...or tries to...

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.

Monday, October 22, 2012

Down the road and one block west...

A few hours from now, just short of ten minutes away, President Obama and Mitt Romney will be squaring off in their final debate before the elections. It looks like the entire world has gathered on the campus of Lynn University, network vans and satellite dishes and barricades and nearly everyone I see on tv news circling their wagons on the newly landscaped lawns. We drove past to see what a world event looked like. But down the road and one block west was our Sunday at the Morikami Gardens, a million miles away from everything. It feels exactly that far, thankfully, while you're there.

Saturday, October 6, 2012

Morning here...

Though I do like sleeping in, at least the idea of it, it's always overruled by hungry cats.

But at least I don't miss this face, this way, first thing.

Or the way the light slides in, softly slicing away at the floors and tabletops, setting glass on fire.

Good morning, everybody.

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

Saturday Night in FAT Village

It's strange sometimes how you need to blog and then don't want to blog - it doesn't seem to have anything to do with mood, or activity, or inactivity, or restlessness. Maybe that's why there isn't a textbook cure for writer's block, or artist's block. It all just starts and stops for a combination of reasons snarled up and inexplicable. But I miss writing to my blogging friends, and one thing I can promise-I'll be back in their worlds very very soon.

In the meantime, here's my Saturday night in Ft. Lauderdale's FAT Village, a neighborhood that my friend Amy and I wandered through, (we are Amy Squared, you could say), after a screening of High Art at Girl's Club. It's a night-shadowed and art-lit few blocks of taggers, galleries, warehouses-turned-galleries, with a giant prop shop, a puppet workshop, studios and a theater space that opens to the street, all spray painted and stenciled into one big indoor/outdoor funhouse.

Samsara Folk Art Gallery

Leah Brown at Rip Her to Shreds at Projects South

Jackie Tufford in Rip Her to Shreds at Projects South
Donna Haynes at Rip Her to Shreds

Arterpillar's article on Rip Her to Shreds here