The Life of the Termite

Well, I done got broken up with, the Sunday before this past Sunday. Rats. Things are not very good.

An article in question: the notion of whether or not anyone actually reads this thing. I just post stuff on here to release it from my head-cage, so to speak. On occasion, it allows me to view my thoughts in a more organized manner; they adopt a linear, or at least somewhat horizontal (for the lack of a more suitable term) sense, as opposed to the translucent, but not enough so to be conducive to clarity, vertically stacked and overwhelmingly chaotic bearing I imagine them to uphold when they are shacked up in my head. So I guess it serves its purpose. Haha.

It would be nice to go somewhere.

Nnngh. Yes. I finished my shadowbox, entitled Like Grass in a Good Green Soil (inspired by a passage in the novel All Quiet on the Western Front), in time for the H x W x D show at Paradigm Gallery. The exhibit was wonderful, and I got to converse with some really nice people.

Some illustrations of mine are hanging up at Guerilla Galleries in Newark, NJ, in accordance with their Illustrious show. Couldn't attend the opening because I wouldn't have been able to make it up to Newark in time to eat all that remained of the ubiquitous cheese and cracker crumbs, but it looks like it was a mighty fine o-ccasion.

I almost forgot about the Making It alumni show at UArts, which opened on October 20th and stayed up for about ten days. My crocheted fish swam brazenly through the exhibit, along with two prints. However, one of the prints did not fare well; it emerged from the event with a jacked-up frame and some sort of schmutz smeared on the glass. There were a lot of great pieces in the show, though, and I really don't care about the frame. No big deal.

Thinking about scrapping the Palindromic Quilt idea, for now. For a while, I was toying with the idea of building a very small chest of twenty-five tiny drawers, one for each letter, which would contain elements pertaining to the dichotomous significance of each square. "There's no point in forcing these innocent materials into rigid letterforms," I thought aloud, "When I could just be stuffing them into little drawers! Why was all of that manhandling necessary? Drawers!!" Then a bunch of things happened, and I decided that I really don't want to think about any of the subjects upon which that quilt, or chest of drawers, or interpretive dance (who knows?), would be reliant.

Right now, antlers are being crocheted, and three more shadowboxes are being considered. A cat skull might eventually be involved. There's basically an entire series outlined in my sketchbooks, complete with unstinting critical analyses as well as reasons in support of and vehemently opposing the construction of each piece, and so on and so forth.

Speaking of cat skulls, here's a picture of The Whistle Pig. She is a most valued colleague during these dark days.