The show has been great, true. But it's always hard to imagine what words will come out when I open this laptop and begin to write you all. It just happens. Like keeping a journal, planned often morphs into spontaneous; anymore, I count on that to happen.
This morning, it turns out I am thinking show, after all, though a few other notions float in on its tails. At the moment I'm surrounded by the displays, still in place and waiting their turn for our second show this Saturday. Cathy and I decided it would be silly to take it down, only having to repeat the work of installing it in six more days. I'm glad we did. I like it here. Even on the walls on which I replaced a much loved piece of my own to hang newer work, I like the freshness. It's good for the spirit.
To exhibit some hangings, for instance, I took down a watercolor for the first time since I moved it here from Washington, where likewise it had hung unchallenged since the day it was framed 16 years ago.
|Death and its dominion|
And then there are the cards, which I most happily send off out into the world, on my own or through others, small idiosyncrasies of the imagination. You've all seen those before, but never the same ones, of course. (I have to remind people: there is only one of each; each one is only itself.)
Meanwhile, glittering in the front room are Cathy's jewel and metal creations, lifting the show (and house) up a level of elegance. She's just finished this piece for a friend of ours...dazzling!
|Necklace, Cathy Burnham|
Anne Harmon writes to show me where she's hung my Counting the Days. Just like all the art in Anne and Bill's home, it finds the perfect place: in the corner of the dining room, my favorite room. Meanwhile, Anne's Fish, from her September-October show at the Sertoma, is tucked into my guest room, with other fish by friends Debbie Cox and Libby Behr.
|Fish, Anne Harmon|
Jake's catch, Libby Behr
Yesterday I took a ride with Tricia to Wilmington where we joined a yoga class at Pineapple Studios. It's a sweet, quiet place to practice, especially under the calm guidance of my niece Deanna, who'd driven from Asheville at her friend Jess Reedy's invitation to teach a couple of sessions. Deanna is an artist, too, in textiles and photography. A few of Deanna's fellow art school graduates, Jess, Lauren Rogers and Stephanie Washburn among them, now live and work in Wilmington and have made a place for their art in a small, but important space. Pottery and yoga together? Why not? Both are contemplative, genial tasks, both soul-satisfying. We build a body, we build a piece of art, holding with hands that seek to nurture and expand our senses of being. And we offer it to others from a place both physical and spiritual that we call home.
|Deanna, Jess, Lauren, Steph|
|Bowl, Lauren Rogers|
|Small cup, Jess Reedy|
After our yoga morning, we dropped in on friends Pam and Paul Bencke, who, it happens, also does wonderful pottery...his terrific glazes and shapes line the wall of their den. Generously, they let us choose some to keep.
|Vessels, Paul Bencke|
[I almost corrected that last word in the penultimate sentence. Then I thought, nope: that's the word.]