I always wish I could just plug in my brain and download it straight to the computer. But my digital camera is as close as I can get to that. Visually anyway.
This scene is in the center of town at McKeogh's Farm and Home Center. I think it's post card worthy. I mean, you can get Stanfordville sweatshirts at the local drug store. Why not on location holiday postcards?
I have a photographer friend, Mimi Drop who does her own holiday cards -- every year a new take on Santa. She creates these amazing minature situations and then photographs them so they look as if she's captured a moment in real time. And I'm lucky enough to have that lovely lipstick on the napkin with knife and fork on my fireplace mantle.
Tonight, I'm fireless, but for incense and candles. And the fire within. That constant burning desire to create. This time of year especially, as the cold closes in, I dream of a life where the only work to do is not in office buildings and on computer screens, but in my hands, my heart and that unconscious place of creation.
I've rented a studio space in Saugerties for the last several months, and though I don't get to it nearly as often as I'd like, it is comforting to know the refuge is there. Even more important was making the commitment to myself as an artist. It's one of the 50 gifts I'm giving myself this year to celebrate my 50th birthday: 50 years/50 ways. Everytime I think I'm wasting money on rent, I remember what it feels like to walk into the empty space and take feathers, a stick, some wire in my hands, and surrender to the not knowing.
It's the safest place in the universe. And like the holiday scene in the center of Stanfordville, sometimes what I find there is beautiful, and sometimes it's just a bit bizarre.
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