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Showing posts from July, 2010

Appalacian Voices

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I have been remiss in writing - too busy being immersed in having fun or working in/on the studio, and though I have a few blogs that I have started, they are in blog limbo as I have not been able to take any photos to go with them - the camera card is full and I have to organize and dump the photos onto my portable hard drive.  One of the more moving events of the past week was my trip up to  Bearsville to have dinner at The Bear followed by the concert "Appalacian Voices" featuring musicians/singers Jim James from My Morning Jacket , who is now called Yim Yames , (great CD called Tribute To (George Harrison)), Ben Sollee, and Daniel Martin Moore .  The concert was opened by local boy Simone Felice of the Felice Brothers and Duke and the King. I was familiar with Yim Yames' voice, and something told me to head over to a special evening not far from home.  And, besides, it was for a good cause - to "raise public awareness of the devastating practice of Mountaint

Cucumber Heaven

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My cucumbers are monsters, something out of the Little Shop of Horrors. They are trying to take over my entire garden. The vines are running up the driveway, down the driveway, up the trellis, out, over, under...and bearing many little baby cucumbers.This morning I only picked two, but in another day or two there will be another rush, just in time for me to attempt pickles. Speaking of the 1960 movie, I have an early childhood memory to go with that. I was about 5-6 or so. It was a Sunday or Saturday afternoon as the entire family was home; my father in his chair, my brother in the living room, and my mother back and forth from the kitchen. I had done some terrible thing (I was always in trouble doing terrible things until my little brother John came along, and he took over that job) and I was made to stand in the corner of the kitchen for an inordinate amount of time. Modern day books say a minute for every year of age, but for my parents, it was like 10. It was so long that I th

"Back Home Again" (by Eigthavenue)

I thought of this song when I was sitting at my desk this morning, enjoying the prospect of a day off at home. It's been a long time since I have spent a day by myself without any responsibilities. My trip back home was stressful. Heavy turbulence made me grip the edge of my seat. The announcement that we could not land in Stewart, my final destination, due to severe storms, and that we have to be diverted as we were running out of fuel made me and everyone else sigh. The hour wait for a bus to bring us from Pennsylvania to Newburgh. Four hours later than scheduled,I arrived on New York soil. I tried to not get upset. After all, I was not in the same position of the man next to me whose father was dying, and he spent 3x the money to fly a day earlier to see him, and in the end he could not get there today anyway. But I am home now....and the words of John Denver rang true as I rode home on the bus, the storm clouds swirling over the mountaintops: There's a storm

The Starving Artist's Guide to Beauty

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I am tongue in cheek when I call this a starving artist's guide.  I am NOT a starving artist, as I am an art  teacher with a good salary.  But the summer is a time where I watch my finances.  I don't get a paycheck, Larry doesn't have summer classes, and in order to do the little extras, like vacation and facials,  I have to be wise with my money during the year.  I put money into a 403B, and have a fund to save money for my grandchildren's college education, and that eats up the "extra" spending money.  I have learned that I don't need a huge wardrobe, or a lot of cosmetics, and I loathe to spend money on pricey items when something else for a fraction of the price works as well or better. I have an organic garden which feeds me spring through fall, (and into the winter as I freeze the extras) and I rely on the local farmer's markets to fill in what I can't raise myself. This spring I had treated myself to a facial by an acquaintance I had frien

Ah, Frenchwomen

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This morning my friend Judi sent me a link to a New York Times article titled 10 Ways to Age Like a Frenchwoman.  Being 52, and a woman who strives to maintain femininity at any age,  I was drawn to  the article. My visions of Frenchwomen come from movies such as Chocolate, and actresses such as Audrey Tautou, Isabelle Adjani, Juliette Binoche, Emmanuelle Beart, as well as the descriptions of the women of Paris from a friend whose daughter lives and works there.  Women who have panache at any age and at any time of the day. I follow her daughter Zeva's blog,  Paris by Appointment Only which tells of the hidden pleasures of Paris such as artisans, couture, and pilates.  I take a virtual vacation when I absorb her stories and photographs, preparing myself for one of the vacations of my dreams in the future. I was tickled to find out that I already practice some of the suggestions; cool water rinses, keeping my makeup natural looking and to a minimum, eating non-processed foods,

Rainy Morning Musings

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 Eva (my sister Mary's Daughter) and Alanna, my granddaughter  Me and my sister Mary (who will always be 8 years younger than me, haha Saturday my sister's family was coming up from Pelham to visit; I was slightly concerned as I lay in bed at 7 am listening to the heavy rain pound down upon the air conditioner, sounding more like hail than a rain drop.  Nine people in a small house; what were we all to do for 8 hours? As I lay in bed, I thought about how up until the past year or two, I had a general dislike of entertaining, and  realized that I have many characteristics similar to my father which was difficult to embrace, especially since I lived in fear of the man, and did not particularly like him. He never liked crowds - we only went to Jones beach on the off season, usually when it was too cold to swim.  (like warm days in December?!)  I don't think he liked to leave the house unless it was to go to work, to church or do the obligatory food shop once a week wit

Market(ing) in Review

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I have recovered from the production and market this past weekend, non of which ended too soon considering the current heat wave.  Saturday started getting hot, and my tent was on the shady side of the street most of the time. I did as well I expected to. No more, no less.  Some people think doing craft fairs is glamorous, as they see the goods lovingly displayed, and me dressed up and on my best behavior (or not sometimes!).  What they don't see is the hours of work to prepare, pack, haul, set up, being "on" all day with a smile, no matter how sick you feel or what the weather brings, the tear down, then collapsing after it is all done.  And sometimes, it is only for a few dollars once you pay your expenses. That being said, I enjoy doing occasional shows as it gets me out of my solitary life in the studio, I see my friends, and I enjoy the smiles, laughs, and the questions about my work.  Rarely does someone not like my work, save for the one time a woman walked by

Kingston Farmer's Market

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Look for me tomorrow at the Kingston Farmer's Market .  No, I am not selling things from my garden, though it overflows with several varieties of basil, Swiss chard, and when the cucumbers come in baby, watch out guys.  You're all history. Friend and author Heather Rolland and I are sharing a booth on John Street, which is closed to traffic twice a month for local craftspeople to join in with the Farmers.  I've spent the last two days working in the studio in between all the other things I have had to do after being away for two weeks, but I promise to have a batch of new cards, and to bring some of my smaller paintings and collages. Enclosed are a few scans of some new cards, which are apropos for the market. I hope to see some of my readers and Facebook friends there.  At the very least, I am putting my art and my face together in my little city, which in spite of my periodic rantings, I do love.  Off to give Alanna a bath. She has had a very full day, and is a