Talking to the Messengers, Q. Cassetti, 2011, sharpies on moleskineIt is a wonder that this weekend is not scheduled— no big parties, no killer extra projects, no big sports, no early morning or late night pick ups or deliveries. No complaints about the former, but a wide expanse of time to drink coffee and think a bit broader about things, about ideas,about plans for Alex, about the summer. Time to really vegetate, and decompress, to float spiritually in a Florida pool… Is not on the horizon, but a respite is welcome to give perspective on things. It has been a bit like I have been living on greased rails with no beginning or end— just the expanse of track and the sheer steel of trying to stay on and continue at that speed.


New picture from the automatic writing series where I can pretend to be Ganga Devi. Its line lines lines….and I am now thinking about how to add color to these things. I think that the added reversed areas and tone help to punch up the pictures and it is interesting to watch the progression from January>

I am working on a Sirin picture (remember Lubki? Half woman, half bird….but its got the indian spin too.

Am working on thinking around the cover for 3x3 that I have been asked to do. I am so flattered to have this opportunity—and the bar is very high. I am thinking bees…

Its been steadily snowing all day…just a light powder that persistently keeps on and on. I swept the porch at noon, and by 3 p.m, Rob did the same. Amazing what a steady pace of fallilng can do. All the ice (or much of it) melted and the winds blew and blew last night. Rob and I always have a post mortem after these big blows to see if the arborial care here has prevented big branches and trees coming down. Nothing but branches in obvious site, but as I meandered down Camp Street to go to the dairy, I noticed one of the old, hole riddled trees that the woodpeckers love hit the ground in the blow. Thankfully, it is in the clearing and not in the road.