I seem to have meandered from working and creating digital pages to loving
painting and working with real papers. It is amazing just how much this kind of hobby
can get hold of you. Time flies.
However, since I have had the accident back in January my lifestyle has changed. Totally.
are different, more focussed on living and less time on the computer. There are times when
I think that
having gone through so much pain that all this was for the better and I am grateful that
once more I take
the time to be conscious of a bird singing outside or even listening to the soft rustle of
leaves or the wind blowing into my window.
(some pages are still left unfinished though I like to prepare them
with gesso for basis though I don't use gesso on each page, only really when
I know that I might be using inks and maybe a coat of paint.)
I know I already posted it in the blog a while ago but for those of you who did not see it, this was/is
the one that received attention. Maybe my 'mojo' will come back after all? It would be nice because I really
did love creating digital art. When I created
the above page, I had just seen a documentary on the poverty in the
United States shown by BBC World TV. But you really don't need to go
and look at documentaries, all you have to do is open your eyes. It is
everywhere all around.
just a few pages from my 'Paris in the Spring' journal. All of them still
need journaling and finishing off. (about 70 in all). And I still have to
cover the front and back of the book covers......and I want to add some
bobbles or ribbons and little things to dangle outside the cover. I find
that almost more fun - the finishing touches. The actual book or journal
was created from an old book I picked up at the library sale and I am
almost sure I will not do it this way again. The pages were too thin
and had to be glued together and they did not all turn out smooth but
buckled in the process. I do like the
look of the print showing through at times but I can achieve the same
result in another way and with a smoother end effect.
I could not help myself, I had to post this article I read. Love it, and wonder
just how many of us
feel this way. Or is it all about age and the younger
generation really has no clue about civility
written by Kevin Williamson, writer for the theater column The New Criterion :
The audiences, unfortunately, are drearily predictable. It's the old one-in-every-family phenomenon: They will be late. They will talk. Their cell phones will ring, and some of them, by God, will answer them. They will text, and they may even play a few rounds of Words with Friends during the third act. They are the enemy. They are depressing not because their bad manners surprise us, but because they do not surprise us.
I found myself in the news this week after offering a surprise of my own at a New York theater: The woman seated next to me was on her phone throughout most of the show. (It was "Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812," in case you're wondering, a musical based on "War and Peace." You know what show you shouldn't see in New York if you have the attention span of a goldfish? One based on "War and Peace.") When she was not on her phone, she and her friends were engaged in a four-part imitation of a "Sex and the City" brunch conversation. I asked her nicely -- more than once -- but she did not respond to courtesy. She said: "Just don't look." So I took her phone from her and tossed it.
There was a moment of wonderful, shocked silence. She salvaged such self-respect as she could -- which is to say, she slapped me -- and then stalked off in search of her phone. A few minutes later, I was visited by an annoyed gentleman in a black suit and soon enough found myself out on the street.
Yes, it was worth it.
In part, I blame the theater managers. If you seat people who show up late, they will show up late. One or two high-profile ejections a month would go a long way toward beating some sense into the theater-going public.
But you can never design a perfect protocol. Audiences must behave. People are \awful, of course -- somebody once observed that every civilization faces a barbarian invasion every generation in the form of its children -- and the Broadway and off-Broadway crowd is full of miscreants.
Theater is New York and New York is theater, and New York is not much like the rest of the country. New York is one of the world capitals of self-importance. And, with the possible exception of Washington, there is no city in the country where self-importance is more disconnected from actual importance. If I could buy New Yorkers for what they're worth and sell them for what they think they're worth, I'd own Fifth Avenue from Saks to Harlem.
That guy whispering into his cell phone? He isn't getting the news that little Timmy finally has a donor for his heart transplant -- he's just another schmuck having a schmuck conversation with schmucks elsewhere. That guy tapping away on his smart phone isn't restructuring the derivatives markets -- he's playing "Angry Birds." The lady to my right, I am willing to bet, was not receiving her orders from the Impossible Missions Force, and her phone did not self-destruct.
I destructed it . And I am not sorry.
I am advised that what I did was almost certainly a crime. And if the law, in its majesty, should decide that I need to spend a night in jail over this episode, then I will be happy to do so.
But I think of it as an act of criticism. Occasionally, a shocking gesture is called for, perhaps even a histrionic one. I may have met conventional-grade rudeness with thermo nuclear counterforce, but I did it in the interests of civility, violating standards to preserve them.
Theater-goers on Twitter jokingly compared me to Batman: Not the hero Gotham deserves, the hero it needs. I don't know about that: Grumpiness is not much of a superpower. But we will live in exactly as rude and coarse a world as we will tolerate, and I do not intend to tolerate very much.
I could not have said it better.
(below is a digital page I created from one of our trips across the ocean. Wished
I was there...)