Prepping for morning FANHS meeting (includes putting together a mock-up of our book of memoirs – Filipinos in Salinas Valley), and a presentation I’ll give on Filipino musicians in the Chautauquas, pre-WWII.
Checking my tutoring site for submissions
Glad the sun is out; I can see stretches of blue amid fat, cottony clouds creeping across the sky.
Spending a lot of time working, hustling up work, & volunteering. Not enough time to read, write, or paint, or just be out walking/thinking.
Driving through heavy rain! Car hydroplaned twice on the drive back home to Monterey.
Had productive meeting with a friend who curates museum exhibits. Came up with some good ideas for setting up an exhibit in the Republic Cafe (Chinatown), and for partnering with another organization.
Editing a book on Mongolian art (fascinating!)
And will somehow find time today to paint and relax.
Trying to spend less time today (pretty successfully so far) perusing the news and FB.
Rain & Wind here in Monterey…
Preparing for a phone conference w/City Planning (Salinas) and the new consultants for the Chinatown project.
Prepping a letter to send to City Council in support of [the city’s first?] arts ordinance, and formation of an Arts Commission. About time…
Our landlord hired a landscaper, and every Tues. they come around with these hellish leaf-blowers, rain or shine. Today it’s rain. Leaf blowing and garbage collection punctuate–are the soundtrack–for my Tuesdays.
Working on an editing job today — for a book on Asian art – artists & their patrons
Painting and writing will be worked into the schedule, somehow…
Doing a little yoga. The rain has stopped.
Re-thinking the whole haptic drawing thing. Or rather, returning to the initial concept, which was, for me, drawing as meditation. Just staying with the line, and with whatever moves it along. Today, that was Brian Eno’s “Thursday Afternoon.” Using my favorite tool, a faulty felt-tip brush pen. Faulty, because a little old, so you can’t predict how it will work. So I just stayed with it. “Thursday afternoon” wanders, and sometimes disappears. You have to listen with full attention. What emerged was a kind of tentative maze that I followed and followed. And I thought of the two (real) mazes I’ve walked in life: one at the Episcopal church on Russian Hill in San Francisco, and the other at Earthbound Farm in Carmel Valley. Drawing like this releases one from the economic pressures, the matrix within which most of my projects–whether editing, painting, or academic tutoring (my part-time job)–exist.
I’m still working on promoting my editing site.
And will soon put up a call for submissions on Local Nomad.
Then . . .