Monday, November 19, 2012

Pretenders to the Royal Dance Throne, Art to Feed the Spirit

Not to jump the gun, but I think 2012 was a good year for me. No dearth of trials or heartaches, but somehow the call to remain open was easier to balance with the need to open one's hands, see off disappointments, people or other passing phases. I did less printmaking, which felt wrong; but finally switched jobs after a strange year of (mostly) working from home; donated the moribund car in favor of a newer old car which pretty promptly developed the loudest vehicular version of a smoker's hack, after the exhaust line broke by the catalytic converter; made a "Nutritive Triptych" for a Grimm's exhibit; adventured in New Orleans with Compatriot; poured over behind-the-scenes work of childhood creative idol Jim Henson; got my virgin passport stamped for its very first time, in order to work in Shanghai for a full month...

This weekend felt like a microcosm* of the year...nonstop, art filled, people filled...Left-turning from anticipations, but still, one hopes, back on track. Caveat about my lack of direction aside~~By Saturday night I needed to blow off some steam. Happily, Comp has become a dance buddy over the past year and she was easily lured out. We negotiated times and pocket availability; Comp's license mysteriously disappeared, leading to a resigned turning away from the Blind Pig, heightened angst and extra miles on the highway. I couldn't help recalling the night I LOST my CREDIT CARD in New Orleans. New Orleans! Den of Iniquity! New Orleans: there's no way in hell you're getting your cc back!...But no, a day later and a return to the dive-bar-with-posh-cocktails, and there it was propped up against the side of the cash register, like there were still honest people left in the world.
In a similar fashion, the license on Saturday magically reappeared, long after we had given up on the idea of a dance outing. Which made it that much better: bonus fun, snatched from the grinding jaws of misspent time. Inside, the Bang crowd was bustling with characters; we were united as revelers and witnesses to the frivolity, dubious fashion choices and even more dubious momentarily impassioned dance floor flailings. But mostly we just danced, dodged half full pitchers of beer; and ironically worn prom gowns, which seemed a sway away from slamming onto the grimy floor. We wondered over a guy wearing a ten gallon hat on the dance floor. "That would be So! Hot!" I protested. "Bald spot!" Comp decided. Ahhh, now that made more sense, at least. Though I feel for the male self consciousness over hair: seriously, we don't get as hung up on that as you think we do. Though if you keep asking me if I ever grow my hair out, that kind of puts the kibosh on it. We danced along, with the odd preemptive elbow jab. "Ooooo, pouty date!" I craned my neck. We were momentarily at the dancing edge, near a small standing group. There was, indeed, a pretty blond, emanating affronted displeasure. Impressive. We pouted at each other. This is what we do. We are ridiculously amusing to each other.

Drink breaks. More dancing, more random guys in tutus and tennis shoes. We never had any intention of learning about the pouting, but we discovered that cowboy had a full head of hair after various dancers adopted the hat. At one point cowboy gestured to me from the stage; I shook my head, but he leaned toward me to say, "Gorgeous hair!" which was lovely to hear, as I have recently run across guys who are less than enamored of the shortness. Later we wound up mouthing Led Zeppelin lyrics to each other; nice crowd feeling. More dancing, less space, more elbows. Flattened golden crowns littered the floor. A young wispy woman bounded down from the stage and leaned in earnestly: "I just want to tell you guys that you are SO. CUTE. I mean, SO. CUTE!!" And then she hugged us both. Hah! Ohh, the assumptions fly all ways. But if we must be cute, then cute we shall be. Heh.

The late night shortened Sunday morning; shortly after rising, I was off to the second day of the Art Open House at Jeanne Joesten's. For both Friday night and Sunday day, the consensus was a nicely increased crowd, steady traffic in the check out room; and as always the day afforded us all the opportunity to reconnect. It's a pretty special group and a special event -- happily in its tenth year! I love meeting new artists and new art appreciators. Nice work if you can get it! 

Artist Karin Wagner Coron modelling zipper necklace by Marie Krull
Emily Nuber of Spotless soaps, nibbling, while Marie adjusts said necklace. Lots of tasty treats.

Dynese McClumpha trivet which followed me home.
Pizazz from Hilary Robinson

Coron pastels in background, Darcy Bowden plates and cards in front
A couple of my prints, cards from watercolorist Angelis Jackowski
Tiles by host Jeanne Joesten

Lovely framed floral watercolor, also by Angelis
Linda Colman, necklace. Her purchases confound the staff of Stadium Hardware.
Spotless! soaps.
A really lovely day. Not pictured: sea salt caramels by John Goodman, biscotti by Barbara Kinzer...And if any of the above appeals, many of us will also be doing a show at Hilary Robinson on Sunday, December 9th. More details to come...

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