Thursday, March 12, 2009

Nothing in Particular

The most recent sketching event wasn't the most inspirational, so I won't be sharing my work. It's not that the model was very large - more that she was a - what's the term - freak? sideshow queen? whatever is currently the correct phraseology for it. Human blockhead is one, and I guess she's that too, as she pounded a nail right up her nostril. Don't get me wrong, I have a soft spot for such things. My biggest disappointment about Coney Island is I visited on a Monday, when the freak show was closed. :(

Still, when one is in a mindset to sketch mostly bare body parts, perhaps accentuated with imaginative props, a woman bundled in a strait jacket, baggy black t-shirt, and army pants isn't the most conducive subject. At least not for 2 and a half hours. She did bare herself for the astonishing trick of grasping a big city Yellow Pages under each breast (before you ask, I didn't get out the camera for that). For a wacky bit of entertainment involving fire-eating, bondage-escape, bed-of-nail lying, and such, by all means track down Boobzilla and her Carnival of Cleavage. But for life drawing exercises, eh.

So let's take a little trip back in time, shall we? I found, folded up and scribbled on, what must be my first ever published illustrations. Behold the glorious, unfaded purple mimeograph pages of the school play program, 2nd Grade, October 1972. I can't recall how I came to be well-connected enough to land such a prestigious gig, but not only did I contribute all the drawings, I was even in the cast, as a gypsy.
Keep in mind these imaginative snippets of history are copyrighted, so don't be thinking of nabbing them for your next high-profile project. Thank you.

In other news, last week brought glorious weather. I couldn't resist buying a few plants, and putting a few more seeds into the soil. Naturally, now that the redbuds and peach trees are in full bloom, snow, sleet, and freezes have returned. Hopefully by now the things that grow in this dramatic climate have adapted themselves to nature's wicked mood swings. I wasn't foolish enough to put the basil or tomatoes in the ground yet, so they're safe. Anything else will just have to toughen up and survive.

Wednesday's reception for "Women Who Play With Fire" at Rose State College was festive, with guests, artists, music, and tasty treats. My vintage text pendants are finding loving homes, one by one, which makes me happy, considering I can't wear them all at once. As long as I keep two or three of my very very favorites, I'm willing to let the others go.

Tomorrow night is "Money Talks Art Walks" at IAO on Broadway. Last year I attended, and it was much fun - the art is on display, with no names visible, patrons purchase tickets for $100, $75, or $50, then, beginning with the $100 tickets, names are called, one by one, with each 'winner' getting 30 seconds to choose a piece of art. Clearly it pays to have several choices already in mind, in case one's first pick gets nabbed. Quite an entertaining fundraiser.

Now, Sara is freaking out because apparently the telephone lines are crossed (who knew that could even happen in this modern age?) and she's hearing conversations between strangers, while chatting with her pals. I don't know what she expects me to do about it, at least until tomorrow, when I might or might not opt to deal with AT&T.

My two delightful prizes from One World One Heart have arrived safely through the letterbox, and what treats they are. Very soon I'll have photos to share. Meanwhile, I'll just share a few glimpses of what you might discover wandering around my house with nothing better to do than peer into gloomy corners.

1 comment:

  1. I'm happy (though not a bit surprised) to hear that your vt pendents are finding new homes.

    That Money Talks fund raiser is such a great and clever idea! I have to imagine quite a lot of money is raised and to be able to walk with a piece of art from your contribution ... well, that's just cool.

    thanks for the random pics. :) I especially like the last one.