The d'Aug Days of August bring some cool things to Cincinnati but they also bring the most life-sucking humidity on the planet. While Texas seeks to fry you instantly, Ohio prefers to torture you slowly until you suffocate. Ask any of those Bouncing Buckeyes and they will tell you it sucks the air out of your lungs as soon as you open the door. Whether that's better or worse than Texas is anyone's guess but the Blessed Rain came on Friday night and the temperature on average is about fifteen degrees lower today. Yahoo.
Sooner or later comes the Blessed Rain for everyone and, after a while, Indian Summer will come and everyone loves that. Women and girls start talking about sweater weather but cranks know it also brings the NCAA finals which ga-ron-tee nothing makes the news for months. Given the current news climate, that may not be such a terrible thing except I hate the sound of a bouncing basketball as much as a dripping faucet or a child prodigy singing blues or, well, singing much of anything.
The d'Aug days come as an idea from the Contemporary Arts Center in Cincinnati and that means a lot of it will be crap ... but ... some of it won't. The celebration of public art continues through the month and hence the name d'Aug Days. (Link is to CAC)
(Insert lengthy and heartfelt editorial on the value of celebrating public arts even when some or most of the submissions are crap)
(Insert another lengthy and heartfelt article on the tragedy of mechanistic thinking which makes such celebrations uncommon)
That saved quite a bit of time as the ganja doesn't like windbags. It's the drunkies who turn into windbags but, fortunately, the bottles often come with corks so it's sometimes possible to shut them up.
Here's the wistful reflection on public art because Mystery Lady and I went to an art show in Middletown, OH, eons ago and I haven't the faintest doubt she remembers the painting of a row of boys wearing overalls and straw hats while they sat behind an old barn in the Summer time. We decided against buying it for I have no idea what reason but money could be tight so maybe that was it. Here's the hell of it: as I recall, it was only thirty dollars. Don't hold me to the number but that one comes to mind.
Maybe there is something similar online.
This is the only one I could find and it only has a slight resemblance although it has the same purity of a young boy in the country in the Summertime.
In case you wonder why cowboys always wear blue jeans, it's the horse flies, mate. If there are horses around the horseflies probably won't bother you but if you go near the horses then you are food and those flies bite.
Sooner or later comes the Blessed Rain for everyone and, after a while, Indian Summer will come and everyone loves that. Women and girls start talking about sweater weather but cranks know it also brings the NCAA finals which ga-ron-tee nothing makes the news for months. Given the current news climate, that may not be such a terrible thing except I hate the sound of a bouncing basketball as much as a dripping faucet or a child prodigy singing blues or, well, singing much of anything.
The d'Aug days come as an idea from the Contemporary Arts Center in Cincinnati and that means a lot of it will be crap ... but ... some of it won't. The celebration of public art continues through the month and hence the name d'Aug Days. (Link is to CAC)
(Insert lengthy and heartfelt editorial on the value of celebrating public arts even when some or most of the submissions are crap)
(Insert another lengthy and heartfelt article on the tragedy of mechanistic thinking which makes such celebrations uncommon)
That saved quite a bit of time as the ganja doesn't like windbags. It's the drunkies who turn into windbags but, fortunately, the bottles often come with corks so it's sometimes possible to shut them up.
Here's the wistful reflection on public art because Mystery Lady and I went to an art show in Middletown, OH, eons ago and I haven't the faintest doubt she remembers the painting of a row of boys wearing overalls and straw hats while they sat behind an old barn in the Summer time. We decided against buying it for I have no idea what reason but money could be tight so maybe that was it. Here's the hell of it: as I recall, it was only thirty dollars. Don't hold me to the number but that one comes to mind.
Maybe there is something similar online.
This is the only one I could find and it only has a slight resemblance although it has the same purity of a young boy in the country in the Summertime.
In case you wonder why cowboys always wear blue jeans, it's the horse flies, mate. If there are horses around the horseflies probably won't bother you but if you go near the horses then you are food and those flies bite.
4 comments:
Are you serious...how could I forget...the name of the painting was "Boys In Hats." I can see the painting still. I remember not buying it because we had just purchased a painting in another building and laid down a couple hundred for it before we saw the beautiful oil of the row of Amish boys wearing the large corn straw hats with the black bands. And we got one of those hats for you at a Summer Fair at old Coney Island.
We bought the watercolour painting of the men on the porch of a fishing cabin.
This time of year always leads to the Art Fests that I loved so much..and "thanks" to you for sometimes putting up with them...but you always made sure I got to them..no I never liked to drive much...especially on the highways. Thanks again and just know how much I appreciated your sense of adventure..no matter how small the adventure! :)
There's no need at all to thank me as you see how long I remember. To this day I see that painting and it's a glory every time in part because I love it that someone noticed them and thought enough of it too paint it. The ability of artists to see things other people don't is remarkable. I don't have it to the level of a visual artist or my photography would have been better but I did notice when I was outside this morning a cat was sitting on top of a room air conditioner on the second floor where she could survey the world. I thought that was a whole day's dose of existentialism in one scoop. The cat sees all (larfs).
Well, thats makes you an artist...an artist would paint that image--you write about it or photograph it...it's all the same
I'm more inclined to think it makes me lucky but thank you!
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