Meanwhile, here are some pretty photos from our trip to the Ladybird Johnson Wildflower Center in Austin, Texas.
Friday, July 12, 2013
Wild Austin
Ah the dog days of summer.......
Too tired to even make it to the bed.
Meanwhile, here are some pretty photos from our trip to the Ladybird Johnson Wildflower Center in Austin, Texas.
Meanwhile, here are some pretty photos from our trip to the Ladybird Johnson Wildflower Center in Austin, Texas.
Friday, June 28, 2013
Socially Ept
One of the key things that all artists are being informed of these days is that they must use social media to promote their work, and not only that, but link all those social media to each other so they all connect like some M.C. Escher loop. I was quite proud of myself (perhaps even a tad smug) when I attended the SAQA conference in Santa Fe last month and could confidently check most of the boxes off that they mentioned. Facebook page: check, Pinterest page: check, Tumblr blog: check, personal blog: check, Etsy shop: check,Website: not so far, Instructional videos: nope. Now I basically have to cross reference them all, reminding everyone that yes, I do make art, and no, it's not free anymore, (unless your 100th birthday is coming up, or some such special occasion) plus I am supposed hand out business cards like candy, until I irritate everyone I have ever known and they flee as I approach.
I'm still not savvy about setting up a website but if my children want to create it for free I would not turn that down. As for instructional videos, well, even though it's a better moneymaker for many artists than actually selling art, I don't have the time and patience yet to fumble around with supplies while my daughter points a camera at me and tells me not to 'pull that face' or stop mumbling 'ha ha, this is so awkward' as I wipe a smear of paint across my cheek. Besides, those How-To videos require nicely manicured hands for those extreme close-ups so basically any profit would be fed back into my mani-pedi routine. And, if I messed something up, remembering to say "Oh Whoops-a-Daisy!" rather than "Oh F**k!" would be a challenge.
However, it got me thinking (about five a.m. this morning) about how I perceive and use each of those social mediums, metaphorically or symbolically speaking. For instance, Pinterest is that nice pretty scrapbook where each page can be turned to view lots of pretty, well-organized pictures. Pretty pretty pretty. See and save all the Pretty. Oh look, here's a page of tasty recipes! Oh look here's a page of tasty men! And so forth.
Tumblr is like that box you keep in the attic where you toss all the stuff you 'might need later'. And then later you forget where you put it, as in "I know that picture of the Hedgehog with the chocolate Doppelganger is in here somewhere."
Facebook is more like that roll of toilet paper the cat just unraveled. It goes on and on forever, leaving behind the minutae of your life, sort of like the way Jack Kerouac wrote On the Road, only less memorable. If I want to find something brilliant I said two years ago I will need to hire our neighbors cat for assistance.
The actual On the Road manuscript...........
Etsy is like a cute little lemonade stand where you sit hopefully waiting for customers to drop by and realize sometimes they only stop to buy things because they are your friends and you are starting to sweat out there.
As for this blog, it's like combining the toilet paper roll with the lemonade stand and a wee dash of Show-and-Tell, only it's all free. However, the artwork is not.
I'm still not savvy about setting up a website but if my children want to create it for free I would not turn that down. As for instructional videos, well, even though it's a better moneymaker for many artists than actually selling art, I don't have the time and patience yet to fumble around with supplies while my daughter points a camera at me and tells me not to 'pull that face' or stop mumbling 'ha ha, this is so awkward' as I wipe a smear of paint across my cheek. Besides, those How-To videos require nicely manicured hands for those extreme close-ups so basically any profit would be fed back into my mani-pedi routine. And, if I messed something up, remembering to say "Oh Whoops-a-Daisy!" rather than "Oh F**k!" would be a challenge.
However, it got me thinking (about five a.m. this morning) about how I perceive and use each of those social mediums, metaphorically or symbolically speaking. For instance, Pinterest is that nice pretty scrapbook where each page can be turned to view lots of pretty, well-organized pictures. Pretty pretty pretty. See and save all the Pretty. Oh look, here's a page of tasty recipes! Oh look here's a page of tasty men! And so forth.
Tumblr is like that box you keep in the attic where you toss all the stuff you 'might need later'. And then later you forget where you put it, as in "I know that picture of the Hedgehog with the chocolate Doppelganger is in here somewhere."
Facebook is more like that roll of toilet paper the cat just unraveled. It goes on and on forever, leaving behind the minutae of your life, sort of like the way Jack Kerouac wrote On the Road, only less memorable. If I want to find something brilliant I said two years ago I will need to hire our neighbors cat for assistance.
Etsy is like a cute little lemonade stand where you sit hopefully waiting for customers to drop by and realize sometimes they only stop to buy things because they are your friends and you are starting to sweat out there.
As for this blog, it's like combining the toilet paper roll with the lemonade stand and a wee dash of Show-and-Tell, only it's all free. However, the artwork is not.
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
The Lemon is in Play
Instead of posting artwork this week I am going to shamelessly plug a radio programme you should be listening to: The BBC's Cabin Pressure, written by John Finnemore, who received a Writer's Guild Award for it in 2011. (That's him below, on the left, playing Arthur). Like an annoying missionary (on a mission to make you laugh!) I am using this space to proselatyze so sit down, grab a cup of coffee, and read on. I was introduced to it less than a year ago and now own all four seasons on audiodiscs (available through Amazon.com), and also downloadable from them into your computer or iPod.
The premise of the series is that Carolyn Knappe-Shappey (played by Stephanie Cole), recently divorced from a horrible man, got a small airline jet in the settlement: good old Gertie, a plane held together by duct tape and sheer force of will. Her crew includes Captain Martin Crieff, (Benedict Cumberbatch) a bundle of insecurity and self doubt, who failed his flight test numerous times before finally succeeding. He is usually teased mercilessly, often for good reason, by First Officer Douglas Richardson (Roger Allam), a snarky, smarmy reformed alcoholic who used to be a pilot for a major airline but was fired from his job so now Carolyn is the only one who will hire him on her shoe string budget. Carolyn's dim-witted but lovable and relentlessly cheerful son, Arthur, is the flight attendant. He is the heart and soul of the show and the one who often has surprising insights into human nature in spite of himself. Each season contains 6 episodes/journeys beginning with Abu Dhabi and going through each letter of the alphabet, city-wise, up till Yverdon-les-Bains, the end of season 4.
Since that last episode ends with a cliffhanger (and we are so rooting for Martin in this one as he attempts a brave step in his life) we presume there is still a city starting with Z (possibly Zurich) that will complete the series. Finnemore has promised a resolution.
This is the perfect series to listen to on a road trip or going to work. The writing is clever and hilariously laugh outloud funny, the plots are well thought out with often unpredictable and witty resolutions, and the characters, with all their flaws, are lovable and sympathetic.There is a genuine humanity in them and a compassion for them, much more so than in many TV situation comedies where the humour is dependent on awkward, embarassing situations and on mocking the people caught in them. I have yet to share this series with anyone who did not want to hear more. Also it's perfect for family listening: no swearing, no violence (well Martin does accidentally kill a man but it makes sense in context), and no sex (although Douglas has been married three times, and Martin desperately needs a girlfriend). I guarantee kids will want to play Yellow Car after listening to it. Or Fizz, Buzz, Have a Banana.
I have more care for these characters than almost any TV series or movie I watch. Finnemore has that rare ability to create fully developed personalities out of funny exchanges and situations that all happen in around 25 minutes per episode. And they always leave you wanting more. It's the sort of show you annoy people with by repeating clever lines and catch phrases. Usually uttered by Douglas, the master of the clever comeback.
This series has grown through word of mouth, like this, and sharing of discs, until it now has its own little fandom who wear the T-shirts and plan conventions. And now fans are even creating artwork around the episodes. Here is one (not mine) representing the long, boring flight across Russia when the sun never set as they headed east to Limerick, Ireland.
Series 4 was only just recorded last January and had to revolve around the very busy schedules of its actors, especially Benedict Cumberbatch, who is becoming a major movie star (BBC's Sherlock, Star Trek into Darkness, The Hobbit) and is constantly busy. Yet each actor is firmly committed to this project and has lovingly kept it going.
Which brings me to the fact that the acting is brilliant, down to even the bit players, like sarcastic Carl in the flight tower, or the insufferable client, Mr. Birling, who hires them every year to fly him to rugby matches and treats them like servants.
Some of my favorite bits are the games that Douglas always engages the rest of the crew in on long flights, such as 'books that sound better with the last letter left off", (The Davinci Cod) or 'people with evil sounding names' (Rrrrrussell Crowe) or 'question and answer movie double features' (Question: What's Eating Gilbert Grape? Answer: 12 Monkeys.) Then there's the Traveling Lemon game, the Only Speak in One Syllable game, the Make Cabin Announcements Using Titles From Hitchcock Films game, the How Many Otters Can Fit on the Plane game. Finnemore's imagination is vast and clever. Favorite episodes stand out including two of the most popular, Qikiqtarjuaq, a real place in Canada (involving dive bombing polar bears), and Ottery St. Mary (which brings up the above mentioned otters).
Speaking as one who is fearful of flying, I have to say that this series, even with one episode (St. Petersburg) involving a near crash, actually has a calming effect on me. I don't know how to explain it but I have actually heard another fan express this same sentiment. The way the crew is always breezing off to transport a difficult movie star to Italy, a mysterious cargo heading to Hong Kong, or a drunken Scottish cricket team stranded in the Sahara Desert, makes flying seem like a mad, fun adventure, even if Douglas is doing some shady black market bartering of rare orchids.
If I have sold you on this or made you the least bit curious I will gladly burn you a sample season and send it to you. Even the creator, John Finnemore, does not mind, (as stated in his blog that I often read) although he would prefer you purchase your own so he can make some money. He is worth it.
Since that last episode ends with a cliffhanger (and we are so rooting for Martin in this one as he attempts a brave step in his life) we presume there is still a city starting with Z (possibly Zurich) that will complete the series. Finnemore has promised a resolution.
This is the perfect series to listen to on a road trip or going to work. The writing is clever and hilariously laugh outloud funny, the plots are well thought out with often unpredictable and witty resolutions, and the characters, with all their flaws, are lovable and sympathetic.There is a genuine humanity in them and a compassion for them, much more so than in many TV situation comedies where the humour is dependent on awkward, embarassing situations and on mocking the people caught in them. I have yet to share this series with anyone who did not want to hear more. Also it's perfect for family listening: no swearing, no violence (well Martin does accidentally kill a man but it makes sense in context), and no sex (although Douglas has been married three times, and Martin desperately needs a girlfriend). I guarantee kids will want to play Yellow Car after listening to it. Or Fizz, Buzz, Have a Banana.
I have more care for these characters than almost any TV series or movie I watch. Finnemore has that rare ability to create fully developed personalities out of funny exchanges and situations that all happen in around 25 minutes per episode. And they always leave you wanting more. It's the sort of show you annoy people with by repeating clever lines and catch phrases. Usually uttered by Douglas, the master of the clever comeback.
This series has grown through word of mouth, like this, and sharing of discs, until it now has its own little fandom who wear the T-shirts and plan conventions. And now fans are even creating artwork around the episodes. Here is one (not mine) representing the long, boring flight across Russia when the sun never set as they headed east to Limerick, Ireland.
Series 4 was only just recorded last January and had to revolve around the very busy schedules of its actors, especially Benedict Cumberbatch, who is becoming a major movie star (BBC's Sherlock, Star Trek into Darkness, The Hobbit) and is constantly busy. Yet each actor is firmly committed to this project and has lovingly kept it going.
Which brings me to the fact that the acting is brilliant, down to even the bit players, like sarcastic Carl in the flight tower, or the insufferable client, Mr. Birling, who hires them every year to fly him to rugby matches and treats them like servants.
Some of my favorite bits are the games that Douglas always engages the rest of the crew in on long flights, such as 'books that sound better with the last letter left off", (The Davinci Cod) or 'people with evil sounding names' (Rrrrrussell Crowe) or 'question and answer movie double features' (Question: What's Eating Gilbert Grape? Answer: 12 Monkeys.) Then there's the Traveling Lemon game, the Only Speak in One Syllable game, the Make Cabin Announcements Using Titles From Hitchcock Films game, the How Many Otters Can Fit on the Plane game. Finnemore's imagination is vast and clever. Favorite episodes stand out including two of the most popular, Qikiqtarjuaq, a real place in Canada (involving dive bombing polar bears), and Ottery St. Mary (which brings up the above mentioned otters).
Speaking as one who is fearful of flying, I have to say that this series, even with one episode (St. Petersburg) involving a near crash, actually has a calming effect on me. I don't know how to explain it but I have actually heard another fan express this same sentiment. The way the crew is always breezing off to transport a difficult movie star to Italy, a mysterious cargo heading to Hong Kong, or a drunken Scottish cricket team stranded in the Sahara Desert, makes flying seem like a mad, fun adventure, even if Douglas is doing some shady black market bartering of rare orchids.
If I have sold you on this or made you the least bit curious I will gladly burn you a sample season and send it to you. Even the creator, John Finnemore, does not mind, (as stated in his blog that I often read) although he would prefer you purchase your own so he can make some money. He is worth it.
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
King of the Road
I am a member of SAQA-Studio Art Quilters Association. Recently they asked their Texas members to contribute to a traveling trunk show by creating 12"x12" small quilts depicting various impressions of life in Texas. Since I'm not one for sentimentality or cliche (no cowboys or oil derricks) or overly cluttered scenes I came up with a fairly simple image based on my recent observations of Grackles at our pond, combined with living on the Plains, and especially in a time of drought. Here is my step by step process of "King of the Road". I'm not sure if it is done. It may need a few more bits of embroidered dust. Is that a Haboob in the distance?
I had to snip his tail off bcause the artwork can't project beyond the border.....:-(
Then I added both machine and hand stitching.
Some beads to represent dust and sand. Texture is always a good thing.
And....is it done? I don't know. I need to to snip away the stray threads and mull on it for a day or two.
Then I added both machine and hand stitching.
Some close-ups.
A veil of black net, like the shadow from a cloud. I wanted to break up the space a bit into more shapes.
Time to square off the edges and add a border.
Monday, May 20, 2013
Neverending Endings
Today I am going to make a complaint. Well, it's a complaint disguised as a movie review. I'll be like those two muppet geezers in the balcony hurling snarkiness from on high.
I'm talking about movies that don't know how to wrap it up. And that's not counting waiting through ten minutes of closing credits to see some little sight gag or secret set-up for a sequel. And yes, I am sure if I was going to a normal adult, well made movie like Silver Linings Playbook, rather than a giant nerdfest of a summer blockbuster designed for 16 year old boys then I would not even have a complaint at all, but I save my serious viewing for Netflix these days and skip off to the movies to see these films that appeal to my inner child and need a big, fat screen to accomodate all the epicness.
So, here's the deal with Iron Man 3. It's a good film, better than Iron Man 2, for sure, maybe on par with Iron Man 1, but not as good as The Avengers. That film had wit and humour and loads of character interactions and bondings, even if those aliens destroying New York took their sweet time about it at the end.
On the plus side they all have Robert Downey Jr. in them (although I enjoy a little Don Cheadle in the mix, so thanks for including him in IM3). I would never go see a film like Transformers (although by accident I did), and I might think about the X-Men series (Patrick Stewart and High Jackman, you may just lure me in!), but Iron Man 3 has some major things going for it, not the least of which is just letting Tony Stark banter, with everything and everyone. More banter please. My favorite, and unexpected, part of Iron Man 3 was when he crashed in Tennessee and made friends with that kid, Harley. Nothing makes me happier than seeing Tony get smartass with a smartass kid. More banter, in flannel and caps. No sentimentality but great bonding. I also enjoy watching him tinker in his workshop with his long suffering robot. And, wow, I did like the clever twist involving the Mandarin. Ben Kingsley is such a sly actor. Plus I loved Tony and Pepper's Malibu home. Too bad about those rocket launchers.
But, of course, I know I'm going to get lots of action and CG and giant things crashing down, but after awhile it does tend to go on. Especially at the extra-gigantic, motherload of all action sequences finales of these kinds of films. A grand finale should be a huge woosh of a roller coaster ride and then it's over, leaving you wanting more but knowing you will throw up if it goes around again. These days every action film has a finale that just does not know when to quit. Literally ad nauseum. It goes on, and on, and on. Did they finally kill the bad guy? Oh psych, just kidding. He takes an awful lot of killing so if you need to go to the bathroom this is a good moment. Remember that giant thing that blew up and crashed into more giant things? Well, there are more giant things to blow up (San Francisco's Golden Gate Bridge has been destroyed so many times in movies, not to mention swarmed with angry apes, that I don't know why they don't just paint a giant target on it. And I suspect that Star Trek Into Darkness is about to give it another beating. More about that later). There's a reason I don't see these films in 3-D, otherwise I feel like I'm in an astronaut training course seeing how many G's I can stand before blacking out, or I'm being bombarded with images like some Manchurian Candidate being prepped by the Commies to assassinate a world leader.
So Iron Man 3, after a lot of other action sequences including a clever "monkeys in a barrel" bit finally goes into its 30 minute slam bang finale right around five o'clock when I am already fantasizing about a glass of wine and a cheesy quesadilla with guacamole for supper. Not only that but the theatre smells a bit funny like some kid peed in his pants at the earlier show (which reminds me, parents, don't bring your five year old to this film and then wonder why he's a traumatized bedwetter. What's fun and loud to you is overwhelming for his little brain.)
OK, back to the endless ending. Stuff is falling over, people are blowing up, Tony has been crashed and bashed about so much he should be on life support by now, Pepper is dangling off something for about 10 minutes, then she glows for about another ten minutes, the President is strung up like a metal deer carcass, the bad guys just won't stay dead........yeah, a glass of wine, I'm going to put on some pajamas and check my Facebook page....do I need to pee?...I think I can hold it if this film ever ends.......do I still have a square of Dove dark chocolate at the bottom of my purse?......my thighs are sticking together, time to cross the other leg over.....wait, what just happened, did the bad guy stay dead this time? They all look like they need some first aid and a hot shower. Hmm, everything got quiet. What is this silence? I am confused. Oh, I see, it's the epilogue. I hope it's not like the Lord of the Rings epilogue in Return of the King. That was 45 minutes long. And yes it did take Frodo a long time to get up that mountain and toss that ring.
And that, in a nutshell, is why most action movies, and this movie review, go on too long. However, I have not yet seen Star Trek Into Darkness, and if that finale involves Benedict Cumberbatch running endlessly around in tight black lycra with floppy hair then I may have to amend my opinion.
I'm talking about movies that don't know how to wrap it up. And that's not counting waiting through ten minutes of closing credits to see some little sight gag or secret set-up for a sequel. And yes, I am sure if I was going to a normal adult, well made movie like Silver Linings Playbook, rather than a giant nerdfest of a summer blockbuster designed for 16 year old boys then I would not even have a complaint at all, but I save my serious viewing for Netflix these days and skip off to the movies to see these films that appeal to my inner child and need a big, fat screen to accomodate all the epicness.
So, here's the deal with Iron Man 3. It's a good film, better than Iron Man 2, for sure, maybe on par with Iron Man 1, but not as good as The Avengers. That film had wit and humour and loads of character interactions and bondings, even if those aliens destroying New York took their sweet time about it at the end.
On the plus side they all have Robert Downey Jr. in them (although I enjoy a little Don Cheadle in the mix, so thanks for including him in IM3). I would never go see a film like Transformers (although by accident I did), and I might think about the X-Men series (Patrick Stewart and High Jackman, you may just lure me in!), but Iron Man 3 has some major things going for it, not the least of which is just letting Tony Stark banter, with everything and everyone. More banter please. My favorite, and unexpected, part of Iron Man 3 was when he crashed in Tennessee and made friends with that kid, Harley. Nothing makes me happier than seeing Tony get smartass with a smartass kid. More banter, in flannel and caps. No sentimentality but great bonding. I also enjoy watching him tinker in his workshop with his long suffering robot. And, wow, I did like the clever twist involving the Mandarin. Ben Kingsley is such a sly actor. Plus I loved Tony and Pepper's Malibu home. Too bad about those rocket launchers.
But, of course, I know I'm going to get lots of action and CG and giant things crashing down, but after awhile it does tend to go on. Especially at the extra-gigantic, motherload of all action sequences finales of these kinds of films. A grand finale should be a huge woosh of a roller coaster ride and then it's over, leaving you wanting more but knowing you will throw up if it goes around again. These days every action film has a finale that just does not know when to quit. Literally ad nauseum. It goes on, and on, and on. Did they finally kill the bad guy? Oh psych, just kidding. He takes an awful lot of killing so if you need to go to the bathroom this is a good moment. Remember that giant thing that blew up and crashed into more giant things? Well, there are more giant things to blow up (San Francisco's Golden Gate Bridge has been destroyed so many times in movies, not to mention swarmed with angry apes, that I don't know why they don't just paint a giant target on it. And I suspect that Star Trek Into Darkness is about to give it another beating. More about that later). There's a reason I don't see these films in 3-D, otherwise I feel like I'm in an astronaut training course seeing how many G's I can stand before blacking out, or I'm being bombarded with images like some Manchurian Candidate being prepped by the Commies to assassinate a world leader.
So Iron Man 3, after a lot of other action sequences including a clever "monkeys in a barrel" bit finally goes into its 30 minute slam bang finale right around five o'clock when I am already fantasizing about a glass of wine and a cheesy quesadilla with guacamole for supper. Not only that but the theatre smells a bit funny like some kid peed in his pants at the earlier show (which reminds me, parents, don't bring your five year old to this film and then wonder why he's a traumatized bedwetter. What's fun and loud to you is overwhelming for his little brain.)
OK, back to the endless ending. Stuff is falling over, people are blowing up, Tony has been crashed and bashed about so much he should be on life support by now, Pepper is dangling off something for about 10 minutes, then she glows for about another ten minutes, the President is strung up like a metal deer carcass, the bad guys just won't stay dead........yeah, a glass of wine, I'm going to put on some pajamas and check my Facebook page....do I need to pee?...I think I can hold it if this film ever ends.......do I still have a square of Dove dark chocolate at the bottom of my purse?......my thighs are sticking together, time to cross the other leg over.....wait, what just happened, did the bad guy stay dead this time? They all look like they need some first aid and a hot shower. Hmm, everything got quiet. What is this silence? I am confused. Oh, I see, it's the epilogue. I hope it's not like the Lord of the Rings epilogue in Return of the King. That was 45 minutes long. And yes it did take Frodo a long time to get up that mountain and toss that ring.
And that, in a nutshell, is why most action movies, and this movie review, go on too long. However, I have not yet seen Star Trek Into Darkness, and if that finale involves Benedict Cumberbatch running endlessly around in tight black lycra with floppy hair then I may have to amend my opinion.
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
Moved by Shakespeare
Here was my task. Interpret this dark poem through dance.
SONNET 147
My love is as a fever, longing stillFor that which longer nurseth the disease,
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
The uncertain sickly appetite to please.
My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve
Desire is death, which physic did except.
Past cure I am, now reason is past care,
And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;
My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are,
At random from the truth vainly express'd;
For I have sworn thee fair and thought thee bright,
Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.
Each choreographer for Flatlands Dance Theatre selected one of Shakespeare's sonnets to create a work around. This sonnet, one of the "Dark Lady" sonnets, appealed to my sense of the romantic and dramatic. And yet how to express the poet's obsessive attraction to one he now despises, especially when I had three female dancers to work with. (Later I got our only male dancer to step in and become the poet's eyes) I always love a creative challenge.
"Past Cure"- choreographed by me. Music by the Kronos Quartet. Voice over of sonnet by Richard Privitt.
Dancers: Sarah Mondle, Kyla Olson, Emily Winton, and Stephen Anaya.
Rehearsal photos by myself. Performance photos by Andrea Bilkin. The wonderful lighting by Emmett Buhman.
My concept: We only know this lady through the eyes of her beloved. And we assume from the last two stanzas that she is an evil, betraying bitch. But what if she not just that? We are only seeing one point of view at one particular time. So......I let each of my three dancers represent the same woman at three different phases of a relationship.
Infatuation:
Sunday, May 5, 2013
The Mother Road
It's hard to believe, but for the first time in my life I took a road trip alone. Just myself and the open highway, plus about 4000 big rig trucks give or take a few. I was on my way to a national art quilters conference in Santa Fe and Glenn couldn't get away from classes to come along so he advised me to take the interstate route instead of our usual path through Clovis and Fort Sumner just in case there was a car problem and I needed cell phone coverage and assistance. This meant driving I-27 north to Amarillo and then turning onto I-40 west, the original Route 66, known as the Mother Road, that stretches from Chicago to L.A.
At first the scenery is just a hum of highway, horizon, and sky, the panhandle in all its minimalism, then right before Tucumcari the earth begins to roll and sway and then chisel itself into beige, scrubbed raw mesas. I love these wild vistas of New Mexico. Not as dramatic as the Rockies, but calmer, a little more mysterious. The ghosts of mingled cultures filling the earth and sky.
The beauty of traveling alone is that you can stop where you please, and on the Mother Road you head for the truck stops in all their bright lit extravagance. Russell's offered a Fifties vibe, with the restrooms designated for Elvises and Marilyns. Coffee please.
On to Santa Rosa and then up to Clines Corners, another craptacular truck stop. And here I left I-40 and turned up the two lane road to Santa Fe where the familiar 45 minute drive to the mountains seemed to whiz by thanks to my audio book (something about spies).
I checked into Garrett's Desert Inn, conveniently located, as they proudly claim, between the Square and Canyon Road. The vibe there is distinctly vintage motel (little pink bathroom tiles!) but it's cheap and clean and accessible. I then drove up to the Lodge at Santa Fe, up St. Francis St. and on the way to the opera house, to check in at the conference. (I've been here so many times I can pretty much drive like a local.) I knew not a soul there but I have never met a friendlier, more open and relaxed group of people. Everyone was inclusive and willing to share ideas, techniques, tips, venues, and resources. I shared business cards with other artists and attended some helpful sessions on marketing artwork (it's all done online now, so even this blog is considered one of my resources, for all six of you reading it, but supposedly I am supposed to have a link to my Etsy site and my Facebook page. Plus I'm supposed to Twitter and check in on Linkedin, but, whew, I'd never get any art done). I also attended a session on colour theory, and heard life stories of successful members actually making a career out of their work.
Of course the best part of being in Santa Fe was being in Santa Fe. Art, food, scenery, shops, history, atmosphere....what's not to love? Even as it grows and changes (and gets pricier) there is always a familiarity, a reassuring sameness to being back there and finding the same favorite spots.
The first night, since it was my birthday, I sat alone in the bar at the La Fonda Hotel and toasted myself with a Cosmo. That sounds slightly pitiful but I was as happy as I could be in my splendid solitary state.
I did mingle with the other conference goers in sessions and at the silent auction social/fundraiser but I ate dinner alone the next night at The Pink Adobe, again feeling the romance of being unmoored and unfettered.
On Saturday, my friend Toni, and her husband, Gordon, drove in from Albuquerque and took me to lunch at Tomasita's, joined by the mayor of Santa Fe and his wife, who happen to be their good friends. The mayor is well-liked, and numerous people came by our table to say hello to him. After that we went to the International Folk Art Museum, a charming place to wander through, where they were having a special exhibit of Amish quilts.
With the conference over I drove over to Albuquerque and spent the night at Toni's for a nice evening chat over wine and guacamole, before heading home the next day.
Here are a few images from Santa Fe, the city different:
The beauty of traveling alone is that you can stop where you please, and on the Mother Road you head for the truck stops in all their bright lit extravagance. Russell's offered a Fifties vibe, with the restrooms designated for Elvises and Marilyns. Coffee please.
On to Santa Rosa and then up to Clines Corners, another craptacular truck stop. And here I left I-40 and turned up the two lane road to Santa Fe where the familiar 45 minute drive to the mountains seemed to whiz by thanks to my audio book (something about spies).
I checked into Garrett's Desert Inn, conveniently located, as they proudly claim, between the Square and Canyon Road. The vibe there is distinctly vintage motel (little pink bathroom tiles!) but it's cheap and clean and accessible. I then drove up to the Lodge at Santa Fe, up St. Francis St. and on the way to the opera house, to check in at the conference. (I've been here so many times I can pretty much drive like a local.) I knew not a soul there but I have never met a friendlier, more open and relaxed group of people. Everyone was inclusive and willing to share ideas, techniques, tips, venues, and resources. I shared business cards with other artists and attended some helpful sessions on marketing artwork (it's all done online now, so even this blog is considered one of my resources, for all six of you reading it, but supposedly I am supposed to have a link to my Etsy site and my Facebook page. Plus I'm supposed to Twitter and check in on Linkedin, but, whew, I'd never get any art done). I also attended a session on colour theory, and heard life stories of successful members actually making a career out of their work.
Of course the best part of being in Santa Fe was being in Santa Fe. Art, food, scenery, shops, history, atmosphere....what's not to love? Even as it grows and changes (and gets pricier) there is always a familiarity, a reassuring sameness to being back there and finding the same favorite spots.
The first night, since it was my birthday, I sat alone in the bar at the La Fonda Hotel and toasted myself with a Cosmo. That sounds slightly pitiful but I was as happy as I could be in my splendid solitary state.
I did mingle with the other conference goers in sessions and at the silent auction social/fundraiser but I ate dinner alone the next night at The Pink Adobe, again feeling the romance of being unmoored and unfettered.
On Saturday, my friend Toni, and her husband, Gordon, drove in from Albuquerque and took me to lunch at Tomasita's, joined by the mayor of Santa Fe and his wife, who happen to be their good friends. The mayor is well-liked, and numerous people came by our table to say hello to him. After that we went to the International Folk Art Museum, a charming place to wander through, where they were having a special exhibit of Amish quilts.
With the conference over I drove over to Albuquerque and spent the night at Toni's for a nice evening chat over wine and guacamole, before heading home the next day.
Here are a few images from Santa Fe, the city different:
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