I built a couple of boxes to serve as platforms for the paint studies I’m submitting for Picaflor Studio’s If a Body… show. It was a great feeling to have absolutely every tool I needed to do it correctly and efficiently. To recap: hundreds of dollars worth of equipment so that I can put together some boxes and paint them black to tack some crappy studies onto and send them to a small gallery. Yep, great feeling.
Actually, I haven’t figured out how to attach them yet. I don’t want to glue them nor double-tape them, and those are probably the ways one does these things. This morning I thought I might attach some wire to the boxes and just go all industrial on the aesthetic, clipping the paper at the corners.
Then I cleaned up—again—because the amount of clutter around here is boggling.
And we have a problem: my numbering of the days I actually had to work on creative projects has become inaccurate, null and void. We’re off on a trip to Abingdon, VA, to visit Ginny’s parents but also to catch the Virginia Highlands Festival, an arts conflagration of some merit. (Think Powers’ Crossroads, only not as much art and a whole lot more involvement downtown. Plus music. Plus a quality regional museum with first-rate exhibits.)
Also, I failed to calculate for the leadership team meeting at school next Tuesday, and if I’m being halfway a decent person, I will have to go in on Wednesday to begin putting the media center back together after stripping it for the installation of new carpet.
Essentially, that means I’m out of days. My original plan gave me seven more, but next Monday is the only day I have free to sit down and spend a morning writing music or painting, and half of that must be devoted to getting the paintings up to Picaflor. Time’s up.
Maybe I’ll write Prelude (no fugue) No. 5 on the road.