A Reseasonable Rant

 

Above, a work in progress "Long Suffering Artist" a tribute to all of us artists; "We don't get no respect!" I know there is a popular myth that many people share: artists are just laying about, drinking martinis and absinthe before noon and then sleeping with their models. Artists are always whining and complaining while living a life of indolence and self pity. And artist have it so easy: all they have to do is smear some stupid colors all over a canvas and indulge their juvenile fantasies and then wonder why they're perpetually misunderstood.

In reality, most artists that I know are diligent hard-working, thick-skinned individuals that ask little but are treated like shit in return. We are constantly being harangued into schlepping our work all over kingdom come in the off-chance that the "opportunity" is worth it and some collector/curator/art world celebrity will perhaps throw a glance in the direction of our work. (Often poorly hung by a fire extinguisher or exit sign.) We're also endlessly being asked to donate to some good cause. (*1) Typically that "good cause" is for the self-serving non-profit organization (*2) asking for the donation; as in, "We're having a fundraiser and we're asking YOU to donate a work. And then you can pay another $75 (or $100 or $150) to attend the fundraiser". What a great deal!

I also have to point out the "thick-skinned" aspect of my above piece. Artists have to cultivate  thick skin so all the undeserved criticism they hear can just bounce off. Rejection, rejection and more rejection! And some how, the poor artist has to keep smiling and working and believing in themselves. Try doing this for fifty or sixty years! Even bad real estate agents (or dentists or mailmen) get paid! Everybody's got an opinion...

Anyway, I'm ranting today as I've just been asked to jump through a few too many hoops. I'm tired of being "carroted and stick-ed" with the observation that, "There will be lots of publicity!" or "The exposure will be good!" Ha! Usually, there's just the deafening silence of the void, staring back at you. And the worst part is that I feel a hypocrite as I am so terrified of not getting recognized that I make bad equations and play along. I am an art whore. I am embarrassed to admit that I am contemplating making an entirely new piece for a show (that I might not even get accepted to) that I only have three weeks to complete as it has to be a specific size... and it's not small! (*3) 

What's an artist to do?!?!?

(*1) Yes some are legit- like to raise money for a food bank or Ukrainian refugees. That I (and most artists) gladly do... and often.

(*2) We have a friend who said that people join boards of non-profits to get a parking space for their BMW's. Seems right to me!

(*3) Don't even get me going on "themed shows" where the work has to be about some inane thing I would never contemplate creating work about...All artists have at least a flat-file drawer full of work created for a theme that they're stuck with.

A Post For All My Artist Friends! (Public Service Announcement)

 

A new piece in progress! One of several. As promised, I am moving away from documenting the many verbal (and otherwise) atrocities committed by The Orange Menace- at last! Good riddance! I am returning to a subject near and dear to my existence: income disparity and the hard scrabble life of the artist. Plenty of raw material there.

So the above is being offered as a semi-sarcastic, but heart felt plea. That phrase, "Just Fucking Buy It", popped from my mouth as Bob and I discussed an all-too-common problem of viewers of art work. Supposing to be supportive, or encouraging, or maybe to make themselves feel like big-time art collectors, people frequently lead artists on with comments like, "Oh! I LOVE your work! I should collect it!" or, "Let me know when you make another one! I'd love to buy a piece!" (*1) And all too often, they never do.

I cannot begin to count all the times that this has happened to me, to Bob, to every artist friend we have. And the sad part is that some small, eternally hopeful part of us artists swells and grows large and vulnerable; we actually expect the speaker of these words to follow through and exchange money for the artwork and take it home with them. I don't even know how we still fall for this cruel ruse. But we do.

There was even a scam going around a few years ago; apparently it's been dusted off and renewed. Artists (myself included) receive an email stating how much this particular person admires our work. They often have some story about how they'd love to purchase a piece as and anniversary gift for their wife or husband. They lead you on for several emails... until the ugly truth dawns: they were never a perspective client. How does this make them happy or excited or aroused? Leading on poor, unsuspecting artists is cruel! Call a stock broker and pretend you want to purchase shares or something! Just leave artists alone! (*2)

 So I retort with "Just Fucking Buy It". Tell me you like my work; relay how wonderful it makes you feel. Or how you like the colors, the subject matter.... whatever. But please don't then feel somehow special for adding that you'd like to buy it. Unless you have a check book, or credit card or (even better!) cash in hand. I- and no other artist I know- needs the hollow flattery. Shit or get off the can.

(*1) And I cannot for the life of me figure why they're sometimes interested in whether I make another or- or one in red, or blue instead. If you're not going to buy this one, what earthly good is another one?!?!?!?

(*2) I recently had a gentleman (and his wife and child) love my original WTF at an open studio event. They came back several times, admired all my work... and then walked away. The next year, they re-visited my open studio, ask about the same piece- was it still available?... and walk away. And then- six months later- I got an email from the same guy, asking measurements etc etc... and then he dropped off the face of the earth. What gives?!?!?

Patriotic Interlude

I had another theme/story in line for this posting. But then I realized that it's the Fourth of July and extreme times call for us patriotic artists to do our duty. Therefore, I shall rant and wax leftist on this Independence Day.
We forgot to get hotdogs so we will be dining on hot Italian sausages and baba ganoush this holiday. I think mixing things up and exploring the diversity of our American food heritage is a healthy way to celebrate the Fourth. And what more perfect way to wash down all this Internationalism than with (British Imperial) Gin and Tonics?
Oh, and the piece above? This is what The Orange Menace calls "never trump" republicans. And also the occasional (lucky) member of the press corps. Hahahahahaha! Human Scum? I got news for you: all the "human scum" we'll ever need resides in The White House! And very happy to report that this brand-new piece is in an exciting and important on-line exhibit! (*1)
So here we are, with 60+ % of Americans thinking the country is a mess- and a fine mess it is! A death toll over 125,000, Corona Virus, high unemployment (due to the COVID 19 pandemic), a racist xenophobe in the White House... the only bright spot is the rethuglicans cozy with The Orange Menace giving into the hoax and coming down with COVID 19. (Thank you Kimberly Guilfoyle!) And then we have the charming, newly-arrested Ghislaine Maxwell. Where do these people come from? Human Scum to be sure! For some reason (several hundred really big ones) she disgusts me even more that Jeffery Epstein; perhaps because she referred to the young women (girls!!) that she procured for Epstein as "nubiles". Yeeeeeech!! What kind of miscreants are these people? Of course everyone is placing bets on how Ghislaine commits "suicide"...
Oh please! I don't seem to have a single good thing to say; everything seems pretty messed up out there. But have a safe and healthy holiday! Don't attend any suspicious political rallies, especially ones thrown by science-denying, no mask-wearing, non-social distance-keeping thugs who've been sprayed odd colors. I think you know who I mean... Human Scum!!!!

(*1) https://sites.google.com/…/artistsreacttothepandemicge…/home
A wonderful show full of the work of amazing artist activists! Can only imagine what The Orange Menace thinks of artists like us!

For Artists Only

This is purposely a misleading title to this posting. Art- and art openings are NOT for artists only, but I think John and Jane Q. Public think that galleries are some sort of private club. I am repeatedly asked things like, "Does it cost money to go to a gallery?" "Do I need a ticket?" "Can anyone go?"
See that nice photo above, full of nice people looking at all that nice art?
They're all artists!
Nothing wrong with artists. Some of my best friends etc, etc... Conservatively speaking, 95% of my friends are artists and they're the greatest, swellest people around (funny, witty, smart, talented) but they cannot- and should not- be expected to buy art. And while I love my friends and the millions of new artist friends I meet, I want other, non-artist people to go to openings and experience my work.
This is one reason to show- to gain a wider audience for your work, with this widening audience (hopefully) leading to these individuals becoming buyers and collectors of the work.
My friends can visit my studio and see what I'm up to. I realize seeing the work in a gallery is different. I appreciate that they like coming to openings and getting a bit of wine and cheese and celebrating my work in a clean well lighted space; it does make the work seem complete. But I cannot- and do not- expect them to buy my work. So everyone leaves at the end of the evening and the work looks great but nothing changes. You get another line on your resume...
It's a constant paradox: how do you attract people to the gallery and separate them form their money? I suppose that's cynical way to put it but art needs to be collected. Galleries go belly up because the gallerist/director hasn't figured out the answer to this age old dilemma. Artists fight for the few positions in the stable of blue-chip galleries because there is a greater likelihood of success in selling work (which, of course, leads to being able to make more work...) Mid-level and entry level galleries stay open for maybe two, three years and close because of a lack of sales. It cease to be fun when operating a gallery means sitting in a lonely space, surrounded by work that no one wants to invest in and you still have bills to pay.
Several art dealers have stated to me recently that the artist should be bringing the buyers in to the gallery. I ask, then what's the gallery's part? If I had a slew of collectors that were eager to buy my work, chances are I wouldn't need a gallery.
I sure don't have the answer. I can make the work and attempt to round up the people who have enjoyed and purchased my work previously, and invite them to this show, and the next show and on and on. But it's a long slog! Even gallerists throw up their hands and exclaim over how hard it is. But we continue to schlepp our work to gallery after gallery and show after show... what's an artist to do?!?!!!??!?!?

Now Who's the Snowflake?

For those of you who were unable to attend the NYC art world event of the season, here's a few highlights. (Yes, they are screen shots from a few friends albums on Facebook- thank you Roberta, Phillip and Yolanda!) because I/we were too busy schmoozing and chatting up the room to take pictures (or even oversee the taking of pictures). It was packed with admiring friends and art fans and I was quite happy. Many good friends traveled from the wilds of Connecticut; I am astonished at their love and support!

And here are people that I DON"T KNOW, looking at (and gesturing to) my art work. Yowzah! That's great! I received a lot of positive feedback and the show did look really good so I couldn't be happier.*
The show went on, despite the chills/spill/thrills necessary to have an already sick artist's stomach in her mouth. You all probably heard about how my work wasn't picked up and delivered to NYC when it was scheduled.... someone's father (thanks Weston!) had to make that trip. And then a piece of lace- instrumental to the completion of "Complicit"- was unloaded at the wrong address (thanks again fro resolving that issue, Weston)... Yes, artist's hearts are often in cardiac arrest, wondering if all the details were in place- or whether the Devil is indeed alive and well and attending to them!
And then, of course, there is the truly funny-or pathetic- story of how the delivery gentleman (who IS after all, a conservative, gun tottin' rethuglican) REFUSED to pick up the three pieces from the gallery that we weren't hanging... this despite the fact that he was stopping at the gallery to drop off several paintings and had the room in his truck. Hahahahaa! tender sensibilities, indeed! Now who's the snowflake? The things you learn.
And we arrived home at midnight, fed the Dog and Pony Show ( we have a dog walker who comes to minister to Robin's needs) and fell into bed. And woke up at the crack of dawn to go back in to sit the show. It was pretty slow until the last hour or so, when some friends from New Haven showed up and -heavens!- more strangers poured into the gallery and took pictures, were impressed, asked all the right questions etc. That made the day fun and worthwhile.
On the way back to the subway, I was exultant and Bob and I were chatting away merrily about the next move when BOOM! I hit some sort of slippery spot and crashed to the pavement. Naturally, I had just removed my gloves, so my left hand absorbed the fall- along with my left upper thigh and hip. That hurt! And so much for ol' NYC being nice to artists... (it's not!)

Evidence, need I say more?
So the show looks good, my bruises will fade, and Bob and I are hauling into NYC every Saturday to be there for the requisite "meeting and greeting" and "gripping and grinning". Stop by if you're in the neighborhood.

*Well, I would have liked to have sold every piece... or even one (but there's still time...)

Executive Orders

(This picture was taken by my co-worker Antony. While we did not assemble the above tableau, we definitely appreciated it! Some fun can still be had a work but that's another story...)
In light of various inexplicable facts- like the Unpresidented Occupation of The White House- I have decided to take matters into my own small (but square and capable hands)  and declare myself Queen. Therefore it is now within my purview to issue Executive Orders. The following shall take effect immediately (and this is just a partial list for my first few days in office):
1.) Universal health care will be available to everyone. The same insurance currently given to members of Congress- including dental and vision- will be provided for all. For life. No high (or low) deductibles, no cost for drugs. All inclusive. You're welcome!
2.) A Department of Climate Change will be instituted and begin work to reverse the effects of Climate Change. There will be no arguing against scientific facts. We will go solar, embrace wind and all other renewables. The world will thank us.
3.) There will be a new Department of Women's Issues. The Equal Rights Amendment will be implemented post haste and women will be paid- and treated- fairly. Hell, maybe I'll just make a Department of Humanity and make sure everyone: women, LGBTQ, people of color, people with disabilities, everyone- even men!- gets treated fairly.
4.) The minimum wage will be raised to $20 an hour and we all get a month off work- with pay- every year. Corporate heads will now receive pay no more than 20 times the minimum wage and they will receive two weeks off with no pay. (And I don't want to hear any whining. The working people already put up with plenty!)
5.) Corporations and banks will work hard to reward their consumers- and NOT their shareholders. (Maybe I'll just do away with the stock market; I haven't gotten that far!)
6.) People with pets or domestic animals will get a significant tax break. (And I am debating whether this includes the keeping of exotic pets, like tarantulas and snakes. There's something weird about keeping non-fluffy animals. Maybe it's just me).
7.) People who garden- whether edible or ornamental- will get a tax break.
8.) All artists shall be given free and spacious, well-appointed studio (or practice) spaces.
9.) All artists (if unable to support themselves on their art work) shall be provided jobs that require no more than three days a week and afford sufficient financial remuneration.
10.) There will be a Department of Peace. Instead of wasting all of our time producing awful engines of destruction that kill and maim, we will produce more stereo equipment and we all dance and have fun together.
It sounds like I have an ambitious agenda for my first few days in office, so let's get to work. And if any one has any good ideas, please share them. All good ideas will be considered!

Trip to New York

The above pictured blueberry pancakes- made with blueberries from our bushes!- will grace this post about our trip to NYC. Bob and I simply refuse to drag the camera along, and seeing as we have the original "Not-So-Smart phone", we couldn't take pictures even if we wanted to. Besides, is it not more Zen to "be here (or there) now" and experience the present? Anyway...
You may remember that Bob and I almost made it to NYC the previous week. But monstrous weather in the form of torrential rain and thunder changed our plans. Besides, I mused, in an opening with 111 artists, would they really miss me? So we stayed home and had our own splendid "opening".
But Saturday was a lovely day for a trip: warm, dry and perfect. We missed a train in the morning by like 2 minutes as we encountered road construction, but we were under no time restraints we caught the next train and had many interesting adventures, including exploring an area of Bushwick (Brooklyn) that we'd never encountered before. We took an elevated train to get there which afforded a great view back to Manhattan. We looked in on two (tiny) outpost galleries and saw some magical work. And then on to Odetta to schmooze with art dealers (hello Ellen!) and meet another of the three million, five hundred and twenty two artists that wish to show their work. I can't keep track anymore. An interesting discussion of the vagaries of the art press, how hard it is to secure collectors, etc etc- the typical conversations between artists.

(Isn't that a charming succulent? Looks like green twigs.)
And then it was off to the Manhattan to encounter my small offering in the show "Going Big" at Central Booking, an artist's book gallery. Strangely, I was the only artist to submit a book; I was alone in a sea of small paintings (largely abstract) and a few sculptures, But kudos to Suzan and Susan the curators! It was a really attractive show and well hung! I was more than happy as sometimes these huge shows are hung "salon style" (stacked up cheek by jowl) but this show had space between pieces and was remarkably harmonious.
Bob and I then repaired to an Indian restaurant on 6th Street that we have literally been going to for years. It was much the same, with crazy dollar store strings of light blinking and miniature flags of many nations blowing in the air conditioning and Indian pop music blaring. A feast for all the senses. I was glad we made it to the restaurant as we haven't been in that neighborhood for ages and Bob was eager to eat Indian food there again.

 (That one's cute, too! This is some sort of sedum, with a coreopsis photobombing behind...)
Wefinished the evening by missing the train home by three minutes; sort of a reverse repeat of the morning train episode) and had to wait as after 7:00 or 8:00 on weekends, the trains only run once an hour. Thank goodness that Bob and Is till seem to have things to talk about. It was a really nice trip and artistically productive, as in good feedback from past admirers and a new one too. Sometimes, I actually enjoy my trips into NYC...

Off to the Wilds of New York

It's hard to leave the beauty and innocence of nature and our country (well, suburban) abode to venture into Manhattan, but tomorrow we must do just that. Never mind that it's going to be over 90 degrees, and humid to boot... the "art world" beckons.
I am showing in a gallery on the Lower East Side. Get this: there are 110 other artists in the show besides me.  This is going to be some opening as even if only two-thirds of the artists showing come and bring one friend, the galley will be packed. Actually, anyone wandering by that considers coming into the gallery will probably think better, turn tail and run as that many people squeezed into even a moderately sized space on an overheated day is crazy.  Forget the air conditioning, Mercury is probably retrograde and the machinery will collapse under the strain and the space will be filled hundreds of red-faced, perspiring artists and their supporters. Pleasant!
But would I miss this experience? It's another line on the resume and a chance to make nice with whatever art world powers that be! Bring on the moist towelettes!

(Seems to be showing in Gallerie Kenmore, no?)
Where was I? Ah yes, musing on the vagaries of the art world. My small corner of the art world is an interesting place. Everyone is jockeying for perceived position and there is much feinting (probably fainting, too!) and circling and sizing things up. There are many, many, many artists. And have I mentioned? Not nearly so many galleries, or alternative spaces or prospects for all those many artists. This is (partially) what keeps artists circling each other, appraising each others relative standing. And the system of galleries and critics and curators and power brokers know this. Only a limited number of all the many artists will be anointed the next Big Thing and will have their work coveted and collected. The rest of us endlessly circle around, sniffing and snapping and hoping to be found out to be geniuses we know we all are. Sometimes this is mildly entertaining; sometimes it's mighty annoying. But this is the world we operate in an there's little hope of changing it.
So it's off to NYC for me and Bob... let's just hope they provide moist towelettes at the opening!

An Artist's Rant- Artists Are Not Factories!

Sometimes it's good to offer follow up, as in the above version of "No" that has happily evolved into "No Future". I'm certain to upset some people who choose to be relentlessly "positive" but I don't think this piece is essentially "negative". Rather, it's meant as a beautiful way to deliver bad news. I know that many younger people feel dead ended; they are living at home with parents that they have out grown and can't find meaningful work. Somebody should break it to them, but do it in a visually appealing way. Therefore, the above offering.
But my rant is actually entitled "Artists Are Not Factories!". Really. Ask an artist: have you been told, "Oh, make me another one... but in blue". Or, "Can you do ten more just like that one?" Or even better, "You're creative. Just put all those things (that have absolutely nothing to do with each other) together in an attractive way."
And then of course there's the endless plea for donations of all kinds. I was recently forwarded an email from an organization I know nothing about that claimed I would be lucky to be among the first 400 artists to get my work into a show, where all the work was donated so that this group could benefit. And could you make sure it's under 13 inches on a side? How exactly was I to get anything at all from my involvement? But I suppose we artists have so much free time to just whip up something fabulous for every occasion. Each stipulation imposed on an artists donation is a joke. (Size, color, theme...)
But to return to my original stream of thought: art doesn't just happen. We are not like spigots that can be turned on and off at will. Some days the well is very dry indeed! Studio time is frequently at a premium, and there are so many things tugging at us in so many directions. I know that I (and many other artists) would love to help out (sometimes!) but there has to be a return. No one asks dentists or carpet salesmen to donate things on a daily basis, but some how artists are targets. I realize that the lure of intangible rewards is dangled in front of our noses; those hard to figure benefits like, "You'll attract new collectors" or, "You'll make new contacts" or, "You'll reach a new audience" seem possible. We all spend a lot of time making and framing and delivering work (that quite possibly we'd never have made without this coercion) and then get told we have a day to pick it up when it doesn't sell. Artists all have drawers full of aberrant works that aren't really ours: we did for a cause and now we don't know what to do with these a-typical pieces.
And maybe if you're fortunate enough to be an artist who works in multiples (such as print makers or photographers) this is an easier thing to do. You simply run another edition or get another print made, but for peoples making originals, it's way to much work. There is also the very real possibility that the piece you set out to make doesn't work and  simply wind up wasting time and making a mess. Don't forget that everyone always demands your "newest and best" work!
I think I'm rankling the most from the misguided perception that artists are simply art producing machines. We're cranking out art at so many parts per hour and more than happy to share that wealth of resource. It's exhausting. It's unrealistic. We're not factories!

A Wicked Cold Trip and Quite a Few Holidays

Yeah, it looks all magical but don't let that fool you!  I'm just trying to find a way to enjoy the endless white blobs tumbling from the sky...
And speaking of fools, guess who was crazy enough to brave the dangerous low temperatures and outlandishly high winds to drive to New York state and take a train into New York City on Sunday? Artists will do anything to open their mouths in public and yap about their work! I was a-feared that Bob (mostly the sensible one) would say "Ix-Nay" to our plans to go to NYC, but he was game and I adore him for so supportive. We (obviously) made it there and back so there must be some truth to the rumor that God protects fools, drunk and artists.
Lookee here:

This wasn't even the worst! It was 8 below one morning but my camera battery went dead and I couldn't find the extra battery and charger (plugged into the bedroom wall, behind a painting). I debated drawing a picture of the negative reading, but thought no one would believe it- sort of an "artist's rendering". But there you have it! Evidence! (as if we needed any).
The gallery talk was great. I had asked Ellen (artist/friend/gallerist) to not ask me to speak first, so I could gauge what the other artists said and how they said it. I needn't have worried as we went alphabetically (I'm always last) and I quickly realized that we were all on the same page and we all sounded very erudite and like we knew what we were doing. It was fun and well worth risking frostbite and death through exposure. (Don't ask about the walk back from the train to the truck...)

Maybe because the day before was Valentine's Day and Bob and I were warm and fueled by love and delicious food, but it was a really great weekend. We then celebrated Mardi Gras/ Fat Tuesday a day early as more awful weather was planned for Tuesday. It didn't really happen but is any one out there sorry we didn't get another foot of snow?

Welcome to Gallerie Kenmore

Perhaps you have not heard of Gallerie Kenmore? Perhaps you had no idea that Bob and I have been running a high end gallery? Well, then it is about time that you made the acquaintance of... Gallerie Kenmore!
Our gallery was started, how shall we say? On a whim. A fancy; in a sly mood on a sultry day, Bob and I turned to one another and with  truly wicked glints in our respective eyes and proclaimed: "Gallerie Kenmore! It is a new beginning!" (Whew! What a sentence! Purple prose indeed). We saw a need and
filled it.
Any artist knows that there are far fewer galleries than artists; artists are a dime a dozen. But galleries? If they opened a new one every ten seconds for the next one hundred years, there would still not be enough galleries for all the artists desirous of showing.
But don't get me wrong; Gallerie Kenmore has been from its inception, an extremely exclusive enterprise. We are so exclusive that we don't even have a phone number. Don't try and call us- just don't. Web site? Never! And our address is privileged to be offered to the few who really need to know. If we wish to connect with you, we will. Otherwise, please do not waste your time. Or ours.

Here is a close up of the current show. A photograph by the one and only Richmond Jones. It is a magnificent picture, worthy of display at our gallery. And below is a photo of Bob and I, making a guest appearance at gallery Kenmore. We do drop by to ensure that things are humming along smoothly, but do not try to pin us down as to our hours. Heavens. We never know from one moment to the next where we will be... perhaps Basel? Perhaps Miami? I grow weary keeping it all straight. This is what comes of accepting the mantle of "International Art Dealers". It is a glamorous life, yes, but exhausting.

So, I have allowed you a glimpse into the sanctified realm of the elite art world. I shall keep you posted as to the roster of international art stars that will grace the walls of Gallerie Kenmore. There is a rumor circulating that the illustrious Lena shall be shown at Gallerie Kenmore. I will say no more! Stay tuned!

Really Depressing Blog Post #1 (Retirement or the Lack Thereof)

Hahahahaha. I'd like to think I'm pretty cool... this photo (which is simply a screen shot so sorta fuzzy) was posted by a friend. It's apparently a picture from the 1970's when someone made off with several letters from the Saint Rita's School sign. (A good friend, Sheldon Krevit taught art there for many years. I'll have to forward this to him.)
But the picture has nothing to do with this post. In fact, it's the happiest thing about this sermon, which you can feel free to skip but I feel the need to rant. (And it's my blog so I'll rant if I want to, rant if I want to!)
I read a very depressing article on Yahoo news today. It was about how 40% of people 55 and over have no money at all saved for retirement. And they had interviews with perfectly nice people (not drug addicts or (gasp!) artists or anything) who had lost jobs or taken early retirements due to buyouts etc etc and how these people were working well into their 60's- and beyond. Let's be real: I know very few people (like I can count on one stubby hand) who will ever actually retire.
Take me for example (That's St. Rita to all you nonbelievers). I wish to dissuade anyone in my audience who thinks I didn't try and save money for something as distant and unlikely as the concept of "retirement". I pretty much realized early in my career as a brilliant- if underutilized- artist, that retirement was for others. And I don't mean retirement from making art, but retirement from so-called gainful employment, which frequently turns out to be less than gainful. And unfortunately, many poor suckers and fools who bought into the system and worked every motherfucking day of their adults lives are in no better a position than myself. The American system is broken, the Middle Class is gone and everyone is now forced to live like an artist. Might as well get drunk and enjoy it! (And hell: go ahead and piss in the fireplace afterwards for good measure.)
And even more pathetic was that this article went on to give helpful advice on how it's not too late to try and save now. These tips included things like not indulging in luxuries quite so often. Heavens! I knew I should never have had all those costly spa treatments! I should have never have bought imported Egyptian cotton sheets sets or taken all those trips to exotic far flung places! Bob and I live very well, but we have always gone without things that I suppose others deem essential- like giant screen plasma tvs that need replacement every year because they're just not big or plasmic enough, or even socks without holes in them. And that's fine as I don't particularly miss most of this stuff anyway. But really? Don't tell me where to economize and where not to. Pay check to paycheck and beyond offers many people- artists and not- no room for any savings, let alone disasters. I just laugh or cringe or moan (or do all three in an ironically spasmodic fashion) when I detect this tone of surprise that our system is failing most of us.
We can surely thank the 1% for that. Tax the fuckers and don't allow little weasels like Paul Ryan to start in on "reforms" and cutting "entitlements". I don't know what year most people in America are living in, but it's 2014 and most of us are screwed.

Dessert 'Shrooms

I always maintain that if you leave artist's alone with anything- food, clothes, building materials- they'll start playing with it and make it into something else. That's what happened with our dessert the other evening.
We had one humongous banana left. I didn't want to eat the whole thing so I decided that Bob and I would share... but with a cookie jammed on top as a roof.
I had made cookies the day before- call them macaroons (not the coconut kind, but the Frenchie ones) or Italian amaretto cookies (as the book did). They're really good and crumbly and chewy at the time and taste like almonds. Nothing could be simpler than these cookies; you use almond flour in place of any regular flour and egg whites and sugar. It made a great dessert as there was smooth, creamy, crunchy, sticky nexus in your mouth. And they looked like great big toadstools.
Bob and I do like to experiment, and sometimes on friends. Obviously, what we consume is sometimes pretty entertaining and not always everyone's cup of tea. Once we served a few friends a "recipe" that we prepare occasionally that consists of length-wise sliced bananas spread with peanut butter and topped with chocolate chips. You then broil these creations for a few minutes. We think they're delicious. One of our friends said it made her think of something you'd serve to children at a kid's party. I'm not sure if that was a compliment exactly...
I guess that's a nice segue into the announcement that I am hard at work on a cookbook. Yes, I who do not cook am composing an artist's book entitled "Recipes for Disaster: From the Studio to the Kitchen". It's a fun project because I can construct/erect/destroy all these interesting assemblages of food and stuff and then photograph them... just like a "real" cookbook. As my sense of humor is often that of an adolescent eighth grade boy, all hell is breaking out. But it's a bit different as I'm working with weird edible materials and photographs. I'll keep you posted!