Thursday, June 30, 2011

Bones


I saw these two pieces in a jewelry gallery in Hudson, NY.  They are made from bones.  I think they are exquisite, although I did not write down who the artist is.
I don't know why, but I really love bones.  So white, smooth, skeletal... I'm not really sure why.  I know it's kind of a cliche, but I just can't help myself.  My favorite Christmas present was a steer skull.  I have a deer skull hanging in my family room.  I have a whole box of skulls and bones in my studio, including a fox skull which is very fragile. 
I also have this cow head made out of pewter, it is not bones, but it balances out the deer skull nicely.
These are plaster feet, not bones at all, they do not belong to me.  But everyone should have a tray of white feet.           

Friday, June 24, 2011

people that say "whoohoo"

What is it about the people who are compelled to shout out stupid things during concerts?  I mean, I understand that people are happy and feel the need to express it.  I can take that.  Were having a good time, people are singing, laughing, dancing, cheering... But I mean the people who shout out something over and over, or worse, the ones who whoop and holler during quiet moments like acoustic guitar parts.

We are at the Solid Sound, which is Wilco's music festival at Mass Moca.  Tonight the temperature was in the low sixties and it started to rain, right about the time the show was supposed to start.  I guess they were hoping the rain would stop, which it didn't, but we were completely soaked by the time they started.  Despite this, everyone stayed put, waited and was in fairly good spirits.  But there was some big headed moron behind us who started with the yelling thing.  First it was kind of random "woohoos" and "yeahs", easy to ignore.  Then he needed to show his gratitude so he started saying "Thank you, Thank you for coming back".  He repeated this every time there was a pause.  At first people started snickering, then there were a few, "okay man", "we heard you" and "your welcome"'s.  But too no avail, he would not stop.

 He also called out songs, but he would get them wrong.  "Jesus, incorporated!"   Well, that got the crowd around him laughing.   Come on, were all a bunch of uber Wilco geeks.  "It's Jesus, etc., you idiot" someone replied.  I don't think he believed it, but he eventually changed his rant to "Play the Jesus song!"

Some of it, I just don't understand.  Every time Nels Cline played a guitar solo - yelling and howling.  Okay you like it, but wouldn't you like it more if you could actually hear it?  What is it really about; you listening to the music you enjoy or you making sure everyone knows that you approve?

Sometimes I think these people listened to too many live albums where the front man says, "We're recording this show for an album and if you make a lot of noise you might be on it." (Big hissing crowd sound). 

Sunday, June 19, 2011

Chipped China

My Brother and I have been trying to empty my parents house.  My mother passed away and my father is in an assisted living facility.  They were collectors of many things, mostly antique.  I would call them secret hoarders. For, while their house was full and cluttered, it did not appear abnormal.  But if you looked in the basement, or any cubby or, god forbid, under a bed, every space was packed.   After dividing household goods among all five of us, estate sale people didn't want to touch the remainders (not enough big stuff), so my brother Doug and I set about holding yard sales.   We did six weekends of sales and still had enough for one more sale, but our spouses were on the verge of divorcing us so we called it quits.  Now the task is getting rid of the rest.

I learned many things from this process, one being how much I really know about antiques, which is a lot.  The other I kind of knew from when I made and sold jewelry, and that is that I'm pretty good at sales.  I am also full of shit.

Another thing I learned is that people do not liked chipped things.

A friend returned (?) something she had bought because she had discovered it had a chip.  Another friend informed me that chips are bad karma.  Bad Karma?  Does this mean my parents were living with landfills of bad karma?  Does this explain their bad financial luck?  Maybe my Mom wouldn't have had cancer if she had rejected everything with a chip?

I don't think chips even registered in her perception of beauty.  My Mom would collect Quimper or Titain or Wedgewood,  or whatever, and gleefully purchase her finds.

So do you collect bad karma from keeping imperfect items or do you collect good karma for loving your china and crystal despite all of it's faults?