Seeking the Sublime in the Everyday

 I think there's been an evil genie in my keyboard. All these mistakes couldn't be mine, could they?  Or maybe, it's just Hallowe'en. Let me try again. My work, nine pen and ink drawings, are being shown at the Abingdon Square branch of Chase Bank at 302 West 12th Street at 8th Avenue. the hours are Monday -Friday, 9am to 5 pm Saturday 10am to 3pm the work  will hang there for the month of November.  when I know the exact last day, I will let you know.

 Thank you to everyone who alerted me to my grievous omission. the Chase branch where my drawings are on view is 302 West 12th Street at Eighth Avenue.  It's convenient to  the 1, 2 and 3 trains-get in the second car, middle door, go to 14th Street, exit the staircase on the right and you're on West 12th Street at Seventh Avenue.  Because it's the Village you don't go directly from 7th to 8th but cross Greenwich Avenue and West 4th Street.  Or you could take the A train, also the C and the E to 14th Street and walk a few blocks south--that's against the 8th ave traffic. I can't believe I left that out! Lucky for me my friends are awake.

 Monday afternoon I got an unidentified phone call and, against my practice, I picked up.  It wasn't a recording in Chinese, someone asked, "Barbara Sherman?"  Oh, no, I'm going to have to listen to an earnest campaign worker who knows the world will end if I don't cough up a donation, or a puppy will die and I'm cringing but no-"It's Chase Bank. We have your name on the list of artists for our program-would you like to show your work?" Why, yes, I would.  I had put my name on the list a few years ago and forgot about it; several people ahead of me on the list failed to pick up the phone and so here we are. This afternoon I hung nine drawings starting with this one, seeing as I'll be there for the month of November. Thanksgiving Day at the Museum of Natural History I'm afraid this show is made up of what's already framed, as they called Monday and asked me to deliver on Friday.  But the theme is sort of the worlds we live in.  Mother ...

Last Friday's NY Times carried Roberta Smith's review of  Be Your Wonderful Self: The Portraits of Beaufort Delaney  at Michael Rosenfeld Gallery, 100 11th Avenue at 19th Street.             What a beautiful show.  Here is a portrait Jean Genet.   and Irene Rose. and Beaufort Delaney's good friend, James Baldwin--there are five paintings of Baldwin.  The two men met when Baldwin was 15.  In "Beauford Delaney and James Baldwin, A story of Friendship and Art," Balasz Takac says Baldwin saw Delaney as "a father figure, muse, and model of a dignified gay man of color."  Delaney saw in Baldwi n "a mighty intellectual and spiritual peer." Looking at these beautiful  portraits I remembered an image in one of my many books about Georgia O'Keeffe, so I googled Delaney and O'Keeffe and sure enough, this beautiful charcoal portrait is of Beauford Delaney. She did only a few portraits over her long life and five of them...

 I'm hard at work on my Saint Barbara project and I have a few works in progress to share.  Nothing is finished but here's what's sitting on my drawing table.  I did this back before the pandemic, and although it's finished, I'm not really happy with it--too much brown. It needs something to liven it up, and a focal point--what's the point of an empty stage?   I've tried adding these two hawks; they don't have a lot to do with Barbara's story but I love them and I've been trying for years to find them a home. Maybe they could be guardian figures. Maybe not; I'll keep looking,  It's not like my pelican who looks like he just flew in the window to it on this table, but he too sat in the flat files for a long time before found the right spot for him. The Bear and The Bison sat in a folder for years until I applied to a show with a strict size limit and I stuck them on these backgrounds.    But the magic doesn't happen every day.  More of...

 We're hearing a lot in the news this week about body-shaming and that reminded me of a blog from my early days of blogging.   A Letter to my Hips Recently you’ve been screaming in pain when I get out of the car, or hoist myself up from the sofa.  I’ve tried everything to shut you up--ibuprophen, a chiropractor, acupuncture. I may have reminded you that nobody else complains--my back, neck, knees, hands and feet, shoulders--everybody’s doing fine.  Now I’m working with a trainer to build up your strength and flexibility. He said, “When you feel no pain, remember to be grateful.” Now I think of all the miles we’ve walked together on city streets, often in high heels. That couldn’t have been fun for you. All the soccer games, the field hockey. We had so much fun with the Hula Hoop and the Twist. Please forgive me. I’m sorry I said you were too wide. I should have thanked you for all those soft landings on the ski slopes  Oh, and how could I forget; thank you for t...