Help! . . . I've fallen and I can't get up!

Fallen in nerdy love with this blog thing, that is.


So I guess a more correct title would be,
"Help! I'm talking and I can't shut up!"

Because I fully intended to take the month of August off from blogging, but I somehow haven't found the appropriate time to stop.



And we're
nearly
halfway
through.




I guess Rudyard Kipling knew something about writing because he said,

"Words are, of course,
the most powerful drug used by mankind."

And sadly I'm an addict . . .

Anyway, you have to be flexible. Because things change and come up and evolve every minute of the day.

I have no idea who said it (so this is at best a paraphrase) but on my notepad of Ideas I Like, it says:

"From the minute we leave the womb, life is about making the best of an unwelcome change in circumstances."

I hope that quote didn't come from The Price is Right or a soap opera -- I often jot things down while the TV is blabbering away on my work table. And I wish I could give credit to the person who did say it, because I think it's just brilliant.

So when this lady knocked on the door and demanded an invitation to my party, I had to
s-t-r-e-t-c-h
a little and kindly invite her in.

New Neighbor No. 10, Light Bulb-head Lady
(although the room was quite full after #9 moved in)

Somehow even though the background pieces were pinned up on my board in order for a long time before I ever started letting the guests arrive, once everybody was here I just had a nagging need to see more black.

And when you've put this much time into something, any "oops" is kind of a bummer.

I guess that's why
one should never actually say "oops" . . .












One should probably say "interesting". . .












and then move along.


So there are 10 people in my neighborhood now, and the door is firmly shut.

And we have managed to save an empty spot for you, Dear Reader, should you care to join us.



No pressure, but I'm not much of a social butterfly,
so when I give a party IT'S A BIG DEAL.



And now that the last guest has FINALLY arrived,


I think we're going to have a pretty good time.

"Here's a clue, for what it's worth . . . There's a paradise right here on earth"

That's just one line of the song --
We'll get to the chorus in a few minutes.


We're back from The City Different, which is so elegantly situated in the north central region of The Land of Enchantment.

And, as always, the trip was both Different and Enchanting.



I'm just goofy about New Mexico --
don't think I don't know it about myself.

I've seen you all nodding and whispering behind my back, but I'm fully aware that I fly my New-Mexico-Freak-Flag with alarming abandon.

And I can assure you I'm not alone.

Every time I go there, I have at least one conversation with someone who visited and then HAD TO MOVE THERE. Georgia O'Keefe and D.H. Lawrence aren't the only ones --
it happens to regular people, too.

And although we weren't able to shop for property this time, we did have a marvelous week visiting our favorite haunts and discovering new delights.

Gabriel's was better than ever, which is difficult to imagine, and after our first dinner there (you read that right) I glanced across the patio to see this man enjoying what the Gabriel's sign calls "Guacamole as Art."




And I wanted to tell him, "Bill,
while I've long admired
your foreign policy,
your taste in food alone
should have won enough votes
to propel you to the White House."



Of course we also did other things on our trip (to fill up the minutes between meals), enjoying art for the eyes as well as for our mouths.

One of the new artists whose work we most enjoyed was Jono Tew

"Road, Sky and Cerro" (detail), Jono Tew, , oil on canvas

whose beautiful, dream-like New Mexico landscapes were as full of life and movement as the sky itself.

We also visited "The Gauguin of Canyon Road," (self titled) Ed Larson, whose naive style never ceases to please the folk art lover in me. Ed is an artist of many talents and many political opinions, who in addition to his paintings, carvings and assemblage, designs quilts (that I one day hope to see in person).

"Rock Valley Iowa," Ed Larson, 1994, 53" x 42"

Ed doesn't display the quilts at his barn/studio, which is probably a good thing since I've had to clean a layer of dirt (and even a dead fly!) off the paintings we've purchased from him. They're some of our most prized pieces.

And when we're not eating and/or looking at art, our favorite thing to do in New Mexico is drive around listening to good music.

There's a rather grimy music store there that carries a diverse selection of both new and used cd's, and we never fail to find a gem or two to take along on the road.

Some months ago, my photographer (who is also an accomplished musician with an astounding record collection) recommended this band to us


so we were delighted to find a used copy of this cd just waiting to provide the anthem for our trip.

We weren't disappointed.

Along with 4 other diverse musical treasures,
Little Feat sang us to the top of New Mexico


and back on one of our favorite drives.



The beautiful thing about this drive is that you start out in the red rock desert northwest of Espanola



and then climb



through Georgia O'Keefe country



to the high cattle country


"Woodland Passage," Patrick Matthews, oil on canvas

and through aspen forests.



Then it's down, and across the Rio Grande Gorge
which sneaks up on you in the middle of a vast expanse of flat scrubby desert.


With a trip through Taos (and a stop at La Lana Wools, of course!) it's home to Santa Fe
via the High Road



through Carson National Forest



and finally across the Nambe road.

In Hinckleyville,
it's what we call A Perfect Day.



Plenty of air to breathe and breathe,
food for the ears and eyes,
the body and the soul . . .
plenty of room for new ideas to blossom
and old troubles to fade away.


"Fence Country," Jono Tew, oil on canvas

Perfect Days.

Oh yes -- and here's the chorus to the song I promised.
We sang it to the top of New Mexico and back again:

Heaven's where you find it,
Don't you know it's true --
Heaven's where you find it
Standin' right here, right in front of you.

Ahhh . . . Home again.

Seems we just get started and before you know it . . . comes the time we have to say, "so long"

The great room-swap and painting upheaval continues in Hinckleyville; alas, I feel it may be some time before there is a place for everything and everything in its place.

Right now, it's more like everything is everyplace.

One of the projects we've been working on is a much-deserved den for Russ (in all of our many houses, he's never had his own room) where he can keep all his cool western things, like his cowboy boot collection and the beautiful saddle that his grandfather won


(complete with horse!) at the Utah Centennial State Fair in 1947. The paint is on the walls, the bookcases have been purchased, and there's even a new piece of art waiting to move in:


Will Rogers, 3" x 5", Flannery Dolan, 2009

Russ has always had a soft spot for Will Rogers, so when my friend Amazing Embroiderer Flannery started doing portraits of famous people with quotes, I knew I had to have one for the new den.

I don't think I'm as nice a person as Will Rogers because I'm sure I cannot say that "I never met a man I didn't like" . . .

I feel I can say with some certainty, however, that "I never met a bowl of guacamole I didn't like."

Gabriel's Guacamole -- enlarge it to see the recipe -- or better yet, just go to Gabriel's.


Which is part of the reason we're on our way to our beloved Santa Fe tonight for the postponed vacation I was complaining so much about a few weeks ago!



A friend asked me the other day why we keep going to New Mexico.
"What do you do there?" she asked.

The clue to the answer is right in the question.

I don't DO anything
in New Mexico.


I just BE.





D.H. Lawrence had a similar love affair with New Mexico and penned one of my favorite descriptions:

". . . The moment I saw the brilliant, proud morning shine high up over the deserts of Santa Fe, something stood still in my soul, and I started to attend."

The first time I read those words, I thought, "That's it! That's it exactly!"

Because when I first went to New Mexico,
my soul definitely stood still.


Georgia O'Keefe, another famous New Mexico transplant, said something that creates such a lovely visual picture for me:

"I want real things --
music that makes holes in the sky."

Georgia O'Keeffe, Ladder to the Moon, 1958


I guess I feel like New Mexico is full of all kinds of real things that make holes in the sky, because I can breathe there.


Matt Mitchell, monotype and mixed-media



So I'm off for some
deep breathing,
some feasting,
and a veritable fiesta of fun!




Robert Burt




Don't worry, I always bring home treats.

If anyone needs us, we'll be at Gabriel's.


(And will someone please let the dog out while we're gone?)


Small Works will return
August 11 packed
with pictures
and pounds
and a little piece
of sky . . .

A Bonus Itty Blog Bit of Wisdom . . . because I'm still busy.

After a particularly large and unfortunate carpet-related incident this weekend (which occurred as a result of neglect because we were so tirelessly working working working on other areas of the house), I did at one point wonder aloud and in a voice of extreme annoyance and exasperation,

"WHY DO WE HAVE A DOG???!!!"

And of course any important rhetorical/philosophical question these days prompts a visit to the source of all answers



where I found this golden nugget of wisdom:



Of course my husband just adores his buddy Cooper,
who is a lot of company.

And the two of them definitely have fun.


And I like the people I love to be happy.

But there is one important part of this most elementary pet explanation that they both seem to have overlooked, which I intend to point out now:


And when your pets DO happen to bother other people (and their carpet), some flowers might be a good idea



if you both want to keep from ending up here:



(Just a friendly reminder.)

"An artist cannot fail; it is a success to be one."

A man named Charles Horton Cooley said that.

I have no idea what Charles Horton Cooley looked like, so New Neighbor No. 8 will have to stand in. I hope Charles won't mind.

My mother once said:

"You're famous to me!"

Although it was a sweet, mother-like thing to say, somehow it didn't necessarily make me feel more successful.

F Minus, Tony Carrillo


Occasionally I'm forced to do something as an artist that makes me really nervous. This week it was submit a sketch with a proposal. Drawing is my artistic Achilles' Heel, and nothing makes me more afraid that someday I'll be kicked out of the club.

Well, drawing AND talking about art. I think because I don't have an art degree, I haven't learned to converse with the proper amount of artsy B.S.

But take heart, would-be and wannabe artists everywhere, because today I have some

Friday Fun for Everyone!

It's PIXMAVEN, a little gem that will generate all manner of artistic baloney for you to say when you need to sound educated in the art criticism arena.

All you do is submit a 5 digit number, and the site strings together some phrases from a bunch of numbered nonsense that can be applied in any art situation to virtually guarantee success.
By inserting my childhood zip code, for instance, I was able to come up with this:

"It's difficult to enter into this work because of how the reductive quality of the sexual signifier verges on codifying the remarkable handling of light."

How many times have I wished I'd said that?

And my old Seattle zip code yielded this:

"As an advocate of the Big Mac Aesthetic, I feel that the mechanical mark-making of the biomorphic forms brings within the realm of discourse the eloquence of these pieces."

When's my next gallery opening?
Or is it time for a new artist statement?

Or maybe I should have generated a smart-sounding explanation of my dumb-looking sketch before I sent it in . . .

All I know is,
success may finally be
within my grasp!

Pearls Before Swine, Stephan Pastis

Thursday's Itty Bit of Food for Thought . . .

Take a commonplace, clean and polish it, light it so that it produces the same effect of youth and freshness and spontaneity as it did originally, and you have done a poet's job."
--Jean Cocteau (1889-1963) French writer/filmmaker



It doesn't have to be a spectacular idea, but you should follow at least one notion every day to see where it leads.


Could be just a train of thought bound for an unfamiliar destination,


a doodle destined only to be hidden under the paperweight on your desk,


or a seed from a packet bearing no particular picture or description.




I -- If

D -- Denied

E -- Eventually

A -- Atrophy

S -- Strikes






Flip the switch and allow your brain to shine a little every day.