One of the eggs cracked before we dyed it; unpeeled, it is a lightning egg, perhaps from a thunder lizard. My mom is the hand model and is herself perhaps a thunder lizard.
For Easter, I used a resist wax technique on some of the eggs, essentially batik. I’m not quite at the level of Ukranian pysanka; I’d love to have their styluses and their black dye. Yet I suspect it’s best I don’t.
The kitchen counter was dirty and covered in empty plant pots; it all looked cosmic to me, but I have nebulae on the brain.
Many people do not realize the day of the dead is actually three days, depending on which dead. In this case, skulls one and two are Christmas ornaments, and the third is tequila. Hopefully soul cakes will arrive sometime.
I carve my jack o’ lanterns freehand, without much plan. Note the spooky earring.
The furthest abroad I got this year was Georges Island, in Boston harbor (about 30 miles from my house). All unpopulated spaces are starting to look like video game levels to me (not that I’ve had time to play games either).
Spent another Saturday at the ICA Boston with my thrilling costume box, taking portraits of visitors as themselves and not themselves.
You can pretty much tell where I started and ended this sketch, because my pencil stops being sharp after a certain point.
New socks! Which I did not wear on St. Patrick’s Day (or as Ciro calls it, Green Mardi Gras), because the symbol of the Irish is the shamrock, people, the shamrock.
Currently on desk: 3 copies of the litmag James is helping edit, Etruscan cultural history Ciro needs for short story research, and a copy of Arc Magazine I’m using as a style reference for an article about robots in the workforce.
I have recently enjoyed applying random patches of color to discardable objects.
Dear friend James Hargrave is in town for the AWP conference, prowling about the attic and surrounding balconies. (It’s not name-dropping yet.)
In the corner, I hide the cords. The shadow knows.
Quietly, the surge protector does its under-the-table work. And sometimes acts as a night light.
This chair is practically the only piece of furniture I bothered to bring with me from Dallas. I think I bought it for $5 from an antique store in Oak Cliff that was open for maybe a month, next to the Jamaican curry place that was open for just a few months but where I ate every day it was open. Jamaican stewed okra, I miss you. So much.