When I was growing up in Poughkeepsie, The Carousel was a bar and I remember going there once or twice, drinking sloe gin fizzes, and worrying that my parents would kill me if they knew where I was. At that time, Stanfordville was really the boonies. Now, it's become a part of the sprawl that is New York City. When my ex and I first bought the house, the only other New Yorkers up here had fled the Bronx years ago. People used to call me "Miss New York". Now, city folk are a dime a dozen. Many have moved up here full time. And there are a fair share of McMansions.
Today was the first day I had a chance to get outside and do some raking. The leaves are all matted and rotting from last Spring. I can't remember ever getting to it this early. Usually I am wrestling with more undergrowth, but I seem to have gotten a head start this year.
It's a completely false sense of accomplishment. The yard gets out of control so quickly here. I never have enough time or money to do the planning and planting that so desperately needs to be done. But I love the wildness of it too. And at this time of year, I can enjoy feeling hopeful, enjoy the buds about to burst, and not worry too much about my unruly yard.
Inbetween two bouts of yard work, I took a hike over at Buttercup to check up on the deer carcass I'd found a week or two ago. Still there, not dragged off by the coyotes. So I'm hopeful I'll still have a chance at those two hoofs I need for a rattle.
On the train ride here, I snapped some pics of the city in motion. Another study. Maybe for drawing. Maybe for painting. Maybe for no reason at all.
But back to juggling, and why I've added yet another seeming distraction. In truth, it's a solution to a problem that's been nagging me for years. I've amassed collections of everything from suitcases to plates. Antiques, yard sale finds, cast offs from my mother's annual garage sales. A lot of artists have an insatiable collecting streak. Maybe it's an aethetic thing. Maybe it's a hole in ourselves we're trying to fill. But at some point the "things" become oppressive. And maybe that's an age thing - or just a point we all reach somewhere along the line. I've been collecting these things in my kitchen for 3 years - with the intention of having a yard sale that never quite happens. For one thing, pulling together a yard sale takes quite a bit of planning. And like I said, I never have enough time.
But back to the Carousel. I stop by there a couple of times a year thinking that it might be fun to do. And this time when I stopped and dreamed, I realized it was actually a way to get everything out of the kitchen in pretty much one fell swoop - with an opportunity to perhaps put a bit of my art in as well. So far I've just got the first load in - with more on the way.
I've got vintage clothing, a ton of silver deposit glass and lots of other antiquey odds and ends that I am really ready to part with. It's a really freeing feeling to let go of so much. I want to make more and more room for working with and living with my art. And that means taking a little bit of a side trip for a while. Of course I hope that this new venture will be profitable as well, but for the time being I'm just so excited to be seeing floor and wall space I haven't seen in years. And ultimately I fully expect to be able to start using the room that used to be my studio, but had turned into an oversized dumping ground. Like I said, I'm making headway. It's spring cleaning on steroids.
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