Sculpture There, Not Here

There is much excitement here as we get ready to go there to Bob's show in New Bedford. It's always nice to be able to have a show and trot your work out for public scrutiny and accolades. Not to mention that it's festive and celebratory and there's much back-slapping and toasting of art well made. And when it's at a commercial gallery where the very real possibility of a sale exists, all the better! We are "cautiously optimistic" (who isn't?) that good things will manifest...
Our friends Don and Elizabeth are putting us up in New Bedford as well as throwing a party for Bob. We're truly looking forward to this congratulatory mini-vacation. It is strange to realize that I haven't seen the show yet, as I didn't accompany Bob to help in set up. That fell to our friend Joe who acted as sculpture chauffeur. Thanks all around to everyone who helped Bob in his ascension to art world fame! It was two years in the making; two years that flew by.

And here's a confused Jules the Dog, surveying the now quite empty yard. I think he's wondering where Bob's sculpture has gone as he likes to pee on it and now has to look further a-field. It is very odd to look out the kitchen window and view the lack of sculpture. And to think that many people live like this! Shocking! Of course, that can be remedied by visiting ColoColo Gallery in new Bedford and purchasing one or more sculptures. Never have an empty yard again!

The Red Truck Decade

As you may recall, Bob and I were hot in pursuit of a new(er) Ford F 150. AND we had such specific requirements: conventional rear wheel drive, short cab, long bed, standard transmission... I am happy to report that we have found our truck and it is here!
We did have to drive to New York state and it did take a few anxious weeks of constant Craig's List/Car Fax/Auto Trader/ Car Gurus etc etc to locate the right truck. And not one of those icky odd green ones that I kept seeing. This truck is "toreador red" (Who thinks these color names up?!) I guess the color comes in handy if we decide to herd bulls.

Here's the front in relation to the old trucks back and vice-versa:

We didn't really want the cap on top, but it may prove handy when transporting delicate art work, and yes, that duct tape on the upper right of the cap! But it's just clamped on so we can lift it off and store it behind Bob's studio when not in use.
But here's a trully awful view of our driveway.

What with our Honda, the old F 150, the new F 150 and Mommy's now deceased Subaru, we have four cars in the yard. Looks like a parking lot.... But hooray! We're more than happy with the new vehicle: Bob said it drove really nicely and feels more like a car than a truck. The dealership was an hour and a half away so he had plenty of time to get acquainted with the new truck on the way home.
Both Bob and I confessed that it was a nerve wracking experience. The dealership has been there for like a million years so I wasn't too scared that they were trying to rip us off (despite this weird Soviet-style sales tax switcheroo. Still don't get that...) but we both admit to feeling stressed while spending thousands of dollars. The truck was a good deal and under our price point so I am pleased, but it's still tough to hand over large sums of money even if you're getting what you want. This must be what it feels like to buy art! Hahaha.
So tonight, we can relax, knowing that we have a newer truck and that the second Republican debate is on for entertainment. We're getting Chinese food, a bottle of wine and our Bernie Sanders bumper sticker is getting applied to the new bumper.

A Million Tiny Letters Make Words

I've been keeping my nose to the (studio) grindstone and am only briefly coming up for air. That's my table, above, covered with minute letters. I promise that later this week, I'll post a close up of just what all those miniature letters spell out. You would not believe the anxiety induced by losing that perfect tiny "L" that you had waited to use. Probably stuck to the end of my nose! (The same one that's been put to the grindstone.)
The project pictured is all about collecting art. Damned if I know what collectors are looking for. No wait, I'm lying. I have a pretty good idea... The text that I am intricately replicating (think: monks stuck in abbeys at long tables, illuminating manuscripts) is from an Art Basel Miami catalog. I am verbatim collage-ing this "brief guide for collectors" in the hopes of deciphering just what it is they're after. After all, every artist (except the fabled independently wealthy ones) needs collectors. Bleakly, I must report that this helpful guide seems intent on recommending collecting only blue chip, name brands (Say, Gerhard Richter or Cindy Sherman). This doesn't really come as big surprise, but it's depressing none the less. What's a lesser known artist to do?
Well, glue a million tiny letters together to make words, for one thing. I am pleased with the way my Collector's Guide is going. I have nine or ten pages of collaged text so far. The base page is photocopied Cartier watch and jewelry ads (those wealthy collectors certainly like pretty gold things!) Interspersed will be images or "picture pages" and a foreword and an afterword with my sage observations and reflections on stalking those illusive collectors.
But I do know this: many artists seem dead set on copying other better known artists or jumping on some established trend. Yeah, I guess that's one way to ensure sales: make sure you're a more affordable, second or third tier version of an established artist. But honestly? Isn't art supposed to be about having an individual voice or a new way of seeing (and presenting) ideas and images? I sure hope so! I have no urge to replicate some other artist's work in the hope some trickle down economics might dribble my way. I may be nuts (try hunting for fifteen minutes for a combination of "m" and "p" together) but at least it's my own personal insanity!) but at least I'm my own kind of nuts.

Wet and Dry

Bob and I have developed a serious addiction to watermelon this year. No kidding- this has to be our tenth or eleventh entire watermelon; none of that pre-sectioned and sliced up stuff for us! It started when we brought one to a party early on. It began around Memorial Day and here it is Labor Day and we brought a watermelon to a party yesterday. The one above was chilling in our refrigerator for when we arrived home. (No, we didn't grow them. We actually bought them as they've been on special at one supermarket or the other all season.) Even Jules the Dog likes watermelon. Maybe it's a way to stave off personal desiccation because it's been so dry this summer.
Here's a patch of our lawn:

I admit the dappled light of the overhead trees make this section far more fetching than if I'd taken the shot in full sun, like this:

Not so appealing is it? And it makes that walking on shredded wheat sound beneath your feet. Bob knows a woman who has threatened to pull up all her lawn and replace it with crab grass as it's still green and nothing kills it. I believe that may be a bit of crab grass in the center of the picture above, proving her point. We have been spot watering; only the valuable things, like all those trees we have been planting. The annuals have blown out early and the perennials are sort of shot.
We have only experienced a couple of months of dry weather and many plants look stressed and are dropping their leaves early. Consider what the west coast must look like. California and other parts Oregon and Washington have been suffering from drought for years. I guess we're lucky; we'll just keep eating watermelon ntil it snows.

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...