May 1, 2017

On orange not being the only envelope..


I am getting ready (to send empty envelopes)




















Yesterday I got a call from my good friend, the magnificent Mary Bale, who has tried to help me with my problem with numbers and data and generally on how to get a grip. 

In the course of our catch up she asked about the exhibition, and how was all the organising going? I didn't know quite how I understood that there was something not quite right.  It was probably that her tone was a bit non-plussed and at the same time curious. "Ooohh, so you have sent some out already?" Yes, says I. Big job. Lots of lists and ticks and boxes and stuff. I will be seeing orange envelopes in my sleep for some time to come.

"Oohh!" she says, Orange? How orange?"
Yes, says I. Very. Orange. They were quite big and orange.

"Well that explains it", she says. "I did get a big orange envelope some time ago. Beautifully addressed. Stamp in the right place. But no return address or any indication where they came from" .  . and wait for it . . . "nothing in it!"

It's been a long 24 hours . . .  wondering just how many envelopes went out with nothing in them? My new studio assistant points out brightly that as long as I don't have many left, most of the envelopes must have gone out filled, and not empty. There is some logic in that. But none had a return address . . . so if you got a big empty orange envelope with nothing in it, well this is what you were missing.

In the meantime the work continues. .labeling, measuring, counting, framing, stringing, bolting and boxing.  There are even more (different) invites going out late next week for those who are so organised that they like reminders and for the rest of us . . who decide the big things at the last minute.

If you got an empty envelope can you please let me know

Thanks























INVITE: The Goosefield - An Exhibition 
Opening Reception June 23rd 2017 - 9pm

As I write this  I am reminded of a time I spent ten days painting in North Mayo, and picking seaweed.  This was not least because tonight, I had the seaweed for dinner.

Seaweed for dinner


Painting of the coast in North Mayo
where my dinner came from tonight



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life as an artist

I write about life as an artist and the challenges that this choice presents. I was born without arms in 1961 and this makes my painting demanding, my life stimulating and my choices complex. I like it like this.