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A very large rally last weekend. I saw no trumpers driving around being their usual ornery selves.  My job is to drive through with flag-waving supporters in the car giving the thumbs up to those waving their signs along the route.

Speaking of which, here is an idea I had for those looking to design a local billboard.

The “next time vote” part came from a discussion with Aussies over wine six years ago. They were completely surprised that so few Americans vote and that those that do would pull a trump lever. There country will fine those who do not vote and increase the fine if it happens again.  Here, Republicans are trying very hard to eliminate voting altogether so their despicable dear leader can stay in power. Now with trump into his second term and hell bent on ruining world orders and decency, the Aussies are convinced we are headed into irredeemable times. I don’t disagree with that assessment.

In my studio I am working on the last of the smarmy pincushions of this administration. I hate even having to touch them. But all will be part of another solo exhibition in the garage.

So far there are thirty-six. I had to order more pins.

Someone should come up with a game of “Pin the Swastika on ______”.  And it bears repeating that if I worked in a restaurant and had to bring food to Stephen Miller, I would spit in it first.

Anyway, in the exhibition there will be many red ties that can be handed out like “Medals of Freedom” to the creepy ones on his cabinet that are not noteworthy enough to merit pins. But there will be a list of contenders. It will be a pleasure to write a paragraph for each pincushion in the exhibition. So many have faded into the unknown. But Sean Spicer needs to be identified as the first press secretary parroting his dear leader on inauguration crowd sizes who went on to cha cha on Dancing with the Stars. And the nation actually thought that was our low point.

So out to dinner with another Manhattan before salmon over kale Caesar salad. I think I will make them myself here at home from now on….very “thin”.

Dilly keeps an eye on me while Sadie purrs with such intensity when I hold her that my Afib seems to calm itself to a single syncopated heartbeat.

Okay. Enough. I am finishing my G&T before heading to bed with another British crime series. Speaking of British series, I watched the first of the new season of Great British Baking Show. It really is unnecessarily stupid and so much less informative than it used to be. Too dumb to bother watching another episode.

Til later….

It has been several days between blogs. Still not doing much in the way of artwork…but some writing. While looking through the “Artwork” folder last week I found these small water colored boats. I called them Air boats. Probably thought they could be used in a story of some kind…maybe a children’s book. They were never used, so I resized some to post here. The first one seems appropriate for where I am now…stuck!

I made them from bits and pieces around the studio several years ago. These images are slightly larger than the actual watercolors. Funny how many times I have drawn, painted, and built boats. I do not like water, so the boat has always represented safety…a place that offered protection. Anyway, here they are with the uglier ones left behind.

It is time for another political work to be installed in the garage. I am thinking all those pin cushions from the Trump sycophant line up being marched and falling into a garbage bag. The problem is, no dumping would be complete without the horrible Kristi Gnome, Marco Stupido, and, of course, the so much despised, Karoline B’Leav-it. So this week I will pull out what is left of the felt and get to work. The RFK Jr. pincushion has a bloody bear’s head to hang on to, so Kristi needs a dog fighting back. Karoline needs loads of crosses and be standing on a stack of Trump bibles. Marco just needs that blank, vacant drowsy stare of someone without a soul.  J D Vance? Crotch-hugging short pants and a passport to somewhere else. Not sure I will ever see them all go on trial, but I can hope.

So busy week ahead I guess.

I went out to dinner with a friend last night and with a lack of bar snacks, we ordered one of their pretzels. I came hanging off a banana rack…most of it went uneaten.

I have been fixing myself one good cocktail each afternoon before dinner. Here is my Negroni from two nights ago.

So now I will get back to writing. I need to go over my note-taking done at the bar the last couple of weeks to see if there is something worth digging into further. But first I need to finish a poem and short story I am working on. Later this fall I should have another book available through Amazon.

Til later…..

I opened a folder marked “Artwork”. It was back before I put in separate folders that claimed the contents were certain kinds of artwork, like books, sculpture, etc.

And I thought it would be fun to pull certain pieces up for moving over here and talking about them.  Once moved over here, I walked off the rest of my 8,000 steps and fixed myself a turmeric/ginger old fashioned. Delicious! Anyway just a side note here. I went to the bar Tuesday at 4. Took my new spot. Had a Manhattan brought over by my new friend. Started writing on my legal pad, and some short time later ordered a pizza. By the time it came, I asked for a box. A fellow came up to me and asked if I was saving the seat next to me for someone. My purse was on the seat. I told him “No” and looked down the bar. It was filled and so were the tables behind me. The bartender (my new friend) moseyed over and said, “This isn’t working for you, is it Sandy.” “Not really. Why so many on a Tuesday?” And he said, “Because they have not been able to get in for two days.” Then he suggested we try again in October when most will go home to Florida…a state where even The Diary of Anne Frank can now be banned.  So I agreed and will return in another month or so.

So to start, I wanted to talk about how hard it can be to realize that making art for the shear joy of it is getting harder as I age. Why bother? is the question. There is no passion for the making except if it is political statement work. And I will do more for the walls in my garage as soon as I have the energy. But I am alone on that subject. Just this morning I took some flowers to a neighbor who reminded me that she holds opposite political views. I do not understand how she can not see where all this insanity is headed. So we had coffee together in her kitchen and I am accepting that my affection for her is more important right now. It would not matter what I could say, she is locked into her thinking. So I told her that I understood that a person’s identity and sense of self is totally anchored in their beliefs.

So back to artwork. This is an image of the burial of so much of my artwork. I am so glad to have made this choice to see the end of these many, many pieces.

To have this control over what happens is so much better than the unexpected purge of your art by the whims of Nature. This from the unforgiving fires of Dunally, Tasmania some years ago. I went there shortly after so much was lost and was caught up with this image I took of her sewing machine and ironing board. My visit there resulted in an artwork given to their archive center.

At least I had control over the end of my own artworks via a burial.

Other images that caught my eye this morning. This detail of a collaged work. I love owls and doing wood cuts of them for printing.

And my love of so many trips to Australia came through in my art and writings. These burned through Eucalyptus leaves that showed up in so many places with small etched prints of the outback.

I bought a burning tool like artist, Dan Essig ‘s after taking a short weekend workshop with him on surface design and using his. I still hope to use it again but not sure on what….just one of those versatile tools that can evoke so many various thoughts. I still have loads of these Eucalyptus leaves waiting for a place to be of use.

And this one….a detail of one of my antiwar pieces. We are still seeing the death of peace doves with no end in sight with the despicable world leaders taking hold of all our futures.

Here is a detail of the textures of one of these pieces. I love the color and the desire to touch these works.

And this extremely complex egg tempera painting from a photograph I took while staying at a shearer’s shed in Victoria, Australia. I was showing a slide of it while teaching over there, and a young woman came up to me to say she grew up on this sheep farm and recognized the kitchen fireplace. I told her if she gave me her address, I would send it to her. I did when I got home and never heard from her. But that never mattered. I was convinced that she not only received it but had it framed and hung it in a place of pride to tell her children all about the foods that came off that stove.

The painting is only 4″ by 12+” but if you know egg tempera from making gesso from scratch to coat many times while sanding each layer before adding egg yolk to powdered pigment, you understand that it takes more than just a little love for the subject matter.

And this caught my eye as well. It speaks of where I might be now with making art……”toward the unknown”….

Til later….. my glass is empty, and I have the most delicious scones I baked yesterday with ham, cheeses, spinach and scallions to heat up for dinner.

I saw my new doctor this week. Only in his thirties, very good hugger, honest and fun. It is a good match where he insists on first names only and could answer all my questions as well as respond to my many observations on aging. He sincerely hopes he can fill Teresa’s shoes to some extent. I like him and look forward to the next time. When I asked him if I needed to sit naked except for a tissue draped over my shoulders, his response was, “When someone needs to look at the private area, a woman doctor will come in with a female assistant.” I replied, “Good, that saves us both some embarrassment.” I asked if he was going to tell me not to enjoy the alcoholic beverages so much, his reply was, “You are 81 years old! I see no problem with continuing with whatever you have been doing.”

Yes, new doctor is a very good match!

So I went out to celebrate and ordered a Manhattan at a different bar and got some writing done while staying for a pizza as well.

I liked the bartender and it appears the feeling is mutual. He is just enough crusty with an intuition of when to just serve and walk away. His girlfriend is the bartender at another favorite place. Who wouldn’t want to sit a spell in this place?

This is a new basil drink served in a rocks glass minus the rocks. Both bartenders know not to bring me drinks with stems unless it is wine. Then dinner of a quickly consumed crabcake followed by this special of crispy eggplant rolls in marinara.

You’d think I was a food editor with this blog, but no, just an update of my socializing this week….enjoying my own company and those helping me do it. And a very good thing is that the second place has a lovely young girl waitress who is an artist. So her and her bartending mother will come over soon to go through art supplies I am never going to use again. So many papers for book arts going unused! I like her quirky mixed media drawings and am happy to pass supplies on to her.

Also this week, I decided to drop out of both my poetry groups. they have become too large and offer little in good critique. Mostly it becomes a discussion of where to go hear and read poetry, where to market, where to pay for advice, etc. So, at my age and having limited patience, I am staying home, doing more writing and occasional private protest art to hang in my garage to photograph and post. I am trying to fill the vast void of old fashioned artist protest art seen on FB.

And almost everywhere I look is a scene or person begging to have a story made up, written down, and put on pages.

Today is laundry day, so time to take things from the dryer to put away. The yard is watered and a friend is bringing me his PBS series of Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy. I remember going to the theater to see the movie a few years back and being totally captivated by the burnt umber hue of the entire film.

Well, that’s it for now. I will leave you with the latest simple poem that made me ask the question about using the “F” word.

The Watch Reads 2:09                 S. Webster

 

I am going to write

something.

It’s the middle of the

afternoon.

My mind is coming up

blank.

I need a full, complete

sentence.

But all I have is one

word.

Over and over and over

again.

So I say it out loud, then

louder.

Until the watch reads

2:14.

 

And then there is this:

And this: A Chinese pain spray a friend gave me that is supposed to really work. I will save it for the occasional charley horse.

Aren’t you glad to see me sign off!!

Til later….