Here are portraits of my niece and nephew, at my brother and sister-in-law's house at Thanksgiving. Happy December everybody!
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
niece and nephew
Here are portraits of my niece and nephew, at my brother and sister-in-law's house at Thanksgiving. Happy December everybody!
Friday, November 7, 2008
new studio!
I just moved into this new studio today. I just brought a few things, stared out the windows (there's two), read a little bit, and took a nap while listening to my friend practice accordian and harmonica next door.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
VOTE
My mom, a lifelong Democrat, got me started on the campaign trail early. I helped her put up posters for the McGovern campaign in 1972, when I was six years old.
I was sworn in as a registered voter in my college cafeteria in the fall of 1984, just barely 18 years old. I voted in the primaries and the subsequent presidential election.
I don't understand why people don't register to vote, or use that as an excuse not to vote, or use any excuse not to vote. It's a mystery to me. But like all good mysteries I come back to it every couple of years and see if I can figure it out. No luck this year. I still meet people who I otherwise love and respect who aren't going to vote. Some of them have the grace to be embarrassed. Some won't meet my eye and are angry I'm judging them. So be it.
I'm voting on Tuesday. I hope you are too.
I was sworn in as a registered voter in my college cafeteria in the fall of 1984, just barely 18 years old. I voted in the primaries and the subsequent presidential election.
I don't understand why people don't register to vote, or use that as an excuse not to vote, or use any excuse not to vote. It's a mystery to me. But like all good mysteries I come back to it every couple of years and see if I can figure it out. No luck this year. I still meet people who I otherwise love and respect who aren't going to vote. Some of them have the grace to be embarrassed. Some won't meet my eye and are angry I'm judging them. So be it.
I'm voting on Tuesday. I hope you are too.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Bizarre and more bizarre
Back in this past winter and spring I posted a bit about health issues.
On September 1st my doctor died from a stroke. He was, I think, 61 or 62, and in otherwise good health. This in itself is a shock, but there's more. I was deeply immersed in my art making project in September and so wasn't reading the newspapers much and completely missed the obituaries that were published in the weeks following my doctor's death. I even missed the letter I got from my insurance company telling me my doctor would no longer be available. They didn't say he died, they said he would no longer be able to provide care.
Finally, about a week ago, I got a new insurance card in the mail with a new doctor's name on it. I got my mail too late in the day to call the insurance co., but I did call my doctor's office. I got the answering service. Not a machine, but an actual person. I said I assumed I was reaching the service, and they said yes, but the office was closed. I said, sure, it's 7pm, I figured that. And the woman said, no, the office is closed for business - the doctor has died. Well. I'm sitting there with my mouth hanging open. The woman apologizes, says she understands how shocked I must be, and every time she tells another patient she herself is shocked all over again. She tells me some details about how the doctor died (in a kayak, with his wife). There isn't much else to say, so I mentally note that I have to call the insurance co. and the doctor I've been assigned on Monday morning.
Monday morning. I call a doctor who a friend of mine really liked, but she's not accepting any new patients. The office is at capacity. OK. They give me the name of a new doctor in town who is taking new patients. I try to find the phone number of the doctor I've been assigned by the insurance co., but I look everywhere and there is no listing for them. I look in the hard copy phone book, white and yellow pages, I look on line. I look under the doctor's name, I look under the practice's name. Nothing. Nada. So I call the friend's doctor's office and they, thank God, have the number. I reach the assigned doctor's office. They advise me they aren't taking patients outside their limited geographical area (even though this is who the insurance co. assigned me to). This area doesn't include where I live, and they recommend the same doctor my friend's doctor's office recommended. Apparently this guy is probably the only doctor in central Vermont who is taking new patients. OK then. On to the new doctor. I call, I explain. They know all about it. We make an appointment for December (which I later change to January so it'll be an annual physical, and therefore covered by the freaking insurance). They say they will send me an introductory pack of forms, including a release of records form that I can use to get my medical records from my deceased doctor's office.
Which is really good, because it turns out the deceased doctor's office isn't releasing records directly to patients, but only transferring records to other doctor's offices. I find this out when I call the deceased doctor's answering service on Tuesday, because the answering service told me I could talk with someone there on Tuesdays and Thursday between 2-4pm. It turns out I couldn't actually talk with anyone besides the answering service, but they did clarify that I could drop my release form at the office during those hours, but only to drop it off (or fax it over), that I could not actually get my records. And how, I asked, would I know that, first, they'd recieved the request, and second, responded to it and sent it to my new doctor? Oh, they said, you could call your new doctor's office and check with them. As much as I wanted to argue the circular logic of this response I saw that the woman at the answering service couldn't help me, so I said thanks and hung up.
One thing that took a day or so to sink it was a detail the answering service woman had told me (or maybe it was one of the receptionists at one of the other offices...it's kind of mushed together in my mind now). It's this - the deceased doctor's office will be processing requests to release medical records until the end of October. I called my new doctor's office yesterday (Friday) asking if they had the correct address for me, as I hadn't recieved the forms yet. They told me they had a big stack to send out, but they appreciated getting a confirmation of my correct address, and that they'd be sending the forms out shortly. I sure hope I can get my records transferred before Oct. 31st. I don't want to think about what I might have to do after that date. Sue? File a brief in civil court? What all?
Then, today, Saturday, I'm at the farmer's market. I see the nurse practitioner from my deceased doctor's office. I tell her I feel badly for her, she must be having a hard time. Well, she wants to know if I got a letter from the office letting me know what happened. I told her no, that I found out from the insurance co. She told me the family of the deceased doctor, through an intermediary, told her they didn't have any money to pay her a week after the doctor died. That she couldn't work there anymore, not even to contact patients to let them know what happened. The nurse, on her own, looked for (in the phone book) and was able to find 53 of the several hundred patients she knew, and in this way was able to let them know by letter, that the doctor had died and they needed to find a new doctor for their primary care.
So she is trying to find her own way and is working to get a new practice together. You see, a big reason I was a patient of the deceased doctor was because the nurse practitioner was on staff. I could get my physical examination with a woman. Now? Now I have to start all over again, with a new doctor whose only recommendation is that he's so new he has room for me. Meanwhile, if the nurse practitioner starts a new practice I may or may not join her there, as she is a bit muddled in methods and communication. Fun all around.
But I can see even though this is a general pain in the ass, it is not so awful as it might be. I am in good health. I am not dependent on the deceased doctor for any prescriptions, treatments or diagnosees. As frustrating as this situation is, it could be so much more so. I'm grateful for that. My heart goes out to the patients who actually have to find their way through this morass, not just checking in around the edges like I am doing.
Hopefully everything will go smoothly with the transfer of records and I won't have anything new to report until next year. I'll let you know.
On September 1st my doctor died from a stroke. He was, I think, 61 or 62, and in otherwise good health. This in itself is a shock, but there's more. I was deeply immersed in my art making project in September and so wasn't reading the newspapers much and completely missed the obituaries that were published in the weeks following my doctor's death. I even missed the letter I got from my insurance company telling me my doctor would no longer be available. They didn't say he died, they said he would no longer be able to provide care.
Finally, about a week ago, I got a new insurance card in the mail with a new doctor's name on it. I got my mail too late in the day to call the insurance co., but I did call my doctor's office. I got the answering service. Not a machine, but an actual person. I said I assumed I was reaching the service, and they said yes, but the office was closed. I said, sure, it's 7pm, I figured that. And the woman said, no, the office is closed for business - the doctor has died. Well. I'm sitting there with my mouth hanging open. The woman apologizes, says she understands how shocked I must be, and every time she tells another patient she herself is shocked all over again. She tells me some details about how the doctor died (in a kayak, with his wife). There isn't much else to say, so I mentally note that I have to call the insurance co. and the doctor I've been assigned on Monday morning.
Monday morning. I call a doctor who a friend of mine really liked, but she's not accepting any new patients. The office is at capacity. OK. They give me the name of a new doctor in town who is taking new patients. I try to find the phone number of the doctor I've been assigned by the insurance co., but I look everywhere and there is no listing for them. I look in the hard copy phone book, white and yellow pages, I look on line. I look under the doctor's name, I look under the practice's name. Nothing. Nada. So I call the friend's doctor's office and they, thank God, have the number. I reach the assigned doctor's office. They advise me they aren't taking patients outside their limited geographical area (even though this is who the insurance co. assigned me to). This area doesn't include where I live, and they recommend the same doctor my friend's doctor's office recommended. Apparently this guy is probably the only doctor in central Vermont who is taking new patients. OK then. On to the new doctor. I call, I explain. They know all about it. We make an appointment for December (which I later change to January so it'll be an annual physical, and therefore covered by the freaking insurance). They say they will send me an introductory pack of forms, including a release of records form that I can use to get my medical records from my deceased doctor's office.
Which is really good, because it turns out the deceased doctor's office isn't releasing records directly to patients, but only transferring records to other doctor's offices. I find this out when I call the deceased doctor's answering service on Tuesday, because the answering service told me I could talk with someone there on Tuesdays and Thursday between 2-4pm. It turns out I couldn't actually talk with anyone besides the answering service, but they did clarify that I could drop my release form at the office during those hours, but only to drop it off (or fax it over), that I could not actually get my records. And how, I asked, would I know that, first, they'd recieved the request, and second, responded to it and sent it to my new doctor? Oh, they said, you could call your new doctor's office and check with them. As much as I wanted to argue the circular logic of this response I saw that the woman at the answering service couldn't help me, so I said thanks and hung up.
One thing that took a day or so to sink it was a detail the answering service woman had told me (or maybe it was one of the receptionists at one of the other offices...it's kind of mushed together in my mind now). It's this - the deceased doctor's office will be processing requests to release medical records until the end of October. I called my new doctor's office yesterday (Friday) asking if they had the correct address for me, as I hadn't recieved the forms yet. They told me they had a big stack to send out, but they appreciated getting a confirmation of my correct address, and that they'd be sending the forms out shortly. I sure hope I can get my records transferred before Oct. 31st. I don't want to think about what I might have to do after that date. Sue? File a brief in civil court? What all?
Then, today, Saturday, I'm at the farmer's market. I see the nurse practitioner from my deceased doctor's office. I tell her I feel badly for her, she must be having a hard time. Well, she wants to know if I got a letter from the office letting me know what happened. I told her no, that I found out from the insurance co. She told me the family of the deceased doctor, through an intermediary, told her they didn't have any money to pay her a week after the doctor died. That she couldn't work there anymore, not even to contact patients to let them know what happened. The nurse, on her own, looked for (in the phone book) and was able to find 53 of the several hundred patients she knew, and in this way was able to let them know by letter, that the doctor had died and they needed to find a new doctor for their primary care.
So she is trying to find her own way and is working to get a new practice together. You see, a big reason I was a patient of the deceased doctor was because the nurse practitioner was on staff. I could get my physical examination with a woman. Now? Now I have to start all over again, with a new doctor whose only recommendation is that he's so new he has room for me. Meanwhile, if the nurse practitioner starts a new practice I may or may not join her there, as she is a bit muddled in methods and communication. Fun all around.
But I can see even though this is a general pain in the ass, it is not so awful as it might be. I am in good health. I am not dependent on the deceased doctor for any prescriptions, treatments or diagnosees. As frustrating as this situation is, it could be so much more so. I'm grateful for that. My heart goes out to the patients who actually have to find their way through this morass, not just checking in around the edges like I am doing.
Hopefully everything will go smoothly with the transfer of records and I won't have anything new to report until next year. I'll let you know.
Friday, October 10, 2008
existential questions and Curtis Savard photographs
Curtis Savard took a bunch of photographs at Fort Can Gallery during the reception a few weeks ago. I've been chilling out, so am just getting around to posting about them now. But I have to say I love them. This one, above, is of my friend Amy and me in the gallery, mural of kissing couple in the background, portraits and other artwork in the foreground.
And this is a section of wall that includes the poster for the show, an abstract drawing a number of people particularly liked, and another view of the group portrait of Brian, Tara & Kelly. Can you read the writing? It says, in large letters "Is it too much?" and then in smaller lettering below, "Is it enough?" - questions I ask myself all the time.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
almost last day of "Mild to Extra-Spicy"
Here's my first portrait of the day - Tara.
And a group portrait of my hosts at Fort Can Gallery/May Day Studio. (They are much less cartoon-y in person.) From left to right: Brian Zeigler, Tara Jensen and Kelly McMahon.
This is a portrait of Linda, Brian's wife. We both liked the way it came out. It almost looks like her. Pretty close.
Last but not least, Megan. It was a great day. There were a couple people who couldn't make it, but a bunch of people came to the reception who I hadn't expected, and then some friends who came by took me out for dinner afterwards. May Day Studio also had a good day, meeting new people and making plans for the future. Curtis Savard took some excellent photographs of the event which I'm looking forward to posting soon.
More about my future plans for art making, soon.
Friday, September 26, 2008
portrait Friday
I drew four portraits today, and anticipate drawing another four or five tomorrow. Andrew above.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
I got to draw another portrait yesterday
And here she is. I had five people scheduled but only one was able to make it. I've rescheduled with two, one I've contacted and one I still need to call back. After getting off the phone with one of the rescheduled I felt so tired. As if the marathon I had anticipated all week (five portraits in five hours) had actually taken place. Anyway, next Saturday, the last of the exhibit, will be pretty busy with three portraits and a double portrait early in the day possible, and a reception in the afternoon. It's almost over and I feel like I'm just getting started.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Saturday, September 13, 2008
gallery time/portraiture
I spent the day at Fort Can Gallery & Studios, drawing people and enjoying being immersed in art making. Last Saturday I drew four portraits: Karen (above), Cora, Gladys & Duffy. I hadn't arranged to draw Duffy ahead of time, but it worked out well, as the person I had planned on drawing didn't show. Today I had three subjects: Sarah, Rhoda and Harrison. Sarah brought her sweet dog, who I didn't know how to fit in the drawing. Rhoda was a gas and I started two drawings before I settled on one that I liked well enough to finish. I did Harrison in crayon and it came out OK, except his mouth looked like someone else. Thursday morning I started painting and drawing on the walls of the gallery. That's where the image from the "kinda spicy" post came from. After a week of feeling shy about having this gallery space, I found I needed to splash some color around. Once I got started I didn't want to stop, although I only had about an hour. But I got far enough that I came straight over after work on Thursday night, and worked through past midnight. I had a blast. Brian Ziegler, one of the studio renters, was there most of the evening and was very supportive and helpful. I haven't worked on one art object for more than an hour or two in years and years. I just love being able to do it. The only problem I was having was a certain stiffness in one of the figures (of the kissing couple). I found hundreds of kissing couples to study online, sketched a couple for reference, and went back Friday morning to loosen things up a bit. It worked like a charm and I'm pretty happy with the result. I may work on the painting more...I'm not sure. But since it's on the wall, and it will have to be painted over, I may stop where it is now and move back to more portable media. We'll see how it goes. I still have one wall I haven't done anything with yet, except write the words "I don't know", "I don't know, either" (which I erased) and then on the other end of the wall "is it too much?". Before any of these statements I wrote the question "Why" on the opposite wall. I love writing & drawing on walls. I've been doing it since I was maybe three or four years old, when my Dad repainted the upstairs hallway and I couldn't resist applying my crayons to the freshly painted surfaces. Oh, I love making art. I really do.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Friday, September 5, 2008
Poster! Thanks Kelly!
Kelly McMahon, who runs May Day Studio letterhead press and book bindery, made these beautiful posters for my show! Whoo-hoo! May Day Studio shares studio space with Fort Can Gallery, which is hosting my show. Tomorrow, Saturday, is the first public day of the exhibit, and I'll have a couple of portraits to draw. More about that soon.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Mild to Extra-Spicy
is the name of the exhibit I'll be having at the Fort Can Gallery, in Montpelier during the month of September. (If you go to the Fort Can site there won't be anything about my show yet, as we just pinned down the details yesterday, but you will get to see what's at the gallery now, as well as their philosophical take on art.)
I am inviting folks to visit the gallery, potentially have their portrait drawn, look at artwork I'm working on, and check out the letterhead press/book bindery, May Day Studio, that shares space with the gallery. Fort Can and May Day Studio are located at 190 River St. Montpelier, between The Restore and Trading Post Furniture.
Gallery hours are Saturdays, 10am-2pm and by appointment.
If folks are in the Montpelier area (and we haven't already made an appointment) and are interested in a fifteen minute to hour long portrait (and visiting an interesting gallery) let me know. I'll put you on the schedule. Otherwise, do stop by during gallery hours - I'd love to show y'all around.
P.S. See below for an example of "spicy".
I recently bought a book titled "Put What, Where?, Over 2000 Years of Bizarre Sex Advice" authored and annotated by John Nash, from the remainders bin of my local bookstore. I almost regretted buying it, but then realized I could make use of it as background for some spicy drawings.
I am inviting folks to visit the gallery, potentially have their portrait drawn, look at artwork I'm working on, and check out the letterhead press/book bindery, May Day Studio, that shares space with the gallery. Fort Can and May Day Studio are located at 190 River St. Montpelier, between The Restore and Trading Post Furniture.
Gallery hours are Saturdays, 10am-2pm and by appointment.
If folks are in the Montpelier area (and we haven't already made an appointment) and are interested in a fifteen minute to hour long portrait (and visiting an interesting gallery) let me know. I'll put you on the schedule. Otherwise, do stop by during gallery hours - I'd love to show y'all around.
P.S. See below for an example of "spicy".
I recently bought a book titled "Put What, Where?, Over 2000 Years of Bizarre Sex Advice" authored and annotated by John Nash, from the remainders bin of my local bookstore. I almost regretted buying it, but then realized I could make use of it as background for some spicy drawings.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
more portraits!
These are three friends who lived in my town about ten years ago.
I'll be posting more portraits soon.
Friday, August 15, 2008
portrait gallery
I just scanned a bunch of portraits.
This is a sketch of faculty member Corrine Mattuck, probably in 1984.
I used caran d'ache crayons a lot in school - still love them. This is of a guy named Jon who was only around for a semester or two. All I can remember about him is he liked to drive his little red sports car really fast.
Minimalism was a happy result of hours and hours of gesture drawing during life drawing classes. This is of a fellow student, Karen Andress, who was taking her turn upon the occasional neccesity of standing in for a no-show model.
I love the kinetic energy in this one. Gina, 1985
I wasn't even 18 yet! Ah, if I could go back and give myself a hug I would. Self portrait Nov. 20, 1983.
Lee Henry. So pretty.
I'll post more soon. This is fun.
This is a sketch of faculty member Corrine Mattuck, probably in 1984.
I used caran d'ache crayons a lot in school - still love them. This is of a guy named Jon who was only around for a semester or two. All I can remember about him is he liked to drive his little red sports car really fast.
Minimalism was a happy result of hours and hours of gesture drawing during life drawing classes. This is of a fellow student, Karen Andress, who was taking her turn upon the occasional neccesity of standing in for a no-show model.
I love the kinetic energy in this one. Gina, 1985
I wasn't even 18 yet! Ah, if I could go back and give myself a hug I would. Self portrait Nov. 20, 1983.
Lee Henry. So pretty.
I'll post more soon. This is fun.
Monday, August 11, 2008
guard dog
I found this doggie bobble head outside my apartment on Friday morning. The storm drains overflowed and this is one of the items that washed up. I immediately thought of Tara (one of the artists at Fort Can) and decided to bring doggie with me to the reception on Saturday. Doggie found a home in Tara's studio that very night. Above is documentation of said homecoming. At the studio entrance there was some conversation about what duties doggie would perform. Guard dog seemed apt.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
on waking up
The sound of cars passing by on Rte 12, with the front porch and a couple yards of lawn between the road and my bedroom window, is more gentle than an alarm clock, even adding on the doot-doot-doot backing-up sounds the construction trucks make just on the other side of the house.
I hear these sounds and even before I open my eyes I can guess what time it is. If I'm still half asleep I can guess what day of the week it is, too, by the absense or presense of the construction truck doot doot doot. If the cars are passing three or four or more in a row on either side of the two-lane roadway, then I know it's probably 7:30 or 8am, and the morning commute is commencing in earnest.
Meanwhile, I'm deciding whether the dream I just had is worth remembering and writing down. Sometimes I have to write it down quickly before the whole thing fades. Other times they are so vivid I can remember them through the day and can still recall them before I go to sleep that night. Either way I have to decide, and once I do then I have to either write the thing down or get up and go about my day. No in-between there.
Occasionally I'll get a nice surprise, dreamwise. Recently I had a dream that someone I knew, only a little in college and not at all now, kissed me. I don't know why he kissed me. I don't know what was going on before that kiss, or afterwards. But those moments of intimacy, and it's palpable tenderness, linger on.
So the gentle surf-like sound of cars passing on the road is a better backdrop for remembering such moments than the sudden sound of just about anything a foot away from my ear, as you may be able to imagine. No alarm clocks here.
I hear these sounds and even before I open my eyes I can guess what time it is. If I'm still half asleep I can guess what day of the week it is, too, by the absense or presense of the construction truck doot doot doot. If the cars are passing three or four or more in a row on either side of the two-lane roadway, then I know it's probably 7:30 or 8am, and the morning commute is commencing in earnest.
Meanwhile, I'm deciding whether the dream I just had is worth remembering and writing down. Sometimes I have to write it down quickly before the whole thing fades. Other times they are so vivid I can remember them through the day and can still recall them before I go to sleep that night. Either way I have to decide, and once I do then I have to either write the thing down or get up and go about my day. No in-between there.
Occasionally I'll get a nice surprise, dreamwise. Recently I had a dream that someone I knew, only a little in college and not at all now, kissed me. I don't know why he kissed me. I don't know what was going on before that kiss, or afterwards. But those moments of intimacy, and it's palpable tenderness, linger on.
So the gentle surf-like sound of cars passing on the road is a better backdrop for remembering such moments than the sudden sound of just about anything a foot away from my ear, as you may be able to imagine. No alarm clocks here.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
25th high school reunion coming up
Above is my yearbook picture, circa 1983 (actually, it was taken in the summer of '82...but who am I to quibble?).
And this one's from (I think) winter 1983, mid-way through my senior year.
I've been getting notices regarding my high school reunion. It's pretty unreal that it's been 25 years since I graduated from high school. Equally unreal that it's been 21 years since I graduated from college, but that's probably for another post.
I didn't like high school, although it was an improvement over middle school. I didn't have many friends among the kids I spent most of the school day with. I was one of the few people in the school who came from someplace else, and one of the few people who immediately left to start a new life as soon as I graduated. People didn't know what to make of me - for which I can't blame them - as I didn't know what to make of me either. I'm still working on that one, actually.
I went to my 10th year reunion. Um, it was interesting, but not something I want to repeat. I will not be going to my 25th, although the pictures I saw posted on the web site for the 20th reunion made me feel tenderly towards those who did attend. They looked so vulnerable. Much more so than I ever saw evidence of in high school. Seeing those pictures made me think there might still, yet, be some friends to make there. But I don't think I'm gonna go.
I posted the two pictures above, plus the two b&w photos here on the home page of the blog, on the "classmates" web site. Very few people from the class of 1983 are posting photos, or information about their lives, or anything else. It could be because the sight only offers these options for a fee. The site managers are hoping I'll forget before the end of the week that I've got a 7 day free trial, but forget it y'all, I've got a reminder right here on my calendar. Classmates dot com is not getting any money from me, no sir.
One thing I'm kind of pleased to realize - I was a lot cuter than I knew at the time. I mean, I was cute (actually, I'm still cute) but didn't really see it.
I'm so grateful for photography, especially family photos. I was talking with my dad last night about the family photographs my grandmother has. She is a meticulous housekeeper and the photographs are in very good shape, although a lot of them from my late grandfather's side of the family are undocumented. But I don't care about that. I started to tell my dad how much I value these photographs and he interrupted to tell me I could have them (when the time came). I was surprised he understood what I meant so well, and cut right through whatever else I was going to say. Anyway, my grandma is very excitable and the last thing I would want is to mention the photographs and her passing on in the same sentence, so I have to give my dad a lot of credit for saving us all from that. So - thanks, Dad.
Here's his high school graduation photo, circa 1960.
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