Yeah, I know the actual lyrics are about yellow snow, but I’m not talkin’ bout yellow snow, I’m talkin’ bout pink snow, yo! It is falling. The pink trees weren’t full bloom for even a week before the steaming hot pre-emptive summer came last week and scorched everything in its path. I hate summer. I’ll say it right now. But I hate winter worse, because it means no playground fun, just indoor insanity and depression.
So, after chatting with Lixilambert, I decided not to enter Camera Morte images into the NY Photo Festival, deadline today. $80 is a lot of money, and that’s what I’d end up paying to submit my work, and I am diametrically opposed to paying someone to let me show my art. What does diametrically mean? I can use it in a sentence but if hard-pressed to explain myself, I would probably fall short. Here’s my guess: diametrically means: very, at one’s very base, absolutely. Now let’s find out what it really means… in direct opposition. My definition was not correct, but my use of the word was. I believe many of the words in my vocabulary are used in this manner; they sound like they are supposed to be next to other words, and when used with those words, they make sense to someone, or they’d call me out on it. Right? Anyway, the NY Photo Festival, yeah. I don’t want to pay money to show CM images. I will know when the right time to put them out into the world is, and I will know the way in which they need to be presented. This is not that time.
Paintings from CM are going smashingly, tho, if I do say myself. I LOVE painting from these pictures! More liberating than I could have ever imagined. Started a large, 24″H x 30″W painting on wood panel today. I think the image may have been of a daffodil, but now it’s a big smear of color hovering in the center of a bunch of grass looking, grayed-out shapes. Got real earthy in the color choices for underpainting. I haven’t felt this loose and tuned into the physicality of the paint in years and years. I can’t believe I am still able to indulge in this fantastic act. Thank you, parents! Without you, this would not be happening, at least not on such a big and satisfying level. I don’t think my parents read this, which is probably for the best in a way. But the thankful energy has left me and is being directed at them as we speak/write/read.
This weekend with no spouse is proving A-OKAY so far. The house is a bit of a pigsty and I don’t care. Jimmy crack corn and I don’t care about that, either. I still did a few loads of laundry and picked up some (barely), and all are in bed and quiet engulfs the house. Old pal Mara (aka Kleio’s Belly for those in the know) is in town this weekend, so it is a full-on, 100% house full o’ ladies. The girls are assimilating to the new way of life, that will only continue till we pick up dada at the airport Sunday evening. Time, for toddlers, is immediate — they have no way of knowing if and when he will return, or even really why he dissappeared. I’ve been telling them he went into an airplane to see some friends. Who knows what they understand. They are anything but oblivious. I am always surprised when people think their little kids don’t notice when important people come and go in their lives. They notice everything, all the time.