Folk Art Diary: Time Check

'Cat on the Tablecloth' Acrylic on boards

©robin r kent

Falling into the new season. Such a color-rich, earthy, mournful season. And often taken for granted. You can look past it, down the time tunnel, and into the new year.

It's the beginning of the annual art crunch. One seasonal clock tick closer to the mother of all deadlines. Sometimes winter is too long; fall is always too short. And it comes with an extra long 'to do' list.

Paintings and sculpture deserve much time now. I have a list of projects promised to be finished before year's end. And the clock doesn't do the 'fall back' trick until early November. Even though it's a 'free' hour, it's too far away.

The cats sense the change as well. The windows they sit in are now sometimes closed. What a surprise for them to find that out mid-air. All those rustling leaves just might be hordes of tiny wildlife on the other side of the screen door.
They keep tabs on the time frames for daily routines. I'm sure they wear wristwatches under their furry sleeves. They know when dinner is expected, to the minute. Maybe it's stop watches they wear instead. I never need an alarm clock. That's their job.

Baseball has been very very good to me...

Wall-Relief Pitcher

©robin r kent

Roberto Clemente?  Chico Escuela on Saturday Night Live? Sammy Sosa?

Whoever said it first doesn't matter. Next to making art, it's my favorite professional sport.

The processes of both are similar: getting lost in its slowness, but noticing the quick nuances. Building on itself, keeping the interest of what might happen next. The quirks and personal ticks being part of the fabric making up the whole.

Then reflecting on what was done in the following days. What could have been done differently.

Some become classics like the vision of Carlton Fisk's waving his ball fair: the game winning run in the 12th inning of the '75 World Series.

I live in a divided baseball family in this section of New England. Part is Yankee territory, part Red Sox nation. That made it hard to decide what uniform to put on my wall Relief Pitcher (right).
I switched back to being the artist and made up my own team colors. After all, it is my team. Next year we're going to win the Series. Love those Boys of September.

Signs Among Us, part 2

Gallery barn door & breezeway; kitchen porch
currently being renovated. Old 'Artisans
at the Bend' sign above window. We're closed for now. Note
Christmas lights at the ready. A Vermont tradition.

Just like a serial movie with a 'really, really likes me' theme, I've been encouraged to show more of the signs I've done locally. I think this should suffice.

I'll start at home. While the side of our barn/gallery gets updated, the 'hand' sign directing visitors near the door stays intact. I've run from the other end of the house to answer the call, hearing 'eighty five, eighty six...'

Caption on arm says it all...

This XL piece has been swinging on our
porch for years. We leave it out as an
example of housepaint durability

Here are others around town:

'Art in the Snow' open studios is held one weekend
a month January-March. Fellow artists helped make
copies of my prototype and placed them around town.
Larger than life, they add a presence to the winter population.

This sign was outside a few years ago as a supplement
to the Artist Guild's annual project, called 'Sunflowers.' It was
in a public setting ready for a photo op similar to the Shelburne Museum's
sign (previous post). Fellow artist Patty, pattysgrecci.com shows how its done.
    

'The Inside Scoop' sign announces their
real fruit smoothies. It was helpful to taste-test
the raspberry (my favorite) made of real fruit. The sign
color was matched to it. brandon.org/insidescoop

Lastly, I painted this HUGE 'picture frame' - the opening is the size
of a narrow door - for part of a stage set honoring our town's
famous folk artist, Warren Kimble. Bet you recognize his work.
Again, no picture when it was up in lights. It's not really a sign,
but one of my favorites, as is he. http://warrenkimble.com/

Signs Among Us

©robin r kent

Sandwich board for Cafe Provence
 leading to the upstairs entrance
http://cafeprovencevt.com

©robin r kent

My show in the window at Frog Hollow Gallery

Garden Goddess sign on Rt 7, directing traffic to the shop
www.thegardengoddess.net

I hear the leaves whirling in the driveway. A sign of things to come. The change in season is echoed by the changes in my shop and barn. Exterior repairs to what nature tore down. Interior editing has been a goal for years (see my first blog entry 3/17/11) but never has come to pass -
until now.

Cafe Provence's citroen 2cv truckette
sporting my illustration of Chef Robert

Jim is in mourning as he says goodbye to many of his objets trouves. He has such a good eye; there are many still being kept. I'll be able to put them to use in future folk art assemblages.

Speaking of signs, here are some photos of signs I made for local venues. I'll need to make a new sign for my reassembled gallery, too.

My brother and his wife testing the sign in my shop
for the Shelburne Museum (notice Callie, bottom left)

Shelburne Museum Circus sign in place

My 'Open' sign with my art in the window
at the Brandon Artists Guild

©robin r kent 

Quite A Sight

Courtesy Burlington Free Press

Here's downtown during 'Tropical Storm' Irene's visit to Vermont. The state took a hit with my town being an unwilling star.
The river jumped the bridge and took the road instead.


http://www.buzzfeed.com/mjs538/incredible-pictures-of-irenes-destruction-in-verm
My studio/barn and home were not affected  - we live a couple of blocks up river - except that it was eerily quiet to have no traffic on the street. And sights I won't soon forget.
Amazing that within a week, the building worst affected was moved, (we lost 4) the road repaved, the bridge cleared. The opening at the Brandon Artists Guild www.brandonartistsguild.org went on, followed by a town wide turnout for some live music in the park's bandstand.  Love 'dem strong Vermonters. www.brandon.org

Saws 'R Us

The now improved, freshly outfitted bandsaw,
my favorite artist tool (with art associate, Remus)
Below: Queen of Hearts, before and after

There I was on Cindi's blog www.oldblackcatboo.blogspot.com with friend and fellow artist, Sandy Mastroni www.smastroni.blogspot.com 

I never would have thought our connection, other than art, was the use of saws, shared by all three of us.

Of course, everyone knows power tools are the tie that bind women together. Just not a Kitchen Aid mixer in this case.

And only yesterday I was getting even more intimate with my bandsaw after a bearing froze. Only knew from a distance what either of those terms meant, but I know better now.

    After disassembling much of my saw, I gave up and called the tech department for assistance. Didn't want to strip the screw I was trying to loosen with all my might. The man on the other end of the line confirmed, in a husky southern drawl, that what I was doing was correct. He had to repeat this a couple of times before my ear attuned to his accent. So now I can interpret toolspeak with a southern drawl. You never know what you're going to learn next.

Walking with Robert Frost

'Down the Road' Acrylic on Antique Vermont Barnboard

©robin r kent

Went for a short walk collecting sticks for future sculptures near Robert Frost's cabin in the woods. I had been at his cabin a while ago (years), and wanted to see how it was faring. Mr. Frost would be proud. It's beautiful and looks the same.

Then on to its neighbor, Middlebury College Bread Loaf School of english, where graduate courses in literature and teaching of writing, creative writing, and theater arts are offered. Another gracious old beauty.

I am rediscovering a new respect for words. Not mine. And not that I'm a big reader. On the contrary, short art articles (with pictures) are my favorite. Followed by poetry. That's where Robert Frost fits in. As we sat where he and others worked to capture that perfect word, I couldn't help but think of my dangling participles, incomplete sentence fragments, and dependent clauses ricocheting above us in cyberspace, raining down on this beautiful, word-loving campus. I felt the need for a broom.