So it has come to this (attempt number two):

Ahh, heaven:  a PHOTOGRAPH of a phone photo taken of me on a Southwest flight back from Baltimore.  I was the last one on and found this seat in the middle between these two guys who had this little therapy DOG.  One of them moved over, I got the AISLE SEAT, and eventually "GRACIE" made it over to my lap for the duration of the trip.  Please note that I am wearing one of my SWEATERS:  good old garter stitch with the emphasis on COLOR.

I am still doing puzzles.  Right now I am working on a Miro painting.

My college roommate just sent me a photograph of a painting that she said I did and gave to her.  . . .
I do not remember it although the color and brush strokes look vaguely familiar.

Knit.  Knit.  Knit.  And I am making some bookmarks.

And focusing on keeping an observational nature journal. 

What can I say but most art leaves me cold, colder than the below zero temps we are experiencing here.

So it has come to this:

So . . .

It's sort of like raising from the dead.  I have been "retired" now for over ten years and I am just now learning how to do that.  What does this mean re my art?  Ahh, my "art ," which has been mostly knitting and putting little animal tchotchkes (yes, I know, not spelled correctly) around the house (animals:  yay; people:  nay).

I have been spending more time in my studio.  That can mean any number of things:  working on puzzles or reading or negotiating with the cat to see if it is okay if I can even enter the room (whoops, sorry to disturb you, Clio).  Night-time is great for thinking up tons of ideas.  Let it be said that I was never without some intriguing ideas:  analog versus digital; recreating drawings of birds and other animals; seeing faces in the leaves and limbs of trees outside our windows; taking instant camera pictures of the little animal arrangements . . . and Godzilla.  And many others.

I have spread out the rough paintings I did of family camping series to see if there is anything there to recapitulate on a larger canvas.

What I am trying to avoid doing is MORE SELF PORTRAITS. 

So I leave you here for now and will update as necessary or needed.

shawn finnegan

It's been about a year since the last post.  And I recently had an experience that made me realize even more that everything is fleeting, including art.  When I took my old laptop in to have all the stuff moved to my new laptop (thank you, Bridget!), the technician basically lost all my photographs because I did not clarify they were in my photo file--or whatever it is called. 

I have decided to let them go.  The ones I wanted to "save" I did have paper copies made (let's hear it for the real real!). 

This get's me back to doing art.  I guess it is all about self-expression.  I cannot find the time or motivation to lift even a brush so I do creative things in my day-to-day life (lots of knitting).  I really don't care what other people think about my work--thus, have no desire to exhibit.  The time I did put a couple of things in a show a few years ago I put in a couple of blah works that were "saleable."  (Needless to say, they didn't sell.)  My stuff is my stuff.  You can bury me with it.

I was going to do a spiel here about technology/internet and everyone's desire to be noticed by everybody else but will save that for another time.   shawnZa

John Grillo

The Boston Globe had the obituary of my former painting teacher, John Grillo, who died at age 97 on the Cape.  I met John when I went to Amherst for the master's program in art teaching at UMass.  He taught me so much, basically through osmosis.  He was always around and he was always encouraging.  (He is not unlike my current mandolin teacher, Ned, who moves ahead without rapping ones fingers with a ruler.)  When I survey the work I did while painting with John Grillo and some of the things that came afterwards, I can see that they are my strongest work--and I am gleefully glorifying colors we both shared.  John Grillo gave me hope, something I rarely found with other teachers, especially of the art kind (exception is Paul Berabe, another UMass guy who unwound my detestation of ceramics after two semesters at UNH with Al Potter (yes, that was his name)).

I have never stopped thinking about John Grillo and will continue to carry him in my art heart.

shawn finnegan

I was checking out books at the Newmarket Public Library where I work occasionally and this book came across the desk entitled:  I Ain't Gonna Paint No More.  It's a kids book and I have put a hold on it because the title pretty much says it all.

Visits to galleries, museums, and the like are not high on my priority list right now (ART STINKS!) except for the trip my sister Kitty and I took up to Waterville, Maine, to the Colby Gallery to see B. Langlois wooden animal sculptures which are wonderful, for all the right reasons.  I loved it.  It was worth the two plus hour drive up to our former home to see it (the exhibit and our old house on Roosevelt Avenue).

I am hoping to audit a course on environmental and wildlife concerns this spring at UNH and maybe that will spur something that could be done artistically.

I also got kind of fascinating with dying irises so I'll throw in a few of those, too.

Okay, Okay, I am also knitting another sweater, free range with left-over colors, all done in straight knit stockinette.

Art stinks . . .  teehee

Just to clarify, I did not post the preceding at 6:57 a.m.  It is now almost 10 a.m. on Tuesday.  Yeah, yeah, yeah, technology is just so great.  s