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Most of the damage from hurricane Helene is east of where I live. The town of Asheville seems devastated in areas near the rivers that run close to town. So much damage. Here the wind brought down leaves that were still green. I saw no trees down from those winds.

Earlier this week I invited two women from the neighborhood to come here and have some wine and snacks. It was a lovely visit. They wanted to know about the artworks in the house, so I talked about the stories behind the pieces. It was so nice to have such an interest in what I live with.

I loaned them copies of all the books now available on Amazon under the name, Sandy Webster and S. Webster. I am not into selling the books so much as having them available to those interested. I look forward to hearing what they think.

And this week I have been working on getting The Fairy Book in print. At first I thought a size a bit bigger than the original would work. But when the artist proof arrived, it was too large. I went back to a 5″ x 7″ book and it seems just right.

But looking closely at the images, I decided to make some color adjustments on some of them. Now the next artist proof arrives this coming Wednesday. If all looks okay, I will approve it for publication and it should be available in a couple of weeks.

This book was so much fun to illustrate. I used the generous gift from Lorraine O’Brien of books she printed with Eucalyptus leaves to contact print pages of concertina books. She is an Australian who has been in several of my classes there over the years. In these books she had a way of folding up cut corners to create pockets on each page. So when I photographed each page, the folded up triangle shows. It makes more sense in the original because you can reach inside or fold the pocket down. In the photographing to get the picture of each page, there is this odd diagonal line.

Also the issue was how to space the illustrations on pages that turn separately so that illustrations that connect could still appear to be connected.  A border of one half inch solved the issue because the inside (gutter margin) sandwiches the images next to each other. I like how it looks now and especially how it feels in the hand.

It is the same size as Burke and Wills and Scrabble. 

This is a short blog because not much is going on. So just a catch up. Hopefully more next week.

Til then….

I was reminded that I was off by one week for joining my friends in Tasmania for their gathering. So had to get busy doing some more pages in The Gathering Book so as to keep in touch. They should all be ready to pack up and head home by the time they see this post. Anyway, I was looking for more images where I have used stitch and drawing and got caught up in my own history of artworks using cloth, thread, and pencil.

Here are some:

This one I put in because the small wooden tools were bought at WafuWorks just outside of Hobart, Tasmania.

Both of these are from a book I made to get through the hard times of three years ago.

Then this from 2003-4 of remembering our artist retreat gatherings in different parts of the country. We started with the original site of Black Mountain College and rented a large old house that could hold us all with our own rooms. Each day we met after breakfast, talked about what we would be doing for the day about our art practice, and then at five o’clock, stop, have wine, show our progress and get feedback. It wasn’t a retreat practice that all could keep up with over the next few years but was invaluable to some of us who stuck with it. Next we went off to the northwest followed by a retreat at Ghost Ranch.

I made this book about those times that still inspires me with its sketches, collected bits, and writings.

What I liked (and still do) about this book is the sound it makes. The yellowish pages were a yellow tracing paper that came in a roll.  After I cut several sheets, they were stitched to some odd synthetic mesh fabric I had. The pages were smeared with paint and shellac before I added gessoed sections to draw on. Some scraps of my pajamas that I wore at the retreats were added to pages with fused photos on them of special places.

To hold this book and hear it talk to me is such a wonderful experience. Then, when I thumb through it and am reminded of the passion I had for making art that mattered….well, there is nothing quite like it. I miss being in the company of those who know what I am feeling.

Over the years I have made more work. Not for the market. But work that needed to be seen, exhibited and then mostly buried when the time came. That work not put to rest, I live with here or have given to those who understand how much it meant to me.

Anyway, I enjoyed the look back this morning and will find more to show and talk about in other blogs.

Also this week…baking a quiche. Delicious!

I am trying to get the Fairy book illustrations into a small book form. I asked for an artist proof to see how it looked with slightly larger images. It simply does not work. So back to the drawing board for resizing and color corrections. It is so hard to tell by computer images. I need to touch it and look close at each page.

Better get on with it. Maybe a glass of wine….

Til later…

 

I met this man on the street as I was leaving the coffee shop and asked if I could take his picture. Then I asked how he was doing in this deeply trump town. His upbeat answer was that “It is hard to be angry with Uncle Sam.” I admired him for this. Especially when I had been told that a local business tried to run him off the sidewalk in front of their store. He reminded them that it was public property and he would walk wherever he wanted…”this is America” he reminded them.

In my neighborhood there is a corner of four houses displaying trump signs. After the debate earlier this week and the obvious decline into the deplorable behavior of their choice to run this country, I would have thought they’d be embarrassed enough to pull their signs in. But, no, all are firmly in place.

And because there are new people moving in, I am embarrassed for them. And ordered my equal-sized Harris for president sign. It will be delivered and stuck in the ground this Sunday. I will quickly take a picture of it in place before it will maybe disappear. Funny how only Democrat signs go missing in this country since trump controls the minds of his believers.

Please let this year be the end of the abhorrent behavior that has taken over an entire political party in this country.

My television died this week. And because I have a kind cleaning lady with an even kinder husband, my new one was quickly hooked up and the old one taken away.

A neighbor and I wanted to have Mexican food but realized that it tastes better with a margarita. A margarita makes driving back home hazardess. So I asked at the liquor store what I needed to make them at home. And was told there exists an already mixed margarita they could sell me instead…Jose Cuervo golden margarita in a nice large bottle. So I brought it home, set up our bar area, bought chips, salsa, and guacamole to go with our take out chicken taco salads.

We finished the meal off with a strawberry/margarita sorbetto. It seems we are both too old to have had a second margarita, so called it a night at seven. Both of us wanted time to rest up before the presidential debate starting in two hours. And I must say that in 2016 I quit hanging an American flag. Embarrassed for my country and having a hard time trying to explain the fear, selfishness, and ignorance that put such a foul human being in the top office to totally befuddled Australians and Canadians, I quit taking pride in our country. But after Joe Biden stepped aside in a selfless move to put his very competent vice president forward as candidate for president, I am breathing the sigh of relief shared by the rest of the free world. I might even get myself a flag!

Here are a couple shots of inside my house where I spend time when it involves food and drink. I have no idea why I took them, but here they are.

It is a good day for writing, so I am going back to my short story, Shadows, and maybe a bit of poetry.

Til later…..

I think the time is flying by in weeks.  Here it is Saturday again. So the day starts with laundry and vacuuming. Latte and English muffin. Water the gardens (which are minimal). Accepting an invitation to meet neighbors later this weekend. Once all of that is done, then pick up with my audio book from the library and draw something.

The basket makers of Tasmania were gathering again so I had to add more to my Gathering Book.

The other day on the way back from the gym.

Night before last my television decided to quit. a year and a half was all it had in it. I spent over an hour on the phone with a heavily-accented technical help person who slowly, very slowly took me through all the steps to get it up and running again. To no avail. I ordered a new one. It will come on Monday. Perhaps when my cleaning lady is here. Hopefully after I return from my early morning every five-week hair appointment.  Then it is just unplug one and plug another in. Simple, right?

Tomorrow morning I will mix up some insect control compound to spray around the house. My cleaning lady says I will only have to do it twice a year. It is time, as the crickets like to come in from the chilly night. Mostly they stay hidden until the cats coax them out. They won’t eat them, which I am happy for. But a lonely male, whining, cricket hidden under a bookcase is not something I want to hear all night.

I went to poetry this week and read Old. The critique comments on the copies returned were positive. But I think that is mostly due to the easy association they had with the idea of arriving in that place themselves. I need to get back to writing more. Since I have decided to not make art work that will only pile up, I need something for my creative mind that will not slow down. This next week I should promise myself to finish a short story and get The Fairy Book available to the public. I do have it all laid out and only need to go over it again. Re-read the introduction and send it in.

I have yet to understand my fellow writers’ need to be recognized and published in esteemed collections. What does it matter? It is the writing that seems so much more important than having some distant and unknown “authority” claim you have been accepted and now recognized. I see that it might matter greatly if you are adding it to a resume that will get you further in a career. But otherwise, just write and then write some more. And do it because the words can’t stay bottled up inside. They need to be lined up on a page, one following the other, until it is said, and then you can get on with the discovery of what comes next.

Here is a bit of philosophical observation from this morning.

There is still way too many “things” still taking up space in my house. Mostly here in the studio….materials, books, tools. How much of this will I even use once I  realized that it won’t be needed. Without students that I would meet on a regular basis, there is little opportunity to get the things into hands that can use it to help their visions be realized. It is hard to keep our work spaces from looking like an old man’s shed full of the “just in case I need it” accumulation.

But, it will find its way out of here one way or another.

I think I am going to pour an early  glass of wine and listen to a man read me a story.

Til later….