My new year begins with both good news and sad news. My dad passed away two days ago after a full life and a mercifully quick ending. Today I stepped away for a while from being immersed in family "to do" lists; I began moving in to a studio. My own studio! Today I put an embarrassingly large quantity of art supplies into a beautiful white space downtown with high ceilings and two big windows. Tomorrow my husband promises to put up shelves and hooks for me. When that's done, I'll close the door and have the space to myself, to clutter up, tidy up, contemplate, write or paint as I wish.
I have some paintings to finish, and some woodcuts to print, and some more woodcuts to carve, and I'm thinking about a piece about my dad. It will just be for myself. All I know so far is that the main color will be red. At least to begin with.
I asked Tim if he had a pushpin to hang my calendar -- it is new year's day after all. After he left me alone to arrange things, I unpacked a trash bin I had used to ferry some bulky items (paper towels, a lamp). When I got down to actual trash, there among the empty plastic bags was one with something lumpy inside: I reached in and found a twist-top cap from the cheap wine my dad was drinking for a while last spring, and one silvery push pin. I said, "Thanks dad," and used it to put up my 2011 calendar. It's all Wayne Thiebaud. January is an ice cream sundae (though not these "Dark Cones."
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