All great art is a form of complaint. - John Cage


Most anarchists are gentle people.
-Anna Zilboorg

Sunday, June 27, 2010

In My Garden


 

This afternoon, I felt. . .inflexible. I took a bowl from the kitchen and went into the green heat of the garden.  So much has happened since my last garden foray.  The garden is Neil's yield and I do not have a daily hand in it.  The wide green leaves hide saturated golds and reds.  The chard is glowing; the sunflower camouflages a fat bee.  Yield is the word.  
The garden yields and so will I today.





 Herb garden warrior.

 



Finn has been grabbing the camera from it's keeping place lately and shooting at will.
An underwater explorer.


Bright white lights.

Monday, June 21, 2010

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
- William Carlos Williams

Wednesday, June 9, 2010


Two excellent rescue dogs.
 

The angels made it to market, but the surfboard achieved greatness.

Cousin Noah drove through town in a new/used Winnebago with a one-year plan to travel the country and a 3-week start in Florida.  The board jumped off the wall and into the Winnebago and is now on its way to the Atlantic coast, bachelor in tow.  On a less enthralling note, I found that if I wrap Angie's hand dyed silks around the legs of a display table, a magical gypsy look takes effect - perhaps not so evident in the above photos - just imagine the silks blowing in last Sunday's bluster.  Last Sunday was spent at Art on the Parish Green with many lovely vendor neighbors and several exceptional customers.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010




R.I.P.
Louise Bourgeoise

It's 3am.  Time t'make the angels.  This weekend: Art on the Parish Green in New Albany.

Poor surfboard.
A mounted deer's head.
No action in Kentucky.


The top of my son's head.