Work Related

Just look at the cool dragon I scored at work! A nice perk has always been the ability to purchase (generally reasonably) interesting stuff. We joke at work that you have to be a "stuff person" to work at an auction house... otherwise it will overload your circuits and you'll go crazy. There is a lot of stuff in the world. The other truth of an auction house is that if you wait long enough, the same thing (or something very similar!) will come along. It's down right weird when we have an auction and get several identical objects consigned by different people. Last year we had the same Lalique vase twice in one sale and just last month, we had two nearly identical wooden swans from different estates. (How many of us have large wooden swans hanging around?!)
As many of you know, I have liked my job. I hope to be able to continue to do so but there are strange things afoot. Despite The Orange Menace constantly crowing about how swell the economy is doing, the auction that I work at seems to be floundering a bit. I understand that the auction world is changing and people are getting smarter about selling their own things on Ebay and Craig's List, and there are thirty million online auctions now...
Here's some really lovely fabric that I got- for a song. Even if I only used it as a backing for an art piece, it would still be a steal; there's over a yard and it's wide.

Anyway, I'm having my hours whittled and it doesn't make me happy. (And just in time for the holidays and the darkest, most brutish time of the year!!) Let's hope things pick up in the near future.

And here's "Steve". I pulled him out of the dumpster behind the auction. It is truly a source for strange things, and No, I did not name him "Steve"*. Look at the back of his neck:

See? I guess my point is how enriched my material world has been while working at the auction. Not only do I get to collect unusual and various things, I get to handle- and photograph- all sorts of delightful and museum-worthy items. I have developed a real appreciation for stuff I'll never own (nor particularly want to): like silverware and Chinese vases and ugly settees. They're all fun to absorb for a few minutes and then they go on their way.
Additionally, I feel entirely too jaded and exhausted to think of looking for another job. I have job-related baggage and little or no desire to have to become a perky and accommodating job applicant at this stage of my life! This has been a good, three-day-a-week job for an artist like me... don't make me start over now!!!!

*Steve is still living in my office at work. I have a prodigious collection of flotsam and ephemera that embellishes my work room, including a large drawing of Lenin and primitive Band-Aid art... and bugs! And teeth! And odd pictures of people grasping cats by their necks!

A Trip to Hell- and (Fortunately!) Back

Saturday was the last day for my one person show in NYC and therefore the final day we needed to make our way into "The City" to sit the show and "meet n greet n grip n grin". The weather was predicted to be cool but with no precipitation in sight. That was heartening because, as I have reported, each Saturday past presented some variation on sleet/snow/fog/heavy rain. Driving home from the train station was challenging.
So off we went to the train station. We arrived in the famous twenty acre parking lot early (good driving conditions, low traffic) and we began the long walk to the actual station.
A woman immediately flagged us and asked whether we had a shovel as her Prius was frozen into a snow bank. We didn't but offered to try and push her out but it was apparent that real digging was needed. Her niece was on the way with a snow shovel. (Word to the wise: Triple AAA doesn't offer snow help; who knew!)
We continued on our way and were flagged down by another woman who said the trains were not running south of the station because of power outages on the line due to Wednesday's snow event. We were faced with a choice: take a bus- provided free by Metro North- to Golden's Bridge (about 20 minutes south) or drive. Timing was important as the drive could potentially be accomplished and the train met without loosing time.
We jumped back into the truck, Bob put it in reverse and VVVVVViiiiiZZZZZZZZ!! The truck spun on the packed snow and ice and refused to move. We tried everything: a blanket under the rear tires, a large sheet of plywood under the tires, a helpful fellow NYC-bound commuter who actually volunteered to try and push the truck. Nothing worked. I thought- for one insane second- of asking Bob if he had his camera handy to take a few pictures*... but NO! Neither one of us was in the mood for pictures or levity and I wondered how we had been magically transported back to some gulag in Siberia. What about my brilliant art world debut?!??! We needed to get to NYC!
Finally,  Bob began whaling away at the ice with the truck jack and I used a claw hammer thing and the stuck Prius woman's niece arrived and lent us a snow shovel and a bag of kitty litter. We were cold and wet and pretty miserable... but the truck sailed backwards and we were free.
I guess we can thank the god's on high that we hadn't decided to simply jump on the bus because we would have arrived back at the dark and colder parking lot late at night to discover a stuck truck. We drove to the end of the parking lot closer to the station- where the pavement was clear and there was no chance of getting stuck- and decided the best option was to be bused to Golden's Bridge for the next train service. We were assured there would be a bus meeting every returning train. The metro employees were very helpful and accommodating and apologetic. What else could possibly go wrong?
How about a very weird bus trip? The bus was warm as we waited to depart, but I was troubled when I thought I overheard the bus driver asking directions to the train station. No, I thought, I must be wrong. They must have GPS. But the bus driver embarked on a circuitous and bizarre back roads ride to the next station. Even that seemed sort of understandable as maybe that was the fastest way to Brewster?  When the driver got on the highway, I sighed a deep breath of relief... until he got off the highway too soon and despite staring straight at a sign with an arrow clearly pointing left to our destination, he turned right. I was not alone (there were at least fifty people on that bus) in groaning. Turning the bus around, we somehow staggered into the train station and boarded the train. We were now really late and it seemed like a particularly idiotic episode of the twilight zone.
I will not continue to bore you with the fact that we then sat and waited for another fifteen minutes for another (probably lost) bus to arrive and make the connection. Yes, we made it to NYC and of course there was more construction on the downtown local subway so we had to get off and walk further to the gallery. Really? At that point, I was thoroughly through with public transportation!
Fortunately, despite extreme lateness and circumstances very beyond our control, the truncated day went well, and people- significant people!- showed up. I tried my best to seem unflappable and as if live was just great and things had gone oh-so-smoothly. I think I was successful?
And we took my show down. And we made the train (and bus) back to the truck- which started up and moved just fine on dry pavement.
There were at least 75 times on Saturday that I felt like throwing up my hands and saying, "Really? Why is this so fucking hard?" Is the universe trying to... what? Test me? Kill me? But I will recommend that artists are made of sterner stuff. We persist!

* The above picture is of a miniature metal truck stuck in snow on the top of the horse barn. Symbolic but not as painful as the actual full-size stuck F 150!

Mommy 1920-2017

Alas! Veronica West Valley Bogel aka Mommy has died. We have known for a long time that she was fading but it's still shocking when it happens.  I know I'm still processing this information, and truly haven't had time to feel much of anything yet; except, perhaps, a profound sense of relief as Mommy's last few years were anything but rewarding or beautiful.(The picture above is from quite a long time ago, as Mommy had her dog Molly with her and she's driving what appears to be the silver Toyota that she handed down to me like twenty years ago! But it all seems like yesterday.)
So Mommy finally died on June 17th, her 97th birthday. It does have a nice feeling of her coming full circle. I'll never forget how Mommy turned to me once- when she was a comparative spring chicken of an old person (like in her vigorous eighties) and said, "You know if I died now, I'd be happy". I exclaimed, "Do you know something that I don't know?" and she replied that she wasn't sick with something mysterious or anything, she just felt contented and at peace and happy that we, her three daughters seemed happy. Obviously, she went on to live for quite a while longer!
I am happy that she bequeathed to me a love of dogs and most animals- except snakes, of which she was deathly afraid. It is really ironic that Mommy moved to East Haddam and lived in a town that was reportedly a "Herpetologist's Dream". One of my chores when visiting my mother was to go down in the basement and check for snakes. I would inevitably do so... and find one.We never told her that East Haddam was known as the "Snake Capital" of Connecticut. And while she loved flowers and gardens, her fear of snakes kept her from planting much of a garden at home. When she'd come to visit, she was famous for standing in the driveway and refusing to venture further into the grass (where she KNEW snakes were lurking) and waving here arm generally at the garden and saying, "That's okay! I can see the garden from here!"
Mommy was unfailingly generous. She gave Beatrice and Cathy and me a piece of land that we were able to sell. The proceeds from my portion of that transaction allowed Bob and I to purchase The BauHaus Chicken Coop. Thank you Mommy!
The only thing that drove me crazy about my mother was her insecurity about her intelligence. She never seemed to understand that there are many ways to be smart. I think she had been told early on by someone (a family member (who as we all know are not always helpful) or a teacher) that she was a "dummy" (that was the word she used about herself) and I think that was tragic! She was a good cook, a good listener, liked to read and taught me to sew. (We all know where that led!)
So I will say this: Mommy was never judgemental and didn't question my life choices. She never turned to me and said, "Why are you an artist? Why can't you just become a secretary or something?' She knew that being an artist was a different kind of commitment. When she was younger, she did a number of paintings and I had encouraged her to take up painting again later in life, but she was busy doing other things.
And a last note: Mommy loved strawberry shortcake. It was an ongoing ritual for her birthday and if you asked her what she wanted for her birthday, she's invariably say she didn't care what she got, as long as there was strawberry shortcake. (And it had to be REAL shortcake, not that spongey stuff!) I had thought about making one on her birthday just to fulfill that annual wish but then she passed.
So I guess I'll say how terribly we will miss Mommy. I will miss talking with her about silly things my current dog was doing, or telling her about what I was working on in my studio, or what Bob and I were up to (she loved Bob). Goodbye Mommy!