Well, now, everybody was sweet about helping me cope with big city (f)art scene envy (Deb sent show cards from Bellwetherand other hipster galleries, lotsa folks emailed me tricks to connect this sorta scene, and plenty more reminded me "scene, schmene"). And then I got too dang busy to worry about it.

Last night I sat in my studio and mucked around with all these little (3 inch and 4inch and 9 inch by 1 inch and all those scrippity scraps) bits of color and pattern, orpahned ideas and moments from old paintings. They started in Atlanta in a different place and now I'm trying to make them new, relavant to here, and bold.

The past week has been a busy one of starts and stops, impossible tasks crossed off lists, spring sneaking out of the ground. I've been walking around a little more than I usually do, listening in to strangers talk. and you know, when the sun comes out, so comes a bit of doing what needs to be done.

The other day I got all my haircut off because it seemed like a good idea. It's lighter, less vain, more shake n'bake or shake n'go or whatever she said. Plus I look pretty hipster for our trip to DC this weekend.

We went to see Michael Kimmelman talk the other night. While I haven't read his book yet, I was impressed with his slideshow and the stories he told. It was simply clear that he followed his passion, looked and listened and his project was a democratic one. Even if the idea that Lucian Freud can go to the National Gallery in the middle of the night remains an utterly revolting thought for me. Why does any man have that kind of access?! Yes, I know...He's an important painter. We have princes. We have serfs. It's screwy and I'm back to my little squares...

see ya,
Rachael