Requiem for The Truck

 Alas! The truck runneth no more! This IS a sad state of affairs as not only do we really rely on the truck for transportation and hay pick-ups and carrying artwork but he was a good friend. I really like driving the truck- a very physical experience and entirely different from driving the car!- but he was utterly reliable. Last winter when it was sub-zero and the car refused to start, the truck turned right over and delivered us to the train station so that I could get to NYC and be a famous artist. And you have to agree that despite a few rusty panels, he was good looking. I seriously thought the truck would outlive the car, as Bob drives infrequently. It has less mileage than the Honda!

Also, finding a suitable replacement has proven tough. All the Ford F150's being made now are: extended cab, short bed, four wheel drive, automatics... and plug ugly to boot! (Well, I guess we could ignore the ugly part: they seem to make trucks now with this weird snouty look.) Bob and I both like the above classic sort of square front.

So we keep looking. Here's a rear shot of the nice long bed:

I've been stressed out over the truck ordeal. It was one of those unexpected  blows that the universe delivers just when you think things are going well. And it takes time and coordination and money to get all the stars aligned to find a replacement. I'm going to go light a few sage-infused truck shaped candles and hope that the gods of the automotive under world smile upon our house.

In Which I Have (Probably) Broken My Toe

The picture says it all. OOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!
Yesterday was a ripely f%&ed up day, all along. Small- and large- things kept messing up, misfiring and generally wreaking mayhem with my life and the lives of others. Believe me: I wasn't alone in this!
But anyway, I was attempting to listen for thunder out of our office window when my foot- apparently little toe first- connecting in a convincing fashion with (get this!) the frame of one of my drawings! Yes, art can be dangerous!! I generally wander around the house shod in sneakers or boots as I have stepped on all kinds of nasty, pointy, sharp or gooey things and prefer proper foot protection. But it was so hot last night, and I had been casually reclining in bed reading, so it was with vulnerable bare feet that I went into the office.
I slept with my foot elevated and ice applied. Bob constructed a bolster between us so that he would not accidentally bang into my foot during the night. Boy that sucker hurts!
I called in sick to work today. I can't stand on my foot in any realistic manner and there is only one pair of crappy old running shoes that I can effectively house my toe in. My job entails me being upright for 96% of the day and that was out of the question. I am elevating and icing even as we speak...
The weirdest thing is that I was talking to my good friend Louise on Sunday. She was seriously in pain because she had messed up her toe by running it into the wooden leg of a large hassock that they have! Now we're sisters! And speaking of sister, come to think of it, my sister Cathy broke her toe last month! what is this? The Moon must be in the phase "Broken Toe"! Please be careful...
I remember doing almost exactly the same thing to my foot (the same one) in New Haven years ago. Yes, that time I went to the doctor. You know what he did? He taped my little toe to the toe next to it and called it "the buddy system" and said there really wasn't anything else they can do. So... "Buddy System" here I come!

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...

Touching the Fence

 A new garden is born! I have been meaning to begin developing a serious shade area, as opposed to a small cluster of shade plants at the end of one bed. And for my birthday, I received a new hosta (Sum and Substance) and that was that! I began digging... (Doesn't look like much yet, but you'd be surprised at how many weeds and junk I pulled out. And rocks! Here's just a partial sampling:

The area that I selected for positioning the shade garden is majorly infested with poison ivy. While I have been careful (whatever that means) I invariably develop at least one case of what can only be deemed "heroic" poison ivy every year. Here's this year's offering! And of course, it's during the hottest, stickiest time of the summer, when I'm already crabby and battling evil weather. Like last Thursday. Bob and I were supposed to go to New York for a show that I am in. "Supposed to" being the operative words. Sanity prevailed as half way to the train station, I asked Bob if he thought it was totally stupid to be going into New York with storms threatening and it being just generally polluted and nasty out. We decided to not go and the skies did open and we missed nothing, except my being in an opening with 110 other artists. I'm delighted to be in the show, but feel like a minute carbuncle on the ass of the art world. Or should I capitalize that? ART WORLD. Carbuncles? You want to talk carbuncles? Just look at my arm...

 

So today I was in a foul humor, despite having several great art ideas on my morning ramble with Jules. I spent several productive hours in my studio, and still I feel sort of at odd ends. It might have been the tremendous thunder storm that we had last night. It woke both Bob and I with one of the loudest claps of thunder I have ever heard. So my present joke is about "touching the fence". You may remember that several months back, I was having a terrible day. Nothing seemed to be going well, I was out of sorts and just not my usual chipper Little Miss Sunshine self. And then I accidentally touched Maggie the Horses' electric fence. Hey Presto! It was as if a jolt from the sky re-routed my personal misaligned electrical field because everything was fine after that. (Perhaps it was a mild form of electro shock therapy?) Anyway, my standing joke now is that if the day sucks... go ahead: touch that fence!

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!

Little Trees and Happy Birthday to Me!

These days, I am so happy to be welcoming trees into my life. Trees! They're great! And this tree is really special as I looked everywhere and no one had one and boy have I craved one since that chance sighting last year. You will remember:

I became so obsessed with this roadside charmer... a Dr. Suess tree to be sure! (Ours will grow to be as tall and narrow and spectacular as this one.) But they're not easy to come by, especially if you don't have six or seven hundred dollars to spend on trees. Not to mention, how on earth do you get it home? So at every nursery and garden center I visited this year (and they are legion!) I inquired. No one had one and I was starting to think my birthday present was going to be delayed until next spring. (Next spring? Really? What?! What kind of patience do I have??!) But the other day at work, I emailed Bob and told him to call a nursery that I pass on my way to work. Lo and behold, they had one- and in our price (and size!) range. Happy birthday to me and a big wet sloppy thank you to Bob, who understands a woman who loves trees!
Here's another wonderful tree that our good friend Bob (a different Bob) found for me. We have been traveling to nurseries together (enablers) and I kept pointing out the pointy trees. So Bob calls me form a flea market and says, "They've got a nice tree like those ones you're always looking at- and reasonably priced!" So home that specimen came, a weeping Norway Spruce or Picea abies.

See? I'm smiling in this picture, too! Different variety, different contrapposto and totally cool. This one looks like the broom that Mickey Mouse used in "The Sorcerer's Apprentice".
And another good friend, John (who is- need I say?- another incredible gardener) gave us a white pine that he started from seed. Very fluffy and a different character all together but we have the space for an individual like this that will grow quite large.

(Gotta love the weeds growing up through our deck, huh?) So I prepared Bob for next year by telling him that next year I want an entire apple orchard. Hahahaha. At least everyone knows what to get me.

Three Tee Shirt Day and Plumbing Made Simple

It's the day before my birthday, we're expecting company for dinner and damn! the downstairs bathroom sink won't drain. (Even the red rubber fish seems to be avoiding the sink.) Two days ago, I noticed that when I washed my hands and left the bathroom, the sink was full of water. Ditto an hour later. I went promptly into avoidance as I felt badly telling Bob, who probably gets stuck with more of those odious household jobs than I do.
But no elves or even orcs came to snake out the drain and our guests were still on target to arrive later today, so I did a heroic thing (even for myself). I actually told Bob to show me how to clean the drain. Yes, the day before my birthday on a truly three tee shirt kind of day (humid and just a tad above 100 degrees on the thermometer) we rolled up our sleeves (metaphorically as I wasn't wearing any) and the adventure began.

This is what it looks like underneath. Innocent enough, until you start unscrewing the plastic fittings and discover what's inside.
This:

Yup, that dingle berry of astonishing proportions is slime-ing its way out of the pipe as soon as it's removed. Hands, wrists are soon coated in an evil pudding of brown glop, composed of us and our lovely remains. (Human and dog hair skin, plant material and just plain dirt.) Check out Bob's hand in the sink:

Oh boy! Sure makes you never want to eat again! But hell, we're made of sterner stuff and I took all the parts outside and hosed them down. Refitting was cleaner but tricky as you have to thread the underneath parts of the plunger/drain blocker into a little hole and it's all upside down and backwards. Upon clean up, the sink ran and drained beautifully and I gained a skill and Bob is exonerated from having to unblock the drain next time.
Of course, I had to go change my tee shirt again but we all repaired to the air conditioned bed room, to wait for dinner guests who can now wash their hands in a clean and functional bathroom.