MORE ABOUT THIS WORK – click HERE
MORE ABOUT THIS WORK – click HERE
This past weekend, on the Friday night before Christmas, a group of very energetic and bold wonderful artists put together a pop up exhibition at the Prallsville Mills in Stockton, NJ. It was filled with artists from the county and beyond. Just bring your work! A wonderful night, wonderful energy. Barry purchased this little piece for me. It is called”Hunterdon Fern” and it is painted by an artist living in Milford. Her name is Erika Rachel.
It was very modestly priced. It is small, maybe 9×12″ in total. You can see the fern beyond a splash of paint. That the frame ties it into the legacy of painting in our area. It says a lot to me about living as an artist in Hunterdon County.
Something I wrote with levity this past summer.
After treated a mysterious and painful rash on my hands with super duper cortisone infused hand cream and an intense and long prednisone session, the dermatologist froze off this very old wart that has lived on the palm of my hand since jeez I don’t know know when really. I just know it’s been gross and I’ve tried to get rid of it myself… Although I am super duper chicken shit and would not let a doctor freeze if off because I’m sure it would have felt like someone was holding a match to the delicate skin of my palm. I just hate pain. But I relented this time. And of course, it kinda worked, but not really. The skin kinda puffed up, never turned black, but just kinda looked like a big blister. This is the “Alien” part… the skin came off with the old part of the wart, and nestled so sweetly and sinisterly amongst the tender muscle tissue of my upper palm, close to my middle finger, was a little, tiny, fresh looking wart baby. I could almost see it suckling. So creepy. And if I was a brave person, I would have purchased that wart freeze off stuff at the CVS and poured it into the open wound to finally eradicate the wart… But no, I must be part synthetic human because I simply covered it with a bandaid, allowing it to live, fully knowing that it will grow and thrive like its big mama wart had for the last 10 years.
But that’s not what this story is about.
This story is about being an American.
The Bison, or rather bison bison bison, whatever that means… Why 3 bisons?… Is it a trinity thing? The bison, she is back. There are a bunch of them living out west at Ted Turners ranch. He gets to eat as much bison bison bison as he can stomach and as well gets to feed a bunch of hungry Americans bison bison bison because he owns a bunch of restaurants that serve bison bison bison. This week, obama, our current president at the writing of this wart infused bison related piece of silliness, has designated the bison as our national beast. I like having a national beast. Makes me wonder if I have a bison living inside me and not really a wild boar. Since I really don’t know if it is a boar or not, I suppose I should take a few minutes to consider the specific characteristics of a bison… ( bison bison..)
It is big. Much bigger than I am so what am I thinking.
It is very furry… But then, so is the wild boar.
It is legendary. It has been hunted to the point of extinction… So unlike the wild boar which has been let loose to duplicate and prosper and then make more babies and prosper some more.
Although they both have been hunted … Mowed down in droves.
The bison eats a lot of grass.. The boar will eat anything.
I’m certain that the bison does not reproduce as vehemently as the boar, but I’ll need to check into that.
Bison bison bison
They are murdering Canadian Geese. It happens every fall. Every October. With their tiny little brains beneath their Cabela’s camouflage hats that say “Make America Great Again” they hide like cowards in a camouflage boat under a camouflage tarp and aim their rifles at unsuspecting geese as the sun struggles to make it through the fog and the clouds and the damn election.
BOOM BOOM BOOM
I wake up to the sound of carnage in my own backyard and I know that Barry is downstairs seething with the kind of resentment that he possesses when an animal is being abused for no particular reason other than to simple abuse that animal.
They are way too close to the house. The house is way too close to the river. And the rifle sounds like the beginnings of a battle in a long standing war the never seems to end.
This Friday from 6-9, Austin Henry Peer and Schuyler Burkeand Val Sivilli (me!) are showing our paintings at the Gryphon Cafe at 100 W. Oxford Street in Philadelphia. I’m not sure how long this show stays up, but the show will be fully hung for Friday, Sept 2nd ! Come see this beautiful venue and have some amazing coffees and Cafe Fare – the best in Philly. We have been invited by Ripley Nichols, curator of the exhibition, (aka my little girl!!!) and the founder of Flowers For Noone Press.
We are all Recent Graduates from Alfred University’s College of the Arts – Except for me – a graduate, yet not so recent