We did make it to the Arts Festival, D went to listen to a band, I wandered the artist booths, but both of us were too scattered to plan a fallback, and wound up spending the better part of an hour just finding each other as our chosen ditherments took much less time than expected. The crush overwhelmed, and we wound up worn and then went out, got D some dinner.
I'm finding I really don't want anything. There were a few pretty pieces, but nothing to take home and admire everyday, no place to put it if I did. Mostly, both of us wanted to start shoving and yelling at people on cell phones being oblivious, the profusion of strollers taking up scant space, beer cups in hands - causing more problems, and knots of teenaged girls screeching "Ohmygod!" in my ear. This last happened three times, with different girls. At least we didn't have to pay to get in. I will not return today, when the heat will bake it all into a misery cake. Enough.
I brought the camera, but never felt any desire to bring it out. For visual appeal, I'll take the average Bostonian over the most artsy-trying-hard Saltlaker.
But I am thinking of an art project for myself, a long term and meaningful assemblage still to be determined. A sacred space, an altar, a nicho retablo. My only rule is I can't buy any of the items, except for maybe glue or hardware. A slow accumulation. My own personal creativity means more to me than the vision of professional artists these days. I'm most connected to my own journey right now.
On the way home last night, noticed a large branch, torn from the tree during the storm yesterday. I considered it as decoration for the balcony, rejected that idea, then realized it did have a place - in part. So I began breaking it up, while D watched trying to figure out what I had planned, and gradually did. I love how he just trusts me to be doing something smart, and waits to find out what.
I now have a stake for the tomatoes. There may be a lot from those two plants before the summer is over.