...or tries to...

Monday, December 31, 2012


I've never had two exhibits opening at the same time, so the last few months and weeks and days have been completely tunneled-visioned. So when the last boxes of artwork were sealed up and sent, following the challenge of fitting eight double-weight cardboard cartons into a Mini-Cooper, (duh, the answer is, you can't), after all the hours of complete self-absorption, there was a chance to go outside. To drive somewhere, to go someplace that coaxed me out of myself, into a world that actually looked more like make-believe than the world I had been making up.

Fairchild Tropical Botanic Garden is far enough away from here to be a place we don't go to very often, (an hour going, maybe, but counting in accidents on I-95, usually three and a half hours coming back). So when we do go, it has that mix of familiarity and surprise, like someplace you visited when you were very young and embroidered stories around. But when you go again, the stories are real, like a mix of Jurassic Park and Atget, Grimm's fairy tales and Alice.

Marble Bust  Bench by Sebastian Errazuriz
Calm Before Time, bench by Sebastian Errazuriz
Jorge Pardo lanterns

John Chamberlain
Will Ryman

Happiest New Years Eve!

Sunday, December 9, 2012


A Five Inch Fragment of Life and Death

Another shout-out from the wilderness of the overworked and the overwhelmed - a show I'm very happy to be in, in a gallery space I love from afar. I have three pieces in 5 x 5  x (5), at Target Gallery, in the Torpedo Factory Art Center, in Alexandria, VA. The show was curated by Stefanie Fedor, the Executive Director of Arlington Arts Center.  All the works in the show are under five inches, and you know how much I love that. The art is on view on their site here, and I'm proud to be among the treasures. Large scale work rightfully claims the space it's in, but small pieces create universes, I think.

Extroverted Biotope

Self-Concious Biotope

5 x 5 x (5)
December 8 - 30, 2012
Target Gallery
Torpedo Factory Art Center

Tuesday, November 20, 2012


Walking in a place empty of people carries with it so much more than it should, don't you think? You go there to be alone, to think, or to try not to think, to get away from crowded malls, from tweets, emails, tv, and all of the things that you have to do. But take those things away and solitude seems like a finger pointing at you, singling out your foolishness. This is the beginning of the story of your disappearance, the story no one will know the truth of for a long time,  exactly how the stranger leaped out of the woods and dragged you away. We hear too many of these stories, of hitchers on lonely highways, of overconfident solo hikers, or fading loners, or earnest adventurers who learned their lesson the hard way as they slowly starved alone in the middle of the wilderness. This was just a walk in a west-county park at dusk, and yet, its absolute emptiness, save for a fisherman so far way that he looked smaller than an eyelash, made it seem more like the opening scenes in a movie about the horrors of isolation. You're either punished for being by yourself, or left alone as punishment.

Do men feel this way? Or is it particular to women, filled with all these stories of kidnapping and peril, starting with Little Red Riding Hood? Our growing up is clogged with cautionary tales. Why else would a true-life story of a woman hiking the Pacific Crest Trail alone be so intriguing to us?

But it's so beautiful here alone. I understand why you need to be smart, to chose your where and whens. I understand why we need to share, I understand that completely. But there are times when you have to be by yourself to see, to hear, to really be where you are.

I don't think I would ever want to give this up for safety in a locked house.

Monday, November 12, 2012

New Fibers 2012

I'm getting ready for two shows opening four days apart, and one a month before them, so you can guess what's going on here, in my studio and in my brain. But I'm stopping for a few minutes for a shout-out for New Fibers 2012, opening this Wednesday, at Eastern Michigan University. Curator and artist Susie Brandt chose Red Collection for this year's biennial exhibit, and I'm not only excited to be part of it again, but grateful for the good people at the University Gallery who had to carefully unwrap all thirty little red fiber objects.

November 14 - December 16
Eastern Michigan University

Sunday, October 28, 2012


The sea looks lovely and idyllic and picturesque in this photo, but keep in mind, in its normal form here it's flat and placid and aqua blue. A cartoon blue with little paint strokes of white, the tide patting the beach the way your grandmother might pat your shoulder when you're sleepy and sunburned.

It's not often churning pewter gray and it seldom does this:

This is a fishing pier, most of the time. The fishermen would be just a little taller than the rails.

Lots of us here in Palm Beach County came out to see what Hurricane Sandy had done to the Atlantic as it passed by hundreds of miles away. We could watch because it did pass by, a rare miss for us, on its way up the east coast. I'm still not used to being worried about my brother up in New York. I've been in three hurricanes since I moved here, (Frances, Jeanne, Wilma) so it's not a casual thing. Weather, it turns out, is the thing that happens while you're making other plans.

Unless you're a surfer.

Stay safe.