Friday that could be Monday, and I'm loving it. When I went to the doctor this week my blood pressure was so low they took it twice. No joke! Having a flexible schedule is a wonderful thing. Am always busy, but at a pace that is manageable. This must be what getting old looks like! 

Maybe it is because I was raised a guilty Catholic (since mostly abandoned, though.) Maybe it is because I was raised by parents who worked really hard their whole lives and made it clear to us that their childhoods were so bad that work was the only thing that saved them. I have issues with "productivity." When I think about it, I don't ever just relax, and never really have! I'm always "doing" something, mentally or physically, usually both (lol.) Even when I work on art I categorize it in my head as "work" -- giving it a justification that it doesn't really need. Hmmm...summer comes and I am confronted with the one ingredient that I have so little of during the school year: time. And I would feel horrible about wasting such a gift! 

So here I sit, on a gorgeous Friday, and am free after noon today. I am going to the beach. To do nothing on purpose. I might not even bring a book, or even a sketchbook.

I've been looking at the Designmatterstv site again and want to sign up and just absorb all that loveliness. How on earth have the Kemshalls created so much? How have I created so little? It is humbling. Yet I still shrink away from spending time on art these days, feeling like I should be doing more worthy things. Aren't there people suffering in other parts of the world? The state? My town? What good will me making a thing from fabric and beads help? I look at my little Quaker parrots, who are busy all day gathering things from around my house and "working" on making a nest. They are really busy and productive. They never really build anything, though.

Isn't art an indulgent act that really doesn't have value in ways that really matter? I think that is the big question I wrestle with these days. The purpose of making art objects. Not sure if this is just a message from my moral compass or an element of creative self-sabotage, but it is on the table these days.  The benefits of process are clear to me, for me and for others. But the product seems to be irrelevant, in some ways. It is intellectual Parcheesi. Puzzles of texture, color, and thought. Self indulgent to force them on the world, no? 

Then I look and see work by people like the Kemshalls and feel grateful that they can put into fabric the things I feel that go beyond words. And I am grateful for their contributions to this very hard world we all inhabit. All an artist can do, I guess, is keep working and hoping that sometime, somewhere, someone sees the work and gets something out of it that is meaningful. Yeah, I'll bring my sketchbook to the beach today. You never know what could happen.  In the end, parrots are parrots and do their parrot things, and artists are artists and do their artist things. It is just the way it is. Cheers.

Linda Kemshall's work, below: 

Day ? of vacation. A good thing I don't really know as this means I've stopped counting and am in the zone. Are my household projects done? Or at least significantly underway? Errr...well...some of them... New projects arrive to The Lists as soon as any movement is made in the tide of things that need doing, so it feels less than celebratory to complete anything. The screens need washing, though. I do really notice some things. 

My summer copilot Boncuk is on my left shoulder, happily grooming the hair on the side of my head near my ear and also finding the odd "where the heck did that come from?" hair from my post-age 50 face or neck. Cheers, pal. His touch is so light and delicate that I hardly know he's there and occasionally get a shiver from his little beak preening. By contrast, Kizzy woke me with bellowing good morning screams of desperation to get the day underway.Now that he sees me, he is silent and patient, and Hapi just says "Ok, gonna have coffee," and mimics the coffee pot and the pour.  The pups are sleeping on their bed, waiting for breakfast, and the cats have sullenly left the room as they have been fed already but my humble offerings were not enough. Sorry, boys. 

So this is summer. 

Frantic rushing forgotten for a while...I could enjoy a life of this pace, I think, but then realize how easy it is to slip into lazy mode. Happy to have art time, and am working a lot on the School of Stitched Textiles course, and really enjoying it. While my heart is pulling me to go to Hampton for the day and just sit by the sea, I have a feeling I'll be sitting by the Pfaff wrestling scraps into something coherent that I can call art. My house is an unholy mess but my threads and beads are sorted and under control. A day off. Again. Priceless and appreciated, universe!

Funny enough, I have little bags of fabric scraps sorted into neat color combos that I envision becoming a quilt or little mummy dolls. No thought required, just show up and sew them. Have I touched them in the year they've been in my art room? Nope. Too busy with Thoughtful Projects. Maybe a day of sew-play is in order... 

Or maybe I'll go the beach. Or maybe I'll go to Portsmouth...or...maybe..go... During the school year I am rushed and sick to the point of having no choices. Now choice makes me freeze like one of the baby bunnies I see by the sidewalk when I walk my dogs. Too many choices leads to no choice at all, really. All year long I crave art time...and here it is. It will be gone before I know it! During the school year, I get flooded with memories of waking up at Hampton as a little girl. Smelling the ocean before opening my eyes. Stopping at the Ashworth Market and getting a little bag of Swedish Fish and then loping down to the beach alone and walking with the seagulls, enjoying the quiet beach before it became packed and crazy. The empty arcades, the warm sun, the freedom and peace. Happy place. 

But these are just memories, and when I go today, it is usually too late and the beach is already loud and crowded, and it is hard for me to walk on the sand with the legs I now have. I go for a swim because I think I should, having come all the way there. I don't like laying on the beach, or reading, and get a bit bored. I end up thinking of all the things I could be doing with this precious time.

I just like waking up at the beach and the scent of the ocean before opening my eyes. Sometimes I can smell the ocean here where I live when it is caught on a breeze and it is magnificent, especially at night, because it is not an every day occurrence. It reminds me that the beach is very close, and always within reach. I do think that living here is the best of all worlds.

But staying home and focusing on art time also means chilling with the pups, who I know will not be here forever. Tilly had a medical scare this week that we are still not completely through, so I don't want to leave him alone for too long. Testing has shown that my poor 7.3 lb wonder is in relatively okay health for an older gentleman but a recent diet change has tossed his digestive tract into chaos. Not out of the woods, but there are um..signs of productivity. So out we go to the sidewalk five or six times a day, with hopes of seeing what most people hate to have to look at.  I remind myself that someday, sadly,  I won't have this option.

Onward. Beach, Pfaff, or sidewalk, it will be a good day. Cheers. 
​

Maybe it is the news of two very sad deaths yesterday and today, maybe it is that I overslept and now my skeleton is frozen solid and full of complaints with the smallest movement. We are looking at brunch again instead of breakfast, dogs, cats, and parrots, as I type this with two fingers like one of my 6th graders. That's ok, I tell myself, yesterday wasn't so bad, and tomorrow might be okay, too. RA is like that! 

The Big Red Chair that has been in the living room since I moved here was rolled to the curb yesterday with a lack of ceremony. Maybe that is why I am immobile today? Hmm. It was Toby's Target Chair, made of nice red leather that the cats found fun to pick to pieces, too. Between Tobes working the bottom and Kitties working the top, I never sat in it. Just cleaned it, and piled stuff on it (ahem, nothing could go on the floor in my house with the Tobster.) A month in past Toby Time now, I made the call to cough the chair up to the recycling gods. Kind of sad, really, to hear the truck go by and crunch it up like it was made of paper. Do chairs go to heaven? I hope so, as Toby must miss it a lot. That thing was filthy. Ew!

So, dirt out, floor cleaned again really well, and in the chair's place is a lovely papasan. I find them very comfy and the dogs can't jump into them. MY CHAIR. I want to be able to sit in the bird room again. Tim asked if I could get out of it once I was in, but I did so successfully enough to take this photo, so I guess it's a win. Please note that destroyed pergo floor is clean. Ruined, but clean. Onward. Bit by bit I am tackling His Nibs remains, and getting flash memories of how sick he was at the end, too. This counteracts the feeling of sadness. Til and Ellie are doing fine, though Ellie is now glued to my feet. Oh, the tangled love of puppies. 

Been cranking on the course I am taking through the School of Stitched Textiles -- it is really good and has me thinking in new ways, which is just what the doctor ordered. Will share some things soon, but know I am being pushed out of my comfort zone in a good way. I love taking the time to just experiment, and realize how little of that I do anymore. This course is making me slow waaaaay down and examine my process in new ways. Perfect for summer work when I have time to focus for more than a few minutes a day. Ah, summer. 

Have only 30 minutes to get the farm fed and watered to meet my self imposed noon brunch deadline. Doggie chicken is done (love the Instant Pot!) and I gotta move. Ugh! Onward...! 
​

The longest, most recuperative sleep occurred last night. Was filled with dreams that could be turned into amazing sci fi stories. The characters alone! Locked doors, concerts, math homework and a math class I was failing due to lack of attendance, searching for a red locker on a street that looked like Berkeley Street. A beige raincoat and umbrella, and long walk to find the street with the locker through territory I've passed through before in my sleep. Trains. Sidewalks. Alleys. And the amazing Narnia-esque lady with the blue fabric sleeves, sheer but not sheer. Was she good? Was she evil? I don't know because I woke up. And I was tired from the journey! 

Coffee in hand, reassess the day's start and direction. School for a couple hours, house stuff that needs doing, studio organizing, and then off to a concert tonight. Poptone bangs into the Middle East Cafe tonight! Daniel Ash and Kevin Haskins of Bauhaus...magical evening ahead. Kevin's daughter Diva Dompe is on bass, and is no slouch when it comes to fuzzing it out on the Bauhaus tunes like her uncle, David J., did.  Tonight I cry mercy and have elected to arrange for handicap seats as I can't stand for a show without misery (learned that the last time!) Let the kids have the front lol. They should be there to see these iconic figures. Truly iconic and still going strong. 
​
​ I completed the first quilted and embellished piece from the collection of fabrics I made at Mass Art a couple summers ago. It was a doozy -- very challenging to bead. The multitude of digital layers needed untangling with hand embellishment, and while I could go a little further with it, I think the spaces left alone need to be that way. Shapes that were in front seem to move to the back and vise-versa. I loved working on it but am not sure about the final product just yet. Takes time, and I have to live with it for a bit. Edges still need finishing (to bead or not to bead...that is the next question.) Making art is like assembling puzzles...but you make all the pieces yourself, and decide which ones to use. 

Today I have about a hundred bead cups to put away and reset the creative clocks to begin the summer art coursework I've planned. Am excited to be challenged by an outside source for motivation and direction. School of Stitched Textiles in the UK is providing such an opportunity. I want my sewing space to be organized and ready to go. The best things about summer: getting to spend so much time with my fur and feathered kids, and to "go deep" with art that stays in the periphery during the school year. Off we go! 

 andCoffee, cool temps, and a beautiful bunny giving herself a post-feeding allover bath in the middle of my driveway. I watch as she uses her little paws to clean every inch of her little self. Precious. Last night there were two adults and three tiny babies jumping all over the driveway. So precious. Soon they will be grown, and having their own litters. Time marches on.

Two weeks ago today I brought a very tired, disoriented, and sick Tobster for his last trip to see Dr. Carol. It was much harder to do than I thought it would be, considering I so often wished the pup would go to heaven (or stop peeing and pooping on things, but he never took that option.) He was as tough dog to care for, but not tough to love. Through diagnoses of diabetes, Addisons, Lyme, blindness, deafness, and finally vestibular disease, the little guy kept his tail in the air and wagged his "happy meter" up until two days before I had to make that most awful of decisions. Feelings akin to having your heart squeezed tightly and ripped out of your body accompany such a loss, and I can only hope that my little wayward pup is in heaven, going potty where ever he wants to go, and no one chasing after him with a mop. Even better, I hope his spirit doesn't feel the need to do that much potty to begin with! Toby was the canine baby, the one who pushed himself ahead of the others for treats and snuggles, and there is an eerie quietness in the house now. Will take some time to get used to the normalcy of living again without all he brought to the table, for almost twelve years. Rest in peace, my baby pug. You are so missed already. 

Onward to a day that promises a heat index of 100 degrees. Which means, 110 in the upper floors of the school. Can you say brutal? I envision kids melting, whining, and not really wanting to do anything. Not that at this time of year they have a lot to do,but still...it's going to be dangerously hot. 

But then tomorrow will come, the 8th graders with "graduate" our school, and Wednesday another school year will be almost complete. I say almost as there are a million things on my to-do list that need doing over the next two months. Lots and lots of filing, organizing, and undoing from the past 180+days. 

And then there is art! 

Sorry to those who have emailed me about upcoming summer classes -- I've started planning them out and will have them online this week.  My Tuesday adult group will be continuing fabric books, and I plan to offer another shorter class featuring canvas collage on Thursdays, as well as two middle school week long workshops. It's going to be a busy summer! 

Also, I will be starting the first module of a textile art course through the School of Stitched Textiles...going to be a challenge, but a good one. Stay tuned.. 

The coffee is done, the bunny has gone back under the barn, and the parrots are yelling for toast. Better get a move on. Cheers. 

With a spinning head after the past two crazy weeks, I will try to regroup by writing a bit, a strategy that always seems to work. Toby almost reached his end, again, the pace of the school year is rapidly accelerating, my dishwasher situation is making me rip my hair out, and RA is bouncing along in the back seat saying "Are you there yet? Are you there yet?" "There" being flat out in bed as no other movement is possible. Cheerio then.

And then there is art! The visual ideas keep flowing, but are stuck in the drainpipe of life. Just. Can't. Get. To. Them! Ah, summer is on the horizon. Was great to have a class happen at Artist and Craftsman last weekend! Next one is next Saturday -- Fearless Drawing! 

Toby update: His recent bout with Canine Geriatric Idiopathic Vestibular Disease is resolving! He is not his old self in terms of strength, and is more wobbly than before, but he is no longer going in circles and falling up and down stairs. I have to watch his steps very closely but in general he is back to being his usual self. This means stealing his sibling's food, howling like a wolf if I leave the room (how does a blind dog know that so quickly?!) and peeing with carefree abandon. Sadly though he does not like the leash walks that he has enjoyed with vigor since puppy hood. It is just too much for him, and he gets overwhelmed and turns around and tries to go home after a hundred feet. Can't have everything. What this episode, which involved signing the euthanasia papers and truly expecting to put him down, did teach me is that I still love the big sloppy lug. Priceless reminder. 

School is an amazingly creative and energetic place to be, and I am happy to see my students thriving at this point in the year. Projects finishing up, energy and attitude (mostly) good. We had a great open house last week, filled with special moments of achievement for many students. One amazing 7th grade artist I have the good fortune of working with brought in a magnificent wearable art piece that she has been slaving over at home for months. An elaborate, complicated gown, gracefully designed, that expressed her identity through photographs of her life both printed on fabric and attached to the surface. Remarkable piece, never mind that she is only in 7th grade! She has what it takes! GO MEGAN!

The night before Open House I was invited to attend the RMHS National Honor Society induction ceremony at the request of one of the inductees, another hugely successful art student. While the night celebrated the accomplishments of many fine students, it was a huge honor for me, as well, to have a high school student look back to middle school and identify me as influential. Yup, teared me up. Two colleagues from my school were also present to accept similar grace, and we all were especially touched that "our kids" find value in what we tried to do with them during those difficult, awkward, and delicate years when a love of learning can be ignited or stamped out. 

Now, the sad tale of the dishwasher. I need to preface the tale with the fact that my house has an old stone foundation from the 1850's. Permeable at times to the occasional mouse. My kitties address any trespassers quickly and efficiently and that is that. Usually. A month ago I had a dishwasher repairman look at my broken 15 month old dishwasher. He took the plastic cover off the underside of the dishwasher to find a mouse nest. Uh oh. Now I know why the cats would sit in front of the dishwasher and watch it like a television.  The repairman couldn't figure out the problem, and left in utter disgust. He also said he was allergic to dogs so couldn't stay in my house. Riiiigggght.

I called Kitchen Aid direct, and they sent out a repairman from NH. At first he came when I wasn't home because the office didn't listen when I told them I couldn't be home at ten in the morning. We rescheduled. He came last Saturday, took the cover off, and discovered a deceased little mouse carcass way in the back underneath.  He was horrified as though it was a dragon. He did figure out the motor stopped working, so that is a plus. He said he'd check with Kitchen Aid about replacing the motor and would get back in touch.  Never did. 

I called and found out that he couldn't fix the dishwasher because his work could not be guaranteed due to the "mouse problem." I offered to waive all warranties and pay cash if he would just fix it. They said they would not service this dishwasher. Thanks, Reliable Appliance! Not so reliable. 

Disgusting? Yes. Do I need to pull the dishwasher out and find out where the buggers got in? Yes. Should I have to throw out a $600 dishwasher because of a mouse? No. If anyone knows of a clever person who is man or woman enough to not be grossed out by a two inch misguided rodent, please advise. I am tired of handwashing dishes!!!   Cheerio...

A quiet Sunday morning. A light rain is falling, creating wafts of wet asphalt and spring that drift into the kitchen. One of the bigger neighbor dogs a block away is woofing her good mornings, while my three pups sleep soundly on their pile of beds near me in the kitchen, thankfully not responding. Even the birds are being relaxed this morning -- Kizzy grumbling the occasional "Whaaat?" and Hap saying "Ok, I gotta go..." but in a way that sounds like he doesn't really mean it. It was 6:30 am a minute ago. Now it is 7:39. What happened? That is happening a lot, lately. And the cup of coffee is still full. 

Facing challenging times with the Tobster this week.  Between the sudden and extreme heat that moved in for a couple days and a recent difficult spell with his diabetes and/or Addisons, he had a rough week.  As in not being able to go for a walk kind of patch, definitely not his style, and extreme G/I disturbances. He did walk last night and seemed interested again, so hope is not lost. He is not feeling his best, and I have to be prepared for him not bouncing back like the Toby the Immortal Dog he has become. As I wrote this he suddenly got up, holding one paw up, and hobbled aimlessly down the length of the kitchen on three legs, then returned to bed. Yup, poor Tobes. I fear his end is near. :( 

This dog has caused me massive amounts of stress and frustration, but he has taught me equal amounts of patience, and has been one heck of a role model for maintaining a lust for life despite not having optimal health. My little guy and I have shared a Prednisone prescription but sadly I've never mastered his almost carefree way of dealing with physical losses. Blindness, deafness, and weakness from not one, not two, but three rotten long-term diseases can't stop his tail from wagging and his happiness at receiving a belly rub. When all is said and done, my little canine shadow has taught me so much that I am actually grateful for his destructive presence in my home. And man, has he been destructive!!!

Am trying not to dwell on the physical stuff but suffice it to say the Remicade is not doing much of anything, or if it is, I can't tell. Unlike Toby I feel like going to bed for say, a year or so, to encourage the pain to take a break. The joint swelling is pretty much constant. The expression "Listen to your body" is false -- if I did, I'd never move again!

The one thing that keeps me going mentally is the potential of art. Even if I can't put the time in right now to consistently pump out all the ideas I have, at least I have the ideas.  Such an exciting time to be into textiles -- the ability to create digital textiles at home and combine them with other media provides unlimited possibilities. My brain is firing off ideas daily, and many of them do make it to my sketchbook, where they will sit until time comes for me to delve into materials and make them happen. So many thoughts, so little actual time. Such is life. 

The wide format printer is working great and has made a set of fabric pages for my first digital fabric book. The larger size is dramatically different and I can't wait to get into the image and explore possibilities. The resource photo is one that I've considered making into a large piece, and playing with variations of it this way will either help me refine my idea or make me tired of the image altogether. We shall see. Onward! 

Pulled out my pre-vacation to do list today, as it is Friday. Five days off, what got done? Barely anything! Granted, the day is not over, but I am not optimistic. Awoke at 3 a.m. with full body cringeworthy pain that was so uncomfortable I couldn't get up to even stretch or get pain meds.  Listened to the radio and counted breaths until I fell asleep again around 4:30. Welcome to the glamorous world of RA. It has been a tough week in terms of pain levels, even though I made a conscious effort to keep moving like I do when I am at work. Weather? Maybe. General exhaustion? Maybe. Tired of trying to figure it all out. All I know is that every day I leave behind a massive trail of important things that need doing, including housework that never seems to get complete.  And I try to continue with art, as it is one of the few ways I can escape the consciousness of the pain. 

So, feeling stiff, sore, and exhausted all week, I delved into one of the large digital prints I made during a course a couple summers ago. Listened to a fabulous audiobook by Miles Unger called Picasso and the Painting That Shocked the World.  Not only did it profile a young Picasso's life, it dismantled one of the most confusing paintings in art history to a point where I feel that I truly understand it, and Cubism, much better than before. Brilliant writing. I hope to find a paper copy of the book at some point to mark up. Lots of quotes that bring such clarity to a confusing, layered subject. 

The piece I am working on is very challenging to bead and embellish. The layers are irregular and semi-transparent. When beads are added, they become distinct and more physical.  Adding embellishment effects the layers and permanency of the objects in the piece, and a certain amount of ambiguity is lost. I like the print by itself and am being surprised by the way it is changing with the beads. I do not like all of it yet, but happily know that it is a print that could be remade -- as opposed to the one-of-a-kind collage pieces I usually make.  Technology is becoming increasingly important to what I do.

Being immersed in so much talk of painting makes me want to high tail it to the MFA today and get lost in the colors and forms of all that genius. There is an Egon Schiele exhibit, plus the gems and favorites from the collection. So many of the pieces referenced in the book are housed right here in Boston. We are so lucky.  I look around me, however, and can't seem to reconcile the things that need doing with a creative hunger that needs satisfying. That and the RA flare up and the impending energy crash...feels like crushed glass in my knees and ankles, and despite the strong sun this morning, I need to sleep more. Not exactly conducive to walking the sacred halls of the MFA. Or washing the floors, either, but that is non-negotiable. Then again, the book revealed that Picasso was a pack rat and his studio and living quarters were a cluttered, filthy mess. Hmmmm....

Come to think of it, Picasso may have been creating a portrait of an RA body. Cheers. 

Brrrr, chilly. Hapi greets me with this mantra as I flip the kitchen light on at 5:30 this morning. Why up so early on a Sunday? Better ask Toby about that. It was a good sleep, nonetheless. I can hear the mourning doves cooing outside. I think they are asking why it is only thirty two degrees out on April 15th, too. On behalf of all the creatures, in the house and out, I beg Mother Nature to let spring come visit for a while. I have a suspicion that this will be a year when we get jerked from winter to summer without the lovely fringe season that allows for yard work to get done without excessive heat. Bizarre weather these days. 

The pugz are laying together on an oversized poofy dog bed, snoring in synch, ignorant to the fact that they are why I am awake this early on a Sunday. The floors are washed, at least for now, the shopping is done, the laundry is under way. My current piece, a digital print that is about 18x24, is waiting. The beads are out. All I have to do is take it off the wall and...start. 

Another birdie awakens and reminds me that they all need their brekkie. That the sooner I get going, the sooner I am into the new Denise Mina mystery and the beads. But the coffee needs drinking, too. Ah, vacation. Ah, the never ending draw of art. More ideas than I could get to in a lifetime. Taking them one at a time, hoping the best ones rise to the top. 

This week I can finally set up the printer I got as a replacement for the one that works intermittently (as in when a walnut is not lodged in the sheet feeder, thank you Hapi.) I did get the insurance policy, and it refunded the whole cost of the printer. Woot! I was able to test inks and upgrade to a larger print format to allow for more printing and playing, and a roll of Print on Fabric is coming from Dharma Trading to let this happen. This is going to be fantastic. If only my hands could keep up with the printing. So inspired by the work Linda and Laura Kemshall have been doing. Incredible in both productivity and quality. Laura's ability to incorporate paperwork and cloth together is genius. 

The rhododendron bush is literally shivering outside the window. I'm sure it is a breeze, but it could easily be seen as a tremor from the cold. My coffee is cold. I am cold. Sigh. Spring in New England. Cheers. 

And it is both Easter and April Fool's Day today. Talk about incongruous! To me it is Sunday. Hoping the supermarket is open so I can get my birds their veggies, and hoping my legs and feet hold out so that I can get the daily to-do's done. Have started hand stitching into the new digitally printed piece, and really want to delve into that, as well. Started a new Elizabeth George book, so the audio is ready! 

I love spring. The birds return, and hopefully the little duck family that visits every year will, too. The dogs can get out more, and I can get a little (much needed) exercise by trying to tame the yard. Mother Nature helped a lot this year, knocking down trees and whipping the tops off of dried bamboo shoots. Lots of stuff to cut up and move, which will be good. Bring on the warm temps and sunshine. 

If only the feet and legs will calm down a bit so I can get to it. Past few weeks have been tough, culminating in a trip to Walmart last night in search of slippers that touch my feet the least so I can pad around the house at least in less misery. Due for Remicade next week, but don't think it is doing much.  It is hard to know that "all" I have to do is take more prednisone and I'd feel better. For a while. But the weight gain, moving of fat deposits to new places on my body, and bone thinning are not "better" at all. What a choice.  I am trying to just stick it out without upping the pred and it isn't easy. I hate you, RA, and can not see the silver lining. I just feel loss and limitation. Like a creeping tide, I feel like I am losing this battle.  I just feel like I am not tough enough, or mentally flexible enough, for continued physical deterioration. 

Toby, on the other hand, plugs along with great self satisfaction. Leaving an unpleasant trail wherever he goes, wagging his tail, happy to be alive. I don't know how he does it. I try to learn from him and adopt a carefree, moment to moment attitude, but get lost in thinking about the future. I don't think dogs think about the future. That must be the key! I should have been a dog. 

Delving into the book from the current PEM exhibit of T.C. Cannon's gorgeous art. I love the variety of the work in the exhibit -- so real. Some art on canvas, some on scraps of paper, some mixed media on wood panels. Great collection. The paintings reflect so many art historical styles but are still original, and so strong in their content. I see traces of Van Gogh, Matisse, Rauchenberg, Native American art (of course) and traditional textile pieces woven together with the post-60's painting techniques. Really good stuff that makes me want to paint more! His art reveals the fun of color to me. 

​Just lovely. Cheers.