On a cool, dark, rainy April evening, I like to sit in a subtly lit room with the tv on, remote close at hand so I can regularly flick between Singers & Standards and Big Band & Swing. Except for TCM and the occasional Cubs broadcast, the music channels are about the only reason I continue to pay the extortionate cable bill. When I finish updating my business stuff, I'll go back to reading Fitzgerald's TENDER IS THE NIGHT, which I began just before Medieval Fair (it went well, thanks for asking; thanks too, to those of you who arranged for lovely weather for a change.). Being surrounded by people in polyester pseudo-costumes and cringeworthy phony accents is not particularly conducive to keeping an image of the French Riviera, circa 1925 in one's head; maybe my quiet, dim room will be a better atmosphere. (Ella, "I"ve Got a Crush on You")
On the art front, I've begun making some very different pendants, inspired by (of all things) watching "What's New Pussycat", with its nouveau, Parisienne architecture and ironwork. Since I'm having trouble putting imagery on my blog, the curious amongst you may see the new pieces by clicking on the flickr link.
I just wonder because even though all the growing things are still brown and bleak and dormant, the birds are making noise like they haven't since last spring. It's just a matter of time I suppose.
Medieval Fair is just around the corner - first weekend of April - but I have plenty to keep me busy until then. There's a glass and mixed media mobile (one amongst many) called "Ophelia" on display at Los Milagros on NW 16th street, Oklahoma City. The opening reception Saturday night brought together a great collection of creative sorts and what a wide variation on the mobile theme! Much fun.
I sent several entries for the LOVE Mail Art call, but will only know if any got accepted by attending the opening of that exhibit, which (I think) is Feb. 14, noonish, in the underground gallery, below downtown OKC. Check back, as I plan to take my camera and document what I find. Should be interesting.
The late afternoon sun changes everything on my desk into a brief still life:
Things change, things stay the same.
I have to admit, if I had the opportunity to revisit a time in history for a week, or a day, I'd bypass the pivotal moments. You wouldn't find me witnessing the signing of the Magna Carta or the Declaration of Independence. I wouldn't sit at the feet of Jesus, or follow Mother Teresa, or listen to a speech by Martin Luther King Jr. Maybe I'm horrible and shallow, but at least I'm honest. While I'd be terribly tempted to wander the streets of Paris, and sit in the sidewalk cafes of the creatively charged between-the-wars era, I'd even bypass that for the chance to transport myself to Coney Island circa 1910. I've read descriptions, and seen photos and grainy film footage, but just imagine being surrounded by the thousands of electric lights, the sights, the sounds, the smells of that vibrant snippet of time. To an unjaded populace, the competition of the parks to be the biggest, brightest, strangest, most frightening, must have been beyond imagining. It's beyond my imagining now, hence my deep desire to experience it for myself.
Now, I've been lucky enough to visit Coney Island in this century, and seen the sea from the Wonder Wheel, and braved the Cyclone (it was a Monday so the freak show was closed), but the ghosts rustling amongst the discarded debris on a grey, foggy, modern summer day are sad shadows of what used to be. So, if you know of a time machine, sign me up. I'll even wear my top hat. Or maybe I'll buy one there....
