I am so happy to have had this entire weekend to spend in the studio and the woodshop working on stuff for my upcoming show at UCR SweeneyArtGallery.  Unfortunately I had to turn down some things, but hours and hours of time to work on this stuff has left me feeling quite excited.

I don’t want to show too much, but above are some of the pieces of a larger puzzle.  Below is one of the oval pieces that will be in the show, but unfinished of course.  (Well finished (as in stained), but not finished (as in completed).)

Here is just some doodle daddle:

And here is a blurry image of my studio with my new bookcase (Good Will) that I painting a chartreuse color. It was previously more of a kelly green:

And lastly, I have been eating like a little pig this weekend, because studio mate and chef from a past life Christine Jane has been filling my tummy with many goods and has to make everything look and taste so goooood:

Here is a little postcard for my show at the Sweeney Art Gallery in Riverside.  I didn’t want to give too much away, as I feel exhibition postcards often do too closely reitterate what you will find behind the white door.  So, here is an image that you can expect will not be in the show, but it is of a set of strange, grimy characters who may or may have not been in the wrong studio at the wrong time.

In celebration of our five year anniversary, Brian and I went to our favorite SoCal getaway: Big Bear!  We stayed at the Sleepy Forest Cottages which are very romantic and sweet and went out and hiked around in the snow and ate really yummy food and just had a very nice little weekend.  So sad for it to be over   Every time I go up there I just want to move somewhere like that, or at least above a certain altitude (and away from the hustle bustle of the city).  One day….

Whoever thought that being an artist was the tempestuous adventure of the artist lover, who travels and takes his muses, with disintegrating social skills and relationships, burgeoning mental illness, self-destructive drug abuse and the wax and wane of his riches, was duly miscalculated when they feast their eyes upon my domestic and dorky goodness.  I must confess: I take pride as the artist mother. The one who makes, creates and begets into form the visions bestowed upon her, who one day will bury them deep inside the world from which they became, realizing the cyclical nature and the ultimate impropreity of an unearthly creation.  I’ve made a song that was buried with a stream.