Category: Arts and Aesthetics
All things creative. All things beautiful, profound, and moving.
This morning on the estuary. It was 33 degrees but placid and sunny, turning the simple understructure of the pier into something complex and eye-bending. I would have loved to stay there enjoying the beauty and avoiding work. But we had a freezing rain last night. Everything that wasn’t madly drippy was still crunchy. No sitting and relaxing; just walking. I should remember to bring a sheet of plastic to town on days like this so I can sit on the waterfront benches. Then again, days like today are so rare I don’t think about that. —– Since the Parkland…
This is the view this morning from my bedroom door into the screen porch and beyond. It’s not unusual to get snow here. It’s also not unusual to get none. It’s been nearly two years since our last, so this was sweet. It’s supposed to snow all morning, then resume in the afternoon after an brief period of rain. (A snow day! The little boys next door are gonna have a blast.) I love this room. I love this spot on this planet. I love ferns bowed down with snow and snow clinging to screens and stone walls. I love…
I sat down to draw something yesterday and found all my art muscles rusty. Once again. Early last year I was beginning to hit my stride and determined (with a lot of help from my friends) to keep up with drawing and painting this time. But I allowed a nine-month home-improvement binge to distract me. Yesterday, with big projects done and construction chaos cleared, I determined to sit down to the art table again. When I did, though, my work was stiff and clunky and my attitude worse. So. Help me out here, if you’re inclined. Point me to some…
… that the bedroom in Ye Olde Wreck has come a long, long way. I moved into it Friday and after two nights of rigorous testing, I can also state categorically: IT WORKS!
The past week I’ve been staggering between working on the new bedroom and editing the book Kit Perez and I are writing. The manuscript went to Kit yesterday for her comments and revisions. It will probably go back and forth a few more times, but for now it’s out of my hands. Yay! The bedroom project has turned from grueling into fun. I’ve reached the finishing stages, where work can be done a relaxing hour at a time, and where each hour produces more aesthetic improvement than entire weeks did not long ago. Even though it’s not done, time to…
How’s that for a blog title? Sounds like one of those avant garde 1960s plays, doesn’t it? (The Persecution and Assassination of Jean-Paul Marat as Performed by the Inmates of the Asylum of Charenton Under the Direction of the Marquis de Sade — that sort of thing.) Actually, it’s the plain, mundane, and muddy fact of the day. Just now, I was sitting in the bedroom-to-be, sipping a cup of sweet tea, kicking back in a bentwood rocker (maybe I should add that to the title), inspecting/admiring/critiquing the wall I taped and plastered this morning. And it occurred to me…