Cakeasaurus Lurking: 2021

Friday, July 16, 2021

Flood Warnings, Anyone? The Art Fair Edition

...And so, the Ann Arbor Art Fair weather curse holds true, though it feels especially damning this time around: foreboding forecast for the shortened three-day timespan, though we all lucked out yesterday -- the threat of rain held off, and I personally wandered wayyy past my limit in order to get a complete overview of the whole thing. Even with the good-but-clown-feetish-sneakers, my feet swelled, pooooor little me. The fair had some marked changes, of course. No avenues of fair food, no violin monster spotted; no Ignatius Hats with people swirling around the booth, laughing at themselves in the crazier designs, but secretly hoping they look cool; no potters' guild or yourist clay sections; no Nick Wroblewski, and South University offerings look much diminished (though to be fair, still more vendors than most art fairs have in total)... On the flipside, splendid watercolorist Katie Musolff returned to the Original area, and Karin Coron returned to grace us with her intense oil & oil pastel landscapes (booth NU807), and Connie Verrusio, the maker of one of my all-time-favorite pairs of earrings (repurposed produce scales).

I cleared off my day yesterday and today to wander the fair, with our spitfire happily deposited in preschool; and here we are today, with solid rain since 3 AM (intermittent torrents). So far there's no pocket of time with less than 80% chance of precipitation, which is damn brutal for all the artists, having paid quite a lot to be here, not to mention travelling for hundreds of miles, all the schlepping, and STILL having to be present in one's tent, without enough people coming through, trying to talk the body away from resenting wet feet, and the mind from anticipating a financial mess of a show or a tent collapse. Oi. I have artists whose work I'd love to revisit, and was counting on doing that today, with myself selling at a local ArtHouse Pop-Up tomorrow & Saturday (913 Gott St, Ann Arbor, ahem!). Maybe at some point a lighter rain, perhaps a drizzle, and I could briefly wander in galoshes? Here's hoping everyone ventures out on Saturday, with the better forecast.

*Just a few snippets*

Yesterday, it was refreshing to see the fashion illustration of Anita Rundles over on North U (booth WA817). She's based in Brooklyn and has done some work for Netflix. I love the interplay of precise, fine lines with freer splashes of color -- good energy. It also reminded me of the cache of old design illustration my Mom kept from her art school days. She passed away in March of this year; it was a comforting to look through Rundle's originals, thinking of how Mom would have had definite reactions (both praise and criticism). For her part, Rundles fretted over the weather curse that everyone else had mentioned; if you are in the area, go visit her booth and help make her first show worthwhile. And ask her why she didn't bring the great Solange illutstration wih the gold earrings (on her Instagram), though I'd assume it's sold.

Master glassblower William Ortman has been at it for 16 years. Astoundingly intricate without being fussy. Large cut away vases.

Kipley A. Meyer wasn't dying for a photo op (sandwich held behind his back; reticence), but he obliged me. He asked me if I did yoga or meditation, and explained that his pieces speak to going beyond the chatter of the monkey mind (see "Enter Within," on the left). When he gestured to the piece on the right, "Return" (or "Return to"), he ran his hand back and forth along the circular paths and said, "Return to the breath..." and it fit perfectly. For some reason, I also found the repetition of the pounded, rusty nails quite satisfying.

Allllll the way at the other end on Main Street, I almost zipped past Scotty Jones' booth before registering it. But once you see his sharp, and distinctively styled bags, you don't forget them. I became a fan at the Gutman Gallery shop, but when I saw his Urthy brand there, I didn't realize HOW much he puts into them: his fabrics, with few exceptions, are 50s upholstery textiles; the retro graphics are all his OWN screenprints; and he's just now branching out to using his own fabric designs (he highly recommends Spoonflower's quality). But I assume you have a team of people sewing your designs? "OHHHHHHHHHHHH no! NOPE, it's all ME" he laughed and asked whether I had been to the fair merchandise booth yet. Jones sparkled: "I did the merch designs this year! They just brought them to me" Wishing much success to Jones!

Almost time for Terry Gross, and still it rains. "Drizzle stopping in 50 minutes" -- but the following hour block shows more thunderstorms. Artist friends I feel for you. And hope people come out in full force tomorrow.

Friday, February 26, 2021

Just You and Me and These Four Walls

Quarantine has spawned -- for the luckiest of us -- aggravation, restlessness, a circumstantial slow-down; a paring down of life, new appreciation for: birds, or breadmaking, and the technological wonders of video connections, even as we tire of Zoom . And health, most definitely, health. And all of us are creative, whether we grant ourselves this characterization. Artists, of course, when they are not shutting down, are creating, reacting to the new realities. In this very moment, my almost 6 year old daughter is upstairs, singing about the meanness of her mother*, and using a little egg shaker to fancy it up. Rick seems to be on a looping conference call in the study (the closed door of which is no match for the strength of his voice). As of last night, my creativity has extended to baking a batch of olive oil brownies with sea salt (I love you, New York Times cooking newsletter). Last week, we were all in Pennsylvania, with my family, visiting my mother in the hospital. My heart is still there. In January, though, I had a brief burst of creativity, relating to a few couple selfies Rick took of us, when our quarantine hair was particularly dramatic. We are in the bathroom, natch, and not yet having given oureslves desparation haircuts, we look almost mythic (Rick), and unhinged/birdlike (myself). While I was able to draw something vaguely reminisicent of his visage (realism is not my forte**), each attempt at my likeness seemed worse than the last. I eventually started erasing a hole in the paper, before I optimistically taped another blank on top, with the not-me looming over his shoulder. No dice. Increasingly addled. In a fit of pique I decided that if it was going to work out that poorly, I should just opt for an animal instead. If you've seen me recently, you're like,"Oh right, BIRD," but that was short lived, because I wanted something with a cuddly aspect.

Top choice: slow loris. That sent me down a rabbit hole, because I hadn't even realized they're the ONLY VENOMOUS MAMMALS on earth, their venom is FLESH-ROTTING and dispensed from glands at their elbows; to tickle them is torture; and venal criminals have been smuggled internationally in their underwear*** But these fun tidbits didn't really add depth or accuracy to my would-be couple portrait. Plus, with their saucer-eyes,they do look a little more batsh*t, than I'm comfortabke assigning to myself, so. Next up: lemurs. I've always been fond of lemurs. Native to Madagascar! Somewhat crazy-looking, but they have those wonderful flouffy tails to counterbalance their weight when they spring off on various aboreal journeys. Also, since this print emotionally documents my time in quarantine, I feel like it nicely captures an air of stir-crazyness (see also lemurs attack BBC reporter), among other things. So there you have it, back story to a cell phone selfie, transformed into a multi-block linocut.

These are available for sale on my etsy shop, like so. I'll be adding more color variations soon. As always, if you don't see something you want, just ask. Stay safe and sane, out there, Dear Readers! *Who ended a self-markering episode, and confiscated her school ipad, when the young-in threatened to throw it. ** Hahaha, shut it. *** No, obviously the criminals'. Loris don't wear no underwear.