Hot off the re-press! http://printallover.me/products/0000000p-the-michael-edition
If I had a t-shirt made up it would say, “Hot Water Bottles are Good in Bed!”
Here is a picture of last year’s Linton shirt:
I don’t know, is it me, or does it look better on a hot young model?
I really do not have a funny bone any more. I am going back into hibernation. Wake me when the weather improves.
but I’m giving you something I took off the internets…sometimes fashion and Sci-fi do a smash up, What?
You can read all about it here.
I have cracked the “odd sock” phenomenon! On my way back from the compost box this morning, across the freshly fallen snow there it was, the black sock lying there like it was marking the scene of a crime!
I have been plagued by lost socks and lonely left-behinds all my life but today I know how they do it. IT’S NOT BLACK HOLES! It is static cling.
I got my housecoat out of the dryer, it was chilly in the basement so I put it on. The escaping sock hung on while I made my coffee and did a few chores and then saw it’s chance after I left the house. It jumped off!
I get it, I don’t want to spend most of my time in a dark, possibly moldy place either (oh wait, I do don’t I?) but Sock, you are part of a pair. You have an identical twin who needs you to have purpose in her life, I do not…
OMG, I have to get out of here!!!!
Laura was kind enough to send me two coupons for tickets. She is an encaustic artist, does really great work, a lovely person and generous too. I would not have gone otherwise, probably. Not that I don't love the show but just because it is at Exhibition Place.
It was still quite a wintery day despite the warmer temperatures. The wind was fierce off the lake and as it happened, it was not in the building I thought it was in. I thought it was in the Direct Energy Building. As we walked from the streetcar to the building I was really excited to see how many people were going to look at art! There was a tall guy in a lime green kid's hat complaining about the show not being there. He didn't fit with the crowd I noticed. It took me a while to register that there seemed to be a lot of really badly dressed men in the line-up. Of course it was the motorcycle show… I know I sound like a snob but it's true. People are more likely to put on clean jeans for an art show than for a motorcycle show. I am fairly certain they do not wear lime green kids cartoonish type hats.
So we had to brave the cold wind and slushy sidewalks to get to the show, I felt bad cause Dee was getting over a cold…
I, myself, am still feeling like I need to curl up in a ball under lots of blankets most of the time for emotional warmth if not physical warmth. It is hard to throw myself into social situations. I either talk too much or not enough BUT and this is a BIG BUT, I had a really good time.
I like to pick up cards (if they have them) when something of the artist’s work strikes me. I try to do this without discretion, and only on impulse. I don’t get cards for all of the work that gets me only the ones that compel me. This way it is about my own “work” rather than some sort of critique. Peter A. Bareikowski’s caught my eye. I have noticed I am inclined to gravitate towards iconic or symbolic work that is child-like and including dream like images. This is from his bio:
His work has been about human conditions like isolation and alienation. Creating a paradox between his joyful colours and darker subject matter, his paintings attempt to play with our ideas around sadness. As a form of subtle escapism, the figures in his paintings are depicted in a one dimensional, cartoonish style – with almost grotesque undertones. By doing so, Barelkowski hopes to create the feel of another world.
Catherine Jeffery who does wonderful street scenes full of reflections and colour and just how I feel downtown when I don’t wear my glasses! She was generous in talking about her painting method, something I love to learn. Dee really liked her work.
Dee and I had a long and interesting conversation about some of the pitfalls and challenges for creative people and what genius might be, also, she told me a wonderful story about time and layers in a space that she has lived in for thirty years…the conversation shifted in and out of our meanderings, heading home we got on the subway going the wrong way, even though we very consciously noted the Eastbound sign before heading down to the platform!!! At one point I imagined ourselves on the other train, engrossed in conversation but going the right direction in a different time! BRAIN EXPLODES!
My first time dealing with crowds for a long time,I had to eat some sugar to keep going but then got a bit loopy. Damn pancreas!
There was a lot of really amazing work. You can check out the website for The Artist Project. It was a great show but too far from public transit on a cold day. (I am an grumpy crippled old crone after all!)
Today is the last day. If you are in town you should try to check it out!
Remember, winter and bad stuff won’t last forever.
Just thinking about winter never ending is scary. That’s why it’s like the scariest thing in the Game of Thrones, even scarier than getting skinned alive, which, as a kid, was sort of a funny threat because of cartoons where characters could put on and take off their skins and become different characters. I always sort of suspected that the belly button was important for this ability. I am happy to say that I never tried it, but when something rotten was discovered and I was blamed, “I’m going to skin you alive!” it always made me giggle. I don’t want to delve deeper into the psychological aspects of watching too many cartoons as a child right now or why the possibility of changing my skin makes me laugh. OKAY?
I sometimes suffer from depression. It comes on and grips me and for the duration I have to keep things small and careful, not for myself, because there is little to be done for me, even Mozart is lost to me in this consuming cacophony of negativity, but because it would make people who love me sad if they knew I was suffering, or how much.
I have lived through enough bouts of it now, that I no longer see each incidence as unique even though one of the worst aspects of depression is its overwhelming assertion that THIS IS THE MOST TERRIBLE AND UNENDING HELL. I keep a record of bouts of depression to remind me that I have been here before. The furniture might be slightly different but the view is the same, and that reminds me that I can and will be somewhere else, eventually.
There are plenty of people who do write and draw about it, very, very well. Sometimes reading this blog actually is just the thing.