Home again, home again...

Well my house guests are gone. Their two Daddies, slightly sun-burned & rested, came & picked them up this afternoon.
I immediately got out the Hoover. I always forget how much hair the little buggers leave behind. (I bet you all thought I'd have a Dyson ~ yeah, if I could afford one.)
I really don't have anything to say, so I thought I'd give you a peek at my workbench. I know, I know ~ it's the easy answer, but it's Sunday & I've been worn down by the kitties. There it is, complete with a half finished mount. It may seem chaotic, but I know where everything is. No joke.

And just in case you were wondering, the purple gloves are not an affectation.

No, really. You can't...

So. I'm reading a post over at Edward's blog about the (sometimes uncontrollable) urge to touch artwork. As someone who handles artwork on a daily basis this was bound to catch my attention and, for the most part, I found the post interesting.
Reading the comments was another experience altogether. The majority of the commenter's felt that museums and galleries stifled their ability to engage with the artwork by, essentially, preventing them from physically interacting with the collection objects.
I know ~ boggles the mind, doesn't it. You should go over & read the comments. There was endless carping about overprotective guards & annoying motion alarms. Of course they're annoying: the alarm is usually there and the guard is hovering because some idiot has decided at some point to interact with the piece!
I know it's old-school of me & goes against the grain of current museum education practice, yet I can not help but wonder if there some connection between an increase of man-made damage to museum artwork and the current use of interactives. Would it not seem to encourage unwanted physical contact? Turn the museum into a playground & visitors (and I'm not just talking about children here) will think they can touch everything. Has everyone forgotten that it is quite easy to interact with artwork using two simple things: one's eyes & one's brain? The lack of respect & manners demonstrated by far too many visitors to cultural institutions these days is appalling. The stories I could tell you about the stupid senseless damage I've seen...
I don't expect the general public to know the complexities of correct art handling & conservation. Really I don't.

I do, however, expect them to know the difference between a museum & flea market.

Her Royal Highness...

In her exquisite condescension, Princess decided to make an appearance on the shelf by my desk and allow me a photo-op. She is actually much sweeter than her brother (Bobo can be a troublemaker) and likes to be scratched under her cheeks.

My God. Pet posts are really insidious.

House Guests...

Well, one of them anyway.
His name is Bobo ~ isn't he adorable? His sister Princess is shy & hiding under my bed. Seems all royals are wary of paparazzi. The little darlings' owners are at this very moment speeding towards P-town for a week of Sun, Fun, Surf & I would imagine, copious amounts of Booze. This is my chance to have a pet for a week. Trust me, a week is about all I can handle. The cats are here until Sunday ~ by Thursday I'll be more than ready for the little buggers to go home so I can remove my breakable things from temporary storage. This is why I love other people's pets; they go home.

By the way, I feel exactly the same way about children.

That's Mr. Wuv Bunny to you...

... and no. MW does not stand for Mr. Wabbit either.
In response to the erudite & always articulate EGB: Sorry, I have been busy this week preparing a collection of African ritual objects for an exhibition. Big Ju-Ju.
I am a collections Preparator/Technician ~ specifically a mount fabricator. It is a selfless job because when done well, the mounts should disappear & not intrude on the viewing experience. This visual slight of hand is sometimes referred to (never by me) as the Concept of Invisibility. To be honest, I suspect this ludicrously pretentious term was concocted by some frustrated mount-maker to feel more important ~ it never fails to crack me up because it sounds like something from a Harry Potter book. "Quick Hermione, invoke the Concept of Invisibility."
The job is a good match for me because it combines working with one's hands (I'm very good with my hands) and problem solving (I'm also very good at pulling that pesky rabbit out of a hat.)

The big bonus is that I get to touch everything and you don't.

For myself and strangers...

I have been found. The first comment about this blog has appeared, but in the interest of transparency I should confess that I dropped a trail of bread crumbs to follow. (In other words, I e-mailed him my URL.) The Writer (a cherished friend, though prone to hyperbole) was very positive ~ I blushed ~ then panicked. You see, in my naivety & zeal, It just never really occurred to me that anyone would actually read this. Clueless? Of course. This led to a long night of blog-related navel gazing, not to mention some tossing & turning.

Will readers think I'm a silly Old Fart?
Will my lack of proper punctuation skills be an embarrassment?
Boring, oh Christ, will I be boring?

I won't go into the details because they are, indeed, boring, but the conclusion ~ just relax, enjoy the process & don't worry about the audience. Besides, the chances of ever meeting any of them are slim. I'm starting this blog for many reasons, but primarily I hope it will be fun. This morning I got another e-mail from the Writer & guess what he said.

No kidding ~ he said: "This is fun, isn't it?"

Day after Independence Day...

Thanks to my Expat friend in Ireland for unwittingly giving me the title for this post in her e-mail this morning. Yesterday was quiet at the Psychiatrist's. I had, indeed, missed the parade (no burly pipers for me again) but was pleasantly surprised to find lots of great food & more guests than usual sitting in the kitchen. However, missing from the group was the Spaniard himself. He is in Spain for the summer, working on their lovely stone farmhouse. He called while I was eating fruit salad & some truly fantastic homemade baklava. After the Psychiatrist spoke to him in a strange mixture of Spanish & English (she is American, but working on Spanish fluency), I got to chat. He is in seventh heaven ~ jackhammering holes in 20 inch thick stone walls, renting a bulldozer to play with, staying up half the night socializing in his native tongue & eating grilled razor clams.

Yup, he's that kind of a guy.

I am that Yankee-Doodle Boy...

I think not. It is an absolutly dreary, overcast 4th. The Psychiatrist & the Spaniard have invited me over for the traditional porch-viewing of their small-town 4th of July Parade. I will, as tradition dictates, arrive after the parade is over & most of the guests have departed. In all the years they've been doing this, I have only seen the parade once. A shame really, as there are at least two bagpipe bands who march.

There is nothing more stirring than a group of burly firemen in kilts.

Just the way you look tonight...

Well after countless, countless, countless variations, lots of beard-pulling and a long evening, I'm comfortable with the look of this page. At least for the time being. Having been a designer in a past life, there was no way I'd settle for the generic template provided to me by Blogger. There wasn't much wrong (other than the fact that everyone & his brother have the same template.) I just needed some of my fingerprints on it. I didn't do much, but that's only because I'm an old-school paste-up kind of guy who is not very computer savvy.

I'm rather fond of the pink.

Surprise!

Since I am new to all this and not sure what to expect, I decided that it might be prudent, at least for now, to maintain a bit of mystery & remain anonymous. When I filled out my profile the only personal information I provided was my gender (male) & birthday (December 13, 1950). Imagine my surprise when I checked my profile this morning & discovered that I was a Sagittarius, born in the year of the Tiger.

That will have to change.

The Rabbit...

Of course the rabbit is myself, but only in the most general way. It's really about that moment when the previously mentioned rabbit is pulled from the not yet discussed hat ~ the encounter between seemingly unrelated things. For lack of a better term, let's call it magic.
I think I'll leave it at that for now. After all this is just the first post.

More tomorrow.