Amongst yesterday's happenings went to the fully-formed Burchfield-Penney Art Center's first members' op in the new 33mill digs.
Walked on over there with Annie and met up with Kerly, running into a plethora of favoured individuals, including the parents.
Deciding that carpeted galleries are a no-no and now the BPAC is carpet-free.
During the pre-op tour months ago decided that their new sky-high gallery would be, as PB says (in German accent), THE SHIT.
It is.
In it is a lovely Christy piece that I had forgotten that I'd ever seen, and a moth piece by Sean S., and a Juan Puerdigero that I always loved.
Could not seem to get a glass of vino and after the day wished for one.
Kept hearing sad tales of friends waiting for half an hour for a draft beer.
And the guards keep everyone from sipping through the entire space.
So waited until afterwards and had some lovely bottle with the ladies at the nouveau wine bar at Main and Va.
The owner of the wine joint came over to say hi.
I told him he should consider some thick cafe curtains to soften up the windows.
Kerly said he should consider buying better bread for his little sandwiches.
He agreed to the latter.
At the BPAC decided that I really should check out a few things.
Touched one of the little glass mushrooms on an upper level and a guard sauntered up to ask me if it was in fact my own work.
I gave her a demi-hairy eyeball and said No, I'm just touching it.
She said not to touch it.
In the presence of John Opera and a few other friends I stated that I had no regrets, I was glad that I'd touched it and I'd do it all over again.
We are now friends.
Yours Truly enjoys a wide array of friends gleaned from many modes of friendship, including the rare haranguing of art security guard.
So went into the auditorium, very dark, with Dawn and then Annie.
Trying to see how it looked.
Finally Annie and I decided we could use our iPhones as little torches.
YT employed her new virtual Zippo lighter app to little effect.

All in all a lovely art-ridden day.
Today is all work, some play.
The MC is crisp of air and scorching of sun.

Scorching, crisp Love, Love.

Perhaps as of late You have heard Yours Truly refer to something she lovingly calls an Art Bomb.
What in H-E-DOUBLE-HOCKEY-STICKS is an Art Bomb.
Following is a pictorial essay on her Art Bomb privée.






Showing some new and older pieces at Annie Adams's Neighborhood Art Collective and also have a three-photog show opening on Tuesday at Studio Hart.
All new work for the latter, a blend of still life images as well as a return to the ongoing hand series.
Below is YT, the one responsible for the strewn bubble wrap, boxes, flora, fauna, and Sharpies.
Onwards.
Today Liz and I spoke to high school guidance counselors about the merits - no demerits - of becoming wiser/stronger/faster at the Middling City's BigU.
Quite happy to do so, always.
A few of them took my bizcard so that some journos-to-be may contact YT directly for some hap-snappy pep talks about the BigU and the BigF. As in Future.
Time to race back out to the former wetlands for a big delivery.
Always.

Love of only bombs that spew Art.

Originating from the Middling City, with it as orientation both conscious and sub, view first snow with glee.
And then, completely automatic, comes the beginning strains of It'sBeginningtoLookALotLikeChrissssmussssss.
There have been random vehicles for the past few days showing up in the MC with piles of snow on bumpers and the like but today only a smattering.

Yours Truly tells those who inquire about precip that the MC has a Multi-Month Appearance & Disappearance Snow Plan.
But, here's my $50 advice, buy good boots, colorful hats and gloves and scarves and you'll look forward to the precip, the smatterings, the blizzards.
You, tossing colorful scarf over shoulder, pulling hat down to eyebrows, stomping into boots with good socks, will scoff at the swirling flakes.
Unless, of course, your car has skidded off the roadway and You are doing the ice rock & roll.
Onwards.
JW,Esq. wrote to a bunch of MC Advocates lamenting the wide right of Bills last night, believed he saw the ghost of Scott Norwood.

This is a very very MC blogpost.
Onwards to more universal matters.
And Hello to COBoy.

No One is the Same, Love.

Had la famille Allen over to the inhouse studio for some swingin' art making moments yesterday and they refused the VC as they had yoga later in the afternoon.
Image above is Hand and Daisy Pieces.
Thank you to the Shiney Apple artist, a new art mentor of sorts, for words to move past lodged thought to making and doing.
And all this still action makes me miss digvid, a shocking development.

What is best about making & doing.
Well, lest You do not know I tell.
Creating your own language, a place that is another world, a parallel place informed by all that is.



Is Love.