don't try this at home

... because usually you get a porn site, but I was looking for artspan (dot com) and instead typed artspan (dot org) and lo, behold, and all that jazz, I stumbled across all these fantastic bay area artists who had recently exhibited work in their open studios.

i love these! photos by Audrey Heller :




a print by Hilary Williams :


ethereal exteriors by Ivy Jacobsen :



(oil, bronzing powder, & sheet music on canvas!)


birds and horses by Lee Cline :







I'm very partial to birds and horses (being an occasional horse painter myself).. and cakes ..

cakes by Mark Katzman :



they remind me, of course, of Wayne Thiebaud. I love Thiebaud's paintings, but pictures don't really get the whole idea across. Up close, they're all shiny like cream cheese frosting and the gallery security staff pace around muttering "please do not lick the paintings." Here are some of his:







I'm posting from work as a standby painter on a movie, my posh gig for the week. I occasionally have to run to set and patch a nail hole, but otherwise am left to my own devices: paid to blog, read, write, eat catered food, and take naps.

Glamorous Hollywood! I knew I would find it someday.

Happy holidaze!
Advice for the new year: don't make any resolutions you really don't want to keep.

fitter, happier

I think my computer is trying to tell me something.
First, there was the Johnny Appleseed note.

"Dear Kate,
Here's to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They're not fond of rules. And they have no respect for the status quo. You can praise them, disagree with them, quote them, disbelieve them, glorify or vilify them. About the only thing you can't do is ignore them. Because they change things.
Take care, John Appleseed."

Thanks, John.
And then there was Pandora.

"Based on what you've told us so far, we're playing this track because it features electric rock instrumentation, mild rhythmic syncopation, minor key tonality, electric rhythm guitars and an unintelligible vocal delivery."

Then there was iPhoto.


Hm. Not sure how this all ties together ..

With this I conclude day nine of my annual ten day fast, having scoured all illogical places in my apartment (the refrigerator, inside books, the newspaper recycling, the cat food cabinet) for the Netflix flick I need to return, to no avail.

Maybe food will help.

things it might not suck to be, 2007 special Christmas edition

1. cake decorator
2. race car driver
3. automated teller money filler
4. antiques dealer
5. photo editor
6. wrapping paper designer
   
7. fashion photographer
8. shoe designer
9. teacup appraiser
10. horse groomer
11. dueling piano bar pianist
12. underwater yoga instructor
13. magazine editor
14. paint color namer
15. barbie doll face painter
16. gingerbread house decorator
    
17. toy designer
18. furniture designer
19. figure-outer of which christmas light is out and thereby precluding the function of the whole string
    
20. bird illlustrator (drawer of bird illustrations, not drawer of illustrations on birds)
21. children's room muralist
22. mannequin dresser
23. dog reindeer costume seamstress
    
24. kitten collector
25. restaurant reviewer
26. miniature golfer
27. carousel painter
28. interesting hat model
29. script writer
30. story developer
31. interloper
32. mean santa claus
33. mad scientist
    
34. wedding photographer
35. circus attendee
36. remote island explorer
37. matchmaker
38. gargoyle documentor
39. crossword puzzler
40. sunglasses wearer
41. scarf knitter
42. whistle blower
43. exorcist
44. fortune teller
45. bank teller
46. thumb twiddler
47. package photo paint-by-numbers doer
48. back massage tester
49. tinseller
    
50. snake handler
51. art therapist
52. assistant to Will Shortz
53. road trip taker
54. cat handler
55. documentor of ugly places with idyllic names (i.e. "Paradise Ranch," "Crown Disposal Co.")
56. chandelier maker
57. folded paper snowflake slicer
    
58. radio program noisemaker
59. rock star
60. alphabetizer
61. children's TV show producer
62. wart hog

"Manhattan Project"

I've moved the Kid Nation pictures to Picasa.

I'm leaving Tim here, to watch the sheep.

giraffe

cat alarm clock

this video cracks me up.



It reminds me of this old Sandra Boynton mug that was in our family for years (who has it now? I don't know, but I should be up for my turn at it, along with the abstract Maziarz painting my parents got as a wedding present. To me it's always been a furniture store. If you ever see the painting, you should be armed with the knowledge that I was nearsighted by age five).

Oh how I wish I could find a picture of the mug. It was purple and saturated with hippos fornicating in every possible configuration.

Wonder how much it would fetch on eBay? But really, I doubt we could ever part with it ...

rose petals and coconut

Natalie brought me to an amazing sushi/potluck Thanksgiving. I spent much time in the kitchen making the sushi, thus ensuring a repeat invite next year. Someone contributed a turkey with a duck in it (this I discovered in conversation, not by inspecting its innards). There was a sacrificial fire in a welded flower firepit made for the occasion, and the hostess introduced this thanksgiving ritual: everyone wrote on a little paper something he or she was thankful for (the French have a gender neutral pronoun that doesn't turn you into an inanimate object. I suppose I'm not keeping with the Thanksgiving spirit by being pissy about it, but it's necessary to sublimate one's disgust surrounding the history of the holiday if one wants to have a proper, celebratory Thanksgiving anyway; so best I merely expel my pissiness on pronouns and get on with things) .. on etait thankful for. (maybe that's right. it's been only about eighteen years since I studied French. And I doubt the French let you stick a preposition at the end of a sentence either.)

Anyway, then we each took a rose petal (representing things for which to be grateful) and a piece of a smashed up coconut (ego, things to be let go) and were instructed to approach the fire, say a little prayer if desired, and drop the lot inside. "I ate my ego" said one guest, en route to the fire. I had taken a small piece of coconut, broken it in half and returned part of it, concerned there wouldn't be enough to go around. Oops.

Yesterday I went on the lunch ride at Sunset Ranch with Sharon and Lou and various members of their entourage. Appropriately, I rode a mustang who wouldn't stay in a single file line and, as a parting gesture, smashed me into a solid wall of rock.

Till next time.

Will be throwing much coconut into flame.