Congrats!

To two very hardworking DC area artists:

Aylene Fallah's eviscerating and gutsy political artwork is included in the show "Tehran - New York" opening on Friday March 5th, 5-7pm at the Leila Taghinia-Milani Heller Gallery in New York.

And the brilliant Amy Lin will be included in “On/Off the Grid” at Irvine Contemporary in DC with an opening reception on Saturday, February 13, 6-8pm.

Snowcalypse Stories (Part II)

Yesterday I described for you my rush home from sunny California in order to be home with my family when the snowstorm arrived to the DC area.

Because I'd been up almost 30 hours, I decided to crash and get some sleep before I went out to the back yard and bring some wood closer to the house.

By the time I woke up, the snow had begun to fall, and it all looked so blissful and beautiful, that I didn't recognize the inherent dangerous beauty of a major snowfall.

The lights flickered several times that night as we went sleep. Outside, it snowed continuously.

Throughout the night we're awakened by falling branches on our roof from the huge pine tree next to the house.

One huge branch barely misses the house - that one would have done a lot of damage - but 2-3 other large ones land on the roof with a lot of crashing noises.

Little Junes wakes up around 5:30AM on Saturday morning because he is cold. He is cold (as are we) because the power has been out and the house is already in the 60s. Outside it is all covered in several inches of snow and it's falling heavily.

By 9AM the temperature inside the house has dropped a few more degrees and I decide to get dressed and trek to the backyard and bring some wood into the house, as we have no idea when the power will return. It is also impossible to escape somewhere else, as there's waist-deep snow outside and a little neighborhood recon reveals that our cul-de-sac is blocked in by a tree that has fallen at the entrance to the cul-de-sac and effectively sealed about nine houses from the rest of the neighborhood. No one can get in or out until the tree is removed and the streets are plowed. And it is still snowing.

There are footprints in the snow from the street to our front door, and I wonder who made them.

The adventure of digging wood out of a snow-covered wood pile, and dragging it uphill through waist-deep snow is not an easy one, and it takes me about five hours of this brutal exercise to drag what I estimate is enough wood for a day and a half to my back porch.

Most of the wood needs to be split, and all I have is a iron wedge and a hammer, but I begin to split the wood by hand. After all, this is how people have been doing it for centuries before the modern age, right?

Add another two hours of this really hard work to the task.


By the time I get back inside the house, I am soaked in sweat inside my three-layer outfit. I then haul a third of the wood from the back porch downstairs to the fireplace upstairs - no rest for the weary. A lot of newspaper and a lot of kindling later, the wood - most of which is young and not really dry - is burning.

An hour or so later, I hear voices in my backyard and I note tracks in the snow. Curious as to who is in my backyard, I go downstairs and through the sliding glass door of the back porch i discover two neighbors hauling away the wood that I had just dragged uphill and split.

They are embarrassed; they apologize profusely. "We're sorry," says the older man (the other man is a gigantic teenager). "We knocked on the front door, and no one answered."

"We're freezing and we were wondering if we can have some wood."

I understand their desperation. "You can have as much wood as you need," I offer, "Just take it from the wood pile down there." I point to the large wood pile down hill. "I just finished spending most of the morning dragging and splitting this wood for tonight." They drop my newly-split wood and head down the hill. "Take as much as you need," I repeat.

They take some big logs. I advise them that they're going to have to get a lot of kindling and will need to split the wood. I offer them the splitting wedge, but they just thank me for the wood and leave.

I decide to walk around the neighborhood and offer my neighbors wood for their fireplaces as long as they come and carry it back to their houses. To one elderly neighbor I offer to carry it back for him and split it for him. He thanks me but says that he's got a pretty good stash in his back porch. Another neighbor (the one to my left) has already grabbed some of my wood and offers to pay me - I smile and convince him that it is OK. I also advise him that he'll need to split it first.

Since he doesn't know how, I lend him my splitting wedge and hammer and describe how to split the wood.

I go and check on my next door neighbors, who are three women and a couple of kids, and to offer them some wood. They have plenty of wood of their own, but have no idea how to use a fire place. I go inside their minimalist decorated beautiful home and show their kids about the flute and describe how to get a fire going.

By now I am a little puzzled as to how a kid from Brooklyn is the only one in this neighborhood who knows the ages old process to get a fire going. Later, when I run into the female member of the neighbors who came into my back yard looking for wood, she tells me that they had failed to get the fire going and because the flute was closed, had gotten the house full of smoke. I offer to go and start it for them, but obviously she's pissed at her men and declines.

By now my other neighbor (the one to my left) is back and tells me that he can't figure out how to split the wood. I go to his house and see that he's been trying to split green wood. I select some cured wood from his stash and split that for him and tell him that the green ones can't be split.

By six PM it is dark and the house is in the low 50s.

But our fire is going good and in front of the fire it feels a little warmer - not much, but a little.

An open fireplace such as ours actually doesn't really heat up a house - in fact it does the opposite - but the psychological value of a roaring flame is quite good.

We set up camp in front of the fireplace with the sleeper sofa, Little Junes and a gazillion blankets.

Anderson Campello at the Snowcalypse 2010
It's 51 degrees in front of the fire when we doze off, and in the 40s in our bedrooms.

The fire is roaring, but there's a lot of green wood in there, and a lot of popping of knots and sparks and I become a little worried about going to sleep with a fire on, so I stay awake watching the fire while the family sleeps. When the fire begins to die, I doze off.

We awake around 5AM and it's in the mid 40s in the fireplace room and 38 in our bedrooms. We bring Little Junes into bed with us to keep him warm. The little dude has some many layers that he's actually quite comfortable, but soon I realize that the little guy is quite a bed hogger.


Litte Junes, Master Bedhogger, Snowcalypse 2010
Next: What happened when the snowfall ended

Snowcalypse Stories (Part I)

It's about noon last Thursday last week, Left Coast time (I was working in San Diego) when I began to receive texts from family and friends in the DC area. "Dude!" said one of them, "you better hurry back home: major snow storm is supposed to start on Friday afternoon!"

"Feh!" I thought to myself (I was in a meeting when the texts began to arrive. "My flight is supposed to arrive at BWI at 8 PM tomorrow."

Some nimble Blackberrying later, I have assessed the fact that everyone West of West Virginia is expecting "anywhere from 3-5 feet of snow." Blackberry Ops also tells me that airlines have begun to cancel flights on Friday evening.

Multiple calls to multiple airlines revels that the airline industry is still unable to cope with bad weather and that if I want to return home on Thursday night, instead of leaving as scheduled on Friday morning, I'm gonna shell about about $600 to Continental for a one way ticket back to DC area.

And the price gouging continues. As I search Expedia, prices change before my eyes as they rocked upwards. Someone suggests the red eye flight from LAX to Dulles on Virgin America. "It's only $99," says the suggester.

I check Virgin America online. He is right, that flight is $99 every night - but tonight, for some reason, it has jumped into price hyperspace and it's $552 one way. The next night is back to $99.

In the end, I book a flight on US Airways (rotten airline) out of San Diego to Phoenix and a flight on Delta (perhaps rottener) from Phoenix to Detroit and then from Detroit to Baltimore. I'm out about $450 for a one way ticket.

In San Diego I check in but US Airways can't issue me the Delta tickets. They suggest that I drop by the Delta counter to see why. I do, and they can't issue me the tickets either - and they have no idea why not, bust ask that I go to the departure gate to get my delta tickets once I land in Phoenix. I remind them that it is odd that in 2010 a major airline, running on a 2010 computer system, can't know why tickets for a flight can't be issued to the passenger checking in another airport.

There's an air of desperation as the US Airways flight boards with East bound passengers trying to beat the storm as they head back home. At around 6:45PM on Thursday night, we depart.

A few hours later we land in Phoenix, only to find out that the only way to get to the Delta flights is to take a bus to another terminal and then to check in (again) and go through security (again). Is Phoenix Airport the only American airport that hasn't figured out how to transport passengers between terminals without re-adding them to the TSA line for a second time?

Three hours later, at midnight we take off and head for Detroit. I am exhausted but I can't sleep on airplanes except for the 39 seconds when the drink cart is next to me and so they pass me by.

We land in Detroit and I have recall that I've never been a fan of this very long airport, in which some Pointdexter architect designed so that all gates are in one long, very long row. We manage to land in one end somewhere in Michigan, and have to walk all the way to the other end of the terminal, which must be somewhere near the Canadian border.

When all of us (by now a herd of BWI-bound passengers have banded together) arrive there, we find out that the gate has been changed to the other side of the terminal. This time I note the monorail inside the terminal - running above us like a toy train - and take it back to where we had landed originally. "It was good exercise," I said to myself of the long march from gate A78 to A21 and now back to A75.

We depart on time, and land at BWI at 8:30AM. The gunmetal skies tell a story as I arrive home around 10AM.

I'm running on fumes and debate going to the backyard and gathering some wood in case the power goes out and we need to use the fireplace for heat. But I am running on fumes and decide to sleep a little first, and then re-consider going out to the back and gathering some firewood.

It's a bad decision.

More tomorrow as we find out what happened when the snow came and the electricity went.

Opportunity for Artists

Deadline: March 5, 2010.

The Visual Arts Committee of the University of Minnesota organizes nine solo, group, or theme-based exhibitions per year at the St. Paul Student Center's 520 sq. foot Larson Art Gallery. It also organizes four solo exhibitions at Coffman Memorial Union's Coffman Art Gallery.

To apply, please make sure to include all of the following:
- Note which Gallery you are applying for (Coffman or Larson).
- 3-5 slides of your artwork or digital images in jpeg format.
- Artists' statement and contact information.
- Self-addressed stamped envelope for return of images.

Send proposals to:
Visual Arts Committee
University of Minnesota
Coffman Memorial Union RM 126
300 Washington Ave SE
Minneapolis, MN 55455

38 Ways to Improve your Art Sales

From Art Marketing 101:

• Set aside a specific day and time each week for marketing.

• Create a quiet office space for your business.

• Start collecting names for your mailing list.

• Call five to 10 art world professionals each week.

• Spend one day visiting local galleries.

• Subscribe to an art publication for one year and read it.

• Enter a competition.

• Sponsor a community event.

• Host a studio party.

• Donate time to some charity. Let people know you are an artist.

• Barter your art for services.

• Support your statewide arts organization by buying an art license plate with your art-business name on it.

• Try to get an interview on your local radio station.

• What interior designer could you take to lunch?

• To what local business could you lease your artwork?

• In what cafe could you hang your paintings?

• Give out coupons with a Valentine’s Day e-mail blast.

• What special offer could you make on a postcard to your clients?

• What storyline can you create for the local art writer?

• What previous client would be able to give you a useful referral?

• What sign could you put on your car to advertise your work?

• What bumper sticker could you create to give to your clients?

• Create an e-mail newsletter to send to clients.

• How much would it cost to put up a billboard at the entrance to town?

• Create an unusual, catchy name for your new group of paintings.

• Apply to the next local art fair.

• Start saying, “I am an artist.”

• Provide a specialized service that no other artist provides.

• Get a phone number that spells out something (or figure out what your current one spells).
.
• Be friendly with a competitor.

• Place your artwork in model home displays.

• Work with a local chapter of American Society of Interior Designers—give a talk at one of their meetings.

• Contact your local International Furnishings and Design Association chapter affiliation.

• Place a display of your work at the local library, associated with a talk you will give.

• Find a Realtor’s office that will let you exhibit. Offer agents a commission on sales.

• Create a gift certificate form.

• Check out your local doctor, veterinarian, optometrist, emergency room, hospital, medical facilities office. These venues often do have a budget for “decoration.” If they are not in the position to buy, offer a lease option.

• Smile at everyone today.

Torpedo Factory Art Center Visiting Artist Program

Deadline: February 28, 2010.

The Torpedo Factory Art Center invites emerging and experienced artists to apply for one, two, or three residencies between June 1 and August 31, 2010.

The Torpedo Factory Art Center in Alexandria Virginia is home to more than 140 visual artists working in 82 studios. Artists create in a wide variety of media including painting, fiber, jewelry, ceramics, printmaking, cast and stained glass, and sculpture. The Torpedo Factory is open to the public every day; visitors are invited and welcomed into studios to watch artists at work, ask questions, and purchase original art – allowing the public an opportunity to share in the excitement and fascination of the creative process. The projects undertaken by Visiting Artists for this self-directed, creative residency must be compatible with available working studio spaces and facilities. Visiting Artists will be provided with studio space and will be able to display and sell original work.

Finalists will be selected by juror Jack Rasmussen, Director and Curator of the American University Museum. There is no application fee. Download the Prospectus and Application Form from www.torpedofactory.org/vap. Send questions to: vap@torpedofactory.org. No telephone calls please.

Airborne

I'm flying back home early tonite and they're expecting another major snow storm in the Mid Atlantic, so I hope that we can land - otherwise I may be stuck somewhere between Detroit and DC.