous "good taste". But as an artist, you gotta love the exposure! Holy cow! How many eyes will fall upon my work?!?!?? I'm psyched.
Another good reason to throw back the curtains and enjoy the nice weather!