back home...

Back home again in Vermont. And then look what happens. A foot of snow on April 29th!

The Show

When I am asked how Tom and I make a living, this is what runs through my head: long distance truck drivers, roadies, art reps and over-staying house guests. This question is most often asked as I am attired in my finest party outfit, at what we refer to as a “high class tupperware party.”

Making a living as an artist is a tricky thing. Luckily years ago Tom and our clever sister-in-law Laurie came up with the notion of selling art just like one would sell tupperware: have a quality product, a lot of great friends and prepare a magical evening that creates a buzz. Ever since this notion took hold we have finagled friends to host our private art parties.

We do it all. Load the van. Drive to Atlanta, Chicago, Louisville. Unload the van. Set up the stands in the awaiting tent. Put the lighting over each and every painting. Put the paintings up. Tom puts in stronger circuit breakers to handle the mega-watt lighting. Susan fills little pastry cups with magical key lime pie mix. Tom forgets to bring nice shoes. Susan spills the dastardly key lime pie mix on her party dress. We talk it up with the party guests.  Stay up late with those last guests that don’t know that Tom’s bed time is 9. Occasionally we drag the dog with us. 

There are no finer people than the generous and way beyond the call of duty hosts we’ve had.

After the party and the weekend of folks trying out paintings in their homes we reverse the process. It’s a mighty long 4 - 5 days. We are way past the age when the idea of traveling around with the Stones seems the least bit glamorous. Well, maybe if they promised to have Joss Stone make a guest appearance...

On the Road in Colors

"Do you think anyone will notice that you like color?"

Let's Fly

Thank goodness for the Dronne River that draws the swallows and a certain artist to Bourdeilles.

Swallows Arrive

Whether early spring finds us in France or Vermont I know the season has started in earnest when the swallows arrive. Suddenly there is a day when the sun has a new strength. There is a certain stillness to the air. Small hints that today might be the day that the swallows appear for another season. My hearing pricks with each new bird song. And then I hear it, that small trrrp trrrp. My heart stops. They’re here, they’re here! Their playful darting movements give them away against the blue sky. I feel every dip and dive of their wings, the joy of playing on the soft air. How far they have traveled. What a sense of freedom and adventure they share.