There’s a meme going around asking if anyone would give up social media, tv, & cell phone for 3 months in exchange for $3 million.
Watching the decisiveness that’s permeating the digital culture and now today’s news of the senseless murder of 50 people in Orlando, Florida, the thought of living like a hermit in VT for 3 months is pretty tempting.  
Politicians and pundits will offer thoughts and prayers. For the next few days politician and argue about access to weapons, Islam in America, the need keep better tabs on the mentally ill, and any other subject under the sun to keep us from making meaningful change in our culture.

I don’t pretend to know what was in the mind of this particular shooter when he walked into that nightclub and murdered 50 innocent people. I can’t imagine what was going through the mind of a young man who walked into a church and gunned down nine innocent people, or through the head of another young man who massacred 26 children.  

The only thing I know for sure that we are living in a culture that seems to encourage disaffection and division, and I can’t help wondering if that plays at least some small role in all of the tragedies we are seen unfold. Our increasingly digital culture encourages post to score points with Snark-laden comments and memes rather to engage in meaningful dialogue.

I know I am complicit in some of the negativity. I try not to comment too often on digital media posts — I don’t like to get into arguments online, but I do my share of liking and sharing comments or Memes that do little more than express outrage, however righteous I may think it is at the time. Most of the time it is purely reactive, and rarely is it productive.

I know I don’t have the power to change the world, aside from making sure that the children I bring into it are kind people. I do believe, however, in the healing power of art and creativity. I believe it helps us find the humanity in ourselves and, more important, in others. It has the power to make us whole, as individuals and as a species.
So for today, I’m going to shut out the negativity and go make art and encourage other artists. Tomorrow, I’m going to embark on a resolution to make sure that every like, share or post is a positive contribution to the digital zeitgeist. And if I can’t add something positive, going to resolve to at least no longer feed the beasts of division and negativity.

…and so worth it!

I finished the drawing for another letter and decided to take a break to play. Inspired by a Pinterest post on how to paint watercolor on canvas, I dug I pre-primed canvas and started to play.
Whenever I try a new medium or support, I go back to my standard garlic and apple still life. so far I am pretty happy with the way the paint sits on the campus. I have to go to work work now, but I’m keeping this close to my desk to remind me there’s some playing in progress to get back to.

Sometimes I think I’m a perv.

Spring has sprung, and the trees are in their lushest rainments, and all I thinking about is what’s under those leaves.

Don’t get me wrong. I love the green. It feeds the soul.

But, while I am not longing for winter, I find I am already looking forward to fall when the trees show a bit of “skin”. There is something magical about the gnarled limbs that the lush green clothing obscures. Like the subtle colors of a rainy day, the naked trees in fall and winter show their character, and while character doesn’t simply feed the senses, it is somehow much more intriguing.

As we get ready to fix up our coop again, I realized you can learn a lot about life when you keep chickens. For instance, I learned from watching our girls that when the buffet is open, you get your dinner, and don’t let anyone get in your way. For the roosters, my kids learned more about the “facts of life” than I was ready to explain. And from the local Fox we learned that it is possible to be happy eating chicken three nights in a row.  Hopefully we’ll sell him on being a vegetarian this year.

This weekend I’m participating in Vermont’s Open Studio for Memorial Day Weekend.

If you’re running around Vermont, look for the yellow signs to direct you to the studios of craftspeople all over the state.

If you’re in Southwestern Vermont, Come Visit my Studio as well as  these two Sandgate Artists:

ELLEN QUESTEL, 

MALLORY RICH 

RACHEL BARLOW

Saturday and Sunday, May 28 and 29
10AM to 5PM

Ellen Questel
1176 Sandgate Rd

Mallory Rich
703 SE Corners Road

Rachel Barlow
441 Woodcock Road

DIRECTIONS:

If you have never been to beautiful Sandgate and are headed there from parts north, we suggest you arrive via route 313 West from 7A in Arlington (rather than rely on GPS which sometimes tries to route people over Mt Equinox!)

From Cambridge, NY take 313 East to Sandgate Rd; From Bennington take 313 West from Route 7A in Arlington.

T2 had been dishing it out all week. Fifteen-year-old T1 is dating a girl whose sister is the same age as T2, and the younger generation has made it their mission to report on every cuddle or kiss.

So the Committee on Perfect Parenting will forgive me if I was suspicious of T1’s motives when I saw him carrying a bat as he hustled his younger brother out the door.  Still, I said nothing as T2 skipped to the yard, tossing his ball up in the air and catching it just before it went astray into one of the windows.

“I am gonna really beat up your hand,” I heard T1 yell as he tossed the bat to the side and put on his glove.  T2 grinned, threw the ball to T1 and squatted into a catching position.  T1 wound up his pitch, and I got out of my chair, ready to referee at the top of my lungs through the window if needed.

Then he let the ball fly.

It was just a little outside the imaginary strike zone, but T2 was ready.  He rose up slightly and leaned to the right, grabbing the ball with the net of his glove. I could hear the THWAK through the glass, but T2 was still grinning.

“Good job,” T1 yelled.  “You got it right on the first one.”

“I don’t think the our pitcher throws that hard,” T2 laughed.

“I know,” T1, “But if you can catch all of mine, you’ll be set for the summer.”  He wound up for another pitch.  “Now watch out, this one’s gonna be inside — you missed a few on the last game.”  As his arm went back, I knew what I had to do.

I knocked on the glass to get their attention and waved and yelled, “Turn the other way so you don’t hit my car!”  Then, with just a smidge of satisfaction, I sat back in my rocker with my paints and pad and went back to painting.

This coming weekend is Open Studio Weekend in Vermont. Artists around the state, including me, are opening their studios, and I’ve drafted my family to help make the yard look less like the opening shots for The Addams Family.

The meadow has become a lawn, and my garden, neglected for a full year after fractured foot restricted me two solid ground, is in the process of becoming a garden once again. 

And just like that

The earth is green again.

Buds become Blooms.

Fiddleheads become Ferns.

And all is right with the world.

   

 The line at the Dairy Bar was a mile long so I took the boys to the nearby Wayside Country Store to get takeout from the deli for dinner last night.

The deli is at the back of the store, near the fishing gear and shotgun shells. There’s a large round table covered with a vinyl, red and white gingham tablecloth. On any given morning The table is occupied by a group of mostly men–farmers, retirees, and contractors on their way to work– all Knights of this Round Table solving the world’s problems before work.

The last month or so the Wayside just tried something new–a knitting night. A few men have joined the knitting group, but most of the nights that I walk in on the circle at the back of the store, it’s occupied by Lady KNights taking a break from worlds problems.
I’m working hard not pick up any new hobbies–or old ones like knitting, so instead of contemplating where to buy a skein of locally raised fiber, I sat down and got out my sketchbook to keep focused on drawing. I’m sure my bankbook will thank me in the morning..