Wanna go to an opening?
Heather Levy opens at Cafe Luna tomorrow. The reception for Levy is from 7-9PM.
Cafe Luna is located @ 1633 P St., NW Washington, DC (202) 387-7400. The show runs until Aug. 6th, 2005
Inspiration
This next five city travel that I have commencing next Sunday will give me an opportunity to catch up on reading; with half a dozen flights involved, I can knock off at least six or seven books.
And I think that I will re-read one of my favorite books of all time: Gunter Grass' "The Flounder."
This will be my third or fourth reading of this fascinating book, which is sort of a macabre, dark re-telling of the story of the talking fish who grants wishes. It all begins in the Germanic Stone Age, when the magical, talking fish is caught by a fisherman at the very spot where millennia later Grass's home town, Danzig, will arise.
Like the fish, the fisherman is now immortal, and down through the ages they move together, as the fish teaches the fisherman art, and breaks him away from the power and dominance of Teutonic women. He then blends German history, cooking recipes and a healthy dose of darkness into a fascinating story, where at the end, so tired of the mess men have made of the world, the fish allows itself to be captured by three Socialist East German women, who promptly put him on public trial for offenses to womanhood.
This book, everytime that I read it, inspires artwork from me. Below is "Sieglinde Huntscha and The Flounder," circa 2000. About 5 x 20 inches, and somewhere in a private collection in Cleveland.
This next five city travel that I have commencing next Sunday will give me an opportunity to catch up on reading; with half a dozen flights involved, I can knock off at least six or seven books.
And I think that I will re-read one of my favorite books of all time: Gunter Grass' "The Flounder."
This will be my third or fourth reading of this fascinating book, which is sort of a macabre, dark re-telling of the story of the talking fish who grants wishes. It all begins in the Germanic Stone Age, when the magical, talking fish is caught by a fisherman at the very spot where millennia later Grass's home town, Danzig, will arise.
Like the fish, the fisherman is now immortal, and down through the ages they move together, as the fish teaches the fisherman art, and breaks him away from the power and dominance of Teutonic women. He then blends German history, cooking recipes and a healthy dose of darkness into a fascinating story, where at the end, so tired of the mess men have made of the world, the fish allows itself to be captured by three Socialist East German women, who promptly put him on public trial for offenses to womanhood.
This book, everytime that I read it, inspires artwork from me. Below is "Sieglinde Huntscha and The Flounder," circa 2000. About 5 x 20 inches, and somewhere in a private collection in Cleveland.
The Franz and Virginia Bader Fund
Deadline: September 30, 2005
The Franz and Virginia Bader Fund welcomes applications from visual artists aged 40 years or older, who live within 150 miles of Washington, D.C. and can demonstrate that they have the potential to benefit as artists from a grant.
The Franz and Virginia Bader Fund does not, however, accept applications from filmmakers, video artists, and performance artists. In December 2004 the Franz and Virginia Bader Fund awarded three grants, one of $20,000 and two of $15,000 each.
The deadline for applications is September 30, 2005. Application forms may be downloaded from the fund's web site: www.baderfund.org or may be requested by sending an email to grants@baderfund.org or by calling 202-288-4608.
Deadline: September 30, 2005
The Franz and Virginia Bader Fund welcomes applications from visual artists aged 40 years or older, who live within 150 miles of Washington, D.C. and can demonstrate that they have the potential to benefit as artists from a grant.
The Franz and Virginia Bader Fund does not, however, accept applications from filmmakers, video artists, and performance artists. In December 2004 the Franz and Virginia Bader Fund awarded three grants, one of $20,000 and two of $15,000 each.
The deadline for applications is September 30, 2005. Application forms may be downloaded from the fund's web site: www.baderfund.org or may be requested by sending an email to grants@baderfund.org or by calling 202-288-4608.
Short (Busy) Week
I've got a hell of tight week for the next few days, as I am flying North to New England on Sunday afternoon and will be away for the next two weeks on a five city swing.
Bad timing for this trip, as I have some really fierce reasons to be home, but such is destiny.
In addition to my normal workload, because Catriona is in Scotland shooting (photos not deer), this week I have to deinstall the current Bethesda Painting Awards show, which ends tomorrow. The show did surprisingly well, with quite a few sales, especially multiple sales by transplanted New Yorker John Aquilino, who actually has a solo opening this coming Sunday at Strathmore. Then on Thursday I have to install the next Bethesda show, which is our annual Summer Group Show (opening is this coming Friday from 6-9PM).
I also got to prepare everything for the opening by the way...
Somewhere in there I got fit in meeting one of the major art collectors in the area, and give him a tour of Seven, as he's specifically interested in discovering some new work by our area artists, and I also have a deadline for the Crier newspapers, as well as a catalog intro essay deadline for an artist in New Orleans (the artist who won the huge Frida Kahlo exhibit that I juried for Art.com), picking up the fair Catriona from the airport as she returns from Scotland, and then deliver and install a ton of Tim Tate's recent sales.
And yet... one makes time for what's really important.
I've got a hell of tight week for the next few days, as I am flying North to New England on Sunday afternoon and will be away for the next two weeks on a five city swing.
Bad timing for this trip, as I have some really fierce reasons to be home, but such is destiny.
In addition to my normal workload, because Catriona is in Scotland shooting (photos not deer), this week I have to deinstall the current Bethesda Painting Awards show, which ends tomorrow. The show did surprisingly well, with quite a few sales, especially multiple sales by transplanted New Yorker John Aquilino, who actually has a solo opening this coming Sunday at Strathmore. Then on Thursday I have to install the next Bethesda show, which is our annual Summer Group Show (opening is this coming Friday from 6-9PM).
I also got to prepare everything for the opening by the way...
Somewhere in there I got fit in meeting one of the major art collectors in the area, and give him a tour of Seven, as he's specifically interested in discovering some new work by our area artists, and I also have a deadline for the Crier newspapers, as well as a catalog intro essay deadline for an artist in New Orleans (the artist who won the huge Frida Kahlo exhibit that I juried for Art.com), picking up the fair Catriona from the airport as she returns from Scotland, and then deliver and install a ton of Tim Tate's recent sales.
And yet... one makes time for what's really important.
Close call
I have a "to do" list in my house closely approaching the size of a Stephen King novel, and so on Independence Day I decided to tackle a couple of the most immediate ones.
And thus I climbed the roof(s) to clean the gutters and install a gutter gard so I won't have to do this absolutely gross task every few weeks. Can you already see where this is going?
My house has three separate levels of roofs and five gutter lines, so I need one ladder to climb to the first roof, and a second ladder to reach the second level roof.
At the risk of blowing the ending to this story, let me remind you that I've already fallen off this roof once last year, when I was stung by a wasp and lost my balance and managed to fall and somehow not even get a scratch.
Yesterday, as I finished the top roof, and was climbing down to the lower roof, the ladder slipped, and as it did, my legs went in between the ladder steps as ladder and I rolled down the roof. I was able to stop rolling near the edge of the roof, but my lower legs sandwiched between the ladder steps received an immense pressure blow that really F%$&*@ hurt. I sat on the roof top just inhaling the pain and wondering how close death sometimes whizzes by us on a daily basis. Tonite my shin bones have a couple of blood knots on them the size of half a golf ball. I also managed to scrape the top layer of skin off the palm of my hands.
I've been shot at (twice: once in Brooklyn as a teen and once in Lebanon as a Navy officer); I've been in a helicopter crash at sea near Larnaca, Cyprus; I've capsized in a small boat in the Bay of Naples and a second time off Benidorm, Spain; I've fallen off a moving motorcycle in Monterey, California; I've been in a fight with three guys with knives who tried to mug me in a bathroom in Philadelphia; I've been hit by a car (resulting in an eight month stay at Kings County Hospital in Brooklyn); and I've been stung by a scorpion in a bed in Virgin Gorda, BVI.
And yet, it's the little, unexpected things like a slipping ladder, that remind you that life should be enjoyed everyday, lest darkness fall at the most unexpected time.
I have a "to do" list in my house closely approaching the size of a Stephen King novel, and so on Independence Day I decided to tackle a couple of the most immediate ones.
And thus I climbed the roof(s) to clean the gutters and install a gutter gard so I won't have to do this absolutely gross task every few weeks. Can you already see where this is going?
My house has three separate levels of roofs and five gutter lines, so I need one ladder to climb to the first roof, and a second ladder to reach the second level roof.
At the risk of blowing the ending to this story, let me remind you that I've already fallen off this roof once last year, when I was stung by a wasp and lost my balance and managed to fall and somehow not even get a scratch.
Yesterday, as I finished the top roof, and was climbing down to the lower roof, the ladder slipped, and as it did, my legs went in between the ladder steps as ladder and I rolled down the roof. I was able to stop rolling near the edge of the roof, but my lower legs sandwiched between the ladder steps received an immense pressure blow that really F%$&*@ hurt. I sat on the roof top just inhaling the pain and wondering how close death sometimes whizzes by us on a daily basis. Tonite my shin bones have a couple of blood knots on them the size of half a golf ball. I also managed to scrape the top layer of skin off the palm of my hands.
I've been shot at (twice: once in Brooklyn as a teen and once in Lebanon as a Navy officer); I've been in a helicopter crash at sea near Larnaca, Cyprus; I've capsized in a small boat in the Bay of Naples and a second time off Benidorm, Spain; I've fallen off a moving motorcycle in Monterey, California; I've been in a fight with three guys with knives who tried to mug me in a bathroom in Philadelphia; I've been hit by a car (resulting in an eight month stay at Kings County Hospital in Brooklyn); and I've been stung by a scorpion in a bed in Virgin Gorda, BVI.
And yet, it's the little, unexpected things like a slipping ladder, that remind you that life should be enjoyed everyday, lest darkness fall at the most unexpected time.
Kirkland on Seven
Thinking About Art has some really good photos from the Seven opening.
See them here.
Thinking About Art has some really good photos from the Seven opening.
See them here.