...was fantastic!
I'll put up a portfolio on flickr now that it's over and I can fully document the show. I had a blast afterward with everyone who came and the work was very well received. I flubbed my own dance a little because I was incredibly nervous, but I think the performance was really wonderful -- and Jimmie and Suze and Jack and Frankie and the little girls were all fantastic.
I do have the best friends in the whole world, since they actually helped clean up before departing in the wee hours. I'm a little worse for the pro secco this morning, but I'll drink a lot of water and should be feeling chipper in just a bit. My house is full of flowers and it smells wonderful. And I have an in-home massage at 3. Yay!
Wow. It's over. I really feel as if I've accomplished something meaningful with this show. And I know without a doubt the work in this show is the very best work of my entire life. And, hopefully, all of it, making the work, mounting the show, creating the performances, conveys the meaning to those who witnessed it that it is critical to use the events of one's own life, the really "stripped bare" stuff, as art supplies. No matter how painful.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Friday, August 14, 2009
Anti(dote)Wedding
Antidote Wedding Vows, August 14, 2009
It all seems like a movie to me, this crazy romance of mine that was to have culminated in a wedding this evening. Its seeds must have been planted five years ago in Vienna; we even went to Hotel Sacher, like in The Third Man. Then, as in David Lean’s Summertime, our love affair began in earnest in Italy, and, as in An American in Paris, it continued during a few romantic days there. During the next six months our romance often felt alternately like a Hitchcock movie and a Fellini film. For some reason, tonight the final scene of The Philadelphia Story keeps playing in my head. I feel like Katharine Hepburn’s character, Tracy Lord, apologizing to her family and friends who’d gathered for a wedding that wasn’t going to take place.
Instead of a wedding, tonight I just want to tell all of you how sincerely grateful I am. I want to thank you, my co-workers, family and dearest friends, for your support during those seven months I was madly in love. Thank you for taking care of things at school. Thank you for looking after Buster for me when I was away. Thanks for the rides to and from the airport, laden with luggage full of e-bay purchases and gifts. Thank you for keeping the doubts -- which you surely must have had -- to yourself as I embarked upon what must have seemed like a mad adventure destined to end in heartbreak. As you all recall, I was deliriously happy during the seven months I was in love, and I want to thank you for being happy for me when it seemed I had finally found the soul-mate for whom I have long searched. Thank you, too, for your support in January when the love affair ended miserably in the course of just one day. And thank you for reading the fictionalized account of the romance in my book and for viewing the nearly one hundred drawings that also tell the story of this past year. Perhaps now you have more insight into what was going on in my heart and mind those months of my grand amour fou.
I also want to thank he who was once my love, he who would have become my third and final husband tonight. Louis, I sincerely thank you for your affection and for the tenderness and intimacy we once shared. I am deeply grateful not only for your love, but also for your belief in me as an artist and a writer, which propelled me into one of the most intense periods of creative activity I’ve ever experienced in my life. It’s not often that I produce a hundred drawings, much less a 350-page novel, in the course of one short year. Thank you so much for the energy and inspiration you sparked in me. I hope, in this, at least, that you were not wrong – that my work is important. Thank you for believing that I’ve earned my rightful place alongside Artemisia Gentileschi, Elisabeth Vignée-Lebrun, Camille Claudel, the Louises Bourgeois and Nevelson, Pina Bausch, Frida Kahlo, Simone de Beauvoir, the Brontës, Anne Frank and Anaïs Nin.
I’m grateful to you for proving to me that my heart is still alive, still capable of loving and, evidently, still hopeful. I would not have believed it possible at my age, and with my past romantic failures, that I could once again love so deeply and with such passion as I loved you. I would be lying to you now if I did not admit I miss your intellectual companionship, the quirky, esoteric interests we alone shared, your hands and your kisses. I miss playing Anaïs Nin and Henry Miller with you. Even though we have no future together, tonight I promise to treasure the beautiful, rich memories of our time together. I realize we are like the movies: at the end, I still know so little about you that you remain a mystery, a shadowy character like one written by Patricia Highsmith for Hitchcock – like the talented Mr. Ripley. And I, probably, will remain in your mind your Madelyn from Vertigo: an ideal, an anima projection. When I became uncomfortably “real,” our time together had to come to its inevitable ending and I had to disappear. I am a photograph, removed from your wallet and thrown away. Still, I have no regrets. Everything has turned out exactly the way Fate meant it to for both of us, my old love. Louis, I wish you well. I’ll quote Rick in Casablanca: “We’ll always have Paris.” And to Paris I will return alone to reclaim my city, as an antidote honeymoon.
I had originally planned to perform this piece as part of my wedding vows to Louis. So, in the words of Tracy Lord, “as originally and beautifully planned” I will now do just that to “Face the Music,” sung by Fred Astaire, from his movie Follow the Fleet. As I recall, Astaire sang it to a suicidal Ginger Rogers on the deck of a ship as she contemplated jumping overboard.
It all seems like a movie to me, this crazy romance of mine that was to have culminated in a wedding this evening. Its seeds must have been planted five years ago in Vienna; we even went to Hotel Sacher, like in The Third Man. Then, as in David Lean’s Summertime, our love affair began in earnest in Italy, and, as in An American in Paris, it continued during a few romantic days there. During the next six months our romance often felt alternately like a Hitchcock movie and a Fellini film. For some reason, tonight the final scene of The Philadelphia Story keeps playing in my head. I feel like Katharine Hepburn’s character, Tracy Lord, apologizing to her family and friends who’d gathered for a wedding that wasn’t going to take place.
Instead of a wedding, tonight I just want to tell all of you how sincerely grateful I am. I want to thank you, my co-workers, family and dearest friends, for your support during those seven months I was madly in love. Thank you for taking care of things at school. Thank you for looking after Buster for me when I was away. Thanks for the rides to and from the airport, laden with luggage full of e-bay purchases and gifts. Thank you for keeping the doubts -- which you surely must have had -- to yourself as I embarked upon what must have seemed like a mad adventure destined to end in heartbreak. As you all recall, I was deliriously happy during the seven months I was in love, and I want to thank you for being happy for me when it seemed I had finally found the soul-mate for whom I have long searched. Thank you, too, for your support in January when the love affair ended miserably in the course of just one day. And thank you for reading the fictionalized account of the romance in my book and for viewing the nearly one hundred drawings that also tell the story of this past year. Perhaps now you have more insight into what was going on in my heart and mind those months of my grand amour fou.
I also want to thank he who was once my love, he who would have become my third and final husband tonight. Louis, I sincerely thank you for your affection and for the tenderness and intimacy we once shared. I am deeply grateful not only for your love, but also for your belief in me as an artist and a writer, which propelled me into one of the most intense periods of creative activity I’ve ever experienced in my life. It’s not often that I produce a hundred drawings, much less a 350-page novel, in the course of one short year. Thank you so much for the energy and inspiration you sparked in me. I hope, in this, at least, that you were not wrong – that my work is important. Thank you for believing that I’ve earned my rightful place alongside Artemisia Gentileschi, Elisabeth Vignée-Lebrun, Camille Claudel, the Louises Bourgeois and Nevelson, Pina Bausch, Frida Kahlo, Simone de Beauvoir, the Brontës, Anne Frank and Anaïs Nin.
I’m grateful to you for proving to me that my heart is still alive, still capable of loving and, evidently, still hopeful. I would not have believed it possible at my age, and with my past romantic failures, that I could once again love so deeply and with such passion as I loved you. I would be lying to you now if I did not admit I miss your intellectual companionship, the quirky, esoteric interests we alone shared, your hands and your kisses. I miss playing Anaïs Nin and Henry Miller with you. Even though we have no future together, tonight I promise to treasure the beautiful, rich memories of our time together. I realize we are like the movies: at the end, I still know so little about you that you remain a mystery, a shadowy character like one written by Patricia Highsmith for Hitchcock – like the talented Mr. Ripley. And I, probably, will remain in your mind your Madelyn from Vertigo: an ideal, an anima projection. When I became uncomfortably “real,” our time together had to come to its inevitable ending and I had to disappear. I am a photograph, removed from your wallet and thrown away. Still, I have no regrets. Everything has turned out exactly the way Fate meant it to for both of us, my old love. Louis, I wish you well. I’ll quote Rick in Casablanca: “We’ll always have Paris.” And to Paris I will return alone to reclaim my city, as an antidote honeymoon.
I had originally planned to perform this piece as part of my wedding vows to Louis. So, in the words of Tracy Lord, “as originally and beautifully planned” I will now do just that to “Face the Music,” sung by Fred Astaire, from his movie Follow the Fleet. As I recall, Astaire sang it to a suicidal Ginger Rogers on the deck of a ship as she contemplated jumping overboard.
12:36 a.m. That means it's my not-wedding day!
House is pristine. Floors are done and taped off for the performances. I'm totally rehearsed. Exhibit and installation have been totally installed for days. I think I'm going to bed early tonight, so I can get up and walk Buster tomorrow morning early before I have to go pick up the cake, flowers and do the food. There's a notice the hot water is off from 9 a.m. to 3 p.m., so I guess I better get up and get a bath and shave my legs before then, in case it doesn't come back on by late afternoon. I was planning to take a disco nap about 4 before the performers arrive at 7.
Yes: I am excited. And a little nervous. But I feel really, really good about the work and I'm proud of the show. And I'm looking forward to spending a festive evening with my nearest and dearest. Although this place is going to be as packed as Holly Golightly's apartment during her cocktail party in Breakfast at Tiffany's. I hope no one's hair catches on fire, as in the movie. :)
And I'm looking forward to loads of barefoot dancing and drinking after 10 p.m.! And if I get really crazy, I may go for a moonlight swim to cap it all off. And I have an in-home massage to look forward to Saturday!
Someone said, in essence, "I think it's cool that you're marrying your art, not a man." And I thought: Wait. I may have divorced several men, but two things I've never divorced. My art, and an animal.
Yes: I am excited. And a little nervous. But I feel really, really good about the work and I'm proud of the show. And I'm looking forward to spending a festive evening with my nearest and dearest. Although this place is going to be as packed as Holly Golightly's apartment during her cocktail party in Breakfast at Tiffany's. I hope no one's hair catches on fire, as in the movie. :)
And I'm looking forward to loads of barefoot dancing and drinking after 10 p.m.! And if I get really crazy, I may go for a moonlight swim to cap it all off. And I have an in-home massage to look forward to Saturday!
Someone said, in essence, "I think it's cool that you're marrying your art, not a man." And I thought: Wait. I may have divorced several men, but two things I've never divorced. My art, and an animal.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
One of my friends can't go to her twentieth high school reunion
...because of current work projects. I'm so sorry, since she was looking forward to it.
Then I was thinking: me going to my high school reunion (if it weren't just the sub-set of art and drama people) would be pretty much like asking Carrie to go to her high school reunion. Bad idea.
Then I was thinking: me going to my high school reunion (if it weren't just the sub-set of art and drama people) would be pretty much like asking Carrie to go to her high school reunion. Bad idea.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
ROFLMAO
Ali has done it again: resurrected a 1993 or 1994 "commercial" for Hard Women by Linda Montano.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Unbelievable.
The documentation of one of my most ambitious and largest scale performances, which I have for over a decade believed to be lost, has been, like Lazarus, resurrected by Ali White and all the digital gods and is available for viewing at the link below. "The Death of Orpheus," from Metamorpheus, 1990.
These have something to do with the next project I propose.
More news as it develops.
Hm. La joueuse/les joyeux. Les joueuses joyeux?
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Show's installed and labeled, including installations.
Furniture is moved. House is cleaned. I have four more stray labels to make, then it's completely done. My house looks like an art gallery now, and I kind of like it this way. I may never move the furniture back in, because I have loads of space to dance in now. Now we can ALL drink wine and dance barefoot to gypsy music after the performances are over!
I'm really, really excited now. We rehearsed this morning, and everything is coming along really nicely. Frankie is an excellent musician, but we decided I have to have a mic because the song I'm singing is really challenging to me, range-wise. No, it's not "Somewhere Over the Rainbow," but the first two notes are separated by an octave and it's a stretch for me. It may not sound so great except for Frankie's cello, but it will be profoundly heart-felt.
But the biggest cool thing that's happened this weekend is the choreographer I admire most in the whole world now that Pina Bausch is dead has expressed interest in coming, so I invited her and she accepted. I will be so nervous when I do my dance piece, but I am really happy she's going to be here because I am such a fan of her work. Maybe the whole project will give her some kind of big idea of her own. And, coincidence: drumroll, please. She'll be living in Italy until January.
All that's left for me to do now is DJ in advance -- load up my iPod and iTunes play lists so I've got appropriate music in the upstairs installation room, and downstairs in the gallery. And pick up the things I have to pick up, coordinate the food, get the cake and flowers. With any luck I can lie down and have a disco nap about 4:00, then get up and get ready before the performers arrive at 7:30.
Work is going to seem unbearable this week, with the performance looming...
I'm really, really excited now. We rehearsed this morning, and everything is coming along really nicely. Frankie is an excellent musician, but we decided I have to have a mic because the song I'm singing is really challenging to me, range-wise. No, it's not "Somewhere Over the Rainbow," but the first two notes are separated by an octave and it's a stretch for me. It may not sound so great except for Frankie's cello, but it will be profoundly heart-felt.
But the biggest cool thing that's happened this weekend is the choreographer I admire most in the whole world now that Pina Bausch is dead has expressed interest in coming, so I invited her and she accepted. I will be so nervous when I do my dance piece, but I am really happy she's going to be here because I am such a fan of her work. Maybe the whole project will give her some kind of big idea of her own. And, coincidence: drumroll, please. She'll be living in Italy until January.
All that's left for me to do now is DJ in advance -- load up my iPod and iTunes play lists so I've got appropriate music in the upstairs installation room, and downstairs in the gallery. And pick up the things I have to pick up, coordinate the food, get the cake and flowers. With any luck I can lie down and have a disco nap about 4:00, then get up and get ready before the performers arrive at 7:30.
Work is going to seem unbearable this week, with the performance looming...
Friday, August 7, 2009
Borsa is made, wedding sweets are bagged...
in their cunning little bags, flower girl bags are made, ring pillow is made, artist's book is made and reproduced.
Hell, yeah! This anti(dote)wedding exhibition and performance is going to have every lovely detail I wanted for the wedding. No way I'm going to disappoint my family and friends, who would have enjoyed all these little details. And I'm going to have the party I dreamed of, even without the groom. There's still so much for me to celebrate: the completion of the original book and the epilogue drawings, the fact that so many people love and care about me and are happy I'm still all theirs. It's been good for me to reflect on the events of the last year and realize how very grateful I am for everything, even the dismal ending of the affair. Steep emotional learning curve for me, but unbelievable artistic energy along with it.
I'm cleaning house tonight so that I can mount the show tomorrow and Sunday. But everything's ready to go: labels, etc. It really hasn't been that hard to do it all myself, since I started a couple of weeks ago. Now we all just have to practice our performances...
Especially me, since I'm singing. :)
Thursday, August 6, 2009
I am outraged! Deneuve booed in Italy. What were they thinking?
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/08/06/catherine-deneuve-booed-a_n_252612.html
Deneuve booed in Italy for no Italian subtitles to accompany her French reading at a festival! My poor darling! I rush to your defense! We all know your Italian is flawless, anyway! This is inexcusably brutish behavior on the part of the crowd, and the organizers of the event were idiots. And you suffer from stage fright, anyway. Please, don't be traumatized!
I am so sad!
Deneuve booed in Italy for no Italian subtitles to accompany her French reading at a festival! My poor darling! I rush to your defense! We all know your Italian is flawless, anyway! This is inexcusably brutish behavior on the part of the crowd, and the organizers of the event were idiots. And you suffer from stage fright, anyway. Please, don't be traumatized!
I am so sad!
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Sketch for the doll
...I started working on tonight, last piece for my upcoming show.
It's going to be kind of an engineering nightmare, but the head(s) is(are) done and drying overnight.
Monday, August 3, 2009
A seemingly random list of movies, and a space:
Some Came Running, Minnelli, 1958.
This Property is Condemned, Pollack, 1966.
The Fugitive Kind, Lumet, 1959.
Splendor in the Grass, Kazan, 1961.
You win if you can write the essay before I get around to it.
This Property is Condemned, Pollack, 1966.
The Fugitive Kind, Lumet, 1959.
Splendor in the Grass, Kazan, 1961.
You win if you can write the essay before I get around to it.
My Days of Heaven.
If we humans are lucky, during the course of our lifetimes, we'll have a few perfect days. These are mine: sheer Paradise on earth. And, perhaps, I have enjoyed more than my fair share of them. There were even more perfect days, but no camera to record them.
Car broke down at Sun Harvest.
Bad :(
Nice woman parked next to me gave me a jump and it started up. Good :)
Drove it to Firestone and left it for the night. Bad :(
Ali came and picked me up and took me home. Good :)
Boss gave a vacation day while I wait to hear from mechanic so grown-up child doesn't have to take off work and lose income. Good :)
Took dog for hour-long walk in the coolness of the early morning, since I didn't have to go in to work. Good :)
Waiting to hear from garage. Bad :(
Tore down paper for next drawing series. Good :)
Danced barefoot to gypsy music in living room. Good :) Very, very good :)
Eating oatmeal with boiled raisins now. Good :)
Then will draw or scan until I hear about car status. Unexpected bounty: a day off that I wasn't expecting, in this wretched, hellish Texas August heat.
Nice woman parked next to me gave me a jump and it started up. Good :)
Drove it to Firestone and left it for the night. Bad :(
Ali came and picked me up and took me home. Good :)
Boss gave a vacation day while I wait to hear from mechanic so grown-up child doesn't have to take off work and lose income. Good :)
Took dog for hour-long walk in the coolness of the early morning, since I didn't have to go in to work. Good :)
Waiting to hear from garage. Bad :(
Tore down paper for next drawing series. Good :)
Danced barefoot to gypsy music in living room. Good :) Very, very good :)
Eating oatmeal with boiled raisins now. Good :)
Then will draw or scan until I hear about car status. Unexpected bounty: a day off that I wasn't expecting, in this wretched, hellish Texas August heat.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Scanning. And making things for my show in two weeks.
It's been a productive weekend, moving around from task to task. I put a lot of travel photos up on my flickr, now that I've got a scanner working again. But probably I won't feel as if I had a weekend because all I did was projects. That is, I didn't go out and have any "fun."
Friday, July 31, 2009
Friday off! Vacation day! Yay!
Have apparently lost my prescription sunglasses, or they've been stolen from my car. Booh. :( I seem to be incapable of holding on to a pair of prescription sunglasses for more than a few months, whereas I've had my Versace non-prescription ones since 1995. Go figure.
Put up two weeks' worth of clean laundry last night, organized and inventoried my closet for fall, figured out what gets handed down or given to charity. Now, if I can just iron and do my housework today, back to the studio for me and the next drawing series next weeek.
Put up two weeks' worth of clean laundry last night, organized and inventoried my closet for fall, figured out what gets handed down or given to charity. Now, if I can just iron and do my housework today, back to the studio for me and the next drawing series next weeek.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Guilty pleasures
I found a place that sells perfume decants. One can order a teeny-tiny vial of basically anything in the world one has ever dreamed of inhaling, no matter how expensive a full bottle of it would be, and no matter how esoteric the scent. They even have some vintage bottles left of perfumes that are no longer made, or that have had a change in formula (but I wonder how gone-off they may be?). It's a great idea, and also a great way to wear something for a couple of days to decide if you like it before you spring for a bottle.
If you, like me, are into perfume like some people are into wine, check it out:
http://theperfumedcourt.com/
When I got my Hermès twilly they had the good sense to include some Hermès perfume sample vials, two of which I'd spritzed in passing while running through the duty-free of some airport in Europe this summer: Un jardin sur Nil and Un jardin meditérranée. There was another one in the suite I thought might have been the one I loved best, Un jardin apres la mousson. This decant outfit sent me the missing third one, so now I'll puzzle it out. Love all three, but I think it must have been jardin meditérranée that smelled so good as the hours passed and it changed on my skin.
I'd like to write about perfume like other people write about wine. The first whif brings forward all kinds of associations, since, as I've written, for me memory resides in the nose.
I was wanting to try out some perfumes for fall with leather and tobacco notes, so Caron's Tabac Blond has arrived, and Knize Ten. Knize has been intriguing me since Vienna, because Mayerling murder-suicide Prince Rudolf had a scent created for him they still sell to this day. I can't remember now which one it is. Will have to do some research. Knize Ten right out of the vial had a really lovely black flower note -- like narcissus? -- but finished like new tires. Ew. No, not for me. Tabac Blond is much better. Dietrich wore it, but it has that synthetic note in it, like Chanel No. 5, that does not please my nose, but is a hallmark of perfumes of the thirties. What's it called? Aldeyhydes? It's what I can always still smell in what's left in a dried-up vintage perfume bottle and I don't like it.
My nose is overwhelmed tonight so I have to wait until tomorrow to try something I've never had the opportunity to try before: Guerlain Jicky. It's the turn-of-the-century grandmother of my own signature scent, Shalimar. I can't wait to smell what part of it is Shalimar and how it's different. I'm betting much more purple, if it's from the fin de siècle.
I got a tiny Guerlain Vol de Nuit, my old high school favorite, for old time's sake. It's more gardenia than I remembered, but lovely. And a tiny Bal à Versailles, a formerly very popular but now extremely hard to find perfume that smells like baby powder and exquisitely frosted white cakes -- in fact, I wore that one to my second wedding.
I discovered this decant outfit on my mission to find a sample of the perfume Deneuve authored in the seventies. Got it. Not suprisingly, it's related to YSL's Opium, my disco diva period favorite. Very strong, very exotic, an oriental in genealogy. I would never wear it except around midnight to go out. And, surprisingly, it seems like a scent for a brunette, not a blond.
If you like to read about perfume history and search by notes, this decanter has a very well-organized site, and also gives formulation dates, notes and so on for each scent. I could spend a small fortune, tiny vial by tiny vial, on research.
But, hands-down, for me House of Guerlain is it. Every one of my favorite scents is one of theirs. And then, Caron, very, very hard to find in the States.
I must admit, though, I have worn bourbon as a perfume. I love the way a really good bottle smells when you just open it. Or even Jack Daniels, when you first break the seal and inhale.
I smell h e a v e n l y right now :)
If you, like me, are into perfume like some people are into wine, check it out:
http://theperfumedcourt.com/
When I got my Hermès twilly they had the good sense to include some Hermès perfume sample vials, two of which I'd spritzed in passing while running through the duty-free of some airport in Europe this summer: Un jardin sur Nil and Un jardin meditérranée. There was another one in the suite I thought might have been the one I loved best, Un jardin apres la mousson. This decant outfit sent me the missing third one, so now I'll puzzle it out. Love all three, but I think it must have been jardin meditérranée that smelled so good as the hours passed and it changed on my skin.
I'd like to write about perfume like other people write about wine. The first whif brings forward all kinds of associations, since, as I've written, for me memory resides in the nose.
I was wanting to try out some perfumes for fall with leather and tobacco notes, so Caron's Tabac Blond has arrived, and Knize Ten. Knize has been intriguing me since Vienna, because Mayerling murder-suicide Prince Rudolf had a scent created for him they still sell to this day. I can't remember now which one it is. Will have to do some research. Knize Ten right out of the vial had a really lovely black flower note -- like narcissus? -- but finished like new tires. Ew. No, not for me. Tabac Blond is much better. Dietrich wore it, but it has that synthetic note in it, like Chanel No. 5, that does not please my nose, but is a hallmark of perfumes of the thirties. What's it called? Aldeyhydes? It's what I can always still smell in what's left in a dried-up vintage perfume bottle and I don't like it.
My nose is overwhelmed tonight so I have to wait until tomorrow to try something I've never had the opportunity to try before: Guerlain Jicky. It's the turn-of-the-century grandmother of my own signature scent, Shalimar. I can't wait to smell what part of it is Shalimar and how it's different. I'm betting much more purple, if it's from the fin de siècle.
I got a tiny Guerlain Vol de Nuit, my old high school favorite, for old time's sake. It's more gardenia than I remembered, but lovely. And a tiny Bal à Versailles, a formerly very popular but now extremely hard to find perfume that smells like baby powder and exquisitely frosted white cakes -- in fact, I wore that one to my second wedding.
I discovered this decant outfit on my mission to find a sample of the perfume Deneuve authored in the seventies. Got it. Not suprisingly, it's related to YSL's Opium, my disco diva period favorite. Very strong, very exotic, an oriental in genealogy. I would never wear it except around midnight to go out. And, surprisingly, it seems like a scent for a brunette, not a blond.
If you like to read about perfume history and search by notes, this decanter has a very well-organized site, and also gives formulation dates, notes and so on for each scent. I could spend a small fortune, tiny vial by tiny vial, on research.
But, hands-down, for me House of Guerlain is it. Every one of my favorite scents is one of theirs. And then, Caron, very, very hard to find in the States.
I must admit, though, I have worn bourbon as a perfume. I love the way a really good bottle smells when you just open it. Or even Jack Daniels, when you first break the seal and inhale.
I smell h e a v e n l y right now :)
Well, this is cool!
One of my recent drawings got picked up by a flickr group as an icon used to invite other photographers and artists. And supposedly the administrator of this group may use three of my Botticelli Venus images posted recently in an upcoming discussion forum.
It's always gratifying to learn that people you don't even know from all over the world have somehow stumbled upon your work on the internet.
http://www.flickr.com/groups/venus-aphrodite/discuss/72157616218261856/
It's always gratifying to learn that people you don't even know from all over the world have somehow stumbled upon your work on the internet.
http://www.flickr.com/groups/venus-aphrodite/discuss/72157616218261856/
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Was to have been my next tattoo...
or at least half of it was going to be, as a wedding tattoo.
Who knows? Maybe I'll still get my bird. But I need to find a tattoo artist who can work it out totally for me. Those birds are really small on my Blue Willow dishes, so I'm mainly just guessing.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Blah. Stayed up too late last night, sewing and book-binding.
It's hotter than Hades today and boring. Most everyone is on vacation and it's quiet, too quiet. Think of all the millions of things I could be doing if I were at home and free.
My mind keeps returning over and over to Pollock's Toy Theatres and Museum in London today. If I were in London, I would go there and draw all day.
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