Where did June/July go to? I meant to post, I really did. It would have been a good time to post the anxiously awaited Squishtoid Manifesto, but my infinitely staffed simian writing pool with their infinitely equipped Remington Selectrics dropped the ball, it must be said. Instead of witty, trenchant, action-inspiring words for artists, we got Shakespeare. Dissappointing to say the least! Especially as the monks' effort, entitled "Titus Andronicus (The Musical)" has already been written.
Okay, that's actually a cumbersome plug for my favorite theatre group here in Denver, Buntport Theatre. Their version of Shakespeare's bloodiest play featured 10-foot, Monty Python-esque spurts of stage blood; a chalkboard to tot up the body count, and a stage design centered mostly around a 1963 Ford Econoline van, which they rolled into position for various scenes while delivering wacky little expository asides. And song, lots of song. That was a fondly remembered weekend for me, not least becase it is the only one in memory in which I saw not one, but two musical entertainments featuring people being baked into pies and eaten (Sweeney Todd opened that week, how could one PLAN that)! Whether all of this makes it into the Squishtoid Manifesto, as metaphor or otherwise, is up to the monkeys. But it begs the question: do we really need this blog revived?
As for the shows, some seemed surprised when sales at the Summer Art Market were unaffected by the relentless rain and chilly temps, but not this little wet duck. After all, if the reaction to a funnel-cloud sighting in '09 was to brandish credit cards and go on a buying spree, then a little English football type weather in honor of USA v England was unlikely to slow them down.
A couple of buyers took the opportunity to also hop over to Open Press for the final week of my gallery show there, and that led to a small flurry of sales there, too. Then, last weekend saw my first visit to Boulder for their Art Fair on the Pearl Street mall, and sales there were solid, if not as spectacular as ASL, which turned out to be my best show ever. This year is certainly off to an encouraging start. And I've been making lots of friends, though I'm cheating and doing it the old fashioned way, and not on Facebook.
The most interesting thing to happen in Boulder (well besides the unicyclist in head-to-toe pink spandex; the 9 foot tall hottie on stilts; and the world's worst bag-piper in full tartan regalia setting up shop 5 feet from my booth to practice his medley of "God Bless America", "The Marine Hymn", and "The Pina Colada Song") was the Festival Director walking up to me in 100 degree heat with an old school, county fair-type fluffy blue ribbon and announcing that I'd been named "Best in your category". I wasn't foolish enough to ask what my category was, or how many people were in it. The prize came with a small honorarium which I invested in a fortified grain beverage that has become an integral part of my health regimen.So I apologize for not posting sooner, in case anyone may have pictured me holed up in a dive bar, cursing the day I ever left the grocery biz. No, far from it! I spent most of June holed up in a dive bar, cursing the ref! Actually a bit of an exaggeration- I spent most of the World Cup on my couch, listening to the excellent Pablo Ramirez, and puzzling out his calls with my creaky high school Spanish, in order to spend more time shrink wrapping and framing. I did manage to hit the British Bulldog for a few games, including the dramatic USA v. Algeria, from which my ears are still ringing.
Next up, a return to the studio for some editions and larger works, and then the Denver modernism show in August. Hopefully, a more regular blogging schedule, too. I raised enough cash for an upgrade to the old iMac and a new iPhone, so I'm thinking that updates will be easier to do, like say, from the British Bulldog.