come together

Months ago the missives started. There would be a celebration, a reunion, a coming together of the clan in honor of Dottie's 90th birthday. It would be on the 4th of July weekend, even though her real birthday was in the Fall. A bunch of rooms at the Hampton Inn were reserved, the caterer was hired, a family tree was designed, photos were collected, tasks were assigned. It was hard to imagine the Long Island heat and humidity when this all began, almost impossible to picture dozens of people in Summer clothes under a shelter in the park. But then, here it was and we were off to the reunion.

A word about "Dottie". She is Russell's Mom and I am crazy about her. She accepts everyone, flaws and all, but there is nothing sugary about her. She is just real. I guess raising 9 (nine!) kids sort of makes you reassess priorities and save the negativity for stuff that really matters. She is almost blind and almost deaf but her mind and wit are intact and firing. She never complains about what she is lacking. She smiles and carries on, waving off concern, laughing at her deficits, poking fun at herself. There is always a little smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

They passed around a guest book at the party and in it I wrote that the best thing Russell ever gave me was the opportunity to share his Mom. And I mean it.



We left our hotel early on the day of the party because we had a task. Pick up balloons. Lucked out on that one, I thought. Has to be the easiest assignment of the day. The balloons were helium. There were 25 of them. They did not behave.







We spent about an hour tying the balloons to weights and setting them on tables before people started to arrive. And then the caterers. Relatives bearing goodies and old photos. There was coffee and bagels in the morning that magically morphed into lunch from the grill and then made way for more deserts than I have ever seen in one place.

And through it all, Dottie smiled and the family laughed and hugged and everyone said how wonderful it was really almost perfect and wasn't the weather great?


















Rumor has it that plans for her 95th are underway.

by the sea..

I don't live near the ocean, but I do live just a few blocks away from a Great Lake which sure as heck looks like an ocean because it goes on forever. Well, at least to Cleveland.

I know the simple joy of sitting at the edge of the surf,sifting sand through my fingers and letting cool waves lap at my toes. All of the kids at one time or another have been packed into the car, their feet on coolers of snacks, for a cheap afternoon in the waves. I have taught 4 dogs to swim, even though I prefer the wade out and flop down technique for myself. I have gone to the water when I needed to think or cry without interruption. I know the cycles of the Lake from Spring to Spring as well as I know my own heartbeat. I know when the ice forms and when it melts and when it gets warm enough to swim and when it gets too warm to be a respite from the heat. The sound and smell and feel of the Lake is part of me. The sailboats and windsurfers and tugs are a backdrop to everyday life.

All of this chatter is just to say that I know how this would feel if it was in my backyard



and it keeps me awake at night to think of it. Every day, video of the disaster, of the pumping well like a severed artery, of beautiful birds slicked with oil and unable to fly. Every day, for months. The beautiful waves, the life within them, soiled by greed and negligence.

Wind. Water. Sun. They don't spill or kill or leave waste we can't define.

Please. What are we waiting for?

Please.

maiden voyage

So, this past weekend was Roycroft, usually one of my best shows. Great selection of artisans in the Roycroft tradition on the grounds of the historic Roycroft campus. The Copper shop is usually open and antique dealers set up in a back corner. Across the street, an art show with painting and photography, etc. Bliss.

So, naturally, since it was perfect as is, it had to be changed. Long boring story short, construction on the main road forced some decisions and we wound up on the parking lot of an elementary school. I've whined enough about it for days now, so I will spare the blog from my petulance. It turned out OK although not stellar, but it was not the gem I look forward to every year. Nobody knows what will happen next year.

But! We got to use the new/old canopy for the first time. We only had a couple of missteps, like putting the top rails on the bottom, but these were things that made themselves apparent right away and were easy to fix. And I love it. I love the spaciousness of the tall ceiling free of the mechanism the pop-up has. Loved the heavy vinyl walls, so study compared to the nylon we had before. A wind kicked up late in the day and the new tent just sort of yawned while the pop-ups danced and fluttered.I almost wished for rain just to see how it would hold up, but I didnt want to wish that on my fellow carnies. I felt at home in my new space, comfortable and safe. What a difference.



There is still some tweaking to do on the display in general, but I think it is getting pretty good. Since I have a combination of things that need shelves and wall space and racks, it can get tricky.

And now no shows until the end of the month which is making my budget tremble. But it gives me time to build stock and visit the Long Island branch of the family and enjoy time with the youngest of our blended family, Max, who is visiting from Oregon for a few weeks. Such a gift. We haven't seen him since October.

Speaking of blended families and gifts, the 2nd oldest "blender", Harvest, presented the family with Jackson Riley yesterday.



It doesn't get much better. :)

romancing the hut

OK, so last month we schlepped down to Pittsburgh and bought a used Craft Hut canopy. I have been avoiding the "real" canopies since we started this odyssey into art show world a dozen or so years ago. Too expensive, too complicated. 4 cheap canopies and some scary storms storms later, we caved.

My first outdoor show of the year is this weekend. We had to drag the canopy out of the storage room and clean it up, set it up, organize the parts our way. Make sure we knew what we were doing. I was still a little concerned about setting it up. We are used to a pop up tent that has no parts to assemble. We are used to its idiosyncrasies. We've learned to live with its faults. While I envied others their fancy dancy "pro" canopies, I often felt happy to have the pop up when I would watch them laying out parts and assembling, especially in the rain. But I knew once the tents were up, there was no question who was safer, dryer, cozier.

Anyway, Russell said he was confident that he would remember how to do it. We brought the folder of info Larry gave us when we bought the tent just in case. But Russell has a good mind for logical, construction things, so I wasn't worried. We brought everything to my Mom's suburban back yard so I could scrub the components while Russell organized the parts. I dragged the canopy top to the lawn and began scrubbing. I looked over at Russell and he was holding a pole in his hand and staring at it as if it had fallen from the sky. I was not reassured.

But it was like most learning activities. Once you get the first piece in place, the rest made sense. And so it was. There were some moments of confusion, adjustments were made. A panel was found to be missing a zipper but we had an extra. Before you knew it, the thing was up. I love the roominess of it. It feels like a cathedral without the zigzag mechanism of the pop up overhead.

OK, bring on the rain, the wind, the typhoons, We are ready to weather the storms. Although I much prefer sunny, 75, light breezes off the lake. If that's not too much trouble.

alice waters makes breakfast

I just think everyone should see Alice Waters make this beautiful, simple, elegant meal. Even if you aren't a foodie, I challenge you not to sigh when she plates it up :)

fun with craigslist

I love craigslist. I've never actually bought anything there, but I've come close. I claim to love "vintage" things but the reality is that I'm cheap and since we are needing a new table and chairs for the dining room, it's time to start perusing the castoffs of others. Actually, I did find one that I would spring for if I had the bucks right now. I'd probably have those bucks if I did Allentown. But nooo...OK, I'll quit whining. It's over. But this little set was from a model home that is being dismantled and I found it soo sweet and perfect for a dining room that doubles as an office.



It will be sold before I can save for it. Goodbye sweet dining set. We could have had such a nice time.

There is more to be found on the list than cheap furniture, though. There is entertainment. For instance, today I will share some of the photos that made me just shake my head in wonder, because if you are taking a picture of an item you are going to sell, that picture says a lot. You want the item to look its best, to reflect its possible worth as an addition to a new home. Sort of like brushing out the puppies before you put them in a box that says "free!" SO I am amused and bemused by photos like this:



Look! Under all the garbage there is a table for sale. The photo represents how the table will look when it is part of your real life. Well, if your real life is messy and clueless, that is.



"Honey, clean off the dresser before you take the picture for craigslist"
"I did"

This ad read "my roommate moved out and left this mattress":



Uh, it looks like your roommate left something IN the mattress. I'll pass.



Found the remote!

Now, I'm not sure what condition this mattress is in, but I know this person obeys the laws!




And proud to show ya!

You, too, can have this chair to throw your shirt on!



Now that may be a throw, which would be even sadder than a shirt, actually.

Hot water tank? Shelf? Cooler? Pick the item for sale:




But this is my favorite. If you can't tidy, use the crop tool. people!



OK, that was fun. Something to do with the morning coffee. Now it is studio time. Have to take Mom to the Doctor today. Her appointment is at 3:30, but she wants to leave at 2 because she has to go to the bank first. Both destinations are less than a mile from her house. It's going to be a long afternoon.

two steps back to grumpy

So the past few days have left me feeling the love, appreciating the vagaries and surprises of life.

( Cue the bluebirds and rainbows.)

And then the Allentown Art Festival came. You know, the one that finds me unworthy 50% of the time so that instead of making a paycheck this weekend I have to actually watch people walk past my house with their pockets full of cash that will not be spent on my artwork. When you get juried out of a show in another part of town or, better yet, of the state, you can pretty much forget it's happening and go about your business. When it happens right in your neighborhood, it can be sort of like having someone poke your butt with a knitting needle every few minutes.

So, I faced the irritation head on, spent a lot of time on my porch greeting visitors with a "Good Morning!" as they walked by gawking at the city dwellers. (Yes, people, we actually live here. And we like it!) I made calls for the Artists in Buffalo guide, read my newest library book, tried to have a peaceful, happy afternoon. Then I got antsy. I decided to go out.

I hooked up Q, grabbed my keys and headed for the driveway. We don't actually have a driveway. The house next door is for sale and the owner told us to use his. Works for us, our back door opens right out onto it, and it makes it look like his house is occupied.

Except that day, it apparently was occupied because there was another car in the driveway. Right behind mine. Not only that, but it stuck out onto the sidewalk which really makes me seethe because it is so inconsiderate of people in chairs, pushing strollers, using walkers. It screams discourtesy and a total inability to think of anyone but you.

OK. No problem, Someone must be working on the house. I went over, rang the bells. Nothing. A woman catching sun in the yard next door said she heard music coming from the upstairs earlier. Other than that, we were without enlightenment.

So, what do you do? If it was my driveway I would have had the thing towed. Not my driveway. I hovered about the offending and offensive vehicle, trying to figure this out. While I waited, a guy in a wheelchair came by and had to navigate through curbs and flower beds to get by. I apologized and said I was trying to find the owner. He smiled and said it happened all the time, not to worry. That made me even more grumpy. I couldn't find the phone number of the owner of the house to ask if someone had permission to be at the house. Frustration ensued. I checked every so often, still there. At one point I half sat on the front bumper, watching folks walk by, hoping one would say "Hey! Off my car!"

When the whackamole who did own the car finally walked by, there was no reaction to me lounging on the chassis. The pair, a man and a woman, just walked by and up the stairs to the house. "Hey! "I called. "This your car?" The man gestured to the woman behind him with his thumb. "You're blocking me in!" I said with just a touch of incredulity and scorn. She eyed me, determined I was harmless, and said without expression or apology that she would get her keys.

Excuse me? No apology? No sheepish expression? You pull your car into someone's driveway, behind one that will have to stay where it is until you get your behind back from the art festival (for that is where they were- I could tell by the kettle corn). Let's not even mention your total lack of concern for those using wheels to navigate the sidewalk you blocked. And your total response is that you will get your keys? Grrrr..

I decided to just go in the house, hook up Q, and get ready to go. There would be nothing to be gained by confronting the twit. For most of us, the immediate reaction to "Oh, just park here" would be to ask what about the owner of that Beetle in the driveway. You can't give someone common sense or courtesy by scolding them. She would have to go about her rude little life without my wisdom.

And so, Q and I took a bit of a ride, away from the chaos being visited on our usually quiet Avenue. I wasn't able to actually go anywhere. It was too hot to leave the dog in the car and I didn't really have a plan except to get away for a few minutes. Clear my head. Put distance between me and the knitting needles and gawkers. And it was good.

I have no words of wisdom for the driveway blocker except this: That trend of letting your bra straps hang out past the straps of your tank top is so 90's.

;)

Steve comments on Mary

Usually, on this blog, you just approve comments that come in and they attach themselves to the end of the post and maybe people see them and maybe they don't.

I received this most wonderful comment on my post about Mary and I thought it was too special to be read "maybe"

What a beautiful post... My eyes filled with tears too, at the thought of your beautiful little "breathe" magnet ending up in the hands of someone who is special to you... And in the hands of someone for whom something as simple as "breathe" means so very much...

Thank you for telling us about your friend Mary, and her new lungs and liver -- and her new life -- and looking forward to seeing her without a wheelchair or oxygen, and seeing "just Mary"... It's amazing, and sometimes beyond understanding, what the gift of organ donation can do for someone. There is some family out there who suffered an incredible loss -- and in their time of grief, chose to step back for just a moment and think of others -- to think of the Mary's in the world who are dying, who they -- in the midst of their grief -- may be able to help...

And now your friend Mary is alive and thankful, and clutching a little magnet that says "breathe"... I can't wait until you get to see "just Mary" too... And I'll bet that she can't wait to see you and speak of the amazement of these little connections...

I know how Mary feels, and I know what it's like to have friends like you in our lives... Ten years ago, I was in a chair and on oxygen -- I had a double lung transplant in April 2000 (no liver...) After living almost 40 years with crappy cystic fibrosis lungs -- breathing normally is freaking mind-blowing, even after 10 years... My life was saved by a beautiful 17-year-old girl who told her family twice in the month before she passed, how strongly she felt about organ donation. I think of her throughout the day, every day...

You take care... Thanks for brightening my day with your post about Mary... And when you see her, give her a hug from a guy in Chicago who also breathes with lungs that were a gift...

Love, Steve

You never know who reads your blog or why. I don't think I know Steve and I know he is unaware that my son's "very significant other" lives with CF, too and that I have come to know about this "crappy" disease through their loving relationship.

He can't know how much his reference to 50 years meant to me.

I will surely give Mary a hug from Steve and one to my son's sweetheart, too.

Thanks, Steve.

Just breathe

At Kenan last weekend a woman bought one of my little magnets. It says "breathe". She said she was buying it for a friend who was recovering from a lung transplant. Wow, I said, hope she does well. So far, the woman said with a smile. And off she went.The exchange made me think of an art carnie friend, Mary.

We first met Mary 10 or 12 years ago I think, doing a little dog of a show that few people came to and the ones that did couldn't get to us because of the layout. It was horrific at first, then it became funny. We were new at this business and it took me hours to go find the man in charge and make him take away the barriers. Today it would take me 5 minutes and if he didn't do it I'd have all the other vendors in a wedge formation.

During the hours of inactivity, as is my nature, I went and schmoozed with the other marooned artists. That's where I met Mary. She was selling, if I remember right, incense holders that were bottles with beads and wire embellishments. They were funky and fun and even without actually selling any, she was having fun. For the life of me I can't remember if she was visibly ill then. We just connected.

Over the years we graduated to better events and at almost all of them I would see Mary, who had given up her art show life shortly after the debacle. But she liked to attend them all. At first she was walking around with an oxygen thing. Then we would see her and she would be in a wheelchair. Next year she'd be walking around. Some times she looked really good, others made me think I might not see her again. I never asked what was wrong, we never discussed it. We were fellow art carnies and we enjoyed each other. Nothing else mattered.

Then, a couple of years ago, there was a human interest story on the local news about Mary needing a heart/lung transplant and my heart sank. This was serious, then. I thought of how she always acted as if whatever was wrong with her was a minor inconvenience. After that, when we met, we could acknowledge the presence of the oxygen tank and wheelchair and speak of how she was doing. The curtain had been pulled back. She remained upbeat and positive, shrugging off concern.

She didn't come to the Kenan show, but I don't think she usually does, so I wasn't concerned.

Then, tonight I got an email from a friend of Mary's. It said, in part:

I'll bet you didn't know that Mary finally received her double lung and liver transplant on May 23rd, and is still in Hospital in Pittsburgh doing pretty well, considering. You came to mind today as Mary received a card from her friend who purchased it from you at the Keenan Center show. A beautiful magnet saying "breathe".

I don't know how these things happen. But how wonderful that they do. So, it was liver, not heart. I thought as my eyes filled with tears. And she is doing well.

And she has my magnet. "I hope she does well" I had said to the lady.

I so hope she does. My brave fellow art carnie. I expect to see her at the Christmas shows. No chair, no oxygen. Just Mary.

Can't wait.

100 American Craftsmen

Well, actually, I think now there are 109. But it is still a "small" show. Not one of those that exhaust the shoppers and strain the patience of the organizers. The work is very high quality (I am always thankful they let me participate!) and the organization that puts it on: the Kenan Center in Lockport, NY, couldn't do it better.

So why was almost everyone bummed about sales? Beats me.

Over the years I have heard every rationalization for the success or failure of an event you can imagine. From the economy to politics, weather, advertising, the design of the postcards, hockey playoffs or football games, too many jewelers, too many potters, too many artists, not enough artists, on and on the theories fly but there is seldom agreement or enlightenment.

Here's what I think. When a group does everything right, there really is no "reason" for anything. 2 years ago I made almost twice as much at this show as I did this past weekend. The economy was certainly no better and I remember that it was so hot outside and inside the arena that people seemed to want to bolt the venue instead of shop and schmooze. But they spent money that year.

I had nice exchanges with shoppers, lots of compliments. My art pieces got positive attention but no buyers. They bought the low end stuff like crazy, but seemed to stall at around $25.00. And so it goes. There are no guaranteed paychecks in this business. You pitch your tent and hope for the best.

Chalk it up, move along, stay positive. I made enough to cover the expenses for the next couple of shows and buy some groceries. Not bad.

And I do love that show. So many friends are there. The committee treats us like rock stars. The customers are smart and art-oriented for the most part. I will apply to this show every year until I'm done. Some years I will be bummed about sales and some years I will be giddy over how good I did. It's the way of this life.

A little over 2 weeks until the next one. Deep breath. On we go. Maybe the weather will be perfect and hockey playoffs will be over and the oil spill will be contained and Obama will have surprised us all with a little incentive check.

I can dream.

true beginnings

Yes, I did a show last week, but 100 American Craftsmen has been the true beginning of the season for me for quite a few years now. I'm crazy about this show for a bunch of reasons, the biggest is the homecoming sense of it. From the women manning the registration desk (Hi hon! Welcome back! You look fabulous!) to greeting old art carnie friends after a Winter away with hugs and laughter. it is a joyful beginning for me.

It is also a gathering of some of the best craftsmen around. I'm always amazed that they let me in. This is all craft, no "art". Jewelers make up a third of the show, followed by blown glass, pottery, metalwork, wood. It is one of the few shows I do that actually has a category for paper and I am not the only one in it.

This weekend I will be set up across the aisle from one of my favorite people, Cheryl Olney of Louise's Daughter and back to back with my blog buddy, Terry Stephan and his bead genius wife Betty

Most of the folks will be setting up today. These are just the ones that opted for a head start like we did. Today all I have to do is clip my lights to the frame and set up my stuff. I've left some busy work to do when I get there, like tagging my books, because I want to be there early, unrushed (is that a word?) focused on the weekend ahead, no distractions except for the welcome interruptions of old friends, coming together again, in a world so few people understand, griping and moaning and laughing about the work we have chosen to do with the silent understanding that we really wouldn't have it any other way.

gimme shelter

We took a big step in our art show world yesterday and upgraded to a heavy duty artist canopy.

When you visit festivals, most likely all you notice is that the tents are white. Before I got into the game, I wouldn't have remembered anything about the many tents I ducked into as a customer except that: they were white. But there is a big difference.

Most of us start out with a "pop-up" canopy that opens sort of like an umbrella. You can get them now at discount stores for $200 or so. The sides hook on with velcro or ties, the sides zip up, you attach as much weight as you can to the legs to keep them from sailing and you are good to go. Well, not "good" so much as "OK".

We rented canopies our first year and we were seduced by how easy they were to pop up, not realizing that the rental places used industrial grade materials that we would never see again. Over the past dozen years we've bought about 3 of them, replacing the ones that were damaged by wind or rain.

A few events last year made me start thinking seriously about upgrading. There were storms last year, big ones, scary ones. The little pop-up held its own for the most part but I worried every time. And then, at the Waterfront Festival, I saw what so many art carnies speak of, The dreaded flying canopy.



But our pop up was still sturdy and brave and then came that tricky wind and the need to weld and an uneasiness inside our shelter. Even on that beautiful, sunny day last weekend, a few stray wind gusts threatened to dance our tent sideways and Russell went schmoozing with owners of the "pro" tents and came back convinced. I found a used one advertised on an artist forum by a photographer I "knew" from the business and off we went to Pittsburgh.

My fear about the pro canopy was that it would be a pain to put up. There are poles to attach and patterns to remember. So, when Larry offered to put the thing up in the driveway with us, we jumped at the opportunity. He showed Russell all the parts and I got dizzy just trying to imagine how it worked.



We are going to be here for hours, I thought, and went to get Q out of the car. When I turned around, it was already started!



Well, OK, then. I'll get Q some water and put it in his dish and....



OK, seriously, how can this be so easy? I asked Russell if he was understanding what Larry was showing him and he responded with a big grin about how simple and logical it was. Russell loves logic. OK then.

I walked the dog over to the back yard, cleaned up after him, brought him back and Larry was explaining the awnings



Yes, we get awnings. I always wanted awnings....

We sealed the deal and started to pack things up and then Larry asked Russell if he could use one of these



which probably doesn't send tingles up your spine unless you do art shows. It's a hand truck that folds out to a flat bed that you can pile almost your whole set up on. Yes!, Russell shouted.

So, off we went back home, our van piled high with poles and vinyl, Quincy snuggled up on a mountain of walls




Our next step will be to lay the parts out on the lawn, scrub them up, let them breathe, maybe get some wrinkles out. Separate the extras from the basics and then set it up again, without Larry's help. Just to be sure.

A friend of ours told us that once you have the pro tent, you set it up and then forget about it. You can focus on your show. Not worry about wind or rain or leaks. That will be nice. Next time you see me, I should be looking pretty relaxed. And so very professional :-)

sex and the city and me and the city

OK, here's the confession. I can't wait to see Sex and the City 2. This is no big deal unless you know me. Because, most likely, I am one of the least likely SATC fans you could meet.I mean, I consider stiletto shoes to be an evil plot foisted on vulnerable women by men who thought it would slow them down. Barefoot is my shoe preference. If an outfit isn't made of denim or t-shirt material I feel like I'm in costume and my boutique of choice is AmVets. So what is it about Carrie and Samantha and Miranda and Charlotte that calls me?





I refused to watch the series when it first came on HBO because the little bits I saw of it looked like it was a series about women in search of men and little else. Yuk. Then, one night, bored and finding nothing on the 427 channels TimeWarner provided, I chose an old episode. Then another. and another. I watched for hours. This was actually good stuff. Funny. Sexy. Touching. Silly. Fluff. Fantasy.

And these women had lives and careers. A writer, a lawyer, public relations, an art historian. Huh. The men they partnered with were interesting, sexy, flawed. And they are grownups. Imagine.

I think women escape into this movie just like some men escape into comic book characters and action figures and alien fantasies and shoot-em-ups. It is hard for me to take seriously the smug dismissiveness of a grown man holding a ticket to Spiderman 3 or Dark Knight. Same, same, same. The girls are my comic book. For a couple of hours I can watch an existence so alien from mine that it makes Avatar look like real life.

Besides, I can identify with Miranda's reluctance to be domesticized, Carrie's struggle with love and art, Samantha's desire to feed her desires her way and Charlotte's family fantasies that bump into real life. It's women's work dressed in shimmery fabric. Add in hysterically over the top ridiculous, funny stuff like trying to answer a cell phone while riding a camel through the desert and I'm there. I get it.

One of the things I love most about women is our ability to laugh at ourselves and our lives. You have to. And I intend to..at the multiplex in my city. I'll be the one in jeans and an old shirt, shoes kicked under the seat, big grin on her face.

where are the lilacs?

Off we went in the early dawn, a van filled to the brim with display stuff and 2 dogs. We had been dog sitters for my son and his sweetie and the handoff was to be at the show. I don't know who I felt sorrier for, Ginger the Golden Retriever who sat on the floor of the van under Russell's knees or Russell who tried valiantly to give the dog more room even if it meant being a contortionist. The other dog was a teeny dachsy who was able to find comfort and look out the window, too.

It was the first day with the new set up and it went OK, but I can see the tweaking that is needed. I have been trying to have a nice looking booth for a dozen years and it is taking way too long to accomplish it. At my next show they are offering a consultation with an expert on booth design and I am so there!

What can I say about this show? The weather held, there were lots of people. The show runs 2 weekends and most of the sales were on the first weekend according to those who had done both. Story of my life, eh?

But I got to reconnect with a lot of friends, made enough money to order supplies, got back in the groove.

But the best part? I sold art! Yeah, yeah, I know, it's all "art", but I sold 2 of my new collage pieces. Now, at a show where there were few sales and most of those were cards and cheap things, the fact that I sold 2 of them is really heartening. It makes me think that at a "good" show with more buyers I may do well with this. Makes me happy.

I'll leave you with some random art show photos. The fun thing about shooting at the shows is that you have lots of colorful things, lots of people, images you don't see every day....



sunshine through the crystals



so, that's how they make those!



winner of "cutest kid at art show"



brown-bagging lunch to avoid the food court



true attention getter. wonder what he cost?



wonderful vases from my friend, Deb.

I promised to give a day to my "real" job, but then it's back to work for 100 American. Gonna make "art" for that one. No stopping me now!

here we go again..

I've done some small shows this year, but I don't consider the season "on" until the first big outdoor show. We signed on for the Lilac Festival in Rochester to help fill a gap, making our start date a couple of weeks earlier than usual. Much to do Friday to get ready. Especially when you let things ride until the last day. Oh, I had reasons...

Anyway, we started the day with breakfast at Sweet_ness 7, a favorite funky coffee shop with really good food. Shared a breakfast burrito while we planned the day



Then it was off to the frame supply shop. I buy some supplies there, like cases of my book board, but now I was there for frame stuff because I just decided to do mixed media collage. Gotta follow the muse.

Now, I have no idea how to frame stuff. And I just that day figured out how to cut a mat on my mat cutter. (I was sooo excited) Plus, I want to "re-purpose" vintage frames, so I needed help to figure this out. I threw myself upon the mercy of the fine folks at New York Frame



Oh, what's the big deal you ask? Don't you just slide a thingy inside the frame and slide another thingy over the back and that's it? Oh, no, my sweet deluded blog reader. There are mats and backing boards and little sharp pointy whatits that you slam into the sides to hold them all together and 47 kinds of wire and paper for dust covers and a slew of options for adding a way to hang the thing, well... look:



...and those are just some of the little odds and ends.

So, we left there with an assortment of mat board and a bag full of hardware that we weren't sure how to use. But I was excited and optimistic.

Then it was off to gather our display stuff, assess the damage from last year, dust off the WInter cobwebs. Russell had repainted all the components for our walls and shelves and they were drying.




But our main concern was the canopy. Last year that old workhorse EZ-Up weathered 4 major wind and rain storms without a leak or a shudder. Then, last show of the year, she got caught on a weird twisty wind that ruined one of the arms. We had it welded in Oregon and it worked but then we sort of folded it up a bit when we were taking it down. So we set it up to see if it woud hold and it did. Phew!


But we are in the market for a "real" art canopy now.

Van loaded, new artwork framed, ready to go.

Oh! New artwork! Wanna see?





I like them and, better yet, I enjoy making them. I'm looking forward to getting better at it.

They combine my favorite things..paper and words. Simple songs.

Would the art show folks like them? Stay tuned....

laughter and tears

The memorial for my former brother in law was Monday. I wrote of him last week. It was a sad day, naturally, and it hurt my heart to see his wife, whom I love, so cloaked in grief and pain.

The service was light and brief, filled with stories told by friends, stories that brought a chuckle. And there were recordings of Phil playing the guitar he loved, his son operating the player, wiping tears from his face.

And then the minister, who had previously acknowledged that he never met Phil, rose to give what was to be a comforting talk and immediately referred to the legacy of Jeff.

Huh?

Some family members in the front row loudly whispered "Phil!" and he apologized and went on. And then, a few moments later, referred once more to Jeff. This time there was scattered laughter and a louder correction from a greater number of people. Mortified, he apologized again and said "I don't even know a Jeff!"

There were refreshments afterwards and Suze was surrounded by friends and family, so we went to the dining room and waited to speak to her there. She hugged Russell and cried and then held me and I felt her finally give way to it all, shuddering breaths and deep sobs so I held her even tighter and stroked her hair. Her eyes were swollen with days of tears and I wiped them from her cheeks and said I knew she would be OK, she would. She spoke of how much she missed him already and her loss was so deep, her pain so raw. Be strong, I said, reaching for cliche when there is no wisdom to offer, and then I said "Jeff would want you to be strong" and she threw her head back and laughed. Finally. And took a breath.

I went back to my ordinary life,thankful to have it, and she walked into an unknown life, one that she doubts she can navigate, but she will. She has her children and her memories and the ability to laugh.

And I know Jeff is looking out for her.

forces of nature

My show yesterday was at the Botanical Gardens in South Buffalo. It is a glorious place with a sky-touching glass dome and meandering walks and gold mottos inlaid in marble floors. I was lucky to get a spot in the very center, under the dome.

My table was nestled cozily amongst the foliage, which meant I was brushing fronds off my face a lot, but it was serene, green and lush.



I wasn't expecting to make enough money to save the old homestead or buy an iPad. Any income helps during the Spring when we are all sending money out for shows and supplies and nothing is coming back in. This was not an art show event, after all, we were an added attraction within an attraction and I am nothing if not level headed about this business.

The unexpected surprise was the amount of people. They come in buses! From out of town! I forget that this place is a destination. So, at 10am, the dome was filled with seniors wearing name tags and so it was.

For a while.

During the quiet of set up, I asked a neighboring artist what that infernal noise was? Were we near train tracks? Was it thunder? No, she said, it's the wind.

Wind. We are in a glass building. I skooched my chair closer to my tree, under the branches and tried not to look up.



Over the next few hours the rumble of the wind against the glass went on, sometimes loud enough to make it difficult to talk to the customers. I tried to ignore it. The building is ancient, it has withstood whatever upstate NY has to offer and that's plenty. Besides, I was actually selling stuff. To hell with risk to life and limb!

And then they announced they were closing early for safety reasons. Drat!

We closed up our little shops and packed our trinkets away in their boxes. I have done plenty of shows where an announcement of early close would have been welcome. This was not one of them. It was cozy in my tree house.

That night Russell and I had a date. Sure, it was at my work place, but, then, I do work at a theater. We had drinks first, with baked brie in raspberry sauce and then "Jersey Boys" from the best seats in the house. :) All paid for with the proceeds from my little tree house boutique. Works for me.

Now, off to hang with Mom. Stay tuned.

real life

I've been plugging along, in production mode (which I hate but it's necessary), focused on the beginning of the season. The weekend was interrupted by a surprise visit from my son, which brought much joy. After years of seeing him just twice a year because of the distance, having him within a 7 hour road trip is such a gift.

So, things are plodding along as usual. I'm in the rhythm, the new stuff is working nicely, my PT job hours are now down to "hardly there" , most of my apps have been either accepted or rejected or put on hold. I'm able to see how the year will unfold, finally, and that eases my stress.

And then real life stepped in. My real life is that a long time ago, when I was very young, I fell in love and married an even younger man from a big Irish family. It was a short union that produced my beautiful boy and gave me an extended family of folks that continued to care for me long after we divorced. One of them, in particular, stayed close to my heart. The woman I still call "sister-in-law", the one who refused to let us drift too far.

She married young too, and I remember how her parents opposed this reckless dash to wed. I remember the small wedding and a family dinner in a restaurant. So different from my big fancy do the year before. They were married 36 years. And then, tragically, this weekend, her husband lost a short battle with a rare blood cancer that we all thought he had a chance to beat. A bone marrow transfer was set to go. He just had to get strong enough. He never did.

What do you say to a person at times like this? There are no words that can help, but I sent her a note, via email as is the way these days, that she was in my heart and I would be there for her. I already knew she was surrounded by her kids and sibs and that there would be a time later when the comfort of woman talk would be called for.

She wrote back, a sad and honest note about her struggle, said she knew I would be there for her when things settled and then she wrote something that squeezed my heart and brought tears to my eyes.

"For the first time in 36 years, I don't know where he is."

I was in the parking lot at Borders, reading email on my iPhone, not expecting to have my world shift into a new focus. I ran my finger over the screen, touched her words, rested my head on the cool window.

And then Russell came back to the car with his package, chattering happily about the book he just got, how the 30% coupon saved him a bunch of money. I just looked at him, looked at him, reached out to touch him, rested my head on his shoulder, kissed his cheek.

"What?", he said, smiling.

"Nothing". I said, "just glad to be with you, to know where you are."