Lughnasa Waxing Artemis Moon
Slept well past 6:30 this morning, then a very long nap. The body still marshalling its resources. I’m ready to be done with this, but it does not seem ready to be done with me.
In between I went into the MIA to have lunch with Mark Odegard. Mark’s a Woolly, a friend, an artist and a damned fine jazz piano player. He has very interesting friends. One friend of his is on a two-month journey in Peru working on developing a complete catalog of all, underline all, the plants in the Amazon. Sounds like a crazy task, but he’s found somebody who’s already done a lot of the work.
This was a thank you lunch, in part, for the bang-up design work he’s done for Artemis Honey. As we have before, we wandered through the museum, looking at various things, talking about them. The Ricci map. The Minnesota Artists Gallery works by two young Asian women. Ceramics and glass and wood bowls by women artists.
In talking about my work I told him something I realized last week. The museum work grabs my heart; I think about things there, mull them over, look forward to going in, get excited about new collections, new artists, encounter objects that pierce my soul. Even the Sierra Club, which is important and I do it because it’s important, doesn’t grab my heart the way the art does. I wish it did, but it doesn’t.
Spent most of the day without internet service. I tried to alter the way my router plugs into the internet and it worked for a while, then the router just went all kablooey. An hour and a half of reading the manual, trying this, then that and I got the connection back but I lost the alterations I’d made. I’ll try’em again tomorrow.
Oh. The Wolfman. I spoke too soon. As I watched the end, I found it gained texture and strength. The cinematography was wonderful and the pathos of the altered conclusion–altered from the Chaney original–made the story more emotionally gripping.