"It's the hardest thing to be alone in being satisfied with what one's done." (Claude Monet)
Yesterday I got the Alum bulletin from ole SU and I usually don't spend a lot of time with it because I simply don't remember anybody there. I transferred in my Junior year and by then everybody had their friends so I kept my head down and spent most of my time in the hospital that was being torn down but they had made into studios for us. Well, they didn't MAKE it studios, they just pulled out the more dangerous equipment and let us have at it. Anyway, I knew girls in my dorm and kids in my classes but that was about it, wasn't tied into a big social scene.
But in the bulletin there was a full page article about my old boyfriend and his family (apparently 8 of them have graduated from there, and there's a new generation coming!) I remember his huge Italian family and they were wonderful people- I spent one Easter weekend with them. Unfortunately Easter was a Sunday that required a church service so I went along. Wouldn't you know that was the day that the priest's sermon was about how all Protestants will go to hell! And he went on and on. And on. And it was Easter. I was shocked, first that I heard I was going to hell because I wasn't a Catholic.
I kept it inside but the stress of the whole thing made me weepy, my boyfriend noticed, and next thing I knew his brothers- amazingly- called up the priest and reamed him out! And that's how I remember the family. They were all in the picture and I got to see my old boyfriend's picture after almost half a century!
No, I'm not going to call him, prefer to remember what a sweet guy he was.
Yesterday's project was slopping misc. black substance on a pretty ugly gray pillow I had bought at West Elm's sale cubby a couple of years ago. Now it looks like a starry night. I still don't know what the stuff was- somebody gave it to me all in a squeeze bottle so it may have been dye or maybe paint. I let it dry overnight and it seems to be colorfast- so I'm good to go!
And after a few too many days I finally finished all the binding on they jacket. The fabric was ridiculous and absolutely shredded in my hands so I bound every seam with some linen I just happened to have, and put a facing of some other upholstery fabric around the front edges. And you might tell me how wonderful I am to be able to MATCH all those shreddy edges! I think it might work back in MA next week- doesn't appear to be much of a spring there. Next thought- to button or let 'er flop?
Jacket du Jour
HORRORS---Channel the creative energy of the past few days into something constructive now. Your dreams will fade unless they are stabilized with concrete action, yet dedication and focus can transform fantasies into reality. However, this process also requires discipline and sweat, but it could surely be worth your extra effort. You'll never know unless you try.
OK, I'm listening...
Hmmm, the descriptions for these two pieces have disappeared but I remember the story- I'll keep looking for the artist. The deal is he feeds paint to flies and then contains them onto a canvas until they poop- what do they poop? Paint, silly! And then he leaves them there until the canvas is covered to his satisfaction. I found these on tumblr but have no idea how to search for them there again. Do I really need to? I think not. Oh yeah, he calls them FLYSPECK paintings. And there are lots more.
UPDATE- I found it, AND a video!
Selections from the Made in Los Angeles series by John Knuth. Over 250,000 common house flies contributed to the completion of these paintings, living out their life cycle inside canvas-walled enclosures at the artist’s studio. Knuth feeds the flies a mixture of sugar, water, and colored pigments that is drank and regurgitated millions of times over the course of six weeks. The resulting paintings are a record of this process, resulting in dense layers of color, sweeping across a surface comprised of countless tiny flyspeck.
If that wasn't yukky enough, try this!
Call my funeral director- I never wanted a headstone but this is one I can put up with, thanks to Teddy for ensuring my future under a rock.
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