Me to Philly

A little bit of exciting news today: I've been asked to contribute to the fantastic and informative blog Farm to Philly! My friend Erin is the head honcho over there and she writes for Grid magazine (I'm a HUGE fan of this publication) on behalf of the site. Erin also writes her own vegetarian-focused blog, Veggicurious. Check out my first post, all about DIY sauerkraut (a subject close to my heart).

The Fables of Aesop

"The Fables of Aesop," illustrated by Charles H. Bennett. I picked this up at a public library book sale for around $1. It's copyright is 1931. Incredible.



The drawings are unbelievable and the morals crack me up. Old Charles clearly decided to add his own political and social commentary to the traditional stories.



"In the trade of chestnut-stealing, it is the Cat comes in for the kicks, while the Monkey enjoys the halfpence."



"When the Recruiting Sergeant tempts you with the scarlet uniform, he says nothing about getting you into hot water."



"The race is not always to the swift."



Click the picture to read each story and see the illustrations in better detail. What a steal!

Winter Tracks

Tracking

It begins with a blanket of freshly fallen snow.



A sparrow (Passer domesticus) flying above sees a dark spot on the ground. She lands on the ground to investigate and hops about distractedly, creating a weebly wobbly pattern in the snow (sparrows can be such silly birds).



Stopping quickly, a cottontail bunny (Sylvilagus floridanus) carefully sniffs the air. Is there a predator nearby?



Crouching low, the house cat (Felis catus) waits for the perfect moment to pounce. Her eyes narrow in anticipation but she is patient and sits very still. She can make herself appear as small and quiet as a stone.



A woman (Homo sapiens sapiens) ventures out of her warm living room to take a walk in the frozen morning air. She stoops low to see which animals have passed by her door that morning. The tracks she sees tell a story which she reads in the freshly fallen snow.



It began with a blanket of freshly fallen snow.

It feels good to buy art

I bought this gorgeous painting from my friend Kirsten a few weeks ago at our best local coffee shop/gallery/performance space, Delta of Venus. Isn't it awesome!! It's a hawk, not sure what kind. The colors are just incredible and it's painted on a peice of corrugated cardboard. An interesting choice, and a good one I think because it cuts down on the cost of materials and adds a more casual feel to this "fine art" peice. I think it would look a bit too formal on a regular canvas. I got it framed and matted at this great local frame shop, too. The frame cost more than the painting, but it was worth it (it has non-reflective glass and the matting is meticulous).

This feeling reminds me of a story by one of my favorite story-tellers, Kevin Kling. From "Buying Art" on the Wonderlure CD:

"I remember the first piece of art I ever sold. I was in college. One night I saw Audrey, a flute player with the band, sitting at a local pub with a friend. I introduced myself and announced I also had an interest in the arts, that I had shown quite an aptitude in a drawing class. Audrey seemed preoccupied but her friend wanted to know if I had some sketches back in my room. "Why yes I do, I do have sketches back in my room." She then wondered if I'd show her my portfolio. "Of course!" And we were off. When we got to my room, I took out my portfolio and to a somewhat surprised Audrey's friend, I displayed my sketches. Especially the human figures and how the hands and feet give me the most trouble as you can see by the shoes and mittens. She was impressed. And then, when I felt the evening couldn't get any better, she said she wanted to, "you know, buy a painting." "Of course," I said. Then she leaned into me and whispered, "it feels good to buy art." I said, "I know." I've never forgotten that evening. That evening I knew I was a professional artist.

. . . The first performance art I ever bought was a viewing of Mary Gilligan's appendix scar during recess behind the brick pump house. It challenged me."

Listen to him tell stories (in his amazing Minnesota accent) at Minnesota Public Radio
and National Public Radio.