Well, some of it anyway. Here’s the story: In 2016 and 2017 when the world’s turmoil was accelerating and it was hard to figure out which side of arguments close friends might be on, I turned to art for solace. I made drawings, prints, photographs, and paintings as an expression of my feelings at the … Continue reading The dog ate my artwork.
I've been under the weather since right after Christmas, but today I'm finally starting to feel "normal" again. Some thoughts on that, along with notes on how I've been spending my down time, a "curative" soup recipe, Apple Watch insanity, my favorite Mary Chapin Carpenter song, and a few other things. Think of it as … Continue reading Blue plate special.
(You'll think, possibly, that this, finally, is the thing. It is not. But it's post number 50 of 56. FIFTY! Cue Molly Shannon....) Maybe you do this, too: Sometimes, I get sucked into thinking that everyone knows what I know, that I don't know anything especially helpful or informative or different from what people, in … Continue reading Something about art.
Saturday, September 25, 2021 is World Cyanotype Day - and no, I did not make that up all by myself, though I would have, if I'd thought of it on my own years ago. And yes, it's a made-up thing, as every other "World something-something Day" is, too. If you know me, then you already … Continue reading Something blue.
When last we were together in this sort of month-in-review (month-in-preview), listicle way, it was the end of May. Hydrangeas were in bloom, tomatoes were still just tiny yellow flowers (if that), I was preparing for some big changes in my work-work, I had just re-booted Larksome Goods as a stationery and paper goods start-up, … Continue reading A few things: September 2018
When I was small and days were most often spent with just the two of us, my mother and me, filling time as we pleased, I spent countless hours in parks and museums, wandering aimlessly and looking at trees, art, and artifacts. Our most frequent haunt was the Brooks Museum, where my mother liked to … Continue reading How art might save the world.
There are few, if any, things as full of pure joy as the squeals of bubbly delight from a baby playing peek-a-boo. When my son was little, long before he could walk, this was an instant and endless source of entertainment, closing my hands over my face, opening them like doors, and saying, "peek-a-boo; I … Continue reading Look, now.
On Monday I had to put on my big girl pants, by which I mean quite literally the black stretchy pants with the wide and forgiving elastic waistband. I have done little but eat and drink with reckless abandon since November 10. On November 9 I was too depressed to eat. In the initial days … Continue reading I beg you: Art. Harder.