Posts Tagged With: Artist


Yesterday was our last day in Vegas and I visited a  local Community Center that has multiple programs for the community. One such program is providing a gallery for up-and-coming artists. The  tile sign outside of the building kind of spells it out for you. Beautiful sign.

The exhibit was a paper exhibit and since that is my medium I wanted to see it. Andreana Donahue hand cut this huge paper piece that covers a large wall plus turns the corner onto another wall.

It seems impossibly huge to be hand cut. Its beautiful and snow white with a black paper contrast. Since our signal is low, I can’t upload the flowers and iceberg she cut. But, watch for this artist to be big some day and I’ll try and post the rest later.

Our plan was to head into Death Valley, but a cold front has changed our plans and we will be going to Yuma instead. Death Valley is still on the menu, however.

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Ivoryton, CT, where we are staying, was familiar territory for Katharine Hepburn. She began her acting career at the Ivoryton Playhouse with her first major performance. Born in Hartford, her  family owned a summer place in  nearby Fenwick.  Fenwick fittingly named their Cultural Arts Center for their  most famous and favorite resident. It contains a small museum, free to the public,  housed in the old Fenwick City Hall.

Her place  fronted on the sound with a spacious surround, a large pond and golf course behind, and only 40 neighbors when the place was first built. Above is a rear view of the house.
She had a brownstone in New York, but Fenwick was her favorite place to be. She shared this  “cottage” with her brother and could be seen shopping, sailing, golfing or working around the yard by locals who gallantly respected her privacy.

Here she is doing some pruning on a pine tree with a fashionable scarf around her neck.

She left no doubt about her desire to be left undisturbed. She died at the Fenwick cottage in 2003 at age 96.
My youngest daughter was an avid fan of Hepburn during her high school years, and had collected nearly every movie Hepburn made. I believe I’ve seen most of them.

Classic Hepburn, this is my favorite photo of her from the museum, although the painting below has more character and catches a glimpse of her personality. I met her on the streets of San Francisco once. She was wearing a cast on her foot and acknowledged my recognition with a slight smile and nod of her head but held a hand up to let you know not to engage her. It was done so smoothly and respectfully that one could not even think to intrude. It made me smile and continue walking.

I didn’t know that she  loved  painting, nor that she was a credible artist. She didn’t sell them, nor give many of them to friends. It was a her own private joy. There are several of her paintings in the museum.

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From Mary’s Desk:

Traveling as much as my partner and I do is an art. Finding a dump station precisely when needed, getting your vehicle needs attended to, planning events during hours and on days facilities are actually open. Finding recycling centers is particularly challenging. Then, you assume the weather man is correct and that Google Earth maps are accurate…Yes, its much like being a detailed travel agent, except its done on the fly day by day.

For instance, Friday night we sat at the table above, in the Great Smokies National Park, sweltering in the heat, with a cool wash cloth across our shoulders and a beer wrapped in a foam holder wishing it would cool down. Our plan was to hike the Roaring Fork nature trail Saturday with a cooler weather prediction and only a 20% chance of rain. Except, it poured during the night, our campsite was lush and wet, the grasses and bushes as high as our chest. Neighbors hung out their ground cloths and tent to dry.

We decided to move on and get the oil changed in the motor home in nearby Newport before getting up on the Blue Ridge Parkway.

We never did figure out what went wrong and why the route set by Google led us astray from 321 to 70, or maybe it was the highway department. But, the rolling hills of the Tennessee countryside were green and peaceful with little traffic on a Saturday, and I just took pictures of old barns as Jim trustfully kept driving and driving and driving.

It was definitely the long way around. But, we reached green, green, Greenville. Its also Green County, TN. It was late and we didn’t get to see the Andrew Johnson home or museum. He was President after Lincoln, a southerner who didn’t exactly settle things after the Civil War as equally as Lincoln had planned to.
The barns ARE lovely. I couldn’t always get them in passing, but they were numerous and different.

Of course, its Jim who finds us a safe place to stay at the end of the day and unhooks the Bronco and sets us up on  level ground. He knows where to shop and what stations he can get into and out of for petrol.  He researches the way before us and  gets us ready for the next destination or activities if there are interesting things to do and see on the way.  He never moves without checking his tires and considering our safety. Its an art. So, I salute Jimmy the Artist along with my three daughters this Mother’s Day.
(I know he’ll laugh loudly when he learns I consider him and artist.)

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