ASV Tour Draws A Crowd in Clinton Corners

Rather than clean out the barn, my husband suggested setting up a portable gallery under a rented tent for the Art Studio Views Labor Day tour. We had a few tense moments on Friday trying to figure out how to hang my photographs from the rented pipe and drape setup. Five trips to the hardware store and a lot of worrying on my part resulted in a simple, elegant solution involving chains, s-hooks and shower curtain rod hangars! It really looked beautiful (thanks Bill!). The weather was spectacular and a slight breeze drifted through as people wandered through the last 20 years of my photographs. My sister Margaret was such a huge help. She helped talk to people about my work and made tons of sales for me (my mom was her best customer!). I couldn't have dreamed up a better advocate. Her husband, Smitty, made delightful summer treats—heirloom tomatoes with celery on cucumber slices. I met many new neighbors and enjoyed talking at length to everyone, especially the handful of young aspiring artists and old family friend Jimmy Borghoff and his family. I was deeply touched by everyone's genuine interest in me and my work. Thank you all!

p.s. If you're wondering, I rented the tent from Paul Crittenden at Aladdin Tent 889-8547 in Hyde Park. He's wonderful to work with.

Jokers Are Welcome at Full Deck Design

I don't usually talk about my day job on this blog, but today I simply couldn't resist. I've just opened a boutique graphic design firm specializing in web and print media—Full Deck Design. My first job was to create a brand for an open studio tour for a group of artists. The artists love what I designed and are hoping it will attract lots of visitors this labor day. If you'd like to see it, check out a mini view on my newly launched website or check out the Art Studio Views website directly.

Please consider asking me for an estimate the next time you need web or print work. You'll get the full deck if you hire me!

Loved Lisbon

Lisbon is a charming city. The old trolley cars from San Francisco run up and down its steep hills. A broad, tree-lined central avenue reminiscent of La Rambla in Barcelona runs to the heart of the city. Much of the old town was completely wiped out by a devastating earthquake/tsunami. Since it was all rebuilt at the same time and under the control of a king, the buildings flow seamlessly into one another. Instead of marble, the Portuguese use an easy-to-carve type of lime that comes in shades of black, white, blue and rose. Tiles of it decorate event the sidewalks. The Monastery of Saint Jerome shows off spectacular carvings in the white lime. We didn’t have nearly enough time in Lisbon. I will definitely return one day.

Gray is the Color Porto

Porto, like the liquor of the same name, is an acquired taste. The gray skies melt into its gray buildings—broken only occasionally, and as a result, somewhat shockingly—by brilliantly -colored ceramic tile facades. The tiles apparently stand up to the stormy Atlantic weather. A brutal dictator, António de Oliveira Salazar, ruled Portugal from 1932 to 1968. The scars of his torture and pillage remain in the minds of its people. In a small town not far from the border, a statue of a broken chain celebrates their freedom upon his death.

Seaside in San Sebastian and Cathedral-side in Santiago de Compostela

One cool thing about traveling with a tour group is the local guide who introduces you to their city and its history. Cristina, our guide to San Sebastian was a chatty, lively woman who shared (perhaps too much) its history. Napoleon conquered the city in 1858. When the Spanish forces came to liberate them from his reign in 1863, they trashed the place and burned it to the ground. As a result, there are very few old buildings.

San Sebastian became a popular seaside resort when Queen Elizabeth visited as part of a cure for a herpes (!) condition. Her treatment included medication and a daily dip in salt water. An oxen-drawn carriage was pulled through the sea enabling the water to rise up through her skirts. At the end of her stay, the herpes was gone, she spoke of its beauty and its cure, and the place has been a hot spot for the rich and famous ever since.

Life in the Mountains of Northern Spain

Beautiful Barcelona

Thirty years ago, I went to the University of Barcelona for my junior year of college. A brief four years after Franco’s death, people were trying to rebuild the Catalan heritage that he’d tried hard to extinguish. Forbidden to speak their native language (a completely different tongue than Spanish) throughout his 40+ years in power, scholars were trying to piece together a dictionary from old-timers who could still remember it. Fancy my surprise upon landing to discover that no one wanted to speak the Spanish I’d come to learn!

Cell phones and computers didn’t exist and phone calls were prohibitively expensive so it was the first time I was really all on my own. Perhaps the best year of my life, I met all kinds of new people from all over Europe, ate (and loved) exotic food like octopus and artichokes and paella and ugly-looking mushrooms, learned to conserve water and heat and electricity and gas, and so much more.

A highlight of the year was my family’s trip to visit at Christmas. I was thrilled to show them the splendor of ancient and beautiful Barcelona. My mom was so excited to go to Spain, she’d booked their airline tickets before I’d even been accepted into the program. Thirty years later, she treated me to a three-week visit back to Spain. THANKS MOM!!!

A Feast for the Eyes

Miss me? Just back from three weeks touring Spain and Portugal with my Mom. What a treat! Here are some photos from the Boquería in Barcelona, a truly delicious place.

Obama Inspires Me

Yesterday I was proud to be an American. The world was watching and we didn’t disappoint. We showed that we can stand together despite our differences, graciously. His words glittered in the crisp January air and inspired millions including me. Never thought I’d quote Beyonce, but perhaps she expressed the exuberance of the younger generation best when she said, “He makes me want to be smarter; to be more involved.” Words to me that predict our dark days will pass, that our great nation is on the rise again. Good luck Mr. President.

Arctic Air Batters Artist

The weather turned brutally cold this past week in Dutchess County, New York; an indicator that my husband was soon to depart for Florida. With predictions of temperatures below zero and wind chills in the ridiculous numbers, I knew I needed to address a lurking problem with my car before he left. Over the New Year’s holiday there was one cold day that I couldn’t get my diesel jetta started.

So, I brought the car down to the shop thinking I needed new glow plugs. They couldn’t replicate the problem since the engine was warm (I hate it when they say stuff like that). But, they could see troubles. The intake hose (?) was so clogged air wasn’t getting in to the engine and the diagnostics indicated a bad glow plug harness. Sounded good. “Can you fix it today? My husband’s leaving at 4 am for Orlando.” Because they’re awesome guys and I’m a good customer, they managed to get it done. I hugged Kevin. Didn’t mind the $500 bill. And, miraculously the check engine light that has been on mysteriously for 5 years, was off.

Next morning, the car didn’t start. Aaaaaah. Ten degrees below zero. The third time I tried to turn over the engine, all the lights in the car blinked on and off and the clock reset itself to 12:00. Called the shop and they said, “now you’re describing a battery problem.” I rescheduled my morning appointment for afternoon and called my neighbor for a jump. The car took a few tries, but did fire up. I headed back to the shop. The battery tested fine (it was warm) but it was the battery that came with the car when I bought it in 2002. Okay. How much for a new one? “This is no ordinary battery; it’s massive,” they said. “This is a $200 battery.” They sold it to me for cost at $150 and didn’t charge me for labor. Two hours later I left and made my afternoon appointment. I didn’t hug anyone. The check engine light came back on.

The next morning, Saturday, we were supposed to have gone on a day-long trek through the woods dragging a sled with the cub scouts. Mercifully, it was cancelled due to cold. I was going to try and start that car anyway. I got up to shower and when I turned the faucet, nothing came out. Not even a drop. I groaned. Frozen pipes. The thermometer said 12 below. I called my engineer husband for advice. He was breakfasting (he was probably sitting at an outdoor café table in the sun). Stoke the fire in the wood heater and open the hatch to the attic (where the water pipes run), he suggested.

I also shut the window in the furnace room. It’s been open since another engineer friend came to visit and told us there was no ventilation in our house. I have never understood this. Just seems like a waste of heat to me. And now it seemed ridiculously naïve to have left it open and expose the water tank to 12 DEGREES BELOW ZERO! Also, this cute little Carolina wren has been coming in through that window every day for the last several. When I came home on Friday, he was perched on top of my brand new computer. I chased him into my bedroom and shooed him out an open window.

The water suddenly came on while we were eating breakfast. Yeah! I showered and went out to dare the car. I gave the glow plugs several cycles before turning the engine over. It didn’t fire the first time, but the second time it burped. By the fourth, the engine coughed into life. Yes!

So, in case you’ve been wondering why I haven’t been blogging about art—mine or anyone else’s—this is what I’ve been doing. This morning it’s 20 degrees, a virtual heat wave. It’s snowing at a pretty good clip. I’ll have to face the snow blower later. What do you think the chances are that it will start?

White Christmas

It's been a few years since we've seen snow like this. Aren't we lucky to live in such a beautiful place?

What a Party!

Thanks to everybody for making the opening of True Cowgirls a magical night! Great job on the photos, Nadine. Thanks for sharing.