Sunday, February 28, 2010

Good news, bad news, and bird meat.


Wow. There’s actually art to be discussed. It’s some good news, and some bad.

Good news: I finally made it out to Wednesday morning painters, and submitted this little bugger to a member show at Zazzy’s. The show will be up from March until April, if I remember correctly. This little bugger’s strictly not-for-sale, as we’ve already got a place for him on our wall at home, but I’ll be making a companion piece to it as soon as the brass knuckles of inspiration strike.

Bad news: On Tuesday, a prominent member of WMP community died in a bus accident, in Florida. Her husband’s been hospitalized, and, last anyone’s heard, is still in critical condition.

Good news: Art Grrls meeting for March is coming up!

Bad news: As mentioned in the previous post, Virginia is due for less money for the arts. How come anything –culturally relevant- is the first thing to go under the axe? No wonder Europeans think of us as uncultured/we think of Americans as uncultured/we think of ourselves as uncultured. (Damn you, lack of clear national identity!)

Good news: Second round of Straight Dope postcard exchange
is about to take off, and I’m in with some handmade postcards!


A German-Russian friend of mine (hereafter to be called Anya) and I went to see “Dear John”. Mind you, the original idea was to see “Shutter Island”, but some of us (not me) decided that it was a bit too close to the horror, and backed out. “Dear John” is based on the works of the same guy responsible for “The Notebook”, which means that the entire movie is a twisted affair of a love story with none too good of an ending.

Dear John definitely lacked something in the end, but was not a terrible movie, if human stories are what floats your pickle or tickles your boat. I’m not sure what to make of its repeated brushes with the topic of autism; it’s almost as if the directors try to develop it into something meaningful, but fail miserably. Even milder forms of autism, such as the one that John’s father seems to have, is portrayed as one-dimensional and bordering on ‘retardation’. Thinking on it further, this deserves a healthy dose of recreational outrage.

In the end, politics of autism and living with autism is a can of worms that I’m not ready to write about, just yet.

Other non-artsiness!

Yesterday, we went out to Johnson city, the home of the nearest Panera (oh, ye little sourdough bread bowls, how does my heart rejoice in your plump presence!), a living mall (vs. dead mall in another adjacent town), and the only large crafts' store for dozens of miles around, namely, Michael's. At Michael's, I was forcibly removed from the paintbrush isle, but managed to snag two skeins of yarn, one- a variation of chocolate-to-blue, and another a silky, dark cyan-gray. Either one may end up being a scarf. Or a blanket. Or a shapeless blob. Errant makes no promises.

Afterwards. El and I went to a certain Inn for a social occasion. The place is absolutely gorgeous inside, not to mention historical (women's college and a hospital during the Civil war, among other things), with exceptionally high ceilings, and a nice collection of oil paintings on the walls. I'd kill to actually stay there for a day or two.

The party was somewhat awkward, as both of us are introverts, and sitting in the room filled with Elrin's coworkers does not make one an extrovert. (They did have a DJ and strobe lights, though).

The food, catered by the Inn, was satisfactory, with miniature chocolate-dipped cake bits and cups of cheesecake for dessert. El asked for two slices of turkey, got 1-lbs chunks on his plate, and promptly pawned one off onto me. Darling, I might be getting ready to do the entire “till death do us part” thing, but please, don’t make me deal with your excess bird meat.

And then there was Uno. … T’was a rather eventful Saturday.