Wrong Color!

(Gee, it looks better here! Oh well...)
Bob and I bought paint to redo the upstairs bathroom three months ago.After months of pinning paint samples to the walls and considering and re-considering we arrived at a consensus and purchased the paint. I am sure we all know how tough it is to determine the best pigment based on a tiny paint sample... But I was optimistic and awaited the perfect day to apply it. Lord knows it's been hot and humid and not great painting weather this summer.
So last week, Bob held his finger to the wind and declared that TODAY was the day: nice and breezy and dry so that you could air out the upstairs and the paint would dry quickly and thoroughly. I set to work.
And there is always waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay more prepartion needed than you remember. You have to get the actually applicators and stirrers and pans and you need a screw driver to prise the lid off the can. Not to mention moving everything off the sink and the racks and out of the room. And then you need a step ladder; yes, it takes a while to prepare!
Finally, I began painting. I felt less and less sure as I went because it just looks so light.

See? Here it looks almost white! It's not a bad color, but I wanted one room in the house to have a saturated hue. The whole house is white!! I think I wanted a more "Wedgewood Blue": that is, a blue that has more grey to it... we'll live with the color as is for a while. At least it's clean!
                                                      
 In the meantime, Bob has become inspired to make us lovely and functional towel racks. We have had a stupid plastic one that was never correctly anchored to studs in the wall- that's what those holes are above. (Bob is spackling the holes with a unique way of securing the spackle when there is no stud behind. He has a small metal disk, to which he has affixed a string that holds the disk flat when the spackle is applied... neat!) Besides, we never had hooks or a rack on the door so we were limited as to where to hang towels or clothes. I can't wait.
So again, at least progress has been made. Maybe the color will grow on me; I think Bob is more sanguine about it than I am. It's a big step in the right direction!


                                                         


                                                             

Barring Natural Disasters...

So many projects, so little time! I've wanted to re-paint the upstairs for over a year now but last spring's tornado put the kibosh on getting much of anything done besides activities involving giant heaps of wood and brush. This year I vow will be different!
So the twisted stalk above suggests the illusive color I am seeking for the walls- a greenish/bluish/bit of purple... is this possible? Maybe I'll have to paint veils of color over color? Maybe I'll have to lose my mind trying to capture that subtle shade? Maybe I'll just paint the damned walls white again! (But what shade of white?!??!?) Anyway, I can't do that until warm weather and the possibility of open windows return. Hurry Spring! (And minus the tornadoes, please!)

These samples have been hanging out for quite a while...
What else? Yes, the wall will be built- not THAT wall but the mosaic one behind our Blue Garden. (Getting Mexico to pay for it!! Hahahaha.) I have tons of plates and dishes, all waiting to be smashed and cemented, but this, too requires warm weather. is there anything I can do besides endlessly vacuum the carpet in the meantime? Of course I will confess (and no doubt waggish friends and family will confirm) that I don't spend undo amounts of time cleaning and fussing. Just as well, too! Who wants to be an artist whose tomb stone reads, "Didn't Get Anywhere With Her Art But Boy Was Her House Clean". Not me!
I will admit that a reduced work schedule and the cold weather have driven me further inwards, both physically and psychically and has been good for my "studio practice".  Robin the Good drags me outside to chase her and her beloved soccer ball around but it's cold and I feel like hibernating.
But when I return to the warmth of my studio, ideas flow and pieces are coming together. I am finishing "Only the Oligarchs" and preparing to add the crystals to the edge that will really make that piece sing. I am preparing to sew the backing on "Your Words Have Consequences"; not the most exciting phase but that piece will be complete soon. (Sometimes, art requires a bit of tedium. The sexiest part is mostly the conception.) And "The Stock market is Not the Economy" is finally coming together. i think I have the font right... not sure about the scale of the letters. Some tweaking in process! So I guess I'm busy despite being chilly and awaiting warmer days!

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!

Behind the Green Door... Or is it Red?

After much hemming and hawing, it was decided by arbitrary subcommittee that the door of the barn would be green. It sounded just about right: not too bright and sort of nature inspired. But the reality was different. I was only a third of the way into painting before Bob and I agreed that the green just wasn't right. (Although it looks better in the picture here than it did in person!)
So we opted for... bright red!

Which looks just great! It's weird: the green paint made the chamaecyparis next to the door look all yellowish and kind of sickly. Maybe it was too close in tonality or something. On the other hand, the red made the chamaecyparis look dark and healthy. Also, strangely, the green read better from a distance than up close...
Maybe it was the 90+ degree heat, but I painted that blasted door twice in two days! And this is after 6 years of it being raw, totally unpainted fiber board- you know: that stuff that's like the head cheese of building materials. And this is after priming the door with a dark grey primer, which was better than that weird raw wood... Yup, the heat has definitely gotten to me. I'll probably paint the door again next week. This time it will be really dark green, that almost black. There's an idea...

Here I am staggering out to the barn. It really was/is hot. A nice lesson in not trying to do too much when it is this hot. I actually finished up planting a few things this morning- and worked quite efficiently in my studio- despite the weather. Now I'm waxing indecisive about the door. Here are two close ups; which one do YOU think looks better?

Or...

All Kinds of Progress...

Not a great picture but very exciting sneak peek of how well the upstairs closet is coming along! Bob and I are halfway done on this particular phase. Bob finished the shoji screens, which slide along tracks and work nicely- like not taking up space at the top of the stairs but managing to look amazingly professional and modern. I couldn't be happier.
Today, I finished spackling and priming the walls, shelves and framework. We were careful and followed my sister's advice and got a really good primer that has a mold/mildew inhibitor/killer because I think we all remember the posting to the effect that we had (ahem) mold of some kind growing behind a cabinet that the previous owner of this house had zip-screwed to the wall to hide water damage. Oh, we knew it was there...
So after I demolished and Bob repaired the wall, studs went up and cross members appeared and Bob cut trim boards and stretched fabric and the pieces all came together. We needed a preview of what the completed project would look like, so Bob hung the doors. Robin posed in front of them; she's very intrigued with the changes materializing at the top of the stairs. (That is, when she's not practicing random evilness like thoughtfully chewing the electric cord off of the vacuum cleaner. It was a good thing I had unplugged it; it's not like the little monster doesn't have plenty of toys and chewables at the ready. I guess the consolation was I didn't have to vacuum the floor before our friends came to dinner last night!)
Anyway, today I sanded and primed. About half way through the job, I was humming tunelessly along with a pleasant late Mozart symphony (the Haffner) and remarking to myself how enjoyable painting can be when I managed to gently touch the edge of the paint pad to the paint pan which caused said pan to part company with the ladder where it was supposed to be secured with two hangers. A dramatic tidal wave of paint arced through air and landed not only on the wall but on the ladder and the floor. Yes, I had a drop cloth in place but a good quantity of paint resisted the urge to land on that surface... you get the picture. It took tons of warm water and rigorous sponging to lift the paint. It was a mess but I can only thank my lucky stars that the paint came (mostly) to rest on the carpet inside the closet (where the damage will not be easily seen) and only a bit ended up on the carpet near the bathroom. The afternoons painting session proceeded with less drama and I will apply the final coat of paint on Wednesday. Then I can begin the arduous task of moving all my clothes from my studio annex into the new closet!

It's Show Time!

Yes, it's time for another edition of Bob and Rita play Famous Artist and have a show! This time, we're actually showing together with a very good painter named Megan Marden. Years back (which no one but Bob and I will remember), we vowed NOT to show with each other for a variety of reasons I won't go into here. But time passes and opportunities arise... The show looks great but there are some obstacles to presenting work in an alternative space. Like there's no heat and it may be chilly and possibly rain/snow shower. But artists are made of sterner stuff and the show must go on! There is no art on the walls and my studio is empty so I chose to insert the above photo; art courtesy of Robin the Good.
(I think Robin shows great promise as a sculptor (she takes after Bob) although her work tends towards manipulation of the ready made, as opposed to carving or welding. She carefully "painted" the end of her gnawed rawhide chew with a liberal application of teething puppy blood. I was perplexed when I almost stepped on the above treasure. I thought the light in the room had a rosy glow, until I discovered that Robin was nursing an incoming molar. Kind of gross, but that's life!)

(That's my newest book, in artist's proof form! I'm still tweaking assembly and some details, but it's getting there. Isn't it about time? This monster took months.)
So the update is as follows: no snow or rain for our opening (Yay!) but freezing temperatures and an inscrutable location made for a sort of arctic goose chase evening. Brave souls, our art viewing friends! Some wandered through the depths of the Danbury industrial wilderness, searching for signs and landmarks. Others faced down pneumonia and everyone dressed for polar exploration (a re-visitation of down parkas and fur-like hats and woolly scarves). The show really was well received and Bob and I (and we certainly hope Megan) came away feeling numb (feet) but satisfied.
The success of our opening- and a big thank-you again to all of our intrepid friends!- coupled with the excellent news that Bob sold an interesting garden object (the moss table) yesterday makes for a really pleasing day after glow.

New Show at Gallerie Kenmore and Open Studios

Now showing at Gallerie Kenmore is none other than my sister Cathy! Congratulations to Cathy on her two one-person shows! Not only is she the featured artist at Gallerie Kenmore, but her work is on display at the John Bryan Gallery in Farmington CT. Her drawings of cats continue to be stellar, capturing the true "cattiness" while using an economy of line. Brava!
Cathy's show leads quite nicely into today's sermon.
The phenomenon of the so-called "Open Studio" is much like the "Art Fair": they are suddenly everywhere, and both offer crash course overviews of just what is out there for aesthetic consumption. In full disclosure mode, I admit that I have personally taken part in a number of open studios and therefore have experienced this adventure from both sides.
Recently, Bob and I traveled to the Bushwick section of Brooklyn and braved somewhere between 75 to 100 studios, out of a potential 500 (plus). Bob and I have similar tastes and habits and have a sort of shorthand that allows us to see art at this break neck pace. If after 2 seconds of entering a space neither one of us is moving forward, being drawn deeper into the studio or gallery a brief flicker of eye contact is all that's needed to signal a speedy departure. We know what we're looking for and it's almost always immediately apparent- or not. I am certain that we occasionally miss works of quiet genius but mostly we conserve energy for more gripping fare.
I am relieved to announce to my non-New York based artist friends that (to my eye and mind) we have nothing to fear. I guess the suspicion is that work in New York must always be of a higher caliber, more challenging subject matter, more cutting edge... just more more. I am hereby reporting that we saw A LOT of painting, some good, some okay and some just plain peculiar. Fr'instance, who could have predicted that we'd see so much "classical" figurative work? I was nonplussed at just how much the nude (women in particular) occupied artist's time. Really. Lots of what I call "intestinal" painting abounded, too. That's work defined by large digestive-tract inspired squiggles and grace notes in pastelish tones. (The art fairs seem to celebrate this impulse, too.) And just as I remarked to Bob that we had seen almost no sculpture, we both realized that the three studios where we were the most engaged and liked the work the most were all sculptors.

(That's a gratuitous view of my studio table and a sneak peak of what I'm working on. Tons of minute letters...) And interestingly, we saw very little installation work or video! I guess nothing much that I would describe as "new media", except this one studio that we had to climb three flights of stairs to be met with a lack-lustre assemblage of a couple of oranges hung in a net within a geometric frame. Not very interesting and further into the studio (Bob had already exited) were to entirely self-absorbed young men (one probably the artist) deep in a private conversation with their backs to me and the other two people who had delved into the space. Apparently, behind a curtain in the corner was a video but absolutely nothing welcomed me and I exited! Artists: at least try and engage your audience! They're very hard to come by and may actually be collectors or gallery owners. As it is, Bob and I were further reinforced in our unfortunate assumption that 95% of the attendees to this Open Studios were artists. Very few dealers/collectors/art policy people in sight!

(Another interior shot of my studio). The other observation that I offer about all the studios and galleries and buildings that we visited was the smell. This was an unexpected experience. The studios- especially the interior ones- smelled almost impossibly of floor paint, newly coated walls, oil paint and it's accompanying solvents and human odors such as perfume, cologne and sweat. A few spaces had us retreating so fast that I couldn't even tell you what they were showing.
I also admit that I perused a few "Best of Open Studios" listings after the fact and we somehow hadn't seen any of them. I guess that's understandable when there are 500 or so spaces on display. No one offered us a list of must-sees before the Open Studios. And then there is the fact that all art work is subjective and what one viewer likes, the next one hates. That's art for you!
And the word that best summed up our overall experience? I called much of what we saw "apologetic" art. Colors were pale, gestures were tepid and there seemed a lack of conviction or just a sense of apologizing for it's existence. It's as if many of the artists felt less than convinced about their need to make or show work. I am sympathetic as being an artist isn't easy and lord knows there isn't a whole lot of support or love out there,( not to mention the constant hustle and push that frequently make other artists large pains in the asses. Don't get me started!) I came home feeling newly reinvigorated about my own direction and purpose. I feel GOOD about my work!

Grumble Grumble Grumble

For Christmas, I bought Bob a butterfly chair and along with it (as it had been an auction lot) was this painting. Sort of a bonus and I found it rather charming. Fortunately, Bob liked it too, and even thought it looked a lot like our backyard, with the deck and potted plant and the view through our spindly pine and spruce trees. It also looks a lot like a place I'd rather be than stuck here in the friggin' Winter Wonderland!
I know I have lots of company in the hating of this eternal winter so I'm going to complain for a paragraph or two. A community vent! That' all anyone is talking about- at the gas station, the post office, the checkout at the grocery store. And we're supposed to have three straight days of the stuff. Enough already!
How about one of those famous bulleted lists?

• I detest the combo platter of too much snow AND really frigid temperature. Please: one or the other would be sufficient.
• I hate the fact that I have to keep schlepping buckets of water to my poor horse Maggie who thinks she's been exiled to Siberia. (She has; just don't let her in on that). My arms have been permanently stretched. I look like a gorilla.
• My morning walks- the only real chance to get exercise- is shorter as the dirt road is covered in twelve inches of slippery snow (ice conveniently hidden underneath) and it's so damned cold that no matter what I wear, my nose is exposed and freezes. I had icicles on my eye lashes for god's sake!
• Do you really feel creative when all those "creative juices" are barely flowing and need antifreeze? Besides, how inspiring is endless white and frostbitten fingers? 
• People- including friends- are crabby and depressed thanks to evil weather. Who can blame them? Except we're all in this together and we'd better be nice!
• I used to like Ground Hog's Day. And then it became this stupid stunt where nasty politicians pick up and drop defenseless animals... and kill them! (It happened). Who can blame on of the ground hogs for biting its handler? Leave the furry little things alone! No wonder they predict more winter. They hate us.
• I don't particularly like the fact that it takes me ten minutes to get dressed appropriately to go outside. Too many layers and by the time you're dressed you don't really feel like going outside anyway.
• Then you come back in and create piles and piles of wet clothes. Every time you go out, you produce gloves, sock, pants, hats, scarves and long under wear that require drying. I had to buy more gloves and socks as nothing dried quickly enough for donning for the next foray into the Arctic. And of course we all leave wet trails all over the house. Floors a mess...
• I'm getting fatter by the minute. Blame the lack of exercise (see above) and way too much comfort food. Hell, we need comforting but I can't stop eating. There's not much else to do.
• I haven't even been a regular blog poster because the weather has been too awful. This is the result; a boring diatribe about the weather.
• At least we've been sleeping well. But I attribute that to a desire to permanently hibernate. Wake us up when it's over.
• Are we done whining yet? Any one want to add anything? People driving like assholes despite lousy road conditions? Huge piles of snow at the ends of driveways and secondary roads that make pulling out into traffic seriously hazardous? The fact that I looked ahead to next weeks weather and it's no better? In fact it's even colder??? Stop!!!!!!

Exterior Grade Ecstacy

Quite a step forward! Today we sheathed about two thirds of the exterior of my studio. It made such a difference in terms of defining space and making Bob and Joe and myself feel like we're actually getting somewhere with this whole crazy studio thing.
First step is to cover the exterior walls in tar paper. Yes, some people use TyVek and other name brand "house wraps" but let's face it: they are plastic, expensive and tar paper has been in use for years. Additionally, as with many, many other materials, we have loads of it that came with the house. Like rolls and rolls. So it's essentially free. (We haven't had to buy nails, tools, insulation... all kinds of stuff!)
Then we nail on the siding.

I painted with primer as Joe and Bob nailed and measured and leveled. (The black hole is one of my windows. The windows get installed after the sheathing is done.) It was helpful to find out that the grey color our house is painted is essentially a very simple grey to match. We had the primer tinted so that it blends right in with our siding. We will paint the studio with regular house paint later on. Boy, does raw wood soak up the primer! We went through a whole gallon on just this side (and a couple of sheets on the garden side of my studio). Another one of those material underestimations that are hard to avoid! I'm picking up an additional gallon of paint tomorrow after work. Doesn't the paint job look great? Well, I did major in painting at Bennington so I guess my credentials speak for themselves.

Hey! Those ladders are getting themselves in every picture! Two things about this photo: One is how truly great the studio makes the entire house look. It sets up this dramatic and dynamic cascade of angles. I couldn't be happier. Our house looks very modern and geometric. Of course, being artists probably helped; something about raising the roof a few feet made the proportions just right. The other funny thing about this picture is that the perspective from which I took it (and maybe the back end of the truck) skewed the house and makes it all look tiny. I wouldn't have expected that. And it didn't feel tiny when I was painting it.
We were lucky to have exceptionally nice weather, though, warmish and sunny. This time of year could bring anything. Remember snow in October two years ago? Yeesh. Who wants to think of that?!?!!?
On a really nice note, our neighbor Meagan (who helped raise the second and third walls just a week ago) brought Bob and I an apple crisp that she had baked. She said she saw how hard we were working and felt we needed a little treat. We are really fortunate to have such nice neighbors!!