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Shadow Wymyn, getting ready to be made…you might say:  becoming.

It’s been a busy weekend starting Friday.  Husband and I rode through Cambridge to drop off a totem at Joie de Vivre that was sold.  Apparently the customer wanted one or the other of 3 different totems that hung in the Joie de Vivre show November to February – all of which are now sold.  So I tracked down the few I still have, she picked one and we delivered it.  I hear from owner Joy Staniforth that she is delighted.  It was a nice one.  Has hung in the Bronze Door Day Spa for a while.  Owner Nicole bewailed its leaving.  That was nice too.  Then onward to Dewey Beach where we had dinner and then husband mixed the Vicious Martinis (that’s a band, not drinks) and home we came. 

Sunday and Monday we were in Pennsylvania.  We stayed in Lancaster in a lovely old tobacco warehouse that’s been converted into The Art Hotel – and it’s brand new and gorgeous with art everywhere!.  We did the Art Walk there, which made us really walk!  The town of Lancaster is undergoing a revitalization and they’re basing it on art, have several colleges that focus on art and lots of little galleries.  I bought this poster of a (Virgil) Sova retrospective.  The original is a pastel – love the movement and elongation of the figures.  Expect to see it’s influence in my next paintings which I hope to get to in time to be ready for the May 5 and 6 Calvert Artists’ Guild show at Annemarie Garden.  And Alicia (or Allyson, or Alice) – the full torso I am working on in the basement.  I got her cut apart and drying on her armature – I worked her away from the armature where the paper under her had slipped and she was stuck.  She’s taped together until she’s strong enough to take off – have dried her slowly – I think maybe a twice fire though.  A bisque so that she will be sturdy enough to take glaze without my worrying about her falling apart before I get her fired.  Given the timing though (only 2 weeks before the show) I might have to reconsider and push it a bit.  She isn’t meant to be beautiful – am trying some of what I’ve seen at Artomatic and around on the net as I’ve surfed for inspiration.  I guess we’ll just have to wait and see (perhaps some pictures tomorrow – I have to dump my photo card).

Here is my offering for ArtOMatic today – and oh!  I sold another mask!  How pleased am I?!  (Contemplation – to the right below).  Back to my offering – this is the women’s room.  We are such good girls we don’t write on the walls in this beautiful building we are using (I understand that perhaps that is happening in the boys room – you will not I used Women and boys – that is not a mistake).  In the Women’s Room, we leave our notes on post-its.  Which make their own merry art arrangement.  There is much on-line (bloggers and YouTube) now if you want to know more about ArtOMatic.

Update on Son:  there is no update.  He is out of communication.  However, Husband and I were able to raise a toast to him at dinner Sunday night.  A toast of love and compa ssion and hope for him and his future.  This is Son’s gift to us:  accepting the Now without fighting it and without reservation.  Helping us to recognize that what is, IS.  So, for now, we will love him and hope the best for him at the same time recognizing that he has his own path.  So my heart has been born a butterfly, and for that I am grateful.  As I am for all of you who have left messages of support and care.  You have no idea what that means.

thought for the day:  Life does not seem to present itself to me for my convenience, to box itself up nicely so I can write about it with wisdom and a point to make before putting it on a shelf somewhere…I understand just enough about life to understand that I do not understand much of anything….Don’t get me wrong:  grief sucks; it really dos.  Unfortunately, though, avoiding it robs us of life, of the now, of a sense of living spirit….whatever you use to keep that pain at bay robs you of the fleck sand nuggets of gold that feeling grief will give you….grief ends up giving you the two best things:  softness and illumination.  Anne Lamott, Traveling Mercies