Friday, September 29, 2006


A non-blogger who is uncomfortable with my blogging asked me why I blog.

My doll club suggested we all get one to promote our doll work, but when I saw how easy it was to load images I turned it into a pictorial journal for my mom and myself, a place to gather all the strange ecclectic things I'd been doing so she and I could reflect on why I did them, and how the separate, conflicting parts of my life might work together as a harmonious whole. Hence the Latin name antinomia, "against law", giving root to the word antinomy: "an apparent contradiction between valid principles or conclusions that seem equally necessary and reasonable."

Then I showed it to a few friends who I'd featured in the posts, and a few more found it on their own. Then some total strangers came upon it and gave me advice, encouragement, and a few leads. And since I have a habit of always looking for guidance from whoever and whatever is around me, the blog took on that habit too.

When I blog I'm either stating an intention, or asking for suggestions, and always always looking for synchronicities and chance meetings with people who may be holding a piece of the puzzle I'm still looking for. And maybe provide a piece of someone else's puzzle too. And I'm also showing off sometimes. Yes, I do that. ;)

Now the blog is already over a year old. (Amazing.) I've gone back to look at all my adventures, work, complaints, joys, friends. It helps keep my scattered self on track somehow. I'm so grateful I have it.

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

ships and crabs

I was watching the sky and sea from my favorite spot on the rocky point of the West Haven beach yesterday, lost in a pitiful cynicism about the future, when I was surprised by the sudden appearance of a girl in pink, maybe 9 years old, her hands held cupped together. As if we were old friends she asked if I wanted to see a crab, which of course I did. She opened her palm and a dime sized white crab crawled sideways off her finger onto mine. I'd never seen a crab so small. She told me there were hundreds of them in the ditch nearby, and she led me there, down to the water, showing me how to step without slipping.

We returned the tiny crab to the puddle she had found it in and built a house of stones and shells to hide it from the seagulls. Then we overturned rocks to find all kinds of other crabs which scrambled out over our shoes, and she identified each one in scientific detail. I'd been in that ditch dozens of times and never noticed them before.

A man in a wheelchair above called to her. We climbed back out and I thanked her and said goodbye. She picked up a seagull feather on the ground and gave it to me, and said maybe we'd meet again in the ditch. I saw then that the man she was with had neither of his legs. He turned his wheelchair and she followed him away, looking back at me until we were out of sight of each other. She seemed more then a girl. She spoke like a 65 year old marine biology professor. She was kind and careful with me like a grandmother. I'm not really sure she wasn't a spirit, or a Bodhisattva maybe. In any case, I left feeling a pang of loss, but also great wonder, and a restored sense of peace.

I return to the ditch in hopes of finding her again. But so often we are ships that quickly pass.

Saturday, September 23, 2006

everything must go

It has been a most amazing year. All the new, exhilarating, scary, wonderful things I've done, and all the very lovely people I've met have opened me, inspired me, and all together changed me for good. It's also made me a bit broke.

I've rarely been able to part with my originals. Though they live in a flat file and aren't often looked at, when I do take them out to study my work, it's like studying a book of my past. Sometimes paintings bring back detailed memories of my life at the time, what I was feeling, what I was wishing for, even what song I was listening to when I finally broke though and made a painting work.

But there's no point in holding onto the past if you're not looking to your future. I'm putting them up for sale, and will have a good amount up at the next New Haven City Wide Open Studio at the end of October.

Also soon to be ebayed: art and illustration books and periodicals, supplies, and other miscellaneous things.

Thursday, September 21, 2006

dive team

The CT RollerGirls with Pablo (in the tank) of the CT State Police Dive Team who was riding an underwater stationary bike for a 2 hour shift to raise money for the CT Children's Medical Center.

Photo thanks to our ref Paul, who posted even more from the parade.

puppet class

Students and their puppets from the Quinnipiac University class I'm teaching with Puppetsweat director Bob Bresnick this fall.

Most have little to no construction or theater experience, and I only gave them a day and a half of sparse building instruction. Yet all of them came up with working puppets with some surprisingly creative solutions, and found lovely and sensitive gestures in their first performance today. I am thrilled. This could be the best day of my life.

the Big E

CT RollerGirls rolled in the CT Day Parade at the Big E today. We met Miss Connect- icut,

and the CT Civil Air Patrol puppet.

We danced with vegetables.

We pet lots of animals.

And made friends with the CT State Police dive rescue team.

We watched chicks hatching.

We saw the most beautiful bus.

And took a ride on the swings.

But best of all were the fans, who stopped us wherever we went to have their picture taken with us. Like this little dude who told us he'd heard that it's "very tough being a roller girl".

This could be the best day of my life.

Monday, September 18, 2006


I just discovered the mirror image function on the new Staples photo copier today. This could be the best day of my life.

Saturday, September 09, 2006

beautiful ugly things

I like to go to a friend's Fair Haven scene shop in a run down industrial part of New Haven and look at the abandoned brick power plant across the river. It must have been built in the 20s because it has elegant art deco architectural details. It's monstrously big, and probably toxic. I love to think about how dangerous it must be to go inside. It might be one of the most beautiful buildings I've ever seen.

I also love to look at war planes, like this B-25 and the B-24 and B-17 behind it at the Oxford airport on Thursday. They are exceedingly dangerous too, with guns on all sides, and large parts of their insides dedicated to holding bombs. And they are sleek, stunningly powerful looking, and gorgeous in every way.