14.1.25
4.12.17
My smallest palette
Now that I live in a City, I find it more, rather than less, important to travel light. In the country, I left many valuables in the car. After all I lived on an apple orchard surrounded by farmers more interested in missing cows, or crops to worry about my art supplies.
Here, an unlocked car is an open invitation, and in sight belongings a call out for broken glass, so more caution.
Putting together a smaller art kit registered quickly after the Bean and me went to the equivalent of an indoor botanical gardens to draw, or paint.
I took my Letter Writers Alliance pouch wide enough for many pencils, pens, eraser, etc, and the pocket palette put together by Expeditionary Art's intrepid watercolour painter, Maria Coryell-Martin.
No photos.
Here, an unlocked car is an open invitation, and in sight belongings a call out for broken glass, so more caution.
Putting together a smaller art kit registered quickly after the Bean and me went to the equivalent of an indoor botanical gardens to draw, or paint.
I took my Letter Writers Alliance pouch wide enough for many pencils, pens, eraser, etc, and the pocket palette put together by Expeditionary Art's intrepid watercolour painter, Maria Coryell-Martin.
No photos.
25.11.16
24.7.16
Back to Brasil
It is fascinating how our minds and the memories that lay within work. I was searching for something about Nigeria; read an article on HIV, which somehow led me to a piece on parks in the nation's Capitol.
This triggered an old memory of a leisurely and uncommon walk with a colleague from the NIH along the Potomac River (in Georgetown) and then to the chairman of the Department of Parasitology, where I toiled long enough to get vested.
I promised to visit the aging Professors at their summer home in Long Island, and now time is slipping away as they celebrate life in their 80s, spending 3 months of the year in Brasil where they both went to medical school and met.
This piece about their frequent returns to their medical school roots is edifying.
This triggered an old memory of a leisurely and uncommon walk with a colleague from the NIH along the Potomac River (in Georgetown) and then to the chairman of the Department of Parasitology, where I toiled long enough to get vested.
I promised to visit the aging Professors at their summer home in Long Island, and now time is slipping away as they celebrate life in their 80s, spending 3 months of the year in Brasil where they both went to medical school and met.
This piece about their frequent returns to their medical school roots is edifying.
The fate of Bradbury's home
I learned today that Ray Bradbury's house in Los Angeles, which sold for more than a million dollars, is being torn down.
In his own words
https://vimeo.com/user9279052
In his own words
https://vimeo.com/user9279052
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