Having gotten to the point in life where I can order from the senior menu, I was eligible to enter the 55+ show “Visions: A gathering of Elders”, and this was it turned out the last time I was able to go to a gathering before the world imploded. True that people were observing precautions such as elbow bumps vs. handshakes, but otherwise it seems that the elder wisdom was the same as for having a bad cold. Don’t cough on people, and go home and feel sorry for yourself for two weeks.
Sometimes life give you just what you need. On Saturday I was at an art fair at Rainbow Stew in Yucca Valley. My neighbor, Christine Chase, had brought a project to work on during the day. She had a number of pieces of upcycled household objects that she assembled into a sculpture. At the end of the day, we packed up a little early because it had gotten windy and we were starting to get blown away. I helped Christine with the last few stages of taking down her tent safely. As she was packing she realized that now that the project was complete, she didn’t have room for the sculpture and the box that the pieces had been in. She asked if I needed a box. I said I didn’t, but had room to take it and recycle it appropriately.
As I disassembled the booth, it got windier. Because it had been a 1-day show with no chance of rain, I’d put the loose canopy top on. It’s easier to transport, I put it on the frame at home, but it isn’t waterproof. As I had intended to leave it on until I returned home, I didn’t bring the bag it goes in. As I was taking the booth down, it became obvious things would be safer if I removed the ‘sail’ from the top. I was bemoaning the fact that I hadn’t brought the bag, but then suddenly realized why serendipity had given me a box….
Having been doing a lot of catch up (to where I should’ve been if I’d never gone) after returning, I forgot to put up a link to my Monthly Newsletter yesterday. So now you’re back at the office/gotten over the hangover, you can read it.
Sometimes I think poets go through all the circumstances themselves so they can write about things from a personal perspective.
Outside of prejudice, a place that’s learned
like old wives’ tales, absorbed at parent’s knee
to recognize the ones that should be spurned,
no why, just that’s the way that it should be.
Inside of prejudice, that face is turned,
for reasons I can’t fathom, away from me,
til whispers, giggles stop when I get near
and conversation turns to other things.
I know I am the joke I cannot hear
and my imagination then takes wings
and rises on the heat of latent fear,
the wind that is despair, and all it brings.
Outside of prejudice can see no wrong.
Inside of prejudice I don’t belong.
One of the galleries I work with, Vanguard Gallery in Moreno Valley, is on a mission to create a Veteran Artists Cooperative. Rick’s ultimate hope is to create a Museum of Veteran Art in Southern California – but the cooperative is a good place to start. It would be wonderful if you feel you can contribute a few dollars to the project. Or if you are willing to share this to others who might.