What happened in 2003.

A'Muse Media

Returned.

October 6, 2003

After experiencing an amazing weekend - nay, an amazing month so far - I felt compelled to commence the online logging. My newsletter matriculators will ask, "but auntlace! what about your last installment of the newsletter!? when can we expect it!? when will you pay a little attention to US?!?"

Mi amigos. Mi compadres. Settle down. You'll get your money's worth. Life in Laceyville has been just a tad hectic and the trains have all been running late. 'Seems like this little berg's varying interests have been vying for a position in the old times square, and mamacita Lace has been brimming like a banchee just to get things in order.

I have been working incessantly at my day job's tasks; I am in the process of redesigning an entry page that already garners tens of thousands of onlookers every month, and that has taken a measure of steam that would normally be reserved for all my little dumplings in etherland. I have been tempted to run all css formatting, but that would require a fair amount of reestablishing the existing pages as css-based (rather than table-based), as well. Since we actually don't want to change anything BUT the main page, that is out of the question (and considering there would be 500+ pages to change, I was happy at that news.)

Meanwhile, the bike trails were splendid today with their hosts of dragonflies and egrets, pedestrians and pollen.  Lo, but I have not yet experienced (never say 'yet') that horrific episode I encountered last Fall, when all those elements tore at my lungs, ripped at my sinuses, reamed me a new one, until I was left to sequester myself inside for almost the entire year.

That is correct. I had not biked for a year, except for those times when I thought I was okay, then realized that I wasn't. I now refuse to give in to my allergies, to the normally kind, yet sporadically cruel, fates. I now bike about every other day (when I am in town). The trails are paved and wide, winding through parks, trees, under overpasses, and beside the bayous. For me, it has been like riding through heaven.

I have also been painting a great deal more, as well as sculpting and bronzing more fish and undies. I will have photographs of the latter as they become available.

In addition to those time takers, I have also begun a side-line business that has taken me away from my usual band of friends for the weekends, as my new business's parties are typically held ON the weekends. Friday and Saturday nights. Ouch. But I have managed to keep up my relationships, the old standards and the newly found. I take great pleasure in meeting folks, and my current opportunities allow me this luxury.

There is another, more profound reason that I wanted to spout and spew my inner voice(s). I attended church this morning with a friend whom I hold in very high regard. A fellow artist. This person was sent to me for a reason, and every day has brought yet another affirmation of this reason. There was a message today, one that was as traditionally ambiguous as they usually are, but this particular message spoke directly to me. I have been struggling with something that I'd considered of dire culminations, but I was let in on a giant secret:

Quit looking at the monkeys.

~ ~ ~

A Weekend of Art Folk.

October 13, 2003

"With all the pressure on business to clean up its act, corporate governance is big business these days.
*

That's right, kids. If you're looking for a new career, corporate governance is huge (that is: as long as you're not a thieving, conniving, duplicitous, covert individual with interests only in that which will fatten your bank account like a wintering walrus). So jump on in, the water is fine. Between you and me, it will be fascinating where all this will go.

I had yet another fantastic weekend with friends and family. Not my family, but that's okay. Frankly, any family is fine and this family was exceptional. We all went to the downtown art festival Sunday and got a belly full of visual art. It was said by a contributor that the level of art has gone from the cheesy of a few years ago, to a rather high scale class, while the artists themselves seem less personable and present.

We figured they didn't man their booths to avoid hearing negatives that can spoil an entire day.

Saturday I attended a lecture from 9am until 2pm, spoken by David Hawkins. A delightful speaker, Hawkins entertains, enthralls, and educates. He was beautifully humble as he taught us to experience peace as a way to better the earth. He covered areas such as kinesiology, the calibration of the world around us (from continents to kittens) and how those calibrations affect our energy and spirit levels, and how quantum mechanics "prove" that prayer works.

I was amazed at some of his teachings. Though he never spoke down to us, occasionally gathering himself as he worked his way around complex ideas, this was heady stuff, deeper than some of the audience could comprehend. But his work is important. It was a life-changing event that I am so glad I didn't miss.

The night before, I had gone to a party at a home in River Oaks where I experienced a tremendous amount of sensory overload. The owner of the house was a collector of art and artifact (we had been invited by his personal curator) and each room was tastefully, eclectically filled with some of the most beautiful works in the world.

There was a small, rather moody, industrial edge-of-town, depression era painting in the corner of the main room that seemed oddly familiar. We questioned the curator as to the painter :: Jackson Pollack. There was an enormous collection of Tiffany glass pieces, of photographs from all over, of weapons -- he had a "gun room" where he kept numerous implements, including weapons from Little Big Horn. Intense. Enraptured I was.
It took me awhile to realize it, but as we dined, I was sitting next to Bum Philips. That wasn't the enrapturing part, but it sure was fun.

Steve in Dallas also told me last week that he and his wife, Susan, have used a painting of mine on their mailer postcards, which advertise an art show that they are sponsoring. Not my first gig, but certainly my first postcard representation so far from home.

From this weekend, I walk away a better, more enlightened person, fulfilled in a way I could never have manufactured.

* bizjournal.com's Spinning Governance Into Gold, by Tom Witkowski

Dragons sautèd in Butter.

October 28, 2003

Almost an entire month gone, and I've spoken to you only thrice? I'm lagging. But it does prove that I am blessed with busy. I have begun paintings, and completed paintings, begun bronze sculpture, yet not completed a metal thing. Mettle thing. Exactly what I'm attempting to develop here inside, where the twists of gut make for an appropriate backdrop. My very own test, and creation, of Mettle.


Riding on the bayou, I sliced through the squadrons of dragonflies, while dodging the persistent bombardments of butterflies. The air was beautiful with creature and crisp winds. It was a perfect day. Upon my return, I gathered myself to meditate on my tiger butterfly painting, but I cannot guess as to when (or if) it will ever come to fruition. It is a difficult design, and one that has been on a back burner for years now. An artist friend of mine, Joe Tidwell, had given me two expired tiger swallowtail butterflies a couple of years ago, and I am finally getting around to painting one.

Shame for the artist, but honor for the insects. I wonder if Steve R. has any photographs of tiger swallowtail butterflies...

I have another idea for a series, but I must remember that it is 'one at a time' right now, finishing what I start before I start another. That is actually contradictive of what an artist should do, which is to have several paintings going at once. Well, that's a given -- I have plenty on the easels.

Here is to having more abundance than I ever could have dreamed.

Mind Flight.

November 11, 2003

And busier than ever. I did want to take a few moments to journal online, to keep up and catch up on my own latest developments. The elusive tiger butterfly is still in the ether, the damsels are awaiting their distress, and ideas slam me with such momentum as to stifle me to the brink of temporary insanity.

I am dreaming vividly, as well. My theory about the vividity of dreams: when life is giving us hell, we tend to sort things out via our brain sieve. Thomas Dolby has a song that begins "My brain is like a sieve...". Mine isn't like a sieve, it is a sieve, all Swiss Cheese and pouring thoughts.

So it is onward and upward. My day job keeps me tremendously busy with the site and its many additions and subtractions. We are about to change the main page, updating and perfecting as we go along, and I get to work with incidentis photographis. It will make more sense as I complete the project.

My stocks didn't do so well yesterday, but most stocks didn't do well, either. The two that I personally researched and purchased (with my head and not my heart) were the only two that actually gained on the market. I am learning the iron gut approach, the reasonable runaway method, and the buy low, sell high theory. I've done fairly well, considering I just got my feet wet in January of this year, and got serious about it in April.

Stay well, stay real, be in touch. With everything.

From the Matrons to a Message.

November 16, 2003

Terrific soiree Friday night at a beautiful house on the edge of a forest. Great merriment was made by many moms, matrons, and maidens. Home party heaven (Pampered Chef ain't got nothin on this kid).

No biking today. Or yesterday. Or the day before, if I remember correctly. But I did get my car washed for the first time in weeks by a group of high school kids raising money for a cause. After a long dry spell, it suddenly rained on my freshly scrubbed car. About 15 minutes of being so clean was about all it could take. Like those little puppies who get their baths outside, then roll in the mud. "I'll show you", said the car.

Two thumbs and an arm up for the latest Russell Crowe oceanaganza film. I'd say it did reasonably well for an old ship movie. Bunch of dirty ol boys. And the Galapagos.

Message today?  If you think you're in over your head, you still have at least one more option. I ran into a fellow artist at Unity this morning and he was so glum. A tremendously depressed soul, I wanted to ask if he'd heard the lecture about asking for a little help, but decided not to be redundant. But it sure sounded like this guy was in over his head.

Bless his heart. He's representing himself in a lawsuit.

I don't know what surprises me more: how incredibly different we are, or how excruciatingly similar us humans can be.

So things amass at the studio today. Bugs, bees, colors, and fairy tales. Enchantment at the Crawford bungalow.

Lumbering Whales.

November 30, 2003

One of those oddly unseasonal days outside, feeling rather Autumnesque, a bit too warm, yet looking like Winter. I rode for miles today, past the park where there was an extreme bicyclist competition. The riders were all outfitted in expensive gear, expensive bikes, expensive sponsors. But they were real, and quite serious about their tasks. At one point they were to ride up from the bayou, around the dirt trail, then get off their bikes, lifting them up to carry them over an obstacle course. I met several amazing people today.

The clear blue of the sky peeked through herds of whale clouds swimming above my head. Days like this can be magical outside. I'll light the tiki torches in the back yard tonight and have a new-me-be-que. I periodically burn all my old documents, old checkbooks, old "0% Interest!!" credit card offers. Jerry Pizzitola had orchestrated my first nmbq, but from his perspective it was a new-you-be-que.

I ran into his dad Wednesday before I took off to see my own family. Big Jerry said he'd had his own Thanksgiving the day before, when Jerry Jr. came to him to tell him he needed a helping hand. I hope that all works out well for everyone involved, as I send out blessings and prayers to anyone dealing with heavy, monstrous issues right now. My best to all those out there who give it just one more shot.

I started yet another bug painting, this one being a moth. Well, its about time. I find these tiny expired creatures in my midst, and it is a year hence before I finally immortalize them. Fortunately, this one had a faster turn-around. Allan has had quite a few gallery showings lately, my favorite being the MindPuddles soiree Tuesday night. We stopped off at Carrabas for a late-night snack, then it was on to our respective holiday fares.

Now, on to the moth.

Better Said.

December 1, 2003

Another month, already. Almost another year. Already. It was a splendid day for riding and for walking - both allowed me to take in the scents of a bonafide Indian Summer. It was simply stunning today.

In reading more about CSS and XHTML, I came across a rather brilliant dissertation that I couldn't have said better myself at The Man In Blue. A Web Site is Born. Thank you for that. and now it is onward and upward from here, tutoring myself in the distinctions of CSS, guinea pigging my own site for the development of a leaner, cleaner code. Stop me if you've heard this one...