I’m trying to clear up and consolidate a massive jumble of files and duplicates, the result of several years of just not being careful with how my work was stored on three or more different computers. There’s a lot of stuff like this photo, clearly made by me (the goose is part of an image on a set of old placemats we used to have). But what’s going on here? We may never know.
I’m currently in the thick of a big studio clean and rearrange, carving out a space to set up my indigo and other dye vats in the printmaking studio where there’s beautiful light and ventilation, unlike the dark and cramped laundry area where the dye vats currently reside. Today I moved the two-tier metal flat file unit and am spending some time decluttering the drawers as I move them. I found this great drawing, done *I think* by my friend Monica’s son, from back when I had my shop and public access studio. It appears to be a jewel thief being arrested under a crescent moon by a law enforcement officer who is simultaneously pointing a gun and eating Tic Tacs. Not sure if my favourite part is the fluffy police dog that says “reeef” or the giant ghost of my trusty spray bottle of watered down Simple Green.
As if that weren’t delightful enough, on the flipside is this portrait of me, wearing bright green glasses and a Pugs Not Drugs shirt and drawing a dinosaur. Which is pretty on brand.
Here’s the dinosaur I was drawing:
I saw a face in the tree, right about here:
See it?
Here:
Peter didn’t see it but he did see a rooster head, which he helpfully drew in red.
But wait, there’s another face, with a void on its cheek which contains the first face, or the rooster face, depending on what you see there:
This is essentially how most of our summer evenings on the porch go, unless there are interesting bugs in the garden or birds to look at with the binoculars. Also we talk constantly about time travel (why it isn’t possible but if it were, how it might work) and consciousness (on the scale of universes, as in, what if the universe is one giant organism). There are worse ways to while away a summer stuck at home.
I picked up an old scrapbook album in a thrift store over the weekend because of these fantastic hand-lettered shop signs that were still mounted in its pages.
Today I opened it up for a better look and came across this little pencil drawing of a bewildered Hitler tucked in the back. Surprise.
Look at this amazing thing I bought at the Goodwill today. It’s screenprinted on the back of a piece of convex glass, with a background of sky and ground offset printed on Masonite. Five dollars!
In all honesty the sticker is the only reason we bought this record.
I’m not sure where I picked up this wood type but these 8 pieces are all I have of this typeface. I only just noticed today that it’s enough to spell out HANK SNOW. I sort of feel like it’s my destiny to make prints about Hank now. If you’ve ever peeked inside my record collection you’ll know that’s just fine.
Seen at a little walk-up around the corner from our house.
I just started reading The Age of Innocence, which Peter signed out for me from the university library, where he is a librarian. Inside the book I found this list, in Peter’s writing, which has been hanging around in this library book since the last time it was signed out: by Peter, in 2007, right after our trip to Rock City (the photos of which the note is reminding him to post).
Me: hey here’s your reminder to blog about Kenny Rogers.
Peter: I. . . don’t think that’s what that says.
Here are my photos from Rock City, August 2007: ROCK CITY
Here are Peter’s: MORE ROCK CITY
I guess Edith Wharton isn’t all that popular around here.
Spotted while walking home from the studio: a tiny Rose of Sharon thriving in a difficult spot.
