I can’t remember anymore what anthology story program on TV had the episode that comes to mind just now. The tale was that of a sleepy small town whose residents felt underappreciated—maybe unnoticed entirely—and decided that what they needed for a jolt of attention was a good ol’ natural disaster. Not a real one, mind, just something that seemingly put them in jeopardy and therefore brought the attention and (most importantly) big bucks of the agencies that offer rescue and succor to those who suffer. This tale being, of course, an entertainment and a very silly comedic one at that, the town’s geniuses made a little film documenting their tragic miseries, complete with deeply unconvincing special effects and some acting that, while it did evoke horror, did so only in the sense of its rich incompetence. The highlight of their marvel of a movie was a scene where a group of people did a stupendously fakey shaky act while accomplices waggled objects on the shot’s periphery to simulate a massive earthquake and one of the would-be actors shouted “it’s an EARTHQUAKE!” to another who looked straight into the camera and yelled, “This is really happening!” Spoiler alert: the government aid agencies being courted with this tomfoolery were not fooled.

Thrown. Limited edition print from a (Not For Sale) one-off stone lithograph. I am trying hard not to be thrown by my own fake earthquake, whether it’s my art exhibition or not!

And I feel, lately, that I might be reenacting those village idiots’ little cautionary tale myself. While I’ve been genuinely working hard and keeping busier than I can easily do on a long-term basis, and I’ve gotten a lot less sleep than this sleep-fiend ordinarily requires per night, I know that the run-up to my art exhibition is only a finite project and I’m not even remotely experiencing what any sane person would call suffering! So I try not to whimper and whinge too loudly or I’m quite certain I’ll get called on the same kind of specious pity-party as those fictional townsfolk were throwing themselves. But as the day of the show approaches, I do succumb a bit more frequently to the weaselly wiles of tired self-absorption.

And then I remember that this is really happening, and soon. And truthfully, it’s been a very long time coming. So when I can snag a few hours of semi-sound sleep and get a moment to sit down and reflect while not madly framing and making art and all of the accoutrements of a carefully planned exhibition, I am in fact very happy that I chose to brave the adventure of a solo show again after a long hiatus from the scene. And I’m enjoying the uplifting responses of all who are cheering me along the way and even lending their capable insights and hands to make it go as smoothly and joyfully as possible. In honor of that kind of support and to encourage myself to get out of my own crowded little head a bit more, I took on and continued some side projects. Helps with the whole perspective thing.

AND-anna #19, available at Art of Where in up to 50″x50″ sizes and up to 20 colorways.

One ‘side’ project is simply a longtime ongoing one in which I’ve been designing a whole group (well over 60 in number by now) of scarf and shawl designs that I will be selling. Many of these I hope will eventually become part of a line of fundraiser items for research into the treatment and cure of Parkinson’s Disease, Diabetes, and Lupus, some very real trials suffered by large numbers of people (who deserve far better, and number among them my two mamas and my beloved niece, respectively); they are available online at my Art of Where store and will evolve for their higher purpose when I’m able to recover a little from the show.

Two angel artworks came alive recently, both resembling but not entirely copying previous iterations of those otherworldly, nondenominational guardian creatures who do frequently seem to appear on my paper, canvas, or alternate substrate whenever I’m approaching both a show deadline and an exhaustion meltdown. It seemed apropos that these two avatars of support-staff excellence should serve a wider purpose than only my own, so the proceeds of their sale will be combined and shared equally as gifts to two choirs my husband conducted in different past interim positions here in Dallas.

Angel of the Roses (mixed media on paper & glass, 23.5″H x 29.5″W)

Watching Over Me (soft pastels on a limited edition print—original mixed media artwork destroyed—23.5″H x 29.5″W)

The third and quickest project was getting to make a wreath for a charitable auction that will happen in early December. It’s a fundraiser selling one-of-a-kind custom wreaths made by local artists to raise money for a wonderful health center in town for at-risk and underserved populations. I chose to use a mental health theme for my ‘From Dark to Dazzling’ non-seasonable wreath, and I had a great time planning and making it, not least of all because it took me away from art-exhibition wrestling for a little while. Coming back to the show work again became a bit easier to face after those diversions and a few outings to see and hear great friends performing in concert and opera around here.

From Dark to Dazzling (26″diameter wreath, 8″D; mixed media)

Coming back to the show work again became a bit easier to face after those diversions and a few outings to see and hear great friends performing in concert and opera around here. Ticking a few more items off the lengthy exhibition prep list each day doesn’t hurt. And having an evening to sit down with my remarkably unflappable spouse and work out a few of the other lurking puzzles is beyond helpful. Tomorrow seems slightly more approachable and manageable than yesterday or even today. And the Thing That Is Happening will happen one way or another, but how much better that I will be able to welcome it when the time comes!

Which time is, by the bye, next Saturday. It’s 4-9 pm on the 18th of November, 2017, at 5656 North Central Expressway, Villa #100, Dallas, Texas. And I like to think it’ll be quite the fun shindig for all of us who show up there. Betcha I won’t even have time to feel tired or distracted or worried at all anymore.