Remembering to Care

Take a good look at this photo while it's here. I'm pretty sure Robrt will ask me to take it down as soon as he sees it. He insists on being photographed through gauze or a sheet of linoleum (depending on how much sleep he has gotten) and his reaction to looking like anything more than two black dots (eyes) with a moustache is extreme (as he would say "insert retching sounds here"). But hopefully, the photo will remain up long enough to remind everyone that Robrt will be reading selections from his writings about his mother, his childhood, and his experiences as an Alzheimer's caregiver on Friday, July 2nd, at Willo North Gallery. His readings will give you insight into the childhood of this great big sissy and how he has grown into a man with an endless ability to love and care for the people who raised him. You'll also get to see him in the flesh so please remember to tell him how young he looks in person, or I'll be forced to slather Vaseline over your eyeballs in an effort to soft focus your vision.

Aging Gracefully

I'm relatively certain that blog posts should be light and airy, meant only to entertain and delight the reader, who most likely is eating a grilled cheese sandwich and attempting to not spill Sprite onto the keyboard. Unfortunately, I'm not that blogger. At least not this week. So instead I'm going to wax geriatric for a moment. My father-in-law (I'm going to take the liberty of using "in-law" as I see fit, despite the government's refusal to recognize my relationship in any legal manner) has recently been experiencing some health problems and is being treated in a local hospital. This, in itself, wouldn't be problematic, except that my mother-in-law has alzheimer's and can't be left alone. So I find myself spending some really long days playing cards with and answering the questions of this really lovely woman who gave birth to my spouse (who's spending his days at the hospital and his nights in his childhood bedroom). I haven't slept very much. In fact, the bags under my eyes practically require a support garment (do they make Spanx for eyes?). I've answered the same questions about a thousand times (scintillating questions such as "Where are you from?" "How old is your car?" and "Where's my husband?"). I've played the same card game so many times that I actually have developed a card counting strategy and fancy myself a shark at this hybrid version of rummy that we made up. I've done a lot more dishes and laundry than I ever do at my own home, and I'm thinking of writing a cookbook devoted to interesting meals for the elderly. In short, I'm exhausted, and my next blog post might be weeks away. That said, I wouldn't trade the time I've had with Mary, my mother-in-law, for anything. She's gracious, charming, and funny. The amount of gratitude she shows me with a smile, a laugh, or an earnest plea for an answer that will make sense to her makes this time well-spent. It's strange, because I think I'm pretty lazy and and self-centered most of the time. But it's nice to find out that I'm capable of rising above myself.

A Fond Farewell

Our friend, Heidi Owens, passed away yesterday. I'd like to say all of the usual things that people say in these situations - Heidi was generous, Heidi was compassionate, Heidi cared about animals - but it doesn't quite sum up how truly cool Heidi was. She was definitely all of those things. But she combined it with a personal style that was unmistakable. She was one of those rare people who, if you were pressed to think of someone else who was even remotely like her, you would be at a loss.
We will remember Heidi for many things, but at the top of the list, we will remember Heidi for giving us a cat. Ernie. Robrt met Ernie in a little boutique. Heidi was carrying him around (I think she was just keeping him company), hoping that someone would take a liking to him and bring him home. It's a good thing Robrt was in the store that day, because he's a sucker for male cats and Ernie was right up his alley. Of course, he wasn't Ernie then. He was Charlie. And sometimes "Boy Kitty." But he's Ernie now, and he is one of the most charming creatures ever created. Made even more charming now that he carries with him the memory of our dear, sorely missed, and much-loved friend, Heidi Owens.

Insect Aside

I was really going strong as a blogger. For a while. Then I became a little distracted with some uac events (urban artists collective - a group I co-founded with Patricia Sahertian). We dabbled in the art of silk painting a few weeks ago. I painted some houseflies onto my piece of silk, not because I thought it would be pretty, but because I thought flies were sort of the antithesis of silky material. Mostly, however, I've been focused on uac's first gallery show. SPOILER ALERT: I'm going to do some shameless self-promotion now. The show opens Friday, June 4 and runs through the end of July (but try to come to the opening reception on First Friday) at Willo North Gallery, south of Thomas Road on the east side of 7th Avenue (in Phoenix - just in case my following has gone outside the city limits). There are seven artists, including myself, who are featured along with the creations of uac sponsored events. You've seen my art here (if you follow this blog, which is doubtful since I haven't updated in weeks), so there's nothing new there. But come see this show. It is truly a beautiful exhibition. And I never say things like that. Plus, if you don't show up, I'll force you to wear a silk scarf covered in insects.

Got Wood?

A good friend (I'll call him "John," mainly because his name is John) is a fine woodworker. His latest creations are cylindrical containers made out of cocobolo wood, which is not related, as far as I know,* to cocoa or bolo ties. He recently gave me this beautiful piece with the caveat that I find a use for it. The hollow is about a quarter inch shy of holding toothpicks, which was my first inclination. Now, I'm at a loss and I really must report back with a use for this tubular container. I've thought about filling it with after-dinner mints and keeping it on the table during dinner parties, but this seems a little forced. So I am taking suggestions.

*Yes. This is actually a footnote. I had one of those moments, only possible in the Google Age (I'm sure this will become part of the lexicon, which is unfortunate since it doesn't have the same ring as the Golden Age or even the Ice Age). As soon as I stated that cocobolo wood is not related to bolo ties, I googled "cocobolo bolo ties" and immediately came across a woodworker who creates bolo ties out of cocobolo. There is no such thing as an original thought. Not that I thought cocobolo ties hadn't been considered before. On the other hand, I may have just been the first person ever to use the word cocobolo three times in a single sentence.

Red Red Whine

Let me once again state, as a disclaimer, that I am not an abstract artist. That said, I have probably spent more time on this painting than almost any other work I've completed recently. The primary colors were not working for me (or anyone, as far as I can tell). So in an effort to match our living room sofa, I glazed over the original colors with various shades of red. This, of course, is another strike against me as an artist - I'm sacrificing my vision in order to coordinate with existing furniture. This is the artistic equivalent of Garanimals. Still, one has to admit that the painting is vastly improved. If you have a burgundy wingback chair, a wall screaming for some décor, and $15.99 (not a cruddy cent less) you might consider taking this piece home.
UPDATE May 12, 2010: Save your money. This piece has been sold to the lowest bidder.

Quick Change Artist

I dragged my sack of corroded coins to the local Safeway and, despite the voice of reason telling me that I would break the Coinstar machine with my dirty money, spent about twenty minutes pushing coins through a metal slot. Coinstar is not picky. Aside from rejecting a few objects that didn't even look like pennies to me, it took everything but a euro and two Canadian coins. And my grand total? After taking its 8.9% cut, I walked away with 351 dollars! Just for throwing loose change in a jar for a few years. After a receipt prints, you have to proceed to customer service to actually get your cash. I just wanted the clerk to smile politely and maybe throw in a reassuring "there you go!" or "nice work saving coins!" Instead, they tossed out "I think this is a new record...you were at that machine for a long time." Ugh. I wonder if they noticed me pulling out the rejected coins and trying them over and over until I had milked every last acceptable coin? Or clenching my fists in victory every time I passed another hundred dollar mark? I'm sure they did.

I obviously don't have a photo of myself at the Coinstar machine (although I could probably obtain one from the Safeway security camera), so I'm decorating this blog entry with a terrible piece of abstract art. My own terrible piece of abstract art. I'm not an abstract artist, but I'm leading a children's art group tomorrow and am teaching them color theory and abstract art (I didn't think eight-year olds would be interested in painting watercolor miniatures). I wanted to create a painting that was both abstract and used primary colors. This piece is called "Mourners." Did I mention that it is terrible? Did I also mention that it is for sale? Ten dollars. I take change.