Art Letter 10: Valentines Alternatives
Single? These babies are available.
Some folks just hate the teddy stuffing out of Valentine’s Day. They want to spit the caramelly nougat soul of the holiday into Cupid’s rosy cheeks. I like any reason to celebrate unnecessarily, so I’m ok with it. Still, I want everyone to be tickled, so I’ve made us all a half dozen alternatives.
All I’m saying is: It could be worse.
In other relationships, I’ve been commitment-phobic in painting, throwing my affections around all willy nilly. Paint-by-number style landscapes? I adore them! Painfully exact moon jewelry? I’m enthralled. Cheery but hopefully not-too-Disney-looking reinterpretations of Bellingham Parks? Well, I’m trying. We’re in counseling. To be successful in the art-commerce-world, one is supposed to nail down a style and stick to it. Sigh.
Here are some of the nice, polished pieces I’ve made out with recently:
And now,
LOVE POEMS! They’re brief. Don’t fret.
“we
return to each
other
in waves.
this is how water
loves.”
“my love is my soul’s imagination
how do I love thee?
imagine.”
“I don’t buy it, says
the scientist.
Replies the frail
and faithful heart,
it’s not for sale.”
Here’s a fuzzy picture of my mug doing baby selfies which is what happens when I’m not slobbering up a painting. Cosimo is 6 months old on the 14th!
If you happen to be in Yosemite from Feb 22 - May 5, one of my compasses is part of an exhibition at the Yosemite Museum Gallery about which I am inordinately excited.
And with that I scatter my besos to the four winds and bid adios til March.
Lub,
Khara
(C and I met in Rockaway Beach, Queens the day before Hurricane Sandy slosh-banged the coast. I was wearing woodshop goggles and a face-handkerchief while distressing wooden signs in his backyard. Then: massive storm which he survived taco’d in a futon. Then: some collaborative clean up. Three years later: he makes me fried green tomatoes while Rosario Dawson and fam are over for dinner, and the rest is history).
