The average man is a conformist, accepting miseries and disasters with the stoicism of a cow standing in the rain.
A CHIA pet
Table delivered today, bought it on as-is sale and will simply fill the deep groove and paint and sand a bit over the line I create. Fortunately it's an old Chinese alter table that one end fell off, and very rough from it's years behind us- a little repair will be fine. Also, the landscaping has started and we have giant big palms where there was nothing- it's looking so much better already. They boxed in the wall around the courtyard and start lath and wiring it tomorrow, then it has to be inspected (sigh) and stuccoed. And painted. I spent the last 2 days unpacking boxes and looking for the floor. The movers put my bed together wrong so that has to be fixed before we get a new mattress. One thing after another. Tomorrow more boxes, though I am pretty much down to things labeled 'art' and 'mirrors' and 'glass'. I've been dreading this pile but it's now due. I hung a bunch of pictures in the loft today so that room is looking good in spite of needing 2 more rolls of wallpaper to finish. Will call The Guy tomorrow and find out where he is.
When flipping through these prints by Netherlands-based printmaker Jaco Putker it’s difficult to pintpoint the exact emotion one should feel, but generally, if it’s somewhere between amused and terrified, that’s just what the artist intends. Putker combines both digital preparation with traditional photopolymer (solar plate) etching to create collages that can be both highly ridiculous and downright frightening. He refers to the artworks as “illustrations to fables which don’t exist, but hopefully take shape in the beholders’ minds.”
In her log paintings, artist Alison Moritsugu faces that strange juxtaposition head-on by choosing a literal meataphor—the remains of downed trees—as a canvas for her bucolic oil paintings of the countryside where that very tree may have once originated. A fantastic collision of art history and environmental awareness. The rough edges of the cut branches and trunks appear like windows into the past, telling a story that the tree’s rings alone cannot.
Finally a solution: If you don't have a brain, KNIT one!