Then I should not have gone to the Plaza Art Fair on Friday, the first night. It was people cram-packed, shoulder to shoulder, with dogs, kids in strollers, mood-enhancing drinks if one were lucky enough to get close to a place that dispensed them. People were not there to see art, because no one could get close to it, either. I have mere impressions of the art. . . from a distance and through a slight buzz of wine. But it did seem to me that there were more abstracts this year than I have seen in prior years. Does that reflect more interest on the part of the purchasing public or the preference of the jurists of the show?
Speaking of the purchasing public, Walter my art guy called early in the week. He was absolutely ebullient, and if you had shared Walter's phone calls with me for the past couple of years, you would know that "ebullient" is not a word that usually describes Walter. He had sold several pieces. . . what recession?? Then he called a couple of nights later, and he had sold even more. Bless his heart. "Paint, Mary, paint," he urged.
I have been painting, finishing up on average one piece per week. The one above is entitled "that troublesome blue one." Is it finished? Don't know, they aren't ever finished until they leave here. This was inspired by a scrap sitting on my table. The scrap is probably better, but I imagine it would be hard to sell a 2" x 2" torn piece of paper.
with myself. I'm 5'9" usually, unless I've shrunk, which I guess is a possibility. Yesterday I bought a pair of boots with the highest skinniest heel I could find. They are wonderful, and I'm as tall as an Amazon. And the boots are comfortable. Seriously, the heels are lethal weapons. I can't wait until I can wear them with my skinny jeans.
Oh, dear. . . it sounds like I'm having an over-reaction to my birthday. Nothing as disgusting as an old lady trying too hard. Maybe I'll have to re-evaluate . . .
but you all know how it is. . . sometimes things are just so bad you don't want to even think about them, and other times, things are just so good that you can't tell about them. Somewhere in between there, I have managed to make some art. The painting above is one of the latest. See those little circular things interspersed among the scratches? I knew those depleted calculator paper rolls would be useful for something. I semi-woke up one morning and staggered down to the basement, grabbed a pencil and a pastel stick, and wildly marked all over this canvas. And I liked it, and the marks stayed.
So for my next magic trick, I'm going to try Kerr Grabowski's deconstructed screen printing. I bought her DVD and have been studying it. I bought the appropriate dyes, ordered the sodium alginate, got some printing paper, and mixed up the pastes and the dyes. I purchased one screen, which is going to be too big for what I have in mind, but I've made several smaller ones out of foam core, so I'm ready to rock and roll. Except I can't find my gloves, and I learned when I mixed that dye that gloves are a necessity. Most of what was on the DVD was about dyeing fabric, which may come in handy someday, but mostly I'm interested using the process in my painting, most likely on paper. I am so attracted to the randomness of the deconstructed screen printing process, but I think I like the regular old screen printing process, too. And mixing the pastes and dyes. . . well, I felt like a happily crazy mad scientist.
This week I celebrated my 60th birthday. Unfortunately, I wasn't in Europe with my sisters, as we had once discussed. We could have done some damage in Europe, I think, and I am certainly in the mood. Now we'll have to wait until one of them turns 60. And I win the lottery.