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Showing posts from March, 2010

The Winter Coat

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My brother is on Facebook now, and uploaded this photo the other night. I had never seen this photo, and I found myself slipping back....to Kent Road East, Wantagh, Long Island.  It is 1963...and I am  6. It is a time of skywriters,  radio,  ironing boards, milkmen, skate keys,  and black and white TVs. It is the year JFK was shot -my mother was ironing my father's shirts, put down the iron and cried. She never cried save for that time and when her father died.  She learned to create a buffer with Southern Comfort.  I  have a hard time seeing myself in her--and peer deeper into the face of this child.   Perhaps it is because my face is pudgier than I ever remember, and I am missing those telltale micro short bangs from my mother's bad hair cuts that I was given until I was old enough to run away from the scissors.  I know that inside that little plastic coat is a very sad little girl. I did not like that coat which had no color, smelled of vinyl,  got stiff with the wint

Simple Encaustics

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Today was the work day as I played all day yesterday as it was warm and sunny - a no brainer to spend it being adventurous from the time I woke up till midnight!   The price I had to pay was to work today on my NYS sales taxes, as well as plan my Studio Art Lesson plans for the week. We are studying Ancient Roman art, and I want to do a simple encaustics lesson with the students.I don't have encaustic supplies in school, so I have to bring in my own, and those of you who work in encaustic know it is rather costly.  I found a website that though very crafty, has some great ideas on how to experience encaustics with simple materials such as irons and electric fry pans.  I have a few old irons in class, as well as a tacking iron, and I have one large electric fry pan that can be used by 2 students at a time. We won't be making art for the Guggenheim, but some of the methods are fool proof, necessary for these at-risk students, and they will least get an understanding of how

Afternoon at FDR's Place

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It is pathetic that I am so busy that I have only been eeking out a blog or two a week.  But it is better that I write when I have something to say;   I save the quips and brief moments of enlightenment, wisdom and nonsense for Facebook. Life is quick these days, thrown in with a dash of craziness, sorrow, and frustration - tempered with moments of happiness and love. Today's adventures were simply wonderful. I taught for 1/2 day, then headed over the Mid Hudson Bridge to Route 9 north, with final destination being the FDR estate .  It was a record-breaking 73 degrees, and I put the top down.  Heaven. I was taking a course called The Hudson River Panorama, which is a current show at the Albany Institute of History and Art .  Through contributions/grants, the museum is teaching teachers and other related educational personnel how to use the resources of the Hudson River Valley and the Musuem, to teach K-12 about the history, science, art, transportation, etc. of the region

Life is Like a Paper Bag

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Yesterday afternoon I was in a cleaning frenzy. Weeks before my trip to Kentucky,  only maintenance cleaning was done on the house;  important things like the litter box, bathtub,  toilet were kept from being abominable,  and a few choice floors were nominally swept or vacuumed.  Things - like the white tiled bathroom floor - the suitcase with a combo of clean and dirty clothes spilling out onto the floor waiting for another cat mishap - had gotten out of control.  I was living in chaos; there was something in every room that made the house visually annoying. As I made my way from room to room, I came into the dining room.  Prior to my having to keep the dining room closed (the cats vs. the chairs) , my bag of bags was cleverly stuffed and hidden from view behind the door.  But now it stood out like a sore thumb, ripped and worn, with its contents spilling out onto the floor in full view.  It needed to be replaced with one of the bags inside of it. I stopped for a moment, and ima

Memories of Summer

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I finally got into the studio to paint after a very long hiatus.  The last painting I did was back in December for a show, and I had started this back in August on my vacation in Wellfleet.  I had intended to do the under painting in acrylic and finish off in oil, but it takes so long to get all of my paints mixed for the oils that I decided to do another layer in acrylic.  Still things to be fixed and worked on, but so far I am satisfied with the "learning experience" which is what I call every  painting that I do, not matter how well or poor it is. I also took one of my oils to be framed at the frame shop.  It is a painting of the fields off Zena Road.  It was one of those paintings that I worked on several times, and got disgusted with it and attacked it with my paintbrush and tried to destroy it, only ending up with the loveliest muted tones and composition that I ended up working into a bit, then leaving just the way it was.  A few of my best works have been made lik

And I am Back.....

Five glorious days with Megan and her family. Glorious for the warmer weather, for spending quality time with my daughter and her family, the comfort of a mother taking care of her sick child, the joy of a grandmother seeing and playing with her grandchildren.  We talked, we played, we laughed, we got serious. One thing we did NOT do is cry.  Enough tears have been shed. I don't know who got more out of this, but I suspect each one of us took a little piece of heaven into our hearts. Yet I wondered. Why is it that the most growth comes from the deepest pain? That my best writing and art comes from the darkest of places?I have to remind myself that time of great growth and beauty has also come of out light and joy.  It's just that I am more in touch with my dark side. As I got out of the car to head into the airport, I gave Alanna a kiss goodbye.She said: "Mimi, I was thinking that I wish this could last forever". So do I baby, so do I.  And it does, in

You Know You're Getting Older When

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I am 52. I am married to a man who will be 60 this year. I am still very youthful in attitude, and I think in looks, but recent things have reminded me that I am NOT 30 anymore, and in the process of becoming invisible, like most people between 50-100 become.  'Tis a shame because the younger ones miss out on all the knowledge and stories that we have.  Perhaps if they paid more attention to us, future generations MIGHT REALLY change the world. Today, when filling out a survey for the store EXPRESS, I got a shock.  The survey was supposed to take 15 mintues, but I figured out that I could do it in 5.  FIrst question-my gender. Easy. I didn't even have to look.  Question 2: my age group.  I was in the last one, 50+.  I hit enter.  A pop up said "Thank you, you have now completed the survey". I was insulted, outraged.  Because of my age, I was no longer valuable for their consumer survey. A similar thing happened on a survey I did for Victoria's Secret.  It wa

Off to KY land

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Camera. Check. iPod charged. Check. Little gifties.  Check. Book. Check. Work. Check. Flying outfit laid out. Check. Online Check In.... NO CHECK!  The system won't let me do it!!! AUGH. At least it isn't going to snow, though the winds are ripping through the yards on the block, sounding off the Woodstock chimes next door.  Which reminds me. While I'm on the plane tomorrow morning, the neighbor will be in court pleading not guilty I suppose, to dog shit, loose dog (it's the worst when it's loose- dog- shit) and endlessly barking dog.  But I am leaving that set of problems behind and flying into the unknown ...... and I can't wait till I see all of my babies.  Will be back..reporting from KY land....home of the brave at Fort Campbell.  Patti O Flyer