Rotary Phones, Emily, and Art Hops

Begging for a plant.

Last Saturday’s Makers’ Mart in Toledo was the culmination of incredible hustle & inventory bolstering. A tiring-but-rewarding event, made infinitely more enjoyable by All Who Stopped By. Thanks, Friends! The event was sadly under-caffeinated, but the burnished food truck fries and buttery crab rolls were splendid. People watching, as always, is one of the best things about any fair; and this did not disappoint, though, what with the day’s hustle and the passing of a few days, the more deliciously freaky interactions/overheards have dissolved like dream fragments.

On the basis of visual entertainment alone, I’d like to award extra points to the vendors of tiny-cacti, planted in teeny clay pots, the new owners of which walked about, awkwardly holding their new succulents. Waiting for friends, cradling a cactus; browsing, one hand held aloft, away from the body.  I am quite certain that, sans packaging, I’d be unable to make it home without crashing the little pot, or spilling it across an unrelated display, or inadvertently abandoning it in some murky spot. They were much more confident than I. I envied the guy who passed by with a medium sized cactus, planted in a retro black table model rotary phone, spiky leaves arcing out where the number/letters had been. That was cool. But to commit, I’d still need a box.

Mystifying

I brought a couple art books and an Emily Dickinson volume to riffle through, and was quite happy I
did so. A full day of friends, strangers, new fans and casual dismissal is always a few hours beyond my limits – best to bring some book friends, for an instant oasis. And when is this NOT a good idea? This browsing, however, brought with it some unwelcome news: somewhere along the way, my ability to read and discern meaning from poetry has diminished. I used to read a LOT of poetry. A LOT. And I don’t think I was a tool about it – I wasn’t wandering around randomly quoting passages and missing the substance – but…I don’t know. On Saturday, I picked up Dickinson – read and re-read – considered death, the bee, captivity – and knew I missed a lot of each one. Sad little brain, what happened? I eventually ate the aforementioned fried food and felt better. Still disappointed.

Fast forward to a quick table break down under lowering clouds, a peaceful drive home, and a blissful reading bath the next morning, on Mother’s Day. I drew a bath on the sly and snuck into the tub, since my daughter would want to clamber in the moment she realized there was bath water to slosh onto the walls. I steamed and sunk into my water logged copy of Yaa Gyasi’s Homegoing; ate clementines and drank ice water. Lovely. Midway through, the child burst in:

“Oh! You surprised me, I didn’t know you were taking a bath.” A pause before she shrugged one arm from a sleeve, announced: “I will JOIN YOU!!”

I hurriedly said No, the water was too hot for her; I just wanted to read, not play (“—I will read WITH you!” countered the pre-literate); I would be out in a little bit~~

She stopped mid-negotiation. “I didn’t realize you could DRINK in a bath. I didn’t know you could EAT in a bath!...Next time I’m going to have a bath WITH A BOOK AND AN ORANGE AND WATER” I was able to scoot her out while she was all filled with purpose about future bathing options. A good start to a classic Mother’s Day. See also: breakfast in bed, chocolates and apricot ruggelah; flowers, and card drawings. All fine, and fine. ‘Course there were also meltdowns, anguish, and fury much later on in the day. But the start? Golden.

What comes next for prints and cards? So glad you asked! I happily delivered a new batch of cards to Nicola’s Books yesterday, so they will have a robust Cakeasaurus Prints card inventory for the Summer months.

Next up, the last show I will do for a while: Westside Art Hop. If you’re local, this is a really cool art fair/art walk to explore!

This Sunday, from 10-5, over 50 artists will display their work across 20 homes and businesses, across a handful of streets in the Westside of Ann Arbor. I’m excited to be at Gretchen’s House on 700 Mt. Vernon Ave, along with thirteen other artists. All participating venues will be marked by two red balloons, plus area signs. Check here for list of artists and here’s a handy dandy map:

No cover and a nice meander! Don’t forget to ask your artist for a sticker with purchase, to take advantage of the following local deals:

• Conor O'Neill's - special reduced rate Art Hop menu
• Washtenaw Dairy - adult size for the price of a kid size
• Sweetwaters - Free 16 oz coffee or tea with any food purchase
• Parrish framing - percentage off of next framing job. 

 Happy Thursday, All! I hope to see some of you this weekend. 

Buttercup, Travolta and Gazelle Board a Car to Toledo (--> Maker's Mart, That Is!)

It's almost here.  It's almost here! For the past month I have been gearing up to sell at Handmade Toledo's Makers Mart and NOW, here we are, one day away! Last year's Winter show boasted a fabulous vendor list, plus ridiculously good grilled cheese and mac-and-cheese balls, so I have high hopes all around for this May show. Please come visit me in the tent adjoining the main hall! Scroll midway down to check out the robust vendor list.

I'll pack up my car after Rick returns from the first student matinee of his final Mosaic play-with-music, "Detroit to Dakar," which he also wrote and directed. It officially premieres tomorrow -->  tickets for this weekend or next may be purchased here.  His over-the-top production week coincided with my own intense week, which perforce coincided with a more tearful daughter. Harried fun for all!

Coming with me: spiffy new handcart, delusional blue footed boobies, improvised card sign bases to replace the *perfect* ones (now 20% bulkier, with uncooked rice!), bullying squirrels, angst-ridden groundhogs, hedgehog stickers, and random art books and Dickinson poems to leaf through on the off-moments.

Wishing Fellow Artists and all Attendees a Wonderful Show!